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.

Putting the Enemy Back in CAS: An Argument for Flexible Tactics in Close Proximity

By Major E. Aaron Brady

Boar 81, we’ve got approval to strike the convoy you found. This will be Type 2 control, single GBU-38s, 30-second spacing, attack from the north. Your target is a column of vehicles near coordinates 123 456. Nearest friendlies are 40 kilometres east. Expect weapons clearance on final…

Introduction

The situation described above is becoming increasingly common in US and NATO air operations. Aircrew found a legitimate target in an area in which risk of fratricide is nil, yet the strike is being closely controlled by ground personnel hundreds of kilometres away via satellite radio and using Close Air Support (CAS) procedures. The trouble with this example – based on an actual occurrence during Operation INHERENT RESOLVE – Is that it illustrates the US military’s misapplication of CAS procedures to situations for which those procedures were not designed. This issue largely stems from two factors: a continued inability to resolve tensions inherent in operational frameworks (how we divide battlespaces up for command and control purposes) and weaknesses within United States and European doctrine that cleaves all air-to-surface operations against enemy military capabilities into either Air Interdiction (AI) or Close Air Support (CAS) categories.

The framework issue is discussed often, and therefore largely ignored in this article.[1] However, the doctrine issue remains mostly unaddressed. The main notable exception is a 2005 RAND study entitled Beyond Close Air Support.[2] More importantly, the flaws in the doctrinal models reflect deeper issues with the theoretical foundation western militaries use to understand air-to-surface operations. This article attempts to resolve this issue by presenting a more nuanced theory of counterland operations by examining the differences between the CAS mission and CAS procedures as well as addressing why this difference matters.

Understanding the purpose of CAS and the intent of CAS tactics, techniques, and procedures (TTPs) as codified in US Joint Publication (JP) 3-09.3 Close Air Support helps one recognise that CAS TTPs are intended to mitigate the risk of fratricide. However, the CAS mission is focused entirely on affecting an enemy in close support of a friendly land force. This, in turn, suggests that while many air actions may fall under the purview of the CAS mission, only a subset of these missions require the level of control typically used. The current poor understanding will create significant issues if the US or NATO fights a peer adversary. Ground commanders, Tactical Air Control Parties (TACP), and aircrew should foster a culture of flexible TTP application based on risk assessment to enable a more effective tempo depending on the specific operational environment.

AR.2002.115 — Nicknamed the ‘Hun,’ the F-100 Super Sabre was possibly the best-known USAF close air support aircraft in the Southeast Asia War. Here, a forward air controller in an OV-10 directs these two F-100s in accurately delivering firepower in support of the ground forces. (Source: National Museum of the United States Air Force)

Examining Definitions of CAS

Determining what defines CAS as a mission begins with JP 3-09.3 Close Air Support, which views CAS as an action by fixed-wing or rotary-wing aircraft against targets in close proximity to friendly forces which require detailed integration of each air mission with the fire and movement of those forces.[3] The two key phrases most often keyed upon by CAS-focused communities like the TACP and A-10 tribes in the US Air Force are ‘close proximity’ and ‘detailed integration.’

Interestingly, the NATO definition of CAS includes the same definition almost word for word but adds that TTPs are executed ‘for fratricide avoidance and targeting guidance performed by a […] Forward Air Controller.’[4] British air and space power doctrine does not include detailed integration in its most basic definition but notes that ‘intensive air-land integration and coordination’ is necessary for fratricide prevention and target identification.[5] Most other American allies match either the NATO or US definition. The US and its allies, therefore, agree that the mission of CAS is airstrikes in close proximity to ground forces and that detailed integration is needed. However, most allied doctrine notes explicitly that the purpose of detailed integration is to either mitigate fratricide risk or enable target correlation.

Close proximity is clearly a subjective term. Close means one thing to an infantry unit defending urban terrain and something entirely different to an armoured formation attacking through a desert. Doctrine even describes close as situational.[6] Likewise, detailed integration may encompass entirely different issues depending on the situation. So, even though these two clauses are the cited hallmarks of CAS, one cannot easily list out the explicit characteristics required to meet the conditions because they are too situationally dependent. JP 3-09.3 even states that when deciding if a mission should be considered CAS or not, ‘the word ‘close’ does not imply a specific distance […] The requirement for detailed integration because of proximity, fires, or movement is the determining factor.’[7] Therefore, even though proximity is considered one of the two main factors, the emphasis for describing CAS is detailed integration.

Three main elements drive a need for detailed integration: proximity, fires, or movement. These elements are multifaceted in the ways they influence air-ground integration. Proximity presents the most obvious issue in CAS: risk of fratricide. There is also a risk to the aircraft due to their proximity to surface-based fires which requires mitigation. Proximity further mixes with fires and movement to suggest another theme not mentioned in any of the definitions. Airstrikes occurring within a land commander’s area of operations (AO) may have a considerable impact on future actions by the effect those strikes may have on the enemy, the terrain, or civilians. These effects might be long-term, such as the destruction of crucial infrastructure or critical damage to military equipment, or short-term like the psychological effect of a large airstrike on an enemy unit. In either case, the land commander must both approve the strikes – in a sense ‘buying’ the effects of the attack – and ensure that the effects facilitate the overall operation. Considering fires and movement, the intent of CAS is to strike targets that directly enable the land scheme of maneuver. Doctrine hints at some of these points. This discussion highlights a weakness prevalent in all the doctrinal definitions of CAS that feeds into the misunderstandings throughout the US and allied forces: the definitions describe what CAS is, not the purpose of CAS. This is due in no small part to the way that most doctrine organises the various missions of air power.

The Counterland Doctrinal Framework

Once again, there is a large degree of consensus between the US and its allies over air power’s mission structure. US JP 3-0 Joint Operations simply classifies most air power missions within the various joint functions; most of the subjects discussed in this essay naturally fall under fires. In contrast, NATO doctrine creates a hierarchy of air missions. Air attack encompasses most missions which directly influence an enemy. One subset of attack is counter-surface force operations, under which falls air power contribution to counterland operations, which in turn incorporates two missions: AI and CAS.

UK doctrine closely aligns with NATO thinking. The US Air Force theory lies between the US joint doctrine and European concepts. It describes all-action intended to influence an enemy’s land forces as counterland which includes just two sub-missions: AI and CAS. The US Marine Corps presents a slightly different perspective. Marine thinking classifies six functions of Marine aviation, one of which is offensive air support (OAS). OAS incorporates CAS and deep air support (DAS), which includes AI, armed reconnaissance, and strike coordination and reconnaissance (SCAR). Of note, Marine doctrine states explicitly that ‘detailed integration is accomplished using positive control’ and that ‘positive control is provided by terminal controllers [JTACs].’[8] This listing shows that, except for US joint and Marine Corps doctrine, militaries tend to organise CAS and AI under a broader counterland concept (see Figure 1). Therefore, most US and NATO service members view CAS as a subset of a counterland concept.

