Learning Lessons: The Development of US Tactical Air Power and Air-to-Ground Coordination during the North African Campaign, 1942-1943

By Major Darren Johnson

During the Second World War, the United States (US) achieved success on the battlefield, largely due to its effective coordination of air and ground forces. The integration of these elements did not come easily; personality conflicts, misinterpretation of doctrine, and a lack of joint training opportunities had hindered innovation during the interwar period and the early stages of the war. After initial setbacks following Operation TORCH in November 1942, US air and ground commanders and staffs utilised pre-existing doctrine and developed a force structure, in conjunction with Britain’s Royal Air Force (RAF), that not only won the campaign in North Africa by May 1943 but also set the conditions for continued success in mainland Europe. This article argues that pre-existing air-ground coordination doctrine, developed in the interwar period, tested in training, and implemented in the latter stages of the North Africa campaign, sufficiently provided support to ground forces and achieved air superiority by degrading deep targets.

The Interwar Period and the Development of Air Doctrine

During the First World War, the United States Army Air Service (USAAS) supported the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) in France by destroying German aircraft, interdicting enemy rear areas through strafing and bombing, observing enemy movements, and performing other supporting missions. Aerial warfare proved to be immensely valuable in achieving results on the battlefield at the tactical and operational levels of war. It demonstrated its potential to influence war at the strategic level. German, British, and French air forces conducted ‘terror’ bombings to demoralise the home front and disrupt war production in World War I. However, at the conclusion of the First World War, the role of the USAAS in future conflicts was ill-defined. Advocates for an independent air force, seeking equal status with the US Army and US Navy, argued that strategic bombardment, not direct support of ground forces, should be the primary mission of the US Army Air Corps (USAAC). The USAAC was formed in 1926 by renaming the USAAS and given greater autonomy than its predecessor.

The Italian officer Giulio Douhet, who had commanded an air unit in 1915, was an air-war visionary who advocated a more expansive and independent role for the air arm. Military theorists like Douhet were the inspiration behind the creation of an independent American air force focused on strategic bombardment.^[2] Notably, in 1921, Douhet published The Command of the Air, which advocated for independent air forces ‘capable of launching powerful offensives on land and sea.’^[3] A key principle for an independent air force was the ability to concentrate its forces to ‘inflict the greatest damage in the shortest possible time.’^[4] Officers attending the Air Corps Tactical School (ACTS) at Maxwell Field, Alabama, for their professional military education (PME), along with their regular academic courses and practical exercises, discussed theories on strategic bombardment against adversaries’ economic and industrial bases to achieve strategic success. Air power enthusiasts believed that strategic bombing could deliver decisive blows, eliminating the need for another bloody struggle on land and effectively win the war through air power alone.^[5]

A Junkers Ju 87A of the German Condor Legion during the Spanish Civil War. (Source: Wikimedia)

Based on their experiences during the First World War, interwar German air power theorists recognised the potential of strategic bombing and developed doctrine to enhance their air arm’s capabilities. The Germans, having ignored the restrictions in the Treaty of Versailles by building the Luftwaffe in 1933, ’envisioned the use of bomber fleets against an enemy’s air force, industry, communications, and supply systems.’^[6] However, the Germans also recognised that close air support (CAS), albeit a secondary mission, is vital to ground campaigns. Covertly, the Germans developed a CAS doctrine that included ‘the use of air liaison officers, recognition signals, and communication channels,’ which proved effective in their campaigns in Poland, France, and the Soviet Union between 1939-1941.^[7] The Luftwaffe also gained significant combat experience during the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s.

Similarly, the British recognised the value of CAS; however, many of the lessons they drew from the First World War focused on its downsides, given the immense losses of pilots and aircraft in conducting those missions. Additionally, British military budgets in the interwar period were strained, and attention within the RAF remained focused on fighter aircraft for air-to-air missions rather than on a dedicated ground-support mission.[8] The British recognised the positive morale effect that CAS missions had on friendly troops but considered their use only under ‘certain and rare circumstances.’^[9] However, the cooperation and liaison between RAF officers and ground commanders conducting operations in India and Palestine in the 1930s indicated potential successful use on a larger scale, even against a well-trained adversary.^[10] It is, however, important to note that nations interpreted lessons from the interwar period differently. National will, economic constraints, and a nation’s political climate influenced how modern technology was incorporated into its doctrine before the Second World War.

The German invasion of Poland in September 1939 provided American and British analysts with examples of effective CAS of ground forces at the decisive point of a battle. However, challenges remained for the Germans in coordinating between air and ground commanders and planners. For example, German CAS was often pre-coordinated to support the advance of ground forces, and there was limited communication between air and ground elements, which contributed to incidents of fratricide. Nevertheless, German efforts in Poland and subsequent campaigns in Western Europe indicated that the Americans and British were inferior to the Germans in providing effective CAS.^[11]

In the US, the concept of strategic bombing also raised questions about aircraft commanders’ authority in combat. To achieve the greatest effect in strategic bombing, theorists believed bombers should be centralised and concentrated under a single air commander. In 1940, this led the Army to publish the Air Corps Field Manual (FM) 1-10 Tactics and Technique of Air Attack, which outlined how commanders and forces would conduct air attacks, with special reference to command authority, bombardment, and planning. FM 1-10 also outlined the differences in air missions and how air superiority was achieved through strategic bombing, interdiction, and close support for ground forces. Specifically, regarding tactical air power, FM 1-10 emphasised that ‘temporary decentralization of control of combat aviation in direct support of armoured forces may be necessary in order to ensure the timely employment of aviation in close coordination with the supported forces for the accomplishment of a specific task.’^[12]

Nonetheless, ground commanders continued to view aircraft as an enabler in the combined arms team, much like an engineer or artillery asset that’s assigned to support a specific mission.^[13] The key outgrowth of this viewpoint was that ground force commanders should have tactical control of the aircraft. Ground force commanders feared that, if left concentrated under a single air commander, aviation assets would be delayed or unable to provide timely CAS. Ground commanders’ anxiety about delays in CAS was heightened during large-scale manoeuvre training in the Spring of 1942.[14] Conversely, airmen argued that without concentrating air assets, the USAACs would not achieve air superiority, resulting in further air and ground losses.^[15] Additionally, with increased demand for aviation units, fewer were available to participate in air-to-ground training manoeuvres. Moreover, air and ground commanders needed opportunities to train as combined arms teams to alleviate tension and solidify the newly developed doctrine through practical application.^[16]

Testing the Doctrine

In September 1941, the US Army Ground Forces (AGF) organised the Louisiana Maneuvers, led by its Chief of Staff, Lieutenant General Lesley McNair. The Louisiana Maneuvers were a multi-week training exercise pitting the US Second Army against the US Third Army to test Army doctrine on a large scale.^[17] The manoeuvres recreated battlefield conditions to prepare leaders and units for combined-arms warfare by bridging the gap between doctrine and practice in large-scale training.^[18] Hundreds of aircraft ranging from medium and light bombers to US Navy dive bombers and fighters participated in the manoeuvres, demonstrating their capabilities to senior army commanders. Participating aircraft were evenly distributed between the two forces and organised under the Air Support Command (ASC). Air assets were centralised under the ASC for the exercise but remained available to support ground commanders’ missions, which was a doctrinal compromise specific to the Louisiana Maneuvers. The ASC focused heavily on achieving air superiority and conducting interdiction operations before the ground elements engaged each other, which aligned with the US Army Air Forces (USAAF) concept of employment in combat. The USAAF had been formed in 1941 and superseded the USSAC. It was one of three autonomous components of the US Army, each with its own chief of staff.

The Louisiana Maneuvers provided ground commanders with a better understanding of the capabilities and limitations of aircraft at both tactical and operational levels of war. While air forces demonstrated their ability to attack fixed targets such as airfields, bridges, and key intersections, communication between air and ground elements remained difficult.[19] Additionally, due to communication delays, CAS requests took an average of 90 minutes to execute. The subsequent Carolina Maneuvers in November 1941 remedied this delay by implementing a ‘combat air support unit’ tasked with immediately responding to ground support requests.^[20] However, despite some successes in the Louisiana Maneuvers, conflict persisted between air and ground commanders over the lower priority of CAS missions relative to air superiority and interdiction.^[21]

The AGF had organised the Carolina Manoeuvres to test US Army armour and anti-tank doctrine. From an air power perspective, these manoeuvres differed from the Louisiana Maneuvers in that they created an imbalance of air assets, with IV Corps fighting against First Army, simulating the German assault across Europe from 1939 to 1941. As with the Louisiana Maneuvers, the ASC managed CAS requests; however, the preponderance of air missions still focused on gaining and maintaining air superiority and interdiction operations, thereby validating already published doctrine on the priority of air missions to isolate the battlefield in support of ground forces.^[22] Of the 167 raids flown by the 1^st and 3^rd ASCs, 99 went against aerodromes, railroads, and bridges, 37 against armoured and mechanised units and 31 against miscellaneous targets. As FM 1-10 stated, ‘the mission of first priority of combat aviation in support of ground force units is, whenever possible, the destruction or neutralization of effective hostile air resistance.’^[23] In an ideal environment, combat aviation eliminated hostile air threats before ground forces entered the battlefield. FM 1-10 provided for the use of combat aviation for CAS missions when ‘the operation is critical and the end to be accomplished warrants the acceptance of the risk of heavy losses in the friendly aviation forces.’^[24] The Carolina Maneuvers also demonstrated the potential of combat aviation to ‘set conditions’ before ground forces enter the battlefield by destroying hostile aircraft and disrupting sustainment efforts. While the issue of aircraft control persisted, advances in air-ground integration during the manoeuvres underscored combat aviation’s vital role within the combined-arms team in shaping the battlefield.

