DISTRIBUTION
A:
Approved for public release; distribution is unlimited.
Published Airpower Journal - Fall 1987
THE AIR FORCE is virtually unique in its dependence upon high technology, specifically the technology of flight, both air and space. We have gone through many revolutions in aeronautics such as revolutions in structures, propulsion, controls, and aerodynamics, and over the years the Air Force has had to prove its mastery over these disciplines. Generally speaking, the service has relied on laboratory demonstration to validate concepts before applying them to operational systems. We can carry this a step further and consider the various technology demonstrators and so-called X-series aircraft as laboratory experiments or tools that have used the sky as a laboratory. To give a pedestrian example, in the 1920s the advantages of turbo supercharging were demonstrated successfully at McCook and Wright fields, and the results of this work were applied to turbocharged engines of the late 1930s incorporated in such World War II-era combat aircraft as the B-17, B-24, P-38, and P-47.
Now, this schema of development is not unique to the Air Force; to a degree, the other military services operate in the same way. But because the Air Force as a service is wedded (and rightly so) to technology, there is always the danger that technology will make one's doctrine obsolete, will replace doctrine as the determinant of the future course of the Air Force, and will become merely a convenient shibboleth endowed by advocates with greater significance than it in reality possesses.
We must recognize that both technology and doctrine are dynamic processes, always advancing or receding, and are necessarily adaptive to change lest they stagnate and lose relevance. Neither is independent of the other; rather, each generates a synergistic impulse that encourages and strengthens the other. The lagging of one is necessarily injurious to the other. For example, if doctrine lags behind technology, projects that are wildly fanciful may result, projects that are unrelated to the realistic needs and requirements of the service. If technology lags behind doctrine, planners and decision makers will likewise discover that their actual capabilities cannot meet their needs and expectations. An area of particular concern is the combination of an advancing but immature technology coupled with doctrine that is also changing.
Finally, we must recognize that both doctrine and technology are complex systems embedded within other complex systems, and thus responsive--one might even say vulnerable--to external influences and pressures. An example is the contemporary decision making environment afflicting defense systems acquisition, an environment that is influenced as much by social, economic, and political pressures as it is by purely technological ones, or ones dealing with national defense doctrine.
The operational use of aircraft and aerospace systems, the development of technology, and the derivation and application of doctrine take place through the actions of individuals; it is the overall interactions of these often disparate communities--operators, engineers, scientists, and planners that spell the difference between the successful or unsuccessful application of doctrine and technology. Each community has its own viewpoint. Operators, typified by aircrew, tend to believe that they alone are the best determinants of needs and requirements for combat aircraft and that they are best suited to evaluate the application of technology to meet those needs and requirements. Engineers and scientists, familiar with and accustomed to operating on the "cutting edge" of science and technology, feel that only they have the insight to determine what combinations of new and old technology will work in particular system programs. Planners and students of air warfare oftentimes voice skepticism at the abilities of these other two camps to determine future courses of action, feeling instead that more can be gained by placing the study of air war and the development of appropriate doctrine within a larger framework than that of the cockpit and the laboratory. In fact, as warfare itself is an integrated and "combined arms" exercise--as is aircraft design itself--so too should be the development of doctrine and the integration of that development into the ongoing national expansion of the existing technology and science base.
Historical examples abound where technology and doctrine have worked together poorly at best or unsatisfactorily at worst. It took several decades for navies to rid themselves of the notion of fighting parallel-course, broadside engagements, even after the introduction of the all-metal ship mounting center line gun turrets. The First World War offers numerous examples where military technology outstripped existing doctrine. Unimaginative brute-force frontal assaults crumbled under artillery and machine-gun fire.
