Air University Review, January-February 1984
| Generals cannot be entrusted with anything--not even with war. |
| Georges Clemenceau* |
*Perhaps Clemenceau is more often credited for having phrased it as "War is too important to be left to the generals."
HOW many times have you heard or read this or similar statements in recent years? And how many times have you cringed at the thought of some fresh-faced whiz kid systems analyst, government or corporate, telling you how to do your business, complex or not? Quality versus quantity. Military reform movement. Chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons. Rules of engagement and the laws of armed conflict. Second echelons and Leninist-Marxist ideologies. Ecosystems and natural resource beds. And the list goes on and on--almost ad nauseum.
There is no question that war today is complicated. But complicated warfare is not a particularly new idea. Alfred Thayer Mahan commented in the nineteenth century that he who seeks one best approach to war is destined for disappointment. So what can we do to defend ourselves better? Too often military officers, especially Air Force officers, respond by becoming technical experts in a specialized field rather than grappling with broader issues. Consequently, we open the door to those same analysts we quite often despise for their gnat-like questions. In the analysts' lack of battlefield technical skills, we find sufficient comfort to allow us to ignore the fact that their innate intelligence often combines with sound analysis skills to spawn questions which are quite uncomfortable for most career officers, even if the answers to these questions are not so easily produced. Rather than open ourselves to questioning our professional foundations, we find it easier to lash out at those "poor unenlightened simpletons." If only they knew all that we know. Then they would be credible. Then they could see that we have all the answers. But, alas. . . .
Now, into the midst of all this blissful complacency, the Chief of Staff has had the audacity to burst our apathetic bubbles by asking us to study, of all things, the art of war. Through Project Warrior, General Lew Allen challenged everyone connected with the Air Force to become serious students of how to fly, fight, and, by the way, win. Technical skill alone will not hack it anymore, he indicated, because modern war is complex; it is interrelated. Because it is interrelated, technical expertise confined to one specialized field is simply not enough.
I have always felt that I was a professional officer: about 2000 flying hours; four years as a Stan/Eval type and a couple more as an instructor; I was even shot at in Southeast Asia. So naturally, I became rather concerned about the possibility that maybe I was missing the boat on this professionalism thing. I thought and thought, but I still wasn't quite sure I realized just what it was the Chief was asking me to do. Day and night I searched. Then, one evening as I drifted off in the direction of forty winks, I felt myself floating over a scene in some strange place. Below me was a small group of men and a large grey animal. My curiosity was certainly piqued. My dream, which was similar to those wise fables I tell my daughters, took a singular turn.
ONCE upon a time in a country far away (or was that long ago in a galaxy far, far away?--no matter) there were three very senior military men who happened to stumble upon a strange grey Thing during a distant campaign. The first, an army general by trade, examined the Thing and at once gasped: "What a great opportunity. This is as big as a house, has skin like the finest armor, and a built-in cannon. The only thing missing is wheels, though I can see the posts where the axles were obviously mounted."
The general turned to the noble warrior on his left, an admiral by trade, and said, "I think I shall call this Thing a 'fighting machine.' With it I'll rule the heartland." (It seems the general was also an amateur geopolitician.) "My forces will be invincible! Alexander, eat your heart out. Logistician, figure out how to get wheels on my machine and hitch a team to it right away. World conquest awaits."
All the while the admiral, still well to the left of the army general, had been silent. But the pressure was so heavy now, he was very anxious to speak. "Can't you see that Thing isn't a land warfare machine? How could anyone be so narrow-minded? Why, any fool can see that it was designed for shallow-water naval warfare. Look at the streamlined shape of the hull and the fore-mounted snorkel. Shiver me timbers, with a machine like that, not a castle moat in the world could hold me out. Logistician, get this vessel down to the river for sea trials. Let's choke a chokepoint!"
Now, in the meantime, the youngest of the three, a strapping chap who was a general in the avian and balloon corps, landed between the general to the right and the admiral to the left from his apparently superior vantage point on high. "I can see it all," he began. "This isn't a land machine or a sea machine. It obviously was designed by a retired combat veteran bombardier. Look at the wings near the front, and that protuberance is obviously a prop. What a bomb load a battlebird like that could haul. We'd be the terror of all the world's battlefields. Logistician, fit this bomber with rails and general purpose bombs, and let's get to it. Somewhere there's a decommissioned battle galleon just waiting to be sunk!" (It seems our aviator had slept through most of his aerodynamics lessons.)