CAS, as shown earlier, occurs close enough to friendly land forces that strikes require detailed integration. AI – the other half of counterland operations – occurs far enough away that this level of integration is unnecessary. Adopting a more conceptual view, the larger counterland mission set is enemy-centric – any counterland mission focuses on affecting an enemy’s combat system. AI and CAS, though, are friendly-centric – the doctrinal difference between the two lies in the level of integration mandated by the proximity of friendly land forces. Harkening back to the earlier identification of fratricide risk as to the primary reason demanding detailed integration with target nomination as a close second, we arrive at the crux of the issue.

To solve these two problems, CAS is differentiated from AI in that while executing CAS, aircrew does not have weapons release authority. By mandating that the land force commander must approve target nomination and weapons release and because the land commander is the authority for expenditure of weapons in the assigned area of operations, the various systems seek to resolve the two critical issues associated with airstrikes near friendly land forces. This clarification enables one to define the purpose of the CAS mission while still acknowledging the characteristics that separate it from AI.

The Purpose of CAS: A Mission-Based Definition

CAS is an air mission flown in close support of land forces to disrupt, degrade, or destroy enemy forces. These enemy forces are in close enough proximity to friendly land forces that risk mitigation mandates detailed coordination between the air and land forces. This definition does not roll off the tongue as easily as the current definition in JP 3-09.3 but does address both what the CAS mission is in addition to its characteristics and requirements. By creating a definition that addresses the purpose of CAS, we introduced the key elements that form the basis for CAS procedures.

Evaluating CAS Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures

CAS TTPs intend to mitigate the risk of fratricide and integrate air effects into a larger fire support plan by efficiently nominating, correlating, and approving weapons release against targets. A process termed Terminal Attack Control accomplishes this goal, hence the name for the person that controls CAS strikes, the JTAC. Standardised communication – most notably the CAS Briefing, referred to as the 9-Line – and specific weapons release authorities and parameters combine to achieve the overall intent. Compared to defining the purpose of CAS, deducing what CAS TTPs intend to do is simple. However, two major presumptions within the CAS TTPs are not readily plain and may cause issues in a large-scale conflict. These concerns drive the overall conclusion that there is a disconnect between the intent of CAS and the procedures laid out in current doctrine.

First, CAS procedures are almost entirely reactive. One can argue that planned CAS is an exception to this, but two factors reduce the strength of this claim. In this author’s decade of experience practising CAS, preplanned missions were far and away the exception rather than the norm. Mike Benitez’s article ‘How Afghanistan Distorted CAS’ shows that my experience is typical. Further, unless the plan includes detailed restrictions and weapons release authority, TACP and aircrew must still resort to using the entirety of CAS TTPs even during a planned mission. Nevertheless, in my experience reactive TTPs are so ingrained that even when strikes are planned in detail, both the controllers and aircrew have difficulty merely executing the plan. Decades of experience in the Middle East created a sense within the minds of both parties that 9-Lines need to be passed and confirmed on the radio even if there are no changes to the plan.

In stark contrast to aircrew performing AI, there is a limited ability within this paradigm for CAS aircrew to exercise initiative during battle. Since CAS is doctrinally a form of fire support, at first, this seems reasonable. However, on closer inspection, it should cause concern for several reasons. None of the doctrinal models with the notable exception of JP 3-0 specifies CAS as a form of fire support – it is air attack against land forces near friendly forces. This suggests that either the doctrinal models are flawed or that CAS is a distinct mission that happens to provide fire support, not a fire support mission that happens to be conducted by aircraft. Putting that point aside, ground-based fire support may conduct any number of missions with some level of internal initiative. Artillery raids or counter-battery fire are two examples. Further, harkening back to the doctrinal model point, CAS is quite different from other forms of fire support.

If lethal fire support for land maneuver is broadly divided into the categories of CAS and artillery, note that virtually all forms of artillery employ indirectly. That is, the artillery crew aimed at a location derived and passed from another source. CAS aircrew, on the other hand, receives target information from the JTAC and aim or guide the munitions themselves. Apart from bombing on coordinates, a technique not commonly used, CAS aircrew perform the aerial equivalent of aiming a rifle at the assigned target. Thus, even though they might be dropping a bomb from several miles distant, the aircrew is employing a direct-fire system as compared to other, indirect forms of fire support.

This distinction is significant because it shows that in many cases aircrew, unlike artillery operators, have the capability to find their own targets independent of specific target nominations from a controller. In recent years, CAS practitioners even added guidance to the doctrine explaining how CAS aircrew could nominate a target to a JTAC then receive a nomination and weapons release authority for the same target.

Going back to the concept of reactivity, one should now see the first issue clearly. CAS procedures, as an adjunct of fire support procedures, are inherently reactive. However, aircrew, unlike artillery operators, can identify targets independently. Therefore, the possibility exists that CAS can be performed proactively, given the right circumstances and presuming risk to friendly forces is mitigated. This suggests that the doctrinal models are correct: CAS is a distinct counterland mission that has fire support characteristics but is not inherently a fire support mission that happens to be performed by aircraft. If one accepts this notion, then we necessarily come to the second presumption behind extant CAS doctrine.

The reactive nature of CAS rests on the idea that detailed integration and risk mitigation are best accomplished through the close control of individual targets and, in most cases, individual attacks. This may be proper in many cases. In some cases, though, a single target or target set may require multiple attacks. This notion is part of the rationale behind Type 3 control in current doctrine, in which the land force commander approves multiple strikes on the same target. This type of control is still inherently reactive. However, with enough planning and an appropriate command and control capability, forces may be able to conduct CAS with a level of initiative unheard of today. Therein lies the problem with the mindset prevalent in the US military today.