Another significant output from both manoeuvres was the publication of FM 31-35, Aviation in Support of Ground Forces, which refined guidance on how combat aviation could support ground forces. As with FM 1-10, FM 100-5 Operations, and FM 100-15 Larger Units, FM 31-35 emphasised the need for close coordination and liaison between air and ground commanders during the planning and execution phases of operations. Likewise, the updated doctrine, while acknowledging the benefits of increased firepower and improved soldier morale from CAS, emphasised that combat aviation should not engage targets within the effective range of artillery or mortars.^[25] FM 31-35 exempted armour and mechanised forces that outpaced their organic or attached artillery or mortars, which required urgent CAS to maintain the initiative on the battlefield.^[26] FM 31-35 also codified the use of observation aircraft to support artillery missions and for area and route reconnaissance by all ground forces. During the Louisiana Maneuvers, pilots directed artillery fire and conducted reconnaissance missions in light aircraft to support the Third Army. This proved so successful in support of Third Army’s mission that the umpires of the exercise banned its use, as it gave an ‘unfair advantage to Third Army.’^[27] The use of observation aircraft magnified a unit’s ability to adjust fire and observe the enemy’s composition and disposition on the battlefield.^[28] Indeed, in North Africa, ‘air observation posts proved their value by their ability to bring the far side of hill masses, hidden to ground observation posts, under observed fire […] the German artillery did not fire as long as one of the (45th) division’s L-4s (observation aircraft) was in the air.’[29] Furthermore, FM 31-35 highlighted the issue of communication between support aircraft and ground units. Significantly, however, the highly secret and sensitive manual failed to detail specific methods for marking friendly or enemy units – much as the wider issue of incorporating unproven doctrine remained throughout the war.

The British experience of coordinating CAS during fighting in France and Africa since 1940 provided the Americans with applicable lessons. As with their USAAF counterparts, the British believed that achieving air superiority was the RAF’s priority and a precondition for conducting CAS, particularly in support of armoured or mechanised formations.^[30] The RAF viewed CAS as a tool to support ground forces beyond artillery range, enabling them to defeat hostile forces when organic means were unavailable.^[31] Indeed, Lieutenant Colonel J.D. Woodhall, one of the key figures in the development of British tactical air power after the Fall of France, wrote on September 3, 1940, that ‘in recent operations the Germans have employed air bombardment most effectively in co-operation with their army to sustain the impetus of advance of almost all types of formation and especially that of their armoured units.’[32]

RAF leaders, however, recognised the limitations of CAS as a reliable method of aiding the ground fight. The aircraft’s speed, the lack of effective communication between air and ground elements, and limited means for differentiating friendly from enemy forces often contributed to inaccuracies in CAS and incidents of fratricide on the battlefield.^[33] For example, during the German invasion of Poland in September 1939, the Luftwaffe provided CAS for advancing ground forces. Still, it relied upon Nazi flags draped across German vehicles to prevent incidents of fratricide.^[34] While there were instances of German innovations in air-to-ground coordination in Poland, it remained primitive. The inability to communicate effectively between air and ground forces negatively affected the Germans’ missions. Similarly, within the RAF, debate raged over which level of command would be delegated for CAS missions.^[35]

In October 1940, the RAF conducted an inter-service training exercise with ground and air personnel in Northern Ireland. The training scenario replicated the ideal British response to a German amphibious invasion of a British beach. The scope of the exercise focused on three challenges British commanders foresaw in conducting CAS for ground forces: first, the tactical employment of bombers in CAS for small forces; second, requesting CAS missions; and third, fighter cover or escort for bombers conducting CAS.^[36] After the exercise, the RAF and British Army identified communication between elements as a particular challenge, especially in a rapidly changing, dynamic combat environment. To ensure effective targeting of enemy forces, wireless communication between aircraft, ground forces, and command nodes had to be maintained. Additionally, the British recognised the value of attaching air reconnaissance squadrons to armoured formations to enhance situational awareness within units and battlefield effectiveness.^[37]

Another lesson with their Allied partners, once the United States entered the war, was the importance of close coordination between air and ground forces. The use of liaison officers at division-level echelons and above proved essential to the RAF’s successful CAS missions against Axis forces in Egypt and Libya in 1941. Furthermore, the RAF employed a system of ‘tentacles’ or forward control teams to maintain connectivity between air and ground forces via wireless communications.^[38] This system, which the British established, remained in place throughout the war. The concept of liaison personnel embedded in inter-service command posts was already in FM 31-35, confirming their effectiveness outside the training environment. The use of mobile forward control teams to manage the CAS fight was a novel idea for the Americans that gained traction in North Africa. The use of liaison officers provided significant value for the gaining command, and the forward control teams were the vital connection between air and ground forces.

Operation TORCH and the North Africa Campaign

Despite some experience in manoeuvres and benefits from British training and conceptual development, American forces entered the Second World War with an unproven doctrine of air-ground integration. Germany declared war on the US on 11 December 1941, four days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Once British and American leaders adopted a ‘Germany First’ strategy at the ARCADIA Conference in Washington, D.C., they postponed a cross-channel invasion of northwest Europe in favour of an Allied attack on the periphery of occupied Europe in northwest Africa.

Planning for TORCH envisaged an amphibious landing of over 100,000 Allied soldiers establishing a lodgement inland, seizing ports and aerodromes, consolidating forces, and eventually moving east into the rear area of Axis forces in Tunisia. Before the invasion, Allied heavy bombers carried out raids against Axis supply lines and facilities in Italy and Sicily while medium bombers interdicted Axis shipping in the Sicilian Strait.^[39] The air elements for TORCH consisted of two air forces: the American Twelfth Air Force, supporting the Western and Centre Task Forces (the US Fifth Army) landing at Casablanca and Oran, and the RAF Eastern Air Command supporting the Eastern Task Force (the British First Army) landing at Algiers. Initial air support for the Allied soldiers landing in North Africa came from carrier-based fighters; the Twelfth Air Force and Eastern Air Command relieved naval aviation once aerodromes were seized by ground forces.^[40] However, before TORCH, Allied leaders were unsure if the Vichy French forces would resist the invasion in French Morocco and Algeria. In addition, there were questions about whether Spain would remain neutral or join the fighting against the Allies alongside Axis forces.

Lieutenant General Dwight Eisenhower, serving as the Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in the Mediterranean Theatre, envisioned the Twelfth Air Force conducting strategic and tactical missions, including CAS and the bombing of Axis shipping, ports, communication centres, and airfields beyond the horizon. Eisenhower believed the USAAF should centralise its air assets to target theatre-level threats and opposed distributing these assets to corps and division commanders.^[41] Further complicating the USAAF’s role during the North African invasion were the planned geographically separated landings. The Twelfth Air Force and Eastern Air Command could not support or coordinate their efforts to achieve air superiority.

On 8 November 1942, TORCH commenced with amphibious landings near Casablanca, Oran, and Algiers. With the support of naval gunfire and carrier-based aircraft, Allied ground forces advanced inland and established secure lodgements beyond the beachhead. The Vichy French resistance was sporadic yet stubborn across multiple Allied landing sites. However, on 10 November, Eisenhower secured peace with Vichy French Admiral François Darlan, relegating Axis forces to positions in Tunisia, between predominantly American ground forces from the west and British ground forces from the east. In response, Germany occupied Vichy France.

As Allied forces advanced eastward towards Tunisia, they encountered stiff resistance from German Stuka dive-bombers, fighters, and medium bombers based at aerodromes near the front line and on Sicily, Sardinia, and the Italian mainland. To compound the problem, Allied fighter aerodromes were located more than 100 miles from the front lines, and bomber aerodromes more than 600 miles away, severely limiting Allied dwell time in support of ground forces. Due to the Allied air forces’ initial failure to achieve air superiority and interdict Axis lines of communication, the Germans were able to reinforce their African forces, unimpeded, with up to 1,000 soldiers and shiploads of equipment each day after TORCH.^[42] Allied ground force commanders pleaded for aircraft to provide air cover for their ground operations against German aircraft.^[43] For example, a member of the US 1st Armoured Division described how ‘the Germans can call for air support with only three rounds of smoke, and when they do, the Stukas are over immediately.’^[44] His experience was representative of many Americans throughout the North Africa campaign.

Soldiers and leaders on the ground expected air cover to protect them from the repeated German air attacks. Hearing of attacks on Axis harbours or aerodromes, essentially ’deep targets’ did little to boost the morale of the average soldier.^[45] Major General Terry Allen, the commander of the US 1^st Infantry Division, advocated for a division-level air advisor to expedite CAS requests.[46] Brigadier General Paul Robinett, commander of Combat Command B of the 1st Armoured Division, insisted, ‘that men cannot stand the mental and physical strain of constant aerial bombing without feeling that all possible is being done to beat enemy air efforts.’^[47] The incessant calls for air cover by ground commanders were granted, despite the need to establish air superiority against Axis forces.