But mere technological superiority could not, on its own, drastically reshape military events. Rather, such superiority had to be coupled with appropriate doctrine in order to generate a kind of catalyst to change. For example, the initial use of tanks by the British at Cambrai in late 1917 offered the promise of converting the existing war of stalemate into a war of movement, perhaps resulting in a decisive breakthrough of Allied forces. Instead, the tank offensive halted when coordinated infantry and artillery support was not provided to the tankers. The introduction of a technologically superior weapon--the tank--had been frustrated by total lack of appreciation of how to use and support such a weapon. (France, incidentally, repeated this experience in 1940, even though its own tanks were, one for one, arguably superior to their German counterparts.)
When the first two-seat Bristol Fighters appeared in 19l7, air commanders considered them no different in principle from the existing two-seat reconnaissance aircraft of the day and directed that pilots should fly straight courses when engaging other aircraft, allowing their gunners to shoot down attacking German fighters. This essentially defensive notion of fighter employment immediately doomed them to defeat. Not until frustrated pilots began using these robust and maneuverable aircraft as they would a single-seat fighter--maneuvering them into firing position for their forward-firing guns and letting the rear gunner protect their "six"--did the two-seat fighter come into its own as perhaps being the finest general class of fighter to appear during the Great War.
In the war at sea, the prewar conviction of Great Britain's Admiralty that the submarine was suitable only for coastal defense ignored completely the offensive potential of underwater craft--an illusion shattered early on when a single U-boat sank the cruisers Aboukir, Hogue, and Cressy. By the middle of the war, of course, U-boats were already conducting operations off the North American coastline.
It is interesting to consider the interplay of technology and doctrine between the two world wars, highlighted by the development of fighter and bomber aircraft and the rationale for the use of both. World War I had already given dramatic evidence that long-range bombers could strike military and civilian targets over significant distances, as witnessed by the experiences of German, British, and Russian air services in the war, particularly the German bombing campaign against Great Britain. But it had at the same time also demonstrated--even at this early stage in air warfare the extreme vulnerability of unescorted bombers to fighter attack. After the war, the impact of those bomber operations remained while the specific lessons became muddied. Schools of thought arose--encouraged by the more extreme interpretations of Trenchard, Douhet, and Mitchell--that the bomber would always be able to get through to its target, which it would totally pulverize. This idea assumed axiomatic proportions.
At the same time, with the bomber assuming centerpiece importance in air power thought, the role of the fighter was shifted from maneuvering air combat to interception, with a resulting emphasis upon rigid tactics and mass formation attacks. The Spanish Civil War, while demonstrating the value of new high-performance monoplane technology, did not significantly change this thought, in part because the war's experiences were so limited that it was more of a campaign than a genuine European-style war. (As an aside, it should he noted that military analysts should always be careful drawing lessons from small wars and campaigns such as the Spanish war or the Falklands and Bekaa Valley experiences.) In Spain high-performance monoplane bombers, introduced when most of the fighters in service in Spain were still biplanes, generally were able to outrun their opposition, thus contributing a "factual" case to the myth.
Though Spain did demonstrate that fighter-versus-fighter combat was still viable in the era of the monoplane fighter (introduced before the end of the war), it did nothing to change the existing notion that bombers could get through to their targets. This pernicious doctrine remained in effect and had to be revised at bitter cost by the British, German, and American air forces during the Second World War. Britain learned it in 1939 over the German coast; Germany learned it in the Battle of Britain in 1940; and we learned it at Ploesti, Schweinfurt, and Regensburg in 1943.