A-10 Aerial Refueling — *A-10 Thunderbolt II aircraft conduct a combat air patrol mission over an undisclosed location in Southwest Asia, 21 September 2019. (Source: US Department of Defense)*

The Grey Area between AI and CAS

While the earlier discussion showed that all counterland missions are inherently enemy-centric, but the difference between CAS and AI revolves around friendly land dispositions. AI is performed in areas in which the risk to friendly land forces is nil and therefore, only minimal integration is required. CAS, on the other hand, is performed in areas where the risk of fratricide exists and detailed integration into the land fires scheme is required. In practice, this means that battlespaces are cleanly divided into AI and CAS areas by the Fire Support Coordination Line (FSCL). Virtually any US doctrinal manual that discusses the FSCL conveys that the FSCL is not a dividing line between AI and CAS TTPs, but instead ‘delineates coordination requirements for the joint attack of surface targets.’[9] The line is closer to a command and control border than anything else. However, for all intents and purposes the mindset discussed at length that aircraft operating within a land component area of operations are conducting CAS, the FSCL becomes a border between AI and CAS areas. While joint doctrine attempts to negate this thinking.

Accepting the argument regarding CAS TTPs are inherently reactive, one sees how the FSCL creates a zone where aircraft can operate proactively and a second zone in which aircraft must function entirely reactively. The problem is the size of the second zone. During the major combat phase of Operation IRAQI FREEDOM, the US Army often placed the FSCL more than 100 kilometres from friendly troops.[10] Obviously, friendly forces were at basically zero risks of fratricide if aircraft struck targets that far away. Additionally, most surface-to-surface fires were shot at targets well short of that distance.

Recent Warfighter exercises indicate that FSCLs today are often placed about thirty to 40 kilometres from the friendly lines.[11] Even in this battlefield geometry, there is still a sizeable portion of the battlespace between the friendly front and the FSCL in which the risk of aircraft causing fratricide is minimal. This article does not address the operational framework concerns raised by this example, i.e., where should the line be, or should there be other coordination lines? Instead, this author posits that regardless of how a force organises a battlespace there will be a grey area.

This grey area is entirely subjective and based on the context of each individual battlespace. When analysing a battlefield, one can usually clearly lay out the areas near friendly troops where CAS procedures must be used to mitigate risk to friendly forces and integrate air strikes into the larger fires plan. One can also clearly see the areas in which no risk is present to friendly troops and the need for detailed integration into the fires plan is nil – the AI area. However, there will be many areas on the map that do not fit neatly into either category. These areas might be far enough away from friendly troops that fratricide risk is low but still close enough that detailed integration is required to deconflict aircraft with surface-to-surface fires.

Alternatively, there might be areas that, due to the nature of the terrain or the friendly scheme of maneuver, are relatively close on the map (say within a few kilometres) but the risk of fratricide is nevertheless quite low. These two simple examples illustrate the notion that between CAS and AI is a nebulous area that can be found in many battlespaces. The pressing concern for US and NATO CAS practitioners is to learn to conduct proactive CAS in these grey areas to achieve the purpose of CAS while retaining enough control to accomplish the intent of current CAS TTPs.

Finding Solutions to Enable Proactive CAS

The extant CAS paradigm relies on the idea that CAS fires must be reactive. A reactive mindset, however, is not conducive to success in a modern battlespace in which the speed of decision-making is paramount. The paradigm should allow for aircrew to proactively achieve the purpose of CAS – disrupting, degrading, and destroying enemy forces per a land maneuver commander’s intent and with minimal risk to friendly forces. The 2019 US JP 3-09 Joint Fire Support identifies the criticality of fast-paced decision-making in modern combat, emphasising that joint fire effects are best achieved through ‘decentralized execution based on mission-type orders.’[12] A myriad of options to do this is already within US doctrine.

The joint force could incorporate the US Marine Corps concept of the Battlefield Coordination Line into joint doctrine. This line allows land commanders to simply denote where the risk to friendly forces is low enough to justify AI TTPs. Whether land commanders and TACP utilise preplanned 9-Lines with Type 3 control, engagement areas with specific restrictions attached, or even restricted fire areas, the possibilities for enabling initiative to abound. If targets appear outside those areas, or the ground situation changes, then switch to close control of individual attacks. Nonetheless, in large conflicts, allow CAS aircrew to achieve the intent of CAS by providing enough freedom of action to enable initiative. US forces should foster a mindset that emphasises the concepts of mission command and decentralised execution – delegate decision-making authority to the lowest appropriate level. The simple fact is that US forces in all domains must make decisions faster than the enemy. A reactive CAS mindset virtually ensures a slow decision cycle. A proactive perspective, with proper risk mitigation, allows for thinking aircrew to engage the enemy faster with commensurate effects on the enemy’s tempo.

Conclusion

In summary, let’s review the key takeaways. First, counterland missions affect an enemy’s land military capabilities and consist of AI and CAS subsets. The only difference between these two is that CAS is executed in close proximity to friendly forces while AI is distant enough that detailed integration is not needed. Second, the purpose of CAS TTPs is to facilitate target nomination and mitigate risk to friendly ground troops. Third, the current US mindset is that a CAS mission must be controlled using individual 9-Lines for every target regardless of actual risk to friendly forces. The disconnect between the first two points and the third point creates a potentially dangerous concoction for CAS effectiveness during future major conflicts.

Land commanders, TACP, and CAS aircrew should train now to using various control methods to enable initiative on the part of aircrew. Whether that means more sophisticated uses of fire support coordination measures or learning to transition between CAS and AI TTP control methods flexibly is irrelevant. The point is to learn now, on bloodless training grounds, how to delegate initiative to the lowest levels to make decisions as rapidly as possible. The lessons learned today at Combat Training Centers and countless air-to-surface ranges around North American and Europe concerning how to conduct proactive CAS missions will pay dividends in a potential future conflict.

Major E. Aaron ‘Nooner’ Brady is a student at the US Army’s School of Advanced Military Studies. He graduated from the US Air Force Academy with a BS in History in 2006. He is a graduate of the US Air Force Weapons School A-10 course and is a senior pilot with more than 1,800 hours including more than 360 combat hours.

Header Image: A US Air Force A-10 Thunderbolt II maneuvers through the air during Red Flag-Alaska 19-2 at Eielson Air Force Base, Alaska, June 17, 2019. The exercise provides counter-air, interdiction and close air support training in a simulated combat environment. (Source: US Department of Defense)

[1] Mike Benitez, ‘How Afghanistan Distorted Close Air Support and Why it Matters,’ War on the Rocks, 29 June 2016; Clay Bartels, Tim Tormey, Jon Hendrickson, ‘Multidomain Operations and Close Air Support: A Fresh Perspective,’ Military Review, 97:2 (2017), pp. 70-9.

[2] Bruce R. Pirnie, Alan Vick, Adam Grissom, Karl P. Mueller, David T. Orletsky, Beyond Close Air Support: Forging a New Air-Ground Partnership (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, 2005).