Requests for air cover or CAS were prioritised over air-superiority missions, despite objections from RAF and USAAF leaders and the violation of both Allied air forces’ doctrines.^[48] The Luftwaffe maintained air superiority during the opening weeks of the North Africa campaign due to the proximity of its aerodromes to ground forces, its experience in CAS, and Allied mismanagement of aerial assets.^[49]

Part of the problem was the limited number of aircraft available to provide defensive air cover for ground forces while simultaneously seeking air superiority. After months of the ineffective use of CAS, including the tactical setback at Kasserine Pass, which resulted in aircraft losses from enemy and friendly fire, Eisenhower was convinced that the theatre air plan was insufficient.^[50] Indeed, the Battle of the Kasserine Pass was a low point for the Allies, especially American forces, in North Africa, as German forces advanced against inexperienced US troops and pushed them back more than 50 miles from their original positions. Allied reinforcements and air support, though ill-coordinated and delayed, attacked the overextended Germans, forcing them to withdraw. However, Allied inefficiencies in CAS, their inability to achieve air superiority, and significant coordination challenges necessitated a reorganisation of the Allied air forces in North Africa.^[51] This led Eisenhower to conclude that placing air elements under a centralised air commander could resolve the issues the Allies were facing in the theatre. At Kasserine, air reconnaissance provided little help to forward ground units; bombing missions were untimely; and CAS was in short supply. The deviation from interwar air-to-ground coordination doctrine resulted in the American inability to coordinate their air efforts during the first four months of the North African campaign. The subsequent organisational change, which reflected American interwar doctrine and the RAF’s utilisation, paid immediate dividends in North Africa, resulting in a more effective application of air-to-ground coordination and CAS for ground forces.

Senior Allied air commanders gathered at the Headquarters of the North African Tactical Air Force, Ain Beida, Algeria in 1943. Left to right: Air Marshal Sir Arthur ‘Mary’ Coningham, Air Officer Commanding, North African Tactical Air Forces (NATAF), Lieutenant General Carl Spaatz, Commanding General, Northwest African Air Forces, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Mediterranean Air Command, and Brigadier General Laurence Kuter, Deputy Commander, NATAF. The meeting was probably called to defuse the public quarrel between Coningham and General George Patton, the Commander of the US II Army Corps in Tunisia, over the provision of air support to his troops. (Source: IWM (CNA 408))

On 18 February 1943, following the Casablanca Conference, which saw the American President Franklin Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, along with their staffs, solidify Allied strategy for the remainder of 1943, the Northwest African Air Force (NAAF) was formed under Lieutenant General Carl Spaatz. The formation of NAAF centralised control of aircraft from the Twelfth Air Force and the Eastern Air Command under one theatre air commander.^[52] The Twelfth Air Force remained an administrative headquarters commanded by Spaatz. This organisational change reflected the doctrinal developments during the interwar period and experiences of both the American and British air forces before the North Africa campaign. The lessons the USAAF learned were Allied ones, given the joint nature of the Allied command structure during the war. NAAF consisted of seven subordinate units, each with a unique task to support theatre operations: the Tactical Air Force, Strategic Air Force, Coastal Air Force, Photographic Reconnaissance Wing, Troop Carrier Command, Training Command, and Service Command.^[53] Brigadier General Laurence Kuter, deputy commander of the Northwest African Tactical Air Forces (NATAF), wrote that in the previous structure, aircraft ‘were employed in direct support roles to the neglect of the proper offensive task of obtaining air superiority and thus assisting the theatre task as a whole. Each commander agreed that superiority in the air was necessary, but that someone else’s air force should fight the air war which could gain that superiority.^[54] The establishment of NAAF facilitated better coordination and unity of effort in allocating the appropriate number of aircraft for both strategic- and tactical-level targeting.

Under the new organisation, air commanders received co-equal status with ground commanders, ensuring that the limited number of aircraft was used efficiently in line with the prescribed doctrine and battlefield conditions.^[55] Moreover, in a letter from Major General Carl Spaatz to Lieutenant General Hap Arnold, Chief of the Army Air Forces, he wrote, ‘Air support of the ground forces on the other hand, cannot be made effective in the face of air supremacy, superiority and under certain conditions, even parity on the part of the enemy’s air forces. It follows from this that for the army to advance, the air battle must be won first […] Since air formations can move freely in the air without regard to terrain, it is evident from the above that the control of the air units must be centralised’ and cannot be divided into small packets among several armies or corps.’[56]

Leading NATAF was British Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham, who was instrumental in developing the British forward air control parties in 1941. Opposing the employment of tactical aircraft in defensive air-cover missions, Coningham advocated the offensive pursuit of the enemy’s air force and bases, similar to the way the RAF employed its aviators against German Field Marshal Erwin Rommel’s forces in Libya.^[57] Coningham’s ideas on tactical-level air support were not new to the British contingent of officers on the NATAF staff, but they were for the American ones. As expected, ground commanders bristled at CAS being relegated to a secondary role in favour of air-superiority missions. Major General Omar Bradley, serving as the Deputy Commander of the American II Corps under General Lloyd Fredendall at the time, stated regarding CAS, ‘by the time our request for air support goes through channels the target’s gone, or the Stukas have come instead.’[58] To ease their concerns, Coningham distributed a pamphlet endorsed by British Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery that advanced the British principle of concentrated air power. Highlighting the battle-winning factor of concentrated air power, the pamphlet read that ‘nothing could be more fatal to successful results than to dissipate the air resources into small packets placed under command of army formation commanders, with each packet working on its own plan.’^[59] Coningham also received support from Eisenhower and Field Marshal Harold Alexander, the senior British army commander in North Africa, for the priority he placed on air superiority, despite continued complaints by Allied commanders for the lack of close air support aircraft. With the Kasserine Pass debacle behind them, the Allies began their counteroffensive against Axis forces with renewed vigour.

Central to Allied success in air-to-ground integration was inter-service and inter-Allied coordination. Coningham and Alexander, commander of the Allied 18^th Army Group, met daily to ensure that the air and land plans were synchronised to achieve a general victory on the battlefield.^[60] Concentrating air elements enabled greater flexibility to support prioritised ground forces while simultaneously fighting to gain air superiority. Eisenhower understood ground commanders’ demand for immediate air support but also recognised the far-reaching impact of air power beyond the tactical ground fight. Ground commanders’ vision was limited to their immediate operational area, preventing them from recognising the theatre’s needs.^[61] Improved communication between air and ground forces remained a critical need for the Allies as well. Spaatz encouraged increasing the number of air support parties assigned to ground forces to support CAS missions. Air support parties used radio communication with pilots, but its unreliability necessitated communication redundancy through landmarks, ground smoke, or coloured panels.^[62]

Despite operational setbacks and continued tension regarding the allocation of close support aircraft, the Allies achieved positive results by concentrating their strategic and tactical air formations in defeating the Axis forces in the air, interdicting Axis lines of communication between Tunisia and sustainment centres in Sicily, Sardinia, and mainland Italy, and through CAS, which enabled ground forces to isolate the increasingly tenuous Axis position on the continent.^[63] In late April 1943, the Allies successfully targeted German aerodromes at night and destroyed ‘129 Axis planes, including 72 out of 100 enemy transports. On 22 April, the Tactical Air Force destroyed 20 ME-323 6-engine transports carrying the equivalent of a regiment into Tunisia.’[64] The Allies’ greater focus on applying published doctrinal principles of airpower in North Africa enabled them to achieve air superiority and greater freedom of movement for the ground forces. NATAF aircraft conducted 1,500 sorties over ten days in the Medjerda Valley and other Axis strongholds to support the advance of Allied ground forces in their final push towards Bizerte and Tunis.^[65] The Allies achieved air superiority by early May, enabling the Allied breakthrough towards Tunis, which eventually fell on 13 May 1943, setting the stage for subsequent Allied operations in Sicily and mainland Europe.

Conclusion

The reorganisation of the Allied air forces in North Africa did not solve every problem in air-to-ground coordination during the Second World War. However, it established the path forward for the air component within the combined-arms team. In July 1943, during the height of the fighting in Sicily, the War Department published FM 100-20, ‘Command and Employment of Air Power.’ Identified as the USAAF ‘declaration of independence’ from ground forces, FM 100-20 harnessed the lessons from North Africa and directly influenced how the war was fought in Sicily and mainland Europe.^[66] FM 100-20 emphasised the primary role of the USAAF was to establish air superiority before interdicting enemy movement in rear areas and CAS for the ground component. The document codified command authority for aircraft in theatre, outlined their role as members of the combined arms team, and advocated increased interoperability with ground forces through liaison and training exercises.^[67]

As a result of the experience in North Africa, the USAAF’s role as part of the combined-arms team was solidified, and the air-ground doctrine written before the United States entered the war was validated.^[68] Indeed, tactical air forces are a theatre resource to serve at the behest of the theatre commander, not any one specific ground element. Major General Karl Truesdell, the Commandant of the Command and General Staff School (CGSS) at Fort Leavenworth, KS, wrote to Spaatz in March 1943 to inquire about the advancements in air-ground integration. Spaatz replied that, ‘until air supremacy has been established the commander of the Tactical Air Force may refuse any but the most urgent targets to concentrate his effort on the enemy aerodromes and installations necessary to secure air supremacy.’^[69] As a result of Spaatz’s letter and overall air-to-ground experiences in North Africa, students at CGSS in 1943 and after received more lessons on USAAF doctrine and its practical application than their predecessors, which proved essential for the success of planning and coordinating combined arms fighting on a massive scale in the European Theatre of Operations until the end of the war.