The experience of Nazi Germany during the Second World War demonstrates the failure of a nation to match its technology with appropriate doctrine. That Germany found itself involved in a general multifront war is an indictment of the strategic planning process within the Nazi regime, particularly as that war enlarged to involve American and Soviet interests. German prewar planning had so emphasized a short, tactically oriented war that almost from the outset Germany proved incapable of maintaining the research and development and acquisition flexibility required to meet the ever-changing needs of the long war that it actually found itself fighting. Germany, with a strong aeronautical technology base, proved incapable of developing the kind of long-range, high-payload bombers and transports that might have made a difference. It never developed a bomber in the B-17 or B-24, much less the B-29, or a transport equivalent to the C-47 and C-54. Further, due to the politicization of its scientific process and the pollution of that process with ideology, Germany robbed itself of the very scientific base that might have helped it produce an atomic weapon. Because technology tended to outstrip doctrine, the German research and development process was critically fragmented and isolated from the operational and planning world, and thus researchers tended to show an alarming trait of doing their own thing. This led to technologically fanciful projects more related to World War III than World War II projects such as ballistic missiles (a wasteful drain on the German research and development and war economy effort), supersonic research, and even a scheme for an orbital hypersonic bomber. What good technology did exist--such as the first operational jet fighter, the Me 262--was often badly managed and operationally wasted. The experience of Nazi Germany should be ever uppermost in the minds of defense planners, as there are lessons aplenty here in operations, doctrine, strategy, research and development, and acquisition.
Col Dennis Drew of the Air University Center for Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education (AUCADRE) refers to an "air power wilderness" afflicting Air Force doctrine over the last two decades (Air University Review, September-October 1986). He perceptively points out that our doctrine since the days of the Air Corps Tactical School at Maxwell (a school that, ironically, seems to have spent most of its time, dealing with strategic questions) has emphasized two assumptions: wars are fought to destroy the enemy's ability and will to win via intensive attacks on the enemy's homeland; and the enemies of the United States will be modern industrial nations. Yet, since 1945 we have found ourselves fighting much different kinds of conflicts--limited wars in the third world. Although we assumed after 1945 that future air power applications would involve nuclear warfare against an enemy's heartland-- specifically the Soviet Union and its allies--our wars have been conventional ones with nations that are not vulnerable to the kinds of pressures that can devastate an industrial nation such as Nazi Germany.
Instead of conducting global operations delivering strategic and tactical nuclear weapons, we have found ourselves of necessity fighting limited wars for prolonged periods of time--wars demanding the application of conventional air power. Unrealistic expectations about what could be achieved by conventional air campaigns, aggravated by often-contradictory political direction that sent unfortunate signals to the enemy, as well as problems in often having to take aircraft optimized for one role and hastily adapting them to meet the needs of vastly different operational requirements, have led to high loss rates for marginal gain.
Thus, interdiction failed in Korea and failed in Vietnam. More precisely, though interdiction sorties took a high toll of enemy logistics and severely disrupted communications and transportation, the nature of the wars--marked by bitter but largely static fighting involving no great short-term expenditure of stockpiles--frustrated interactors since the small amount of supplies that did get through were often more than sufficient to enable the enemy to maintain combat operations at the same or an even greater level of intensity. As Colonel Drew has pointed out, the tendency after Korea and Vietnam has been to consider these wars as aberrations--never-to-be-repeated experiences. On the other hand, I would venture that these are precisely, the kinds of conflicts that are the new norm: prolonged, draining, and frustrating wars of greater or lesser scope, constrained by a variety of factors, not the least of which are the political climates and popular attitudes within the United States and its citizenry.
In the face of this situation, we must ask ourselves, what is the necessary interplay between technology and doctrine today? Obviously, we must be concerned with the possibility of strategic nuclear warfare and with the nature of a general Warsaw Pact NATO war. But, in addition, we must not neglect the kinds of conflicts that are more likely: necessary operations such as Grenada and the strike against Libya, scenarios involving Air Force operations in Central America, the question of limited war and low-intensity conflict, and--an important issue I think--the role of special operations forces in all of the above, including counter terrorist operations. Finally, there is another challenge: the role of the Air Force in space. Will this require a special space doctrine?