Now you can imagine the ruckus that followed: First, the army and the navy ganged up on the upstart aviator. Then, the aviator and the admiral against the general. Then everyone for himself. Meanwhile, the logistician was at each. Not that the Thing was taking this whole hoor-ah-rah lightly. All of a sudden it let out a bellow that would wake a zombie. They all stopped in their tracks, though no one knew just how to take the horrible sound.
"Did you hear that?" the general asked. (He had assumed the leadership role by now, being the senior service and all.)
"Can't be an alert horn way out here," answered the aviator.
"Nor general quarters," added the admiral.
"Well, it sounded like it came from the Thing," returned the logistician. "I think we ought to check it out."
Meanwhile, the Thing moved and bellowed again and caught everyone's attention.
"My gawd," yelled the army general. "It's alive. My land war machine is alive. It won't need wheels after all. Now it can go anywhere. Rape, pillage, and plunder; here I come."
"Hold on just a second, haybreath," retorted the admiral, "you're right, the thing is alive, but I still say it's an underwater, moat-crossing siege breaker."
"And I think you're both nuts," countered the still unenlightened aviator. "That's a born heavy bomber if I've ever seen one."
Within a split second the battle was on again, with everyone at everyone else's throats.
"Hold it just a blinking minute!" screamed the logistician, almost swallowing his pipe. "I have heard just about enough of this childish balderdash. We're making fools of ourselves. Let's just calm down and talk this whole thing over. "
"First, you, general. Switch places with the aviator, and you, aviator, with the admiral. Now, try to look at this situation through each other's bomb, gun, or torpedo sight."
"We have each been seeing the world through our own point of view. Kind of reminds me of the parable of the three blind men and the elephant (but then that's another story and probably a different dream). Here's the way I see it. It seems to me that first we need to get on the same wavelength and then figure out why we came to this out-of-the-way wherever-we-are. There must be some purpose, some objectives, so to speak, that will help us determine how best to use this Thing. Why is it that we're here to begin with? Anyone have any ideas?"
"Well," entered the general. "We are here to win the war the best way we can?"
"Yeah," added the aviator. "But don't forget why we started fighting. Remember? We were called up because of the invasion. We had to repulse the invaders and restore our borders. And maybe add a new market or two for the chariot and abacus industries."
Then it was the admiral's turn. "Remember, too, that we wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with if the council had let us keep up-to-date. Why, with these old weapons and poorly trained troops, it's a wonder we weren't attacked sooner!"
"Now we're beginning to get on track," the logistician picked up. "From my perspective that's exactly why we're here. But also from my perspective we want to end the war quickly before we run out of what few resources the council did provide us. (Aren't councils all alike?) Okay, we're together on why we're here. Now we need to figure out how the Thing can best serve our needs. It would seem to me that the first thing we need to do is agree to look for a way we can all get the most from it. We've got to work together, not against one another. Right?"
"I don't know!" snapped the general. "The army is obviously more important since everyone who is anyone knows that you can't win a war without occupying the enemy's territory. And, of course, a little terror to keep the civilians in line never hurts. So I think I should have first crack at the Thing. And if the R&D bucks don't work out in this project, I can always shift them to that new mobile catapult for the Rapid Deployment Force."
Almost simultaneously the aviator and admiral erupted. "You! The most important? Ha! Without our support and responsiveness to bail you out of jams and get you where you're going, where would you be? You'd still be thumbing your way to the campaign."
"Okay. Okay. Oh--kay!" answered the general. "So we're all important. Let's figure out how to use the Thing and get going. I've got battle plans awaiting. We've decided why we're here. It seems that the logistician has some good ideas. Let's let him go on."
"All right," said the logistician. "We agree that our purpose is to prevent attacks on the motherland, protect our borders, fight when called, and end the war as quickly as we can. That would seem to mean that we should figure out how we can best use the Thing to achieve those objectives."
Suddenly the air was shattered by an earsplitting bellow that put the earlier ones to shame. In the wink of an eye the Thing, which had been still for so long, charged at the small group. They dived out of harm's way just in time to watch the grey hulk trundle past and stop at another clump of grass about 50 meters away.