Major Darren Johnson is a US Army infantry officer currently serving as a Brigade Executive Officer in the 11^th Airborne Division. He’s previously served as a platoon leader, company commander, and instructor of military history at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

Header image: Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean Air Command (left), in conference with Major General Carl Spaatz, Commander of the North-West African Air Forces, at Tedder’s Headquarters in Algiers, 1943. (Source: IWM (CNA 181))

[1] Peter R. Faber, ‘Interwar US Army Aviation and the Air Corps Tactical School: Incubators of American Airpower’ in Phillip Meilinger (ed.), The Paths of Heaven: The Evolution of Airpower Theory (USAF. Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1997), p. 213.

[2] Kent Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle Team Including Organic Light Aviation. History of the Army Ground Forces Study No. 35 (Fort Monroe, VA: Historical Section, Army Ground Forces, 1948), p. 1.

[3] Guilio Douhet, The Command of the Air (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 2019), p. 49.

[4] Ibid., p. 47.

[5] Edgar Raines Jr., Eyes of Artillery: The Origins of Modern U.S. Army Aviation in World War II (Washington D.C.: Center of Military History, 2000), p. 17.

[6] Richard Muller, ‘Close Air Support: The German, British, and American Experiences, 1918-1941,’ in Williamson Murray and Alan Millett (eds.), Military Innovation in the Interwar Period (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 160.

[7] Ibid., p. 157.

[8] Ibid., pp. 164-5.

[9] Ibid., p. 165.

[10] Ibid., p. 171.

[11] Ibid., p. 181.

[12] FM 1-10 Air Corps Field Manual: Tactics and Techniques of Air Attack (Washington D.C.: War Department, 1942), p. 118.

[13] Christopher Rein, Forging the Ninth Army-XXIX TAC Team: The Development, Training, and Application of American Air-Ground Doctrine in World War II (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2019), p. 15.

[14] Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle Team, p. 7.

[15] Ibid., pp. 15-6.

[16] FM 1-10 Tactics and Techniques of Air Attack, p. 119.

[17] Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle Team, p. 88. McNair later became the Commanding General of the AGF after the War Department’s reorganization in March of 1942. Tragically, McNair was killed while observing close support bombing during the breakout from Normandy in July 1944.

[18] Christopher Gabel, ‘The 1941 Maneuvers: What did they Really Accomplish?’ Army History 14 (1990), p. 5.

[19] Rein, Forging the Ninth Army-XXIX TAC Team, p. 36.

[20] Ibid., p. 37.

[21] Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the Air-Ground Battle Team, pp. 17-8.

[22] Rein, Forging the Ninth Army-XXIX TAC Team, pp. 39-40.

[23] FM 1-10 Tactics and Techniques of Air Attack, p. 115.

[24] Ibid., p. 116.

[25] FM 31-35 Basic Field Manual: Aviation in Support of Ground Forces (Washington D.C.: War Department, 1942), p. 10.

[26] Ibid., pp. 26-27.

[27] Raines Jr., Eyes of Artillery, p. 51.

[28] FM 31-35 Aviation in Support of Ground Forces, p. 26.

[29] Raines Jr, Eyes of Artillery, p. 162.

[30] Wann Woodall, Experimental Training in Close Support Bombing (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Command and General Staff School, 1941), p. 14.

[31] Ibid., pp. 14, 19.

[32] Ibid., p. 19.

[33] Ibid., p. 20.

[34] Williamson Murray, ‘May 1940: Contingency and fragility of the German RMA’ in Macgregor Knox, and Williamson Murray (eds.), The Dynamics of Military Revolution, 1300-2050 (New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 163.

[35] Woodall, Experimental Training in Close Support Bombing, p. 43.

[36] Ibid., p. 47.

[37] Ibid., p. 55

[38] Rein, Forging the Ninth Army-XXIX TAC Team, pp. 18-19.

[39] CMH Publication 100-6, To Bizerte with the II Corps (Washington D.C.: Center of Military History, 1990), p. 3.

[40] Assistant Chief of Air Staff, Intelligence, Historical Division, Air Phase of the North African invasion, November 1942 (U.S. Air Force Historical Study, 1944), pp. 19-20.

[41] Daniel Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations: World War II Close Air Support, North Africa (Washington D.C.: Center of Military History, 1987), pp. 52-3.

[42] Ibid., 2.

[43] Matthew St. Clair, ‘Operation Husky and the Invasion of Sicily’: The Twelfth US Air Force: Tactical and Operational Innovations in the Mediterranean Theater of Operations, 1943–1944, (Air University Press, 2007), p. 9.

[44] G-3 Training Section. Training Notes from Recent Fighting in Tunisia (Allied Force Headquarters, 1943), pp. 62-3.

[45] Thomas Mayock, AAF Historical Office, Headquarters, Army Air Forces. Twelfth Air Force in the North African winter campaign, 11 November 1942 to the reorganization of 18 February 1943, (U.S. Air Force Historical Study, 1946), p. 44.

[46] Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations, p. 61.

[47] Ibid., p. 61.

[48] Ibid., p. 61.

[49] St Clair, Operation Husky and the Invasion of Sicily, p. 9.

[50] Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations, pp. 70-2.

[51] Ibid., pp. 59, 62.

[52] St Clair, Operation Husky and the Invasion of Sicily, pp. 11-12.

[53] Karl Truesdell, ‘Northwest African Air Forces’ (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Command and General Staff School, 1943), pp. 1-2.

[54] Laurence Kuter, ‘Northwest African Tactical Air Forces: Organization of American Air Forces’ (Washington D.C.: Headquarters, Army Air Forces, 1945), p. 2.

[55] St Clair, Operation Husky and the Invasion of Sicily, pp. 12-3.

[56] Ibid., p. 13.

[57] Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations, p. 72.

[58] Muller, Close Air Support, p. 187.

[59] Ibid., p. 76.

[60] Ibid., p. 83.

[61] Ibid., p. 84.

[62] Ibid., p. 85.

[63] Robert Ehlers Jr., The Mediterranean Air War: Airpower and Allied Victory in World War II (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2015), p. 285.

[64] CMH Publication 100-6, To Bizerte with the II Corps, p. 3.

[65] Ibid., pp. 4, 28, 40.

[66] St. Clair, Operation Husky and the Invasion of Sicily, p. 13.

[67] FM 100-20 Field Service Regulations: Command and Employment of Air Power (Washington D.C.: War Department, 1943), pp. 15-6.

[68] Kuter, ‘Northwest African Tactical Air Forces,’ p. 9.

[69] Truesdell, ‘Northwest African Air Forces,’ p. 9.

The Royal Australian Air Force on D-Day: Operations in the Mediterranean

By Dr Ross Mahoney

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 2^nd 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 87^th Fighter Wing of XII ASC, though administratively under the command of DAF. No. 251 Wing served within the 87^th 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 87^th Wing was tasked with ‘the provision of escort to the Mitchells and Marauders of the 42^nd and 57^th 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 63^rdFighter Wing. Alongside the rest of No. 328 Wing, No. 458 Squadron formed one part of the offensive element of the 63^rd 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.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid., p. 97.

[4] RAF Narrative, The Italian Campaign, 1943-1945, Volume II: Operations, June 1944-May 1945 (London: Air Historical Branch, 1956), p. 4.

[5] Ibid.

[6] National Archives of Australia (NAA) A9186, 9, Detail of Work Carried Out, No. 3 Squadron Operations Record Book, 6 June 1944.

[7] Ibid.

[8] NAA, A9186, 135, No 450 Operations Record Book, 6 June 1944.

[9] RAF Narrative, The Italian Campaign, 1943-1945, Volume II, p. 14.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid., p. 15.

[13] NAA, A9186, 136, Details of Work Carried Out, No. 451 Operations Record Book, 6 June 1944.

[14] RAF Narrative, The Italian Campaign, 1943-1945, Volume II, pp. 20-1.

[15] Herington, Air Power Over Europe, 1944–1945, p. 97.

[16] Ibid.

[17] NAA, A9186, 144, No. 458 Operations Record Book, June 1944.

[18] Ibid.

[19] NAA, A9186, 140, No. 454 Squadron Operations Record Book, 6 June 1944.

[20] NAA, A9186, 145, No. 459 Squadron Operations Record Book, 6 June 1944.

[21] Herington, Air Power Over Europe, 1944–1945, p. 323.

#Editorial – From Balloons to Drones: 10 Years On

By Dr Ross Mahoney

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:

Mandeep Singh, ‘Looking Back at Iraqi Air Defences during Operation DESERT STORM.’
Michael Hankins, ‘Who Ruined the F-16? The Fighter Mafia’s Battle against the United States Air Force.’
Liam Barnsdale, ‘Royal Air Force ‘wings’ Brevets in Second World War Propaganda.’
Michael Hankins, ‘Inventing the Enemy: Colonel Toon and the Memory of Fighter Combat in Vietnam.’
Thomas Withington, ‘#DesertStorm30 – Electric Avenue: Electronic Warfare and the battle against Iraq’s air defences during Operation Desert Storm.’
Jeff Schultz, ‘Supporting the Secret War: T-28s over Laos, 1964-1973 – Part 1: Training.’
Justin Pyke, ‘Blinded by the Rising Sun? American Intelligence Assessments of Japanese Air Power, 1920-41: Part 1 – The 1920s.’
Michael Hankins, ‘#AirWarVietnam – Making a MiG-Killer: Technology and Signals Intelligence for Air-to-Air Combat in Vietnam.’
Jeff Schultz, ‘Supporting the Secret War: T-28s over Laos, 1964-1973 – Part 2: Attack Role.’
Michael Spencer, ‘The Downfall of the Red Baron: Lessons Learned from the First World War ‘Ace of Aces’.’