[3] Joint Publication (JP) 3-09.3 – Close Air Support (Washington DC, US Joint Staff: Department of Defense, 2019), p. I-1.

[4] Allied Joint Publication 3.3(B) – Allied Joint Doctrine for Air and Space Operations (North Atlantic Treaty Organization, Standardization Office, 2017), p. 1-11.

[5] Joint Doctrine Publication (JDP) 0-30 – UK Air and Space Power, Second Edition (Shrivenham: Defence Concepts and Doctrine Centre, 2017) p. 34

[6] JP 3-09.3, p. I-2.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Marine Corps Reference Publication 1-10.1 – Organization of the United States Marine Corps (Washington DC:, Department of the Navy, 2016), p. 6-1.

[9] JP 3-09, Joint Fire Support (Washington DC: Department of Defense, 2019), p. A-5.

[10] Pirnie et al, Beyond Close Air Support, p. 68.

[11] Travis Robison and Alex Moen, ‘Reinventing the Wheel: Operational Lessons Learned by the 101^st Division Artillery during Two Warfighter Exercises,’ Military Review, 96:4 (July-August 2016), p. 75.

[12] JP 3-09, Joint Fire Support, p. IV-1.

Call for Submissions: Bombing to Win Revisited

In 2020, From Balloons to Drones will run a series of articles that examine the use and development of air strikes from the earliest use of air power through to today.

The use of air power to achieve an effect on the ground and at sea remains controversial. For example, with regards to strategic bombing, Robert Pape argued in Bombing to Win that it ‘did not work’ as a military strategy. Moreover, since the inception of air power, there have been ongoing legal and ethical debates about the use of air strikes in various spheres of military activity. As such, From Balloons to Drones is seeking submissions for a series of articles that examine the varied use of air strikes, both kinetic and non-kinetic, at the tactical, operational and strategic levels of war. Themes to be explored might include, but are not limited to:

Strategy, Theory and Doctrine | Organisation and Policy | Roles

Operations – Kinetic and Non-Kinetic | Tactics, Training and Procedures

Strategic and Operational Effect | Technological Developments

Culture | Ethical and Moral Issues

National, International and Transnational Experiences

We are looking for articles of c. 3,000 words, though we will accept larger pieces and we reserve the right to publish them in parts. We welcome and encourage submissions from academics, policymakers, service personnel, and relevant professionals. We also welcome submissions written from diverse academic disciplines.

We plan to begin running the series in January 2020, and it will continue for as long as we receive potential contributions. We will also be looking at publishing extended versions of selected articles in an edited volume.

Submissions should be submitted in Word format and emailed to the address below with ‘SUBMISSION – Bombing to Win Revisited’ in the subject line. Also, please include a 50-100-word biography with your submission. Footnotes can be used, and please be careful to explain any jargon. However, if you are not sure if your idea fits our requirements, then please email us with ‘POTENTIAL SUBMISSION – Bombing to Win Revisited’ in the subject line to discuss.

If you are interested in contributing, please email our editor, Dr Ross Mahoney, at airpowerstudies@gmail.com or via our contact page here.

Header Image: B-52Ds from the Strategic Air Command line up for takeoff as they prepare for strikes over Hanoi and Haiphong, North Vietnam, during Operation LINEBACKER. (Source: National Museum of the USAF)

Air Power and the Battle of Hamel

By Dr Michael Molkentin

Editorial Note: The 4^th of July 2018 represented that 100^th Anniversary of the Battle of Le Hamel. While Hamel was important, its place as a model on which subsequent operations were based has been overplayed. Furthermore, notable popular Australian historians have also distorted the significance of the battle. Nevertheless, as Dr Michael Molkentin highlights in this article, Hamel was valuable in highlighting the evolution of, and the diverse roles played by, air power in support of land battles during the First World War.

In the historiography of the First World War, the Battle of Hamel (4 July 1918) has frequently been cited as an example of significant tactical innovation and a ‘model’ on which subsequent British offensive operations were planned. While neither interpretation bears up to scrutiny when the battle is viewed within the broader context of British Army operations on the Western Front, relative to its size the Australian Corps’ capture of Hamel integrated air power to a hitherto unprecedented extent and, in hindsight, provides a revealing case study of the varied, distinct and specialist air power roles that had evolved during the conflict.

The Australian Corps’ headquarters, commanded by the recently appointed Lieutenant-General Sir John Monash, planned the capture of the village of Hamel (located south of the Somme) as a line-straightening operation. Besides the troops of his own corps’ 4^th Division, Monash had ten infantry companies from the US 33^rd Division, 60 tanks from the British 5^th Tank Brigade (including the new Mark V tank) and 639 artillery pieces. Monash planned to launch a surprise assault behind a creeping barrage and tank screen (much like British Third Army had done at Cambrai the previous November); he anticipated that his infantry could secure their objectives – two kilometres deep on a seven-kilometre wide front – within an hour and a half.

4083779 — A unique photo of a disabled British RE8 aircraft diving towards earth during the 4th Australian Infantry Brigade attack at Vaire Wood in the Battle of Hamel. It was subsequently discovered that the machine had been hit by a presumably faulty shell. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

Monash’s staff also worked with the Royal Air Force’s (RAF) V Brigade to organise substantial and multi-layered air support for the operation. The Australian Corps’ corps squadron, No. 3 Squadron Australian Flying Corps (AFC), would conduct the ‘majority of the tactical work’ during the battle. Its airmen would maintain a continuous presence over and directly beyond the battlefield to follow the progress of the Australian infantry (contact patrols), watch for enemy counter-attacks (counter-attack patrols), identify and direct artillery fire onto active German batteries (artillery patrols) and to photograph the new front line once it had been secured. New maps would then be produced and issued to troops in the front line within a matter of hours.[1] Assisting No. 3 Squadron with providing tactical air support, the RAF’s No. 8 Squadron would co-operate with the tanks while No. 9 Squadron parachuted ammunition to troops at their objectives. The night-bombers of No. 101 Squadron flew above the staging area on the night before the battle to mask the noise of the tanks as they moved up to their starting line.