It is well to consider briefly the doctrine and technology relationship within the Air Force since 1945. Generally speaking, the technology tail has wagged the Air Force dog. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does require some clarification. Since technology and doctrine are inherently dynamic, the rapid expansion of technology should trigger an anticipatory, proactive impulse within the doctrine community so that doctrine can be established to guide the application of high technology for suitable Air Force missions. Too often this has not taken place. Tying technology too closely to existing doctrine and philosophy immediately after World War II led to the creation of classes of straight-wing aircraft, ironically blending advanced turbojet propulsion with late-1930s aerodynamics. These were awkward vehicles rendered quickly obsolete by the swept-wing transonic designs of the late 1940s. On the other hand, when technology was freed from such doctrinal constraints but while doctrine itself did not keep pace with technological development, the result tended to be wildly fanciful ideas perhaps best typified by the atomic airplane program of the 1950s or the aerospace plane program of the 1960s.
We have found repeatedly since 1945 that the aircraft we have designed for a certain mission have had to be modified at great cost and with a relative loss of efficiency for other missions. For example, with the exception of the F-102 and F-106 interceptors, none of the original century-series aircraft served--particularly in combat--in the role for which they had been originally intended. In some cases, our fascination with technology over doctrine has led to questionable programs actually placed in production, such as the F-104 and B-58, or to expensive, prototype efforts that led nowhere, such as the XB-70A. (The civilian world is not immune to such problems, of course, as evidenced by the attempt to develop atomic-powered merchant ships, commercial nuclear power-generated plants, and the supersonic transport.)
Ironically, it was the failure of the Air Force to ensure that it maintained a fleet of combat aircraft appropriate to the service's needs in the 1960s that led to that adaptation of three types from the Navy: the F-4 Phantom II, the A-7 Corsair, and the A-1 Skyraider, the latter being acquired primarily as a counterinsurgency aircraft. The Korean War had a profound impact upon the Navy, and that service responded very quickly to its Korean experience by modifying the doctrine concerning employment of carriers. Whereas previously the carrier had briefly sallied forth as a destroyer of fleets, it now became a mobile airfield intended to operate, if necessary, for extended periods of time in proximity to hostile shores--as it did off Korea and would do again on Yankee Station off North Vietnam. In Korea, the Navy had lived in fear of air assault from the mainland. As a result, after the war the Navy emphasized development of air defense aircraft capable of undertaking substantial air-to-ground missions as well. The best example of this "swing-fighter" concept was the F-4, which, when it flew in 1958, was more than a generation ahead of any equivalent aircraft existing at that time. The F-100, F-101, F-104, and even the F-105 simply could not meet the Air Force's requirements in the way that the F-4 and A-7 could; hence, we adapted them in the 1960s.
Today the Air Force faces many challenges to the development of doctrine applicable into the 1990s. I would like to emphasize two: first, the challenge of doctrine appropriate to the limited war and low-intensity war environment that will, I predict, prove commonplace within the next decade; and second, the challenge of spaceflight.
During the 1960s, there was a blossoming of creative activity in approving appropriate technology to defeat the insurgencies and low-intensity threats of the time. However, today special operations forces (SOF) tend to mean little more than AC-130 gunships, MC-130 Combat Talon transports, HH-53 helicopters, and UH-1N Hueys for special missions. This situation should not exist since there are many, many projected combat environments where such vehicles would not be survivable or effective. The era of the shoulder-mounted and portable surface-to-air missile and the plethora of cheap and relatively effective air-to-air weapon systems today pose threats that call into question our ability to undertake special operations missions. We need a doctrine that integrates all the combat elements of the Air Force into the SOF arena, as appropriate. Such a doctrine could in itself help influence the range of technology choices available to the Air Force for SOF vehicles and capabilities of tomorrow.
The field of spaceflight is another doctrinal challenge. I like to think that the state of technology and doctrine appropriate to spaceflight operations today is akin to that of submarines in the years prior to World War I. At that time, the submarine was considered merely a surface ship capable of brief under water and operations close to shore. Over time, the depth, endurance, and range of submarines increased to the point where the American and German navies conducted global operations during World War II, and to the point where today's American and Soviet nuclear-powered "boomers" are vital players in strategic warfare scenarios. Today we envision operating advanced hypersonic vehicles on suborbital defense related missions in proximity to the earth.