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.

[2] Ibid.

#BookReview – On the Wings of War and Peace

Reviewed by Dr Ross Mahoney

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.

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)

Call for Submissions: Wither Air Power Studies?

2026 marks the 10^th 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.

If you are interested in contributing, please email our Editor-in-Chief, Dr Ross Mahoney, at airpowerstudies@gmail.com or use our contact page.

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.

Wings over Lebanon: Local Ingenuity and American Assistance in the War against the Islamic State

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, 1^st 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 11^th Squadron at Beirut Air Base, eight to the 10^th Squadron at Klayaat Air Base, 55 miles north-northeast of Beirut near the Syrian border, and four to the 14^th 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 11^th 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 10^th 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 14^th 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 10^th 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 8^th 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 9^th 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 1^st 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 8^th 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 8^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 9^th 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 7^th 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 81^st 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 6^th Mechanized Infantry Brigade, the 1^st Intervention Regiment, the Air Assault Regiment, one company from the 4^th 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 1^st and 2^nd 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 4^th 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.

[5] US Embassy in Lebanon, ‘US Ambassador Delivers Cessna Aircraft to Lebanese Armed Forces,’ 19 December 2016,.

[6] Brigadier General S.Y., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 3 August 2022.

[7] Lebanese Armed Forces, Air Force Operations, Beirut, 2021.

[8] Brigadier General S.Y., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Lebanese Armed Forces, Air Force Operations.

[11] Ibid.: Riad Kahwaji, ‘The victory – Lebanon developed helicopter bombers,’ Skyscraper City, 3 September 2007.

[12] Lebanese Armed Forces, Air Force Operations.

[13] Orbital ATK, Mission Systems Operators Manual: Lebanon Armed Caravan SN1239, 02TMAOP-002, Fort Worth, 2016; Stephen Trimble, ‘USAF orders 2^nd Cessna Caravan for Lebanon,’ FlightGlobal, 18 January 2012.

[14] US Embassy in Lebanon, ‘The United States Delivers Four A-29 Super Tucano Aircraft to the LAF,’ 12 June 2018.

[15] Department of State, Bureau of Political-Military Affairs, ‘US Security Cooperation with Lebanon,’ Fact Sheet, 20 January 2025.

[16] Defense Security Cooperation Agency, ‘Lebanon – Huey II Helicopters,’ Transmittal No. 12-07, 20 July 2012; Defense Security Cooperation Agency, ‘Lebanon—Huey II Rotary Wing Aircraft and Support,’ Transmittal No. 14-20, 19 September 2014; Defense Security Cooperation Agency, ‘Lebanon—AGM-114 Hellfire II Missiles,’ Transmittal No. 15-29, 4 June 2015.

[17] Aram Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, Draft, (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic & International Studies, 2017), p. 9.

[18] Lebanese Armed Forces, Air Force Operations.

[19] Nicholas Blanford, ‘The Lebanese Armed Forces and Hezbollah’s Competing Summer Offensives Against Sunni Militants,’ CTC Sentinel 10, no. 8 (2007), p. 27.

[20] Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, p. 11.

[21] Captain M.B., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 6 August 2021.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Captain C.Y., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 6 August 2021.

[24] Ibid.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Blanford, ‘The Lebanese Armed Forces and Hezbollah’s Competing Summer Offensives Against Sunni Militants,’ p. 27.

[28] Captain G.A., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 10 August 2021.

[29] Colonel A.M., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 10 August 2021.

[30] The author inspected this aircraft himself and spoke with the maintenance officer who oversaw the modifications while in Lebanon in 2020.

[31] Ibid.

[32] Defense Security Cooperation Office, ‘Lebanon—A-29 Super Tucano Aircraft,’ Transmittal No. 15-13, 9 June 2015; Sierra Nevada Corporation, ‘SNC, Embraer Complete Early Delivery of A-29 Super Tucano Aircraft to Lebanese Air Force for Close Air Support Role,’ Press Release, 12 June 2018.

[33] Thomas Joscelyn, ‘Al Qaeda and allies announce ‘new entity’ in Syria,’ Long War Journal, 28 January 2017

[34] Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, p. 15.

[35] Ibid., pp. 15-6.

[36] Ibid., p. 20, 22.

[37] Ibid., p. 16, 23.

[38] Ibid., p. 24.

[39] Lebanese Armed Forces, Air Force Operations.

[40] Blanford, ‘The Lebanese Armed Forces and Hezbollah’s Competing Summer Offensives Against Sunni Militants,’, p. 29.

[41] Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, p. 24, 27.

[42] Colonel A.M., oral history interview by Wael al-Taki, 10 August 2021.

[43] Nerguizian, The Lebanese Armed Forces, Hezbollah, and Military Legitimacy, p. 5.

#BookReview – Flight Culture and the Human Experience

Reviewed by Dr Brian Laslie

Scott W. Palmer (ed.), Flight Culture and the Human Experience. College Station, TX: Texas A&M Press, 2025. Hbk Photos. Bibliography. Index. 248 pp.

Scott W. Palmer’s edited work, Flight Culture and the Human Experience from the Texas A&M Press, is a compilation of papers presented at the 55th Annual Walter Prescott Webb Lecture Series in 2021. Sadly, edited volumes and collections of this type are seeing a downward trend in publication across academia as university presses tighten their belts under increased budgetary constraints, and this work demonstrates what a blow that is to serious academic scholarship, particularly for those without a manuscript-length project.

The book itself is a ‘collection of essays on the modern social and historical implications of aviation,’ which ostensibly places it outside the purview of the classically trained military historian, but since ‘guns and trumpets’ has been slowly subsumed into the broader contours of ‘war and society,’ there is still much here for the historian who concerns themselves with military matters as it pertains to aviation and air power. Only three of the seven chapters relate specifically to military issues; these include Johanna Rustler’s ‘The British Air Mechanic at War and Aircraft Innovation, 1914-1918,’ Marc Dierikx’s ‘Civil Air Transport and the Colonial Context in the Interwar Period,’ and Michael W. Hankins’ ‘Selling the Fighter Pilot’s Dream Machines: The F-15 and F-16 in the Public Eye.’ However, military aspects of the ‘flight culture’ can be found throughout.

In an introduction provided by Caroline E. Tapp, Curator of Social and Cultural History at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, she notes that ‘flight culture has become an intrinsic part of the human experience’ and an experience which ‘transcends geographic borders and historical timelines.’ (p. 1) Contrary to Joseph Corn’s magnificent book Winged Gospel (1983), which demonstrated an America-centric focus on aviation, the current work broadens that interpretation into a global one. People of all nations are affected by and interact with aviation and air travel, which, in turn, shapes national culture and identity. As Tapp also notes, thanks to the work of Roger Launius, the writings of New Aviation History/New Aerospace History have become a distinct field exploring the melding of technology, social, and other ‘inclusive investigations’ into a cohesive field of study (p. 4).

Patrick Luis Sullivan De Oliveira begins the work with ‘The Utopian Machine: Lighter-Than-Air Flight and Romantic Socialism in Nineteenth-Century France,’ a chapter focusing on Ernest Pétin, the French milliner who went on to design airships. However, the chapter’s strength lies in its demonstration of the relationship between European socialist thought and the belief in lighter-than-air flight. Flight, be it heavier or lighter than air, has always been used in political metaphors. In this case, utopian socialist ideals wrapped their conceptions around lighter-than-air flight. As the author quotes Victor Hugo, who ‘turned his attention upward and toward the future’ and the promises of a better 20th Century (p. 34). De Oliveira shows, through Hugo, that the airship ‘would finally bring to fruition the ideals of the French Revolution.’ (p. 36)

Marc Alsina’s ‘Gender, Race, and Heroic Aviation in Interwar Argentia, 1920-1940’ demonstrates how aviation helped create unique national identities. In Argentina, military and civilian aviators, both men and women, received acclaim that helped to ‘articulate a modern national identity’ (p. 70). Rénald Fortier’s chapter ‘“Detroyattaboy”: Michael Détroyat and the 1936 National Air Races,’ gives a brief biography of the French air racer and how his victories in the 1936 National Air Races in the United States engendered resentment amongst American flyers including Roscoe Turner who stated, ‘[i]t isn’t fair for any foreign pilot to come over here’. However, Turner was severely criticised for his ‘poor sportsmanship’ (p. 148, 150). Still, the chapter clearly demonstrates how foreign influencers catalysed change, in this case, in America.

Janet Bednarek’s ‘Chasing the Future: Why US Airports Seem Always Under Construction,’ while not meant to be humorous, certainly provides chances to chuckle as she addresses the American nationwide airport signage ‘pardon our progress’ as airports have struggled since the 1960s with keeping up to an insatiable demand for air travel in America (p 171). In short, the airports themselves could not keep up with the ever-increasing number of travellers. Besides the ticketed passengers themselves, pre-9-11 airport visitors, changes made after the September 11th attacks, Covid-19, and myriad other reasons have made creating an ‘airport of the future’ a nearly impossible task (p. 192). While we may look upon the pre-9/11 era as the halcyon days of air travel, Bednarek clearly shows that at no time since the 1960s air travel boom has an airport been able to keep up with demand and that our interpretation of well-dressed flight attendants, good food, and good drinks began and ended at the door to the aircraft.