The squadrons of 22^nd (Army) Wing were also assigned to support the land battle: three of its four fighter squadrons would fly ground-attack sorties while its Bristol Fighter unit watched roads, railways and debussing points as far east as Proyart (10 kilometres east of Hamel). The army wing’s two bomber squadrons would meanwhile raid known German bivouacs. This aspect of the air plan reflected the RAF’s preference for interdiction over ‘trench strafing’ – the belief being that it was better to harass German troops and artillery behind rather than on the battlefield itself.[2] GHQ allocated three additional fighter squadrons from, IX Brigade, the RAF’s strategic reserve, to provide air superiority and the neighbouring Third Army’s fighters extended their offensive patrols south to cover the rest of Fourth Army’s front.[3]

Probably no other division-sized operation of the war enjoyed the combined support of aircraft from three wings, that is, 13 squadrons, or 230-odd aircraft. As well as the multi-faceted and highly integrated function that air power had assumed by this stage, the air plan, devised by the Australian Corps’ BGGS in collaboration with V Brigade illustrates the British Army’s growing reliance on machinery and firepower to reduce casualties and compensate for dwindling manpower.[4]

As the plan dispensed with a preliminary bombardment, No. 3 Squadron’s artillery spotting began at zero hour. For the first few hours, airmen reported batteries neutralised by the barrage so that artillery commanders could switch their guns onto active targets. The plan also allocated five heavy batteries to answer zone calls, airmen being briefed on where the Germans might move batteries once the battle started.[5] No. 3 Squadron issued 80 zone calls and co-operated in the neutralisation of at least 17 batteries (‘in many cases’ airmen did not see the artillery’s response to zone calls).[6] Although not entirely preventing it, the Australian Corps counter-battery arrangements suppressed the German artillery’s response adequately during the advance and consolidation.[7]

Counter-attack patrols flew beyond the German lines to ‘an unheard of distance’ with instructions to transmit zone calls on concentrations of German troops and engage them with bombs and machine guns.[8] One crew reported a concentration of enemy infantry just before 0700 but otherwise, seeing no enemy counter-attacks the airmen, as Lieutenant Arthur Barrett put it, ‘bombed and machine gunned everything we saw.’ Crossing the line just after zero hour he and his pilot halted a train, silenced several machine gun positions and strafed a pair of limbered guns, overturning one. Descending below 300 feet, Barrett’s eyes ran from gas in the barrage.[9] 3rd Squadron’s airmen dropped 138 bombs and fired 9,500 rounds on 4 July 1918.[10] Combined with the record 54,000 rounds and 850 bombs expended by 22nd Wing’s fighter pilots, this had a considerable impact on such a narrow battlefront.[11] ‘Several’ prisoners attested to the ‘moral effect’ of air attacks and noted how:

[t]hey prevent men getting machine guns into action almost as effectively as a barrage […] it was almost impossible to look over the top without getting machine gunned from the air.[12]

Corroborating this is German Second Army orders that noted ‘heavy casualties caused by machine gun fire from low-flying enemy machines’ at Hamel and issued instructions for dealing with British aircraft.[13]

Although Australian infantry had been signalling to aircraft since operations at Poziéres in 1916, contact patrols represented a new role for 3rd Squadron at Hamel. Despite difficulties experienced during the 1916-17 campaigns, the general staff recognised that aircraft provided the shortest possible passage of information from the battlefield to corps (and, atypically at Hamel, divisional) headquarters.[14] Dropped by airmen returning from the line, contact patrol reports reached headquarters staff in 24 minutes on average – up to half the time taken by a wireless message and a third of that usually taken by carrier pigeon.[15] Experience indicated that staff needed to synchronise contact patrols with the infantry’s timetable carefully. At Hamel, No. 3 Squadron had instructions to call for flares on the objective at 90 minutes after zero.[16] No. 8 Squadron followed the tanks across the battlefield and ‘in one or two cases were able to give information as to those which had been put out of action.’[17] The infantry’s clockwork progress and minimal resistance at the objective allowed the infantry and tanks to respond ‘well’ when contact patrol pilots sounded their klaxon horns; the airmen delivered ‘exceedingly accurate’ reports.[18] It remained to be seen, however, how the system would cope during running battles and exploitation operations when it would be arguably more crucial for staff to keep track of their troops.

4090362 — A parachute, used as an ammunition carrier, caught in the trees at Vaire Wood, during the Battle of Hamel on 4 July 1918, when the supply of ammunition to the infantry by means of parachutes was a feature of aircraft cooperation. The picture was taken the day following, during shelling by the enemy of newly won Australian positions. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

For the first time, at Hamel, the RAF organised battlefield resupply using equipment designed and built at No. 3 Squadron’s aerodrome under the direction of ‘B’ Flight’s commander, Captain Lawrence Wackett. The idea apparently came from the Luftstreitkräfte’s (German Air Service) attempts at dropping ammunition to troops on the battlefield during the spring offensives.[19] At Hamel a detachment from No. 9 Squadron carried out the work, dropping 111,600 rounds to Australian troops at their objectives and at dropping stations close behind the line.[20] Endorsing Wackett’s claim for a £1,000 inventor’s fee from the British government (he received £350), Monash declared the scheme ‘an unqualified success’, noting how it permitted the rapid resupply of troops in ‘isolated and exposed positions’ and saved casualties among carrying parties.[21] His subordinates, though more prosaic, also indicated the trial’s success. 4th Australian Infantry Brigade’s CO described it as working ‘satisfactorily’ while 6^th Brigade’s commander noted how the scheme ‘worked very well,’ delivering ammunition within 10 yards of one machine gun position.[22] Though faster, aircraft lacked the carrying capacity of other transportation available to the Australian Corps: a single tank could deliver four times as much ammunition as each of No. 9 Squadron’s aircraft, plus 300 grenades, 450 litres of water and a vast quantity of food and other trench stores.[23] Employed in all subsequent British offensives (the RAF delivered 30-60,000 rounds each day during the Amiens offensive), ammunition drops by corps squadrons thus remained an ‘emergency’ adjunct to other forms of battlefield logistics.[24]

The RAF’s tactical support was enabled, to a substantial extent, by the air superiority that British airmen exercised over the battlefield. Throughout the day, the fighter squadrons of 22^nd (Army) Wing and three additional fighter squadrons attached from IX Brigade, ranged east of the battlefield to intercept any German aircraft that attempted to interfere. It was RAF policy to employ air superiority patrols offensively, east of the lines, rather than as a protective screen or close escorts. The airmen of the Luftstreitkräfte made no sorties over the Hamel battlefield until 9.30am – some five hours after the Australian infantry had secured their objective line. German fighters after that became ‘fairly active’ over the area, and there were ten air-to-air combats. In the largest of these, the SE5as of No. 24 Squadron engaged a mixed formation of 20 Fokker DVIIs, Pfalz scouts and Albatros DVs over Cerisy, six kilometres east of Hamel. The British pilots claimed three enemy aircraft and lost none themselves.[25] It is noteworthy that No. 24 Squadron was one of the 22^nd (Army) Wing fighter units allocated to bomb and strafe targets on the ground behind German lines – its involvement in this dogfight illustrates the integration of air superiority and interdiction roles that British airmen had begun to undertake at Third Ypres the previous year.