In traditional research and development fashion, we are proceeding with a planned technology demonstrator, the X-30, to furnish us with the requisite technology base to embark upon the development of mature systems true aerospace planes. Yet again we see a case where the technology is leading our doctrine, for our doctrine with regard to space is imperfect. It is torn between those who see space as a unique environment requiring its own Michells or Douhets (hopefully, as someone has noted, without attendant Schweinfurts) and those who see it merely as an extension of the atmosphere. What needs to be addressed in space doctrine, given the state of flux with our national space effort, is its tacit recognition that we already rely heavily upon space for weather, communications, navigation, and intelligence assistance. Beyond this, we must develop a realistic appreciation of what near-term space systems may offer for these and other missions.
The key word here, I think, is realistic. Doctrine must function in the present, be appropriate for the near-future, possess flexibility and adaptability to meet changing conditions, and be rooted in the past, in military history and experience. It must reflect the complete climate in which it is framed, a climate including existing political and economic realities. And this brings up the state of conditions today, the climate in which we are shaping our doctrine.
Frankly, I think we must recognize that the approximately on decade of strong support for the national defense effort is rapidly drawing to a close, and, as a result, the shape of defense acquisition--and, for that matter, civilian high-tech programs as well--is open to question in the post-1988 time frame. If the Air Force is to support modernization of strategic forces, via the advanced technology bomber (ATB), development of the advanced tactical fighter (ATF), development of the C-17, improvements to tactical aircraft such as the F-15 and F-16, possible development of new attack aircraft, modernization of special operations forces, support of the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization (SDIO), development of new heavy launch vehicles, development of new small ICBMs, and support of the National Aerospace Plane and a wide range of technology demonstrators and flight research programs, we clearly have to have a cohesive doctrine that addresses where these elements strategic warfare, airlift, tactical aviation, SOF, SDIO, and space all fit together. Some of these, such as the ATB and improvements to the F-15 and F-16, appear safe from future legislative cuts. The rest and it is a frightening thought are still up for grabs.
Again, this is not something that afflicts merely the Air Force. The civilian world has this difficulty as well. I would not want to be a NASA planner in the post-1988 time period going up the Hill to try to justify expenditures and improvements to the existing space shuttle, for development of a second-generation shuttle, for development of an orbiting space station, for development of a National Aerospace Plane, for support for a broad range of aeronautics research, and for support for a broad range of space science and exploration research. Obviously some and possibly many of those simply are not going to fly.
In this environment, doctrine is more than a theoretical luxury of value only in the classroom. It must instead be the binder, the adhesive, justifying our future technological research and development, rationalizing our planned acquisition strategy, and governing our present employment of forces. The challenge faced is a complex one that involves convincing the operational and the research, development, test, and evaluation worlds of the value of doctrine to them as they undertake their mission today and their planning for the future. But it is a challenge that must be faced, for at no time in the previous 40 years of Air Force history has the service faced such a range and complexity of possible futures.
Editorial Note:
The text of this article is taken from the keynote speech delivered by Dr R. P. Hallion to
the Air Force Doctrinal Conference, Hurlburt Field, Florida, 5 March 1987.
Richard P. Hallion (PhD, University of Maryland), the director, Special Staff Office, Aeronautical Systems Division, Wright-Patterson AFB, Ohio, was selected the Harold Keith Johnson Visiting Professor of Military History Institute. He has been chief historian Air force Flight Test Center, Edwards AFB, California; served as curator of science and technology of the National Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian Institution; and was professor of history and instructor in aerospace engineering at the University of Maryland. Dr Hallion is the author of ten books on aerospace history.
Disclaimer
The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.
[ Back Issues | Home Page | Feedback? Email the Editor ]