As previously noted, only three chapters demonstrate a more military-focused bent. Of these, Rustler’s ‘The British Air Mechanic at War and Aircraft Innovation, 1914-1918’ is a breath of fresh air that focuses on the support arm to those who fly at the ‘pointy end of the spear.’ In much the same way that Apple TV’s Masters of the Air gave significant, if not equal, screentime to these air mechanics or what we today call ‘maintainers,’ Rustler’s chapter infuses the study of aviation with a much-needed focus on the lower-ranked enlisted men who have since 1914, ‘kept ‘em flying.’ However, more importantly, Rustler shows how the relationship between the mostly officer flyers and enlisted air crews developed into ‘mutual trust and respect that transcended social boundaries’ and ‘served as a guidepost for future social development and emancipation.’ (p. 63)

Dierikx’s ‘Civil Air Transport and the Colonial Context in the Interwar Period’ is not exclusively military, but the air power historian studying the interwar years should not miss it. It begins with a vignette by a Dutch cartographer, which Antoine de Saint-Exupéry could have written. In short, flying can often be viewed in ‘Hobbesian’ terms: short, brutish, and nasty. Again, while not a military chapter per se, it does demonstrate the lengths to which colonial powers went to develop viable air routes between the First and Second World Wars. Flying these routes as both crew and passenger required a certain, ‘panache,’ as governments, postal and mail services, corporations, businessmen, and other air travelers all fought against the unknown in an early globalisation movement that shrank our world, connected empires, and birthed a new form of traveler and all done under the assumption that ‘absolute national sovereignty should rule the air medium.’ (p. 130)

Hankins’ chapter is entitled ‘Selling the Fighter Pilot’s Dream Machines: The F-15 and F-16 in the Public Eye,’ although ‘Mad Men for the Military Industrial Complex’ would also have been an apt descriptor. While Hankins has already explored the developments of both the F-15 and F-16 and the fights between the ‘Fighter Mafia’/‘Reformers,’ in his book Flying Camelot (2021), this chapter shows how that fight played out in ads present in trade publications, magazines, and other venues that saw these roles of each aircraft morph over time. Hankins has become one of the leading post-Vietnam United States Air Force and air power scholars, and this chapter only enhances that reputation.

Overall, this book accomplishes what it sets out to do, namely, providing a ‘wider, more meaningful view of aviation history.’ (p. 4) This is an important book; it presents some of the latest and greatest aviation scholarship, and its sum is greater than its composite parts. This vital work will find a home on the shelf of everyone who considers themselves a serious scholar of air power and aviation history.

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: Three DHC-4 Caribou aircraft of No. 35 Squadron Royal Australian Air Force at Vung Tau air base, Vietnam, c. 1967-68. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

#BookReview – Marshall’s Great Captain: Lieutenant General Frank M. Andrews and Air Power in the World Wars

Reviewed by Dr John J. Abbatiello

Kathy Wilson, Marshall’s Great Captain: Lieutenant General Frank M. Andrews and Air Power in the World Wars. Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 2024. Illustrations. Appendix. Notes. Bibliography. Index. Pbk. 273 pp.

Kathy Wilson highlights the career of a key player in US air power history in Marshall’s Great Captain: Lieutenant General Frank M. Andrews and Air Power in the World Wars. This is a much-needed and valuable contribution about a senior leader of the US Army Air Corps (USAAC) and the Army Air Forces (USAAF) – a leader who was a driving force behind American air power, yet not a well-known figure to our reading public. Who was the namesake of Andrews Air Force Base (now styled as Joint Base Andrews), located in Prince George’s County, Maryland, and currently the primary military airbase serving America’s capital city?

Wilson, an independent scholar and Writing Fellow for Norwich University, published Marshall’s Great Captain as part of the University Press of Kentucky’s Aviation and Airpower Series, edited by US Air Force Academy command historian Brian Laslie. Wilson’s narrative begins with Andrews’s time at West Point (Class of 1906) and ends with his untimely death due to an aircraft accident on 3 May 1943. The author correctly argues that the extant works on Second World War air power leadership gloss over Andrews’s career and fail to fully explain his significant contributions. Wilson rectifies this oversight with this thoroughly researched volume.

After a brief introduction and prologue, the latter teasing the reader with the circumstances of Andrews’s final flight and Consolidated B-24 crash, Chapter 1 succinctly covers the subject’s time at West Point and first 11 years in the US Army as a cavalry officer. A descendant of Confederate cavalry officers and related to two Tennessee governors, Andrews thrived as a young leader. In 1914, he married Jeanette ‘Johnnie’ Allen, daughter of a senior Army cavalry commander.

As Wilson explains in Chapter 2, Andrews transferred to the US Army Signal Corps’ Aviation Division, forerunner of the US Army Air Service and USAAC, in 1917 but did not see action overseas. His contributions during the First World War included staff duty in Washington, D.C., and command of Rockwell Field in southern California. By 1918, he was a 38-year-old temporary Lieutenant Colonel. In the early 1920s, he served in Germany in the Army of Occupation. A series of typical assignments followed, to include attendance at all three of the US Army’s professional schools: Air Corps Tactical School, Command and General Staff School, and Army War College. This chapter provides extensive context about US air power in the 1920s and early 1930s, including coverage of the Billy Mitchell trial, air-coastal defence experiments, and the Air Mail fiasco of 1934.

The next two chapters examine Andrews’s appointment to and service as Commanding General, General Headquarters (GHQ) Air Force, and the development of the Boeing B-17 bomber. Once again, Wilson provides extensive background, this time explaining the various boards and commissions investigating US air power, to include the Drum Board (1933) and the Baker Board (1934). In early 1935, US Army Chief of Staff General Douglas MacArthur appointed Andrews to serve as the first commander of GHQ Air Force. Comprising three under-resourced wings, the new GHQ Air Force was to serve as the Army’s air strike force, and here Andrews took charge of operations and training for the Air Corps. Wilson recounts his challenges stemming from a fragmented command structure in which the Chief of the Air Corps was responsible for supply, procurement, funding, assignments, and other supporting functions. At the same time, Army regional commanders exercised control over bases, maintenance, and court-martial authority. During his four years commanding GHQ Air Force, Andrews increased combat efficiency for USAAC, advocated for the long-range B-17 bomber, and, through air demonstrations and humanitarian flights, raised public awareness of the capabilities of US air power. He also established a solid relationship with a future mentor, then Brigadier General George Marshall, during the summer of 1938 by hosting the latter at GHQ and providing him with a personal tour of USAAC bases across the country. This visit paid dividends in two ways: it established a sense of trust between the two leaders, and it provided Marshall—then serving as the new Chief of Plans for the Army – with a solid understanding of air power’s roles, missions, and capabilities.

Boeing XB-17 (Model 299). (Source: Wikimedia)

Marshall became US Army Chief of Staff in September 1939 and appointed Andrews as the Assistant Chief of Staff, G-3, or chief of operations and training for the Army. Andrews was the first aviator to serve in this critical role for the Army, and, according to Wilson’s Chapter 5, it ‘was the most important and impactful assignment of Andrews’s career.’ (p. 105) Here, Andrews played an essential role in preparing the US Army for future combat in the Second World War, including establishing the Armored Force, improving training for the National Guard, setting up the Army’s emerging airborne infantry capability, and generally better integrating air units with Army operations. Chapter 6 then covers Andrews’ increased responsibilities first as commander of USAAC units in the Panama Canal Zone and then as overall US Army commander of the Caribbean Defense Command. These were important roles given American fears of potential Axis interference with the Panama Canal. Andrews demonstrated his expertise in reorganising forces, building and improving facilities, nurturing relationships with regional Allies, and most importantly, improving combat readiness.

Chapter 7 continues the Andrews story by describing the subject’s role as Commander, US Forces Middle East, starting in November 1942, and then as Commander, US Forces European Theater of Operations (ETO) beginning in February 1943. In these responsibilities, Andrews once again excelled at organising, training, and employing forces against the Axis. As ETO Commander, headquartered in London, he oversaw the rapid buildup of US Army ground units for Operation OVERLORD and the US 8^th Air Force for the Combined Bomber Offensive; throughout, he maintained an excellent working relationship with his British counterparts.

In the final chapter, Wilson details the planned trip from London back to the United States via Iceland on 3 May 1943, which ended in a tragic crash due to poor weather. Her epilogue speculates – using the best available evidence – what next role Andrews may have taken on had he lived. Unfortunately, Andrews’ story ends too early.

Some key themes emerge throughout Wilson’s narrative. In mentioning the leadership style and personality of the gregarious and hard-charging USAAF Commanding General Henry ‘Hap’ Arnold, admiration of Andrews’s soft-spoken, gentlemanly demeanour is obvious. In all his roles, Andrews sought to educate superiors, peers, and subordinates about air power, not to antagonise them as other airmen sometimes did. Andrews’s relationship with George Marshall was important not only for the former’s rise through leadership positions but also for Marshall’s clear understanding of air power’s role in its various capacities. Finally, Wilson skilfully describes the technical development and acquisition processes of US aircraft, topics seldom mentioned in similar histories of this formative period for American air power.

This reviewer submits only one minor complaint about this study. Several verbatim quotes appearing throughout the volume are unattributed in the text, requiring the reader to flip to the note pages at the end of the book to determine the source. Many of these are lengthy. For example, page 115 presents an extensive excerpt on Marshall’s approach to selecting Army leaders, with no clues about the source. The endnote at the back of the book reveals that this was a quotation from a 1943 New York Tribune article by a staff writer.