Altogether, of the hundreds of sorties flown by the RAF in support of the Hamel operation, only three resulted in the loss of an aircraft to air combat– and only one of these involved one of the aircraft involved in direct tactical support over the battlefield. All other British losses resulted from ground fire, to which the pilots of low-altitude contact patrols and ammunition drops, were considered vulnerable.[26] The RAF’s efforts to maintain air superiority, therefore, appear to have been overwhelmingly successful – although the woeful deficiencies in material (especially fuel) that the Luftstreitkräfte faced in the summer of 1918 need to be recognised when evaluating the success of the British air plan.

4093525 — The remains of RE8 C4580, which was shot down at Hamel Wood, by the enemy, after it had succeeded in dropping ammunition to the forward troops by means of parachutes. This aircraft was flown by No. 9 Squadron RAF during the Battle of Hamel and used for ammunition drops to the forward troops. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

The Battle of Hamel, therefore, indicates the extent and sophistication to which the application of British air power in support of surface operations had evolved during the First World War. The efforts of British airmen to support of Monash’s troops were not only extensive but organised carefully, through a variety of distinct air power roles, to provide a range of tactical and operational-level services that, considering the aircrafts’ technical limitations, functioned effectively. Indeed, the operation represented the high-water mark of efficacy in air-ground cooperation in the British Expeditionary Force during the First World War. As a limited, set-piece battle, Hamel drew on structures, procedures and technologies that had evolved during four years of trench warfare. Subsequent British operations during the ‘Hundred Days’, in which exploitation and pursuit replaced carefully planned set pieces, would test this system of integrating air power with surface forces and in some respects undermine the efficacy of British close air support. The war’s final battles would, in some respects, force airmen to begin their ‘learning curve’ all over again.[27]

Dr Michael Molkentin is a head teacher at Shellharbour Anglican College and an adjunct lecturer at the University of New South Wales Canberra. He has a PhD in History from the University of New South Wales and is the author of three books, including Australia and the War in the Air (OUP, 2014). His next book, a biographical history of Sir Ross Macpherson Smith and the 1919 England to Australia air race will be published in 2019.

Header Image: An R.E.8 aircraft, serial number A3662, ‘J’, presented to the Australian Flying Corps by Mr H. Teesdale Smith of Adelaide, South Australia. This was the type of aircraft used by No. 3 Squadron AFC at the Battle of Hamel. (Source: Australian War Memorial)

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[1] Australian War Memorial (AWM), Canberra, AWM4 8/6/19 Part 1, 3^rd Squadron War Diary, 4 July 1918.

[2] For a clear expression of this idea, see the Royal Flying Corps’ plans for defence in the German spring offensives: H.A. Jones, The War in the Air: Being the Story of the Part played in the Great War by the Royal Air Force, Vol. IV, (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1934), p. 445.

[3] The National Archives (TNA), London, AIR1/677/21/13/1887, Air Historical Branch, The Western Front Air Operations, May-November 1918, pp. 54-5.

[4] TNA, AIR1/1592/204/83/17, Brigadier-General Thomas Blamey, BGGS Australian Corps to GOC 4^th Australian Division and GOC V Brigade RAF, 29 June 1918; Gary Sheffield, Forgotten Victory: The First World War – Myths and Realities (London: Review, 2002), p. 236.

[5] AWM, AWM26 364/12, Counter-battery Australian Corps HA Operation Order No. 7, 1 July 1918.

[6] AWM, AWM4 8/6/19 Part 1, 3^rd Squadron war diary, 4 July 1918; TNA, AIR1/1009/204/5/1289, RAF Headquarters, Notes on corps squadrons work on the First and Third Army fronts during recent operations, 14 September 1918.

[7] AWM, AWM4 1/48/28 Part 1, 4^th Division general staff war diary, 4 July 1918. The divisional staff noted that enemy artillery was ‘not very active’ and that retaliation against the Australian barrage was ‘weak’.

[8] AWM, AWM 2DRL/0053, Lieutenant Arthur Barrett to mother, 30 August 1918.

[9] AWM, AWM 2DRL/0053, Barrett to mother, 30 August 1918.

[10] AWM, AWM4 8/6/19 Part 1, 3^rd Squadron war diary, 4 July 1918.

[11] TNA, AIR1/1592/204/83/17, CO 22^nd Wing RAF, ‘Summary of Operations’, 11 July 1918.

[12] TNA, AIR1/2124/207/74/3, Summary of air intelligence, 18 July 1918; AWM, AWM4 8/14/2, RAF Communiqué No. 15, 17 July 1918.

[13] TNA, AIR1/2124/207/74/3, Summary of air intelligence, 18 August 1918.

[14] General Staff, SS 205 – Notes on Observation from Aeroplanes (France: Army Printing and Stationary Services, February 1918), p. 10; AWM, AWM4 8/6/18, Captain Errol Knox, recording officer, 3^rd Squadron to 3^rd Squadron flight commanders, 3 July 1918.

[15] Jonathan Boff, ‘Air/land integration in the 100 Days: the case of Third Army’, RAF Air Power Review, 12:3 (2009), p. 82.

[16] AWM, AWM4 8/6/18, Knox to 3rd Squadron flight commanders, 3 July 1918.

[17] TNA, AIR1/677/21/13/1887, Air Historical Branch, Western Front air operations May-November 1918.

[18] AWM, AWM4 8/6/19 Part 1, 3^rd Squadron war diary, 4 July 1918.

[19] F.M. Cutlack, Official History of Australia in the War of 1914-1918: Volume VIII – The Australian Flying Corps in the Western and Eastern Theatres of War, 1914-1918 (Sydney, NSW: Angus and Robertson, 1939 [1923], p. 272; EML Gorrell papers, Series M, Item 14, GHQ AEF, Summary of Air Information, No. 29, 19.6.18.

[20] AWM, AWM4 8/6/19 Part 1, 3^rd Squadron war diary, 4 July 1918.

[21] AWM, AWM10 43/13, Lieutenant-General John Monash, GOC Australian Corps to The Royal Commission on Awards to Inventors, 13 May 1919.

[22] AWM, AWM4 23/4/34 Part 1, Fourth Australian Infantry Brigade Intelligence Summary, 6am 3.7.1918 to 6am 4.7.1918; AWM4 23/6/35 Part 1, Brigadier-General J. Paton, CO 6th Australian Infantry Brigade, Preliminary Report on Operations of 6th AI Brigade on 4-7-1918.