"By the powers of evil, what a monster," gasped the general. "The Thing certainly has power. But before we can use it, we must learn how to control it. With that size, it could easily crush our troops. Of course, maybe it'll crush a bunch of the opposition also. And even my giants aren't strong enough to hold the Thing back. And that bellow certainly rules out surprise attack. But on the other hand, it could make my army sound like legions. With this one machine, I can overwhelm, shock, and deceive the enemy. Now doesn't that make sense for the army?"
This time the admiral and the aviator did have to concede a point to the general.
Crawling out of his sheltering ditch, the logistician reentered the discussion. "Okay, let's assume that we can figure out how to control this beast. And maybe we can even figure out how to keep it quiet during night sneak attacks. We're still not out of the woods. I have been noticing how much the Thing has been eating while we've been here. As a supplier, I can guarantee that, regardless of its virtues, we must limit the Thing's area of operations to those theaters where forage is plentiful. Otherwise, our food trains will get so long that our enemies will completely bypass our forces and attack only lightly defended supply wagons. And we can't feed the Thing just anything. Some forage may make it sick. Then the maintainers will really have their hands full. A sick Thing will be more of a hindrance than no Thing at all. It certainly won't do us much good when the fighting starts. Besides, for what this Thing may cost to operate, and the problems controlling it, we might be better off using more cheap chariots instead."
"No," responded the general. "I agree we could have some problems, but this machine is just what I need: power, mobility, and shock value. I know we can solve the problems. We will need to design saddles, but that shouldn't be a major problem. I'll get my staff cracking on the tactics. With our focus on objectives, I can figure out the best employment strategy. And yes, logistician, I'll consider your comments on forage. We must keep these Things healthy so we can use them. If only we could figure out how to control them."
Just then a young man wandered into view. "So there you are, jumbo, you naughty beast. Why did you wander away? Now come over here right now, else I'll have to get the two-by-fours out. And I hope you haven't been bothering these gentlemen."
The 5000-pound elephant waddled over to the boy and rolled over onto its back like a little PUPPY.
"He loves to be scratched on his belly," the boy said to the startled group. "My name is Hannibal, and Jumbo here is my pet elephant."
JUST then I heard a clanging bell ringing, and I woke up as the general was saying something about a direct commission into his newly formed elephant corps. As I stumbled through my morning rituals, I realized that there were some points to be gleaned from my dream. First, the main reason we get paid in the military is to protect our way of life. Unfortunately, sometimes that means fighting a war. Often, in trying to do our own jobs in the; Air Force, we forget there are other services that have some valuable experiences of their own. Sometimes, in our zeal to do our own job the best we can, we lose sight of the fact that maybe someone else could do it even better.
Also, I realized that, no matter how much fun firebreathing is, without a team effort, bombs will never arrive on target. Without the intelligence guys, we don't know where the bad guys are. Without the commanders, there's no one to make a decision about when, where, and how to attack those bad guys. Without controllers, we won't know where the good guys are so that we don't kill them by accident. Without trainers, we won't know what to do when the time comes or how to do it. Without suppliers, there won't even be any bombs to drop. And without maintainers, no one to load them or fix the planes when they break. Medics, feeders, recreators, tinkers, tailors, soldiers, and spies. The list goes on and on. The combat crews get the glory and more than their share of the bullet holes, but the team wins the game.
What is the Air Force's Project Warrior? Merely an attempt to get all of us, and not just the blue suiters, to realize that the guy who fixes the cleats, in his own way, is just as important to the Super Bowl championship as the winning quarterback who puts them on. Officer or enlisted, we each need to see our own role in winning the wars we hope never to fight but must always be ready for. We need to realize that only an appropriate blend of weapons and tactics, logistics and command and control will see us through to victory. The key is in each of us. The question is, "Will we be ready when the time comes?" We must be. There are no prizes for second place.
Or put another way. We need to remember a few points. "The bomber is only as good as the bombardier." "Organized fingers make a fist, and the brain leads that fist to a knockout." And above all else, "Feed an elephant spoiled hay and you won't have any trouble finding him, but he won't be on the battlefield."
Hq USAF
Major David W. Keith (USAFA; M.S., University of Southern California) is Chief, Congressional Liaison Branch, USAFA Activities Group, DCS/Manpower and Personnel, Washington, D.C. He previously served as Curriculum Director, Military Studies Division, USAFA, and he was an HH-53 pilot in Thailand. He has been a winner in the MAC Flyer Flying Safety Writing Contest in 1979 and 1981. He is a Distinguished Graduate of Squadron Officer School and a graduate of Air Command and Staff College.
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.
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