Nevertheless, Wilson’s well-researched biography of Frank Andrews is a welcome addition to our understanding of air power leadership during the interwar years and the Second World War. Andrews was a key player, skilled in diplomacy yet laser-focused on organisation, training, and readiness. Airmen today have much to learn from Frank Andrews’ story.

Dr John J. Abbatiello earned his PhD from King’s College London’s War Studies program in 2004. After 18 years of faculty service at the US Air Force Academy’s Department of History and Center for Character and Leadership Development, he then served as the Training and Education Branch Chief for North American Aerospace Defense Command and US Northern Command. He is the author of Anti-Submarine Warfare in World War I: British Naval Aviation and the Defeat of the U-Boats (Routledge, 2006) and a chapter on Lewis Brereton in The Worst Military Leaders in History (Reaktion Books, 2022).

Header image: General Frank M. Andrews, theatre commander of US forces in the ETO, was responsible for directing the American strategic bombing campaign against Germany and for planning the land invasion of occupied western Europe, 1943. (Source: Wikimedia)

#BookReview – Rain of Ruin: Tokyo, Hiroshima and the Surrender of Japan

Reviewed by Dr Ross Mahoney

Richard Overy, Rain of Ruin: Tokyo, Hiroshima and the Surrender of Japan. London: Allen Lane, 2025. Hbk. Images. Notes. Further readings. Index. xiii + 206 pp.

The decision to use the atomic bomb in the Second World War is one of the most written-about episodes in modern military history. As Richard Overy (p. xi) identifies in this work:

[n]o single subject in the history of the United States war effort has prompted so much historical, political, and philosophical writing. No set of surviving records has been subjected to so much close forensic scrutiny.

Broadly speaking, debates over its use range from the argument that they were used to save American lives to the view that they were used to forestall Soviet ambition in the Far East and prevent the division of Japan. As exemplified by the controversy in 1994 surrounding the planned script for what became the ‘Enola Gay’ exhibition at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in 1995, debates over how we interpret the decision to use the atomic bomb have been subject to intense scrutiny and disagreements. Into this milieu comes Overy, one of the world’s leading authorities on the history of the Second World War and an expert on the history of air power.

Overy had previously written the voluminous The Bombing War (2013), which dealt with debates surrounding bombing in the European theatre of war; however, in this volume, he turns his attention to the US strategic bombing campaign against Japan in 1945 and the decision to use the atomic bomb. In Rain of Ruin, Overy deals with three separate but indelibly linked areas, which form the core of the book’s key chapters. Indeed, each chapter provides the necessary context for the next. For example, in Chapter Two, Overy explores the reason why the US shifted from precision targeting to a strategy of indiscriminate firebombing from March 1945 onwards. As Overy notes, the US had abhorred British ‘area bombing’ techniques. However, they were willing to adopt similar methods in the Far East against Japan because of a shift in thinking about the use of incendiary raids influenced by the character of the war in the Far East, ‘the demonisation of the Japanese enemy, and the effort to define area targets as legitimate military-economic ones.’ (p.40). Furthermore, they were supported in this shift in strategy by appointing an officer, General Curtis LeMay, who showed no ‘compunction about bombing and killing civilians if it helped shorten the war’ (p. 22).

Following on from the shift in US air power strategy, Chapter Three deals with the development and decision to use the atomic bomb. Indeed, Overy highlights that in accepting the change in air power strategy, it became easier for the US to normalise the use of the atomic bombs. As he argued, the shift in strategy ‘prepared the way for the apotheosis of indiscriminate destruction in the two atomic attacks’ (p. 18). Moreover, Overy also adeptly illustrates the role that civilian scientists played in the development of the atomic bomb, arguing that ‘[w]ere it not for the maximum effort by a cohort of the world’s most distinguished physicists, the bomb would not have been ready by 1945’ (p.54). As such, it is essential to remember that the use of the atomic bombs was a whole-of-government affair that not only required a shift in US air power strategy but also the willingness of other stakeholders to buy into the project and their eventual use. This also included government officials in key decision-making roles and illustrates that military strategy, such as the decision to use the atomic bomb, does not develop in a vacuum.

Finally, in Chapter Four, Overy examines the reasons for the Japanese surrender in 1945 and the role that the dropping of the atomic bombs played in that decision. In doing so, Overy does an excellent job in comparing the various arguments related to Japan’s decision to surrender, most notably, the role played by the Soviet invasion of Manchuria that started between the dropping of the two atomic bombs. Indeed, as Overy illustrates, drawing on Japanese sources, the Japanese decision to surrender – the so-called ‘Sacred Decision’ – was complex and not readily accepted. For example, towards the end of August, a Japanese Kamikaze unit dropped propaganda leaflets over Tokyo, warning residents not to surrender and stating that the imperial rescript had been a false document (p. 126). Despite this, Overy makes clear that the decision to surrender was complex. Both conventional and atomic attacks on Japan played a role in the decision-making process, though whether they were decisive, as many have argued, remains open to question. Indeed, Japanese leaders viewed the atomic bombings simply as an ‘extension of LeMay’s campaign’ (p. 110).

Overall, Overy has, in the course of just 150 pages, placed the decision to use the atomic bomb in its essential context, the shift in US air power strategy that occurred in the Far East in 1945 and assessed their role in the Japanese decision to surrender. The book is supported by copious referencing to sources not just from the US but also from Britain and Japan. It is necessary reading for anyone interested in the decision to use the atomic bomb, how the Second World War ended, or US air power strategy. However, perhaps the greatest strength of Overy’s analysis is that he does not ‘judge the past’ but allows the evidence to tell its story and allows the reader to ‘understand it better on its own terms’ (p. xiii). In this, Overy has been successful.

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 from 2013 to 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.

Header image: The Boeing B-29 Superfortress Enola Gay on Tinian just after the attack on Hiroshima on 6 August 1945. (Source: Wikimedia)

#ResearchNote – The Royal Australian Air Force Goes to War over Korea

By Dr Ross Mahoney

Editorial note: This article first appeared on the author’s website. It has been reproduced here with permission.

On 25 June 1950 local time, forces of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) crossed the 38^th Parallel and invaded the Republic of Korea (South Korea). Launching Operation Pokpung, North Korea quickly moved south and by 28 June had occupied the capital of South Korea, Seoul. In response to this act of aggression, on 25 June 1950, in New York, the United Nations passed Resolution 82, which condemned the invasion, called for a cessation of hostilities, and demanded the withdrawal of forces beyond the 38^th Parallel. Failure to comply with the resolution led to the adoption of Resolution 83, which recommended that UN members provide military forces to support South Korea and restore peace.

Korea, after 35 years of occupation by the Japanese, was split into two zones of occupation in 1945. The Soviet Union occupied the north, while the United States occupied the south. While the intention had been to unify the Korean Peninsula, problems arose between the communist North and the nationalist South. The failure of the Communist Party (the Workers’ Party of North Korea) to participate in the 1948 elections, combined with the abstention of several South Korean politicians, led to the eventual development of two distinct systems of government.[1] After the communist victory in the Chinese Civil War in 1949 and after receiving tacit support from Joseph Stalin, North Korea prepared to invade South Korea.

Australia’s response to Resolution 83 was to support the UN. At this time, the Australian military was providing forces to the British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF) in Japan. Shortly after the passage of Resolution 83, the Department of External Affairs received communications from the Americans regarding the support Australia was willing to provide.[2] Initially, the Royal Australian Navy vessels (RAN) HMAS Shoalhaven and Bataan (the latter en route to Japanese waters to relieve the former) were tasked with supporting the withdrawal of nationals from South Korea; however, by 29 June, they were tasked with assisting American operations.[3] In cabling this news to the Australian Ambassador to the United States, Norman Makin, the Minister for External Affairs, Percy Spender, noted the presence of No. 77 Squadron, Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), in Japan. However, he stressed it represented ‘practically the whole of our effective operational fighter strength in Australia or elsewhere.’[4]

Group portrait of No. 77 Fighter Squadron, RAAF, 26 September 1948. Identified, left to right, back row: Warrant Officer (WO) Jim Flemming; WO W. Michelson; Flying Officer (FO) W. Horsman; WO M. Garroway; WO W. Rivers; Flight Lieutenant (Flt Lt) C.R. Noble; WO Fairweather; Flt Lt J. Grey; FO K. McLeod; WO B. Nichols; Flt Lt T. Murphy. Front row: FO W.O.K. Hewett; Flt Lt R. Hill; Flt Lt W. Ives; Flt Lt C. Butcher; Flt Lt S. Bradford; Squadron Leader F. Lawrenson; Flt J.I. Adams; Flt Lt G. Strout; Flt Lt K. Godfrey. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

No. 77 Squadron had deployed to Japan as part of BCOF in 1946 as part of No. 81 Wing. In 1948, it was transferred to Iwakuni Air Base in Yamaguchi Prefecture, on the island of Honshu. The squadron had been re-equipped after the end of the Second World War with the North American P-51D Mustang. By June 1950, No. 77 Squadron was amid preparations to return to Australia, it having been announced in April that the remaining Australian forces in Japan would be repatriated. However, events overtook these preparations.