[23] AWM, AWM4 1/48/29 Part 3, Fourth Australian Division Report on Operations- August 7^th to August 10^th 1918.

[24] Jones, The War in the Air, Vol. VI (1937), p. 484; TNA, AIR1/1009/204/5/1289, RAF Headquarters, Notes on corps squadrons work on the First and Third Army fronts during recent operations, 14 September 1918; TNA, AIR1/1591/204/83/8, 15^th Wing Operation Order No. 112, 17 September 1918.

[25] AWM, AWM4 8/14/2, Royal Air Force Communique No. 14, 10 July 1918.

[26] Trevor Henshaw, The Sky their Battlefield II: Air Fighting and Air Casualties of the Great War, (London: Fetubi Books, 2014), p. 187.

[27] This argument is expanded in Michael Molkentin, Australia and the War in the Air (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2014), pp. 196-206.

A Forgotten Revolution? RAF Army Co-operation Command and Artillery Co-operation

By Dr Matthew Powell[1]

Jonathan Bailey wrote that the First World War was the time of a true revolution in military affairs about the development of artillery firing.[2] One of the first significant developments that took place was the creation and refinement of the ‘clock code’ system.[3] Using this system, a pilot of the Royal Flying Corps, the forerunner to the Royal Air Force (RAF), was able to correct the fall of shot of the artillery by passing to the artillery battery commander details of how far from the target the guns were. The pilot would correct the shooting of the artillery by pointing out how far away and in what direction the shells of the guns had landed. The distance would be passed on using numbers and the direction using the picture of a clock face. The target was placed in the middle of the clock face and shells that fell beyond the target and on a straight line to the target would be corrected with a call of twelve, if it fell short on the same line the call would be six, at ninety degrees left of the target nine and ninety degrees right three. Any other direction would be corrected by using the hour on the clock with which it corresponded. This system would prove to function perfectly well throughout the whole of the First World War and was the system with which the RAF went to war in 1939.

The system of correcting artillery fire remained unchanged until 1938. The Air Council were against making alterations to the clock code system as they felt that it was adequate to meet the needs that the army would face in future conflicts. They felt that light aircraft could not be kept in action close to artillery units, as had been the case in the First World War.[4] The Air Council were also fearful of introducing a new, untried, and unfamiliar system with the growing tensions in Europe at this time. The War Office was unimpressed with the Air Councils attitude and pushed for more to be done. The Air Ministry agreed to trials between the Air Officer Commanding No. 22 (Army Co-operation) Group and the Commandant of the School of Artillery in December 1938.[5] The results of these trials and further trials conducted to test aircraft as well as procedure. The results were that light aircraft over the battlefield could observe fire with the ‘clock code’ system.[6] Spitfires conducted mock attacks on the aircraft and the Taylorcraft light aircraft observing the artillery fire had a good chance of dodging the fire of a modern fighter.[7] There was, however, no training for pilots in registering targets for the artillery. If an artillery officer required an appraisal of a prospective target, the request would have to be sent along the command chain via an air liaison officer. When the artillery battery received the information, it was usually out of date.[8] There was also pressure from within the War Office to establish a Flying Observation Post (Flying OP) and to begin plans to train Gunner Officers to fly. A Flying OP was to work in conjunction with Ground Observation Post (Ground OP) in establishing targets to be engaged and operating deep behind their lines to be afforded the protection of friendly anti-aircraft guns.

A Taylorcraft Auster Mark III of No. 655 Squadron dropping a message bag to a Royal Artillery wireless truck on the airfield at Fowlmere, Cambridgeshire, during Exercise SPARTAN. (Source: © IWM (H 27983))

The first of these Flying OPs was established in February 1940.[9] This force was established to:

[d]etermine in the light of practical experience obtained under war conditions the possibilities and limitations of the Flying OP, the most suitable type of aircraft and the most suitable organization [sic].[10]

The tests were to be conducted in three parts. The first was an initial training period. The second a practical training with the French, and a final test in the French Army area in conditions of actual warfare including shoots against German targets it was at this time that the term Air Observation Post (Air OP) was adopted.[11] The flight was sent to France on 19 April 1940.[12] The first of the three tests were conducted after the flight had moved to the continent. The final of the three tests was due to be carried out in early May, and the forces were established ready to conduct the tests on 9 May 1940.[13] The following day the Germans began to implement Fall Gelb (Case Yellow): the invasion of France and the Low Countries.[14] The artillery designated for the tests were forced to move back to their formations leaving the Air OP Flight (D Flight) waiting for the campaign to stabilise when it was clear that this would not happen D Flight was recalled to England.[15]

One of the first official moves at changing artillery co-operation policy was a letter regarding the subject sent from the Director of Military Co-operation Air Commodore Victor Goddard to Barratt at Army Co-operation Command. In this letter, Goddard states that the Air Staff were against the formation of:

[s]pecial air units for artillery observation or reconnaissance, unless it can be clearly shown that there is an urgent requirement for such units which cannot be met by Army Co-operations squadrons.[16]

The School of Artillery recommended that a certain number of aircraft should specialise in artillery work and should be trained by the School of Artillery so that they had the same tactical knowledge and the same the understanding of gunnery as an artillery officer.[17] This was just one aspect of an idea by the School of Artillery to allow aircraft to have tactical control over the fire of artillery batteries. To facilitate this, the school further recommended that a multi-seater aircraft should be employed in this work to allow an artillery officer to conduct the shoot according to artillery methods without the need for the artillery officer learning to fly. Artillery officers were also to be seconded to army co-operation squadrons specifically for artillery work.[18] The co-operation between the School of Artillery and Army Co-operation Command is evident and is surprising given the general relations that existed between the army and RAF in the wake of the Battle of France and the fall out that it had caused between the two services.[19]

Barratt, in a letter to the Under-Secretary of State for Air, wrote that:

I consider that in order to get a true and undistorted picture of this problem, it is first desirable to set out the problem as the Army [sic] sees it, and to show in this picture what they conceive to be their requirements.[20]

Again the desire to see the problem from a view that would almost certainly be contradictory to the RAF shows that Barratt and his command were willing to adopt a different approach and attitude in co-operating with at least one part of the army. Barratt also voiced his concerns regarding the ability of the Air OP to operate in the face of enemy action. It was felt that ‘the Air OP must be entirely vulnerable to any enemy fighters which cares to shoot it down’.[21] Barratt’s concern over the safety of his pilots who may be conducting shoots using the Air OP system was to be a recurring issue in the development of artillery reconnaissance.