On 29 June, the same day the Australian Government contributed the RAN to the war in Korea, the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers in Japan, General Douglas MacArthur, requested No. 77 Squadron for operations over the Korean Peninsula. He had been informed by his principal air commander, Commander of the Far East Air Forces (FEAF), Lieutenant General George Stratemeyer, that he was in desperate need of long-range ground attack aircraft. As the Australian Official Historian of the Korean War, Robert O’Neill related, MacArthur had cabled the Commander of BCOF, Lieutenant General Sir Horace Robertson, to request the use of No. 77 Squadron. However, he had sent the message uncoded and not kept it from the entourage of reporters that he had taken with him on his tour of South Korea.[5] Stratemeyer embellished MacArthur’s position by heaping praise on No. 77 Squadron. While the praise was not unwarranted, it was clearly designed for effect. Indeed, Stratemeyer and his planners at FEAF had, in the words of the United States Air Force’s official history of air operations over Korea, ‘cast covetous glances’ at No 77 Squadron and its P-51 Mustangs.[6] MacArthur’s request for the deployment of No. 77 Squadron was widely reported in the Australian media alongside Stratemeyer’s praise for the unit before the Australian Government had a chance to respond.[7]

MacArthur’s request put the Australian Government in a challenging position. They still hoped to send No. 77 Squadron back to Australia, but alliance politics took centre stage, and by 30 June it was announced that the squadron would be committed to operations.[8] MacArthur had got his way. However, while No. 77 Squadron was committed to action, it operated from Iwakuni and would operate over Korea, but not be deployed to the peninsula. Moreover, due to poor weather, it would take several days for No. 77 Squadron to undertake its first sorties.

The North American P-51D Mustang aircraft A68-809, flown by Wing Commander Lou Spence DFC, when commanding No. 77 Squadron, RAAF, in Korea. Spence flew this aeroplane on 2 July when leading the second mission of the day. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

On 2 July, No. 77 Squadron undertook three sorties. The first was an ‘armed escort’ of four P-51s led by Squadron Leader Graham Strout for US Douglas C-47 Dakotas evacuating wounded soldiers from ‘Taijon’ (Daejeon) in Korea to Japan. One P-51 (A68-799) had to return to Iwakuni due to being unserviceable after take-off. The second sortie was a ‘close-armed escort’ mission led by the squadron commander, Wing Commander Lou Spence. The mission was to escort a group of US Douglas B-26 Invaders who attacked two bridges south of Seoul. One P-51 (A68-757) had to return due to unserviceability. The final mission saw six P-51s provide ‘armed escort’ to US Boeing B-29 Superfortresses who were attacking Yonpo airfield at Hamhung.[9] Despite the return of two aeroplanes to Iwakuni due to unserviceability, the sorties were relatively uneventful, despite several newspapers reporting that No. 77 Squadron downed one or two Yakovlev Yak-9 fighters.[10] No enemy aeroplanes were recorded as being encountered, and only in the two final sorties was any form of anti-aircraft fire encountered, though they caused no problem for the squadron. After a relatively inauspicious start, No. 77 Squadron would soon turn its attention to offensive operations, launching its first ‘armed attack’ with eight P-51s armed with rockets, attacking a convoy on a stretch of road between Heitaku and Suwon on 3 July. The attack claimed two locomotives, one truck, two staff cars, four other vehicles, and a bridge.[11]

The significance of No. 77 Squadron’s deployment over Korea came not in what the squadron physically achieved but in what its presence represented to alliance politics. The squadron’s first operations were widely reported both in Australia and abroad. In Australia, No. 77 Squadron’s first operation was reported in a typically functional manner, with many newspapers simply reporting on the character of the sorties. Nevertheless, some newspapers reported on the significance of the sorties in terms of Australian strategic policy, both foreign and domestic. For example, on 3 July, the Brisbane Telegraph noted that while the deployment of small-scale RAAF and RAN forces to support the effort in Korea was warranted to ‘honour Australian commitments to the United Nations’, any larger-scale deployment would need parliamentary agreement.[12] However, as an editorial in The Canberra Times reported, the rapid deployment highlighted ‘[t]wo extremes in the making of major decisions on policy have been illustrated by the reactions of the Government and of the Labour Party to the outbreak of hostilities in Korea.’[13] In short, the Australian Government acted quickly. At the same time, the Labor Party could ‘even comment on the situation until a meeting is held in Sydney next Wednesday [5 July], at which the policy will be decided.’[14] Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was reported that the Australian Communist Party had condemned the use of the RAAF, describing their deployment as a ‘scandal and a disgrace’ and demanding ‘the withdrawal of the R.A.A.F, from Korea.’[15]

More significantly, in the US, the rapid response of the Australian Government was noted. On 2 September, the Washington Evening Star reported on that ‘[t]he first combat mission of the Australians […] had a political significance. It made the air war a United Nations show […] No longer was the United States conducting any part of the Korean “police action” alone.’[16] That the term ‘political significance’ was used would not have been lost on readers, and a copy of this article was provided to the Department of External Affairs, as it aligned with Australian views on alliance politics.[17] Indeed, on 27 June, Makin had cabled Canberra to note that ‘the war had created a useful opportunity for putting to the State Department’ the creation of a ‘regional arrangement […] might help meet further crises.’[18] Thus, the failure to deploy No. 77 Squadron would have been inopportune and also demonstrated that, while a small contribution to the war effort, it had a significant political impact.

Thus ended the first day of operations for No. 77 Squadron over Korea. The squadron would deploy to Korea in October 1950 and eventually be re-equipped with the Gloster Meteor F.8. It would serve in Korea until October 1954, when it would transfer back to Japan and subsequently to Australia.

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: North American P-51D Mustangs of 77 Squadron RAAF, lined up on the tarmac at Iwakuni air base, Japan, c. 1950. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

[1] This is an overly simplified description of the development of the two Koreas in the period after the Second World War. For more detail, see: Allan Millett, The War for Korea, 1945-1950: A House Burning (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2005).

[2] 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. 49.

[3] National Archives of Australia (NAA), A1838, 3123/7/3/4 PART 1, Statement by the Prime Minister, 29 June 1950; ‘Australia Backs U.N.,’ The Herald, 29 June 1950, p. 1; ‘Australian Units for Korea, Ships and Planes,’ Lithgow Mercury, 29 June 1950, 2.

[4] O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1, p. 51.

[5] O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1, pp. 51-2. On the repercussions, or lack thereof, of MacArthur’s ‘leak,’ see: O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1, p. 54. Cameron Forbes claimed MacArthur told Australian Roy Macartney, who was Chief of the AAP-Reuters office in Tokyo. See: Cameron Forbes, ‘Fighting in the Giants’ Playground: Australians in the Korean War’ in John Blaxland, Micheal Kelly and Liam Brewin Higgins (eds.), In from the Cold: Reflections on Australia’s Korean War (Canberra, ACT, ANU Press, 2020), p. 89. Macartney certainly filed a story that was picked up by several newspapers. For example, see: ‘Australian Fighters Sought by MacArthur,’ The Canberra Times, 30 June 1950, p. 1; ‘MacArthur Seeks Use of Australian Fighters in Korea,’ Border Morning Mail, 30 June 1950, p. 1; ‘MacArthur Wants Australian Fighter Planes,’ Daily Advertiser, 30 June 1950, p. 1. O’Neill noted the presence of Macartney of MacArthur’s aeroplane but does not explicitly note that the latter told the former that he wanted No. 77 Squadron. O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1, p. 51.

[6] Robert Futrell, The United States Air Force in Korea, 1950-1953 (New York, NY: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1961), p. 64.

[7] “R.A.A.F. Fighters Sought for South Korea,’ The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 June 1950, p. 1; ‘RAAF asked to Fight with U.S.,’ Daily Mirror, 30 June 1950, p. 1; ‘MacArthur Back; Wants to Use R.A.A.F.,’ Illawarra Daily Mercury, 30 June 1950, p. 1; ‘Mac Arthur asks for the R.A.A.F.,’ The Courier-Mail, 30 June 1950, p. 1; “Wants R.A.A.F. for Korea,’ The Mercury, 30 June 1950, p. 1.

[8] NAA, A1838, 3123/7/3/4 PART 1, Statement by the Prime Minister, 30 June 1950.

[9] NAA, A9186, 103, Detail of Operations, No. 77 Squadron, Operations Record Book, 2 July 1950.

[10] ‘RAAF Mustangs Escort Bombers,’ The Herald, 3 July 1950, p. 3; ‘RAAF Mustangs in a Mission which downs a Red,’ The Daily News, 3 July 1950, p. 1.

[11] NAA, A9186, 103, Detail of Operations, No. 77 Squadron, Operations Record Book, 3 July 1950.

[12] ‘Emergency Call to Parlt.,’ Brisbane Telegraph, 3 July 1950, p. 2

[13] ‘Policies on Korea,’ The Canberra Times, 3 July 1950, p. 4.

[14] ‘Policies on Korea,’ The Canberra Times, 3 July 1950, p. 4.

[15] ‘Communists in Stoney Attack Prime Minister,’ The Canberra Times, 3 July 1950, p. 1.

[16] NAA, A1838, 3123/7/3/4 PART 1, Brooks McClure, ‘Aussies Make Quick Contribution to War,’ Washington Evening Star, 2 September 1950. McClure’s article also noted the importance of the deployment of RAN ships.

[17] NAA, A1838, 3123/7/3/4 PART 1, Memorandum to the Secretary, Department of External Affairs, 5 September 1950.

[18] O’Neill, Australia in the Korean War, 1950-53 – Volume 1, p. 53.

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