Air Marshal Sir Arthur Barratt in battledress and flying gear beside a Hawker Hurricane. He often flew this aircraft when visiting airfields of RAF Army Co-operation Command, which he commanded at the time of this picture. (Source: © IWM (TR 242))

Barratt’s response to the trials was one of scepticism, and he considered ‘that body of experience gained in the late war and since has all pointed to the advantages of the ‘Clock Code’ system’.[22] Barratt’s belief in the ‘clock code’ system stemmed more from the fear of false conclusions being drawn from brief experiments than from any sense of conservatism about changing the system used for artillery reconnaissance.[23] This became a realisation when Barratt was forced to explain to the Under Secretary of State for Air about the lack of efficiency regarding artillery co-operation in Army Co-operation Squadrons. Barratt wrote that:

I feel that much of the falling off in efficiency in this part of the Army Co-operation Squadron task has been due to the propagation of rumour as to other and better methods than those shown in AP 1176.[24]

Further trials were conducted using the artillery method during April 1941, and the conclusions reached were similar to those seen previously. These were that the artillery methods of ranging by corrections to line and range are simpler, quicker, and more efficient than any method based on the ‘clock code’.

The failures of the ‘clock code’ system in France combined with further problems faced in the fighting in Libya led to a loss of confidence in the system in the army.[25] Barratt responded that the ‘clock code’ system was not at fault in these operations but that the aircraft employed in it were operating in the face of intense enemy opposition. He was concerned that the trials had been too few and were skewed in favour of a positive result by the School of Artillery.[26] While these concerns may be interpreted as merely blocking a new development that had been shown to work to preserve the autonomy of the RAF while conducting army co-operation work. The evidence of co-operation between Army Co-operation Command and the School of Artillery, shown above, leads more to the conclusion that Barratt felt that the procedure could not be successfully carried out, and wished to see more trials conducted before it would receive his approval.

The procedure for artillery reconnaissance first developed during the First World War was only suitable for the conditions of that war. The lack of fluidity and almost stable front lines allowed a system to develop, quickly, this system, however, was only suited to those conditions. This was very quickly discovered during the first major test of this procedure against the quicker and more mobile warfare of the German Wehrmacht in 1940. The attitudes of both the British Army and the RAF to co-operation during the inter-war period, in Britain at least, did little to improve the situation before the British Expeditionary Force was stationed in France. This left those charged with the responsibility of modifying the existing procedure with only the experience of the First World War to guide them and on which to base their expectations. Much co-operation between the School of Artillery and Nos. 70 and 71 Groups of Army Co-operation Command occurred, despite the general feeling of animosity still felt by both services in Britain.[27] This co-operation was the most that had been seen between the army and RAF since the formation of the RAF as an independent force in 1918. Barratt’s move to block the adoption of the new procedure that was being trialled during 1941 can be interpreted in several ways. His reasoning for doing so, however, appears to be that of confirming the results already achieved through more rigorous and testing trials to confirm the results. Through further testing at a higher level the procedure, as well as those responsible for carrying it out, would be exposed to more stress and so a greater degree of authenticity could be achieved. Trials of this nature would also confirm if the procedure could be implemented with ease by the majority of pilots whose responsibility would be increased from observing the fall of shot to conducting shoots, potentially in the face of enemy opposition. Barratt’s major concern with the new system appears to be its increased complexity, and he was rightly concerned after his experiences in France that pilots would be unable to conduct the shoot if they had to keep a lookout for enemy fighter activity continually.

Dr Matthew Powell is a Teaching Fellow at Portsmouth Business School at the Royal Air Force College, Cranwell. He holds a PhD in Modern History from the University of Birmingham. His thesis investigated the development of tactical air power in Britain during the Second World War through a study of the RAF’s Army Co-operation Command. His first book, based on the PhD, The Development of British Tactical Air Power, 1940-1943: A History of Army Co-operation Command was published in 2016 by Palgrave Macmillan. He has also published in Canadian Military History, Air Power Review and the British Journal for Military History. He is currently researching the relationship between the British aviation industry and the Air Ministry during the inter-war period. He can be found on Twitter at @tac_air_power.

Header Image: An Auster Mark IV of an Air Observation Post squadron undergoes servicing at its base after being damaged by anti-aircraft fire while flying over the 8th Army Front in northern Italy. (Source: © IWM (CNA 3341))

[1] A longer version of this article can be found in Canadian Military History, 23:1 (2014), pp. 71-88.

[2] Jonathan Bailey, ‘Deep Battle 1914-1941: The Birth of the Modern Style of War,’ Field Artillery Journal, (1998), pp. 21-7.

[3] Ralph Barker, A Brief History of the Royal Flying Corps in World War I (London: Constable & Co., 2002), p. 63.

[4] H.J. Parham and E.M.G. Belfield, Unarmed into Battle: The Story of the Air Observation Post, Second Edition (Chippenham: Picton Publishing, 1986), p.14.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid

[8] Darrell Knight, Artillery Flyers at War: A History of the 664, 665, and 666 ‘Air Observation Post’ Squadrons of the Royal Canadian Air Force (Bennington, VT: Merriam Press, 2010), p. 27.

[9] Parham and Belfield, Unarmed into Battle, p.15.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid., p.16.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Karl-Heinz Freiser, The Blitzkrieg Legend: The 1940 Campaign in the West (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), p. 79.

[15] Parham and Belfield, Unarmed into Battle, 16.

[16] The National Archives (TNA), AIR 39/47, Letter from Air Commodore Goddard, Director of Military Co-operation to Barratt regarding Artillery Co-operation Policy, 8 December 1940.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] For more information on the army’s reaction to the Battle of France, see: TNA, CAB 106/220, Bartholomew Committee Final Report.

[20] TNA, AIR 39/47, Letter from Barratt to Under-Secretary of State for Air regarding co-operation with the Royal Artillery, 29 January 1941.

[21] Ibid., Appendix A, 29 January 1941.

[22] Ibid., Letter from Headquarters Army Co-operation Command to Headquarters No. 70 Group, Artillery Reconnaissance Trials, 12 April 1941.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid., Letter from Barratt to Under Secretary of State for Air, 14 April 1941.

[25] Ibid., Letter from CGS on Artillery Reconnaissance, 5 May 1941.

[26] Ibid., Letter from Barratt to Major-General Otto Lund, GHQ Home Forces, in response from letter from CGS on Artillery Reconnaissance, 10 May 1941.

[27] For example, see: David Ian Hall, Strategy for Victory: The Development of British Tactical Air Power, 1919-1943 (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2008), pp. 89-103.

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