Air University Review, January-February 1985
OUR military heritage is rich and varied, including everything from insurgency and counterinsurgency to civil war and total war. Despite this rich heritage, the American defense establishment seems fixed too narrowly on the resource-oriented war of attrition typified by the Second World War. In the sweep of American history, this kind of war is more anomalous than typical. Perhaps we ought to be paying more attention to our Vietnam experience, which many experts believe is typical of wars we are most likely to fight during the next half century. But regardless of the kind of war Americans might have to fight, a mastery of the art of war is paramount to success.
If we find ourselves in a conflict like the Second World War, it will in all probability be with the Soviet Union. We cannot hope to prevail against the Soviets by outproducing and overwhelming them with superior resources. Victory can be attained only through a superior strategy, which will emerge only if our leaders are truly masters of the art of war.
At the lower end of the spectrum of warfare, the Vietnam experience should teach us that the application of technologically advanced weaponry and vastly superior firepower, however necessary, will not always be sufficient for victory. Modern military technology can provide the most humble enemies with weapons comparable to our own. This weaponry, combined with revolutionary zeal and a genuine understanding of the nature of the war at hand, can give the enemy superiority at decisive points on the battlefield. To better prepare ourselves for such a conflict, we must look to yesterday.
In the Vietnam War, we used air power in a variety of ways. Sometimes we used it superbly, as when we sustained our greatly extended and dispersed forces at fire support bases and airfields throughout the country. Our special operations units performed many tasks innovatively. Aerial reconnaissance, both strategic and tactical, provided information that is vital to fighting an unconventional war.
One of the best examples of the proper use of air power in support of broad military strategy occurred during Linebacker One, the interdiction campaign conducted in the spring of 1972 in response to the massive invasion of South Vietnam by the North Vietnamese Army. In that campaign, our objective was to stop the North Vietnamese Army from making substantial gains inside the Republic of Vietnam while American forces continued to withdraw. The aerial strategy was to reduce substantially the flow of supplies to the twelve divisions of enemy troops engaged in a massive offensive against South Vietnamese forces that were stubbornly defending their country. The strategy of using aerial interdiction to defeat an enemy force that was consuming supplies at an accelerated rate at the end of ever extending supply lines was a sound one––and it worked.
Unfortunately, not every bombing campaign was as firmly based in solid strategy. Operation Rolling Thunder was the longest single bombing campaign ever conducted by the U.S. Air Force. Throughout the three years and nine months of the campaign, the Air Force sought to stem the flow of men and supplies moving from the North into the Republic of Vietnam and to force the North Vietnamese to desist in their support for the insurgency in the South.
While Rolling Thunder did, in fact, wreak considerable damage on North Vietnam's relatively primitive industrial base and its rudimentary but durable transportation system, it failed to achieve its objectives. Hanoi's support for the war in the South continued, and the flow of men and material to the war zone increased substantially.
Rolling Thunder failed for a number of reasons. To begin with, conventional air power used in North Vietnam had little effect on the unconventional war in the South, given the conditions under which the war was being conducted in South Vietnam. From March 1965 until the end of 1968 (the period of Rolling Thunder), the war inside the Republic of Vietnam was stalemated. General William C. Westmoreland's strategy was to fight on the tactical offensive, to search out and destroy the enemy. The Vietcong and North Vietnamese, however, had opted for General Nguyen Chi Thanh's strategy of fighting on the tactical defensive in a war in which they controlled the terms of engagement, which allowed them to regulate their supply consumption in accordance with their ability to replenish expenditures and losses. Furthermore, because North Vietnam possessed few industries and did not produce its own war-making materials, it was not susceptible to the kind of bombing that helped to defeat Nazi Germany in World War II. Additionally, the North Vietnamese were extremely determined, and bombing at the level of Rolling Thunder did not shake––and, in fact, probably solidified––their national will and resolve. Finally, although we in the Air Force tend to make too much of the point, our mission planners and crews had to work within constricting rules of engagement imposed by civilians far removed from the realities of battle.
Added to these difficulties, an institutional problem emerged as Rolling Thunder continued. A managerial approach to the war evolved in which target selection passed for strategy and success came to be quantitatively measured by computing sortie rates, bomb damage assessments, and KBAs (killed-by-air). Destroying stuff became the end of our efforts rather than the means to achieve a political objective. The science of war superseded the art of war.
In the years since the end of the Vietnam War, conventional wisdom within the Air Force has held that if air power failed at all, it failed because "our hands were tied" by civilians and politicians. While there may be a grain of truth to this rationale for our failure, it is largely a myth and a dangerous one at that if it obstructs an objective search for the military reasons behind Rolling Thunder's failure. Civilians did set national goals and policy, and they did tinker with the target lists––something which is beyond their purview; but devising military strategy, then as now, was the responsibility of the commanders.
Air Force leaders of the 1980s might well be adept at the science of war. In the thirty-seven years since the Air Force gained its independence, good managers have emerged in an institutional Air Force that has evolved toward a technocratic bureaucracy. However, the emphasis on managerial skills and technological prowess threatens to eclipse the imperative for mastery of the art of war. Perhaps this development is to be expected in an organization employing highly complex and expensive machines: perhaps sophisticated hardware necessarily generates a managerial ethos in which the exactness of science surpasses the subjectivity of art. Nevertheless, if we are to win the next war, whether it is fought on the plains of Europe, in the jungles of Central America, or across the hills of Korea, we must effect an accommodation of science and art.
If we learn from our past experiences, we can begin to reconcile the art and the science of war. The dangers associated with a war between the Soviet Union and the United States make it far more likely that future wars will resemble the one we lost in Vietnam rather than the struggle we won in 1945. For that reason, it is vital that Air Force professionals understand what went on––and what went wrong––in Vietnam. Using what history can teach us to approach the problems of today and tomorrow is an important aspect of mastering the art of war. The ability to devise superior strategy comes from our knowledge of the dynamics of warfare. Professional reading, especially in history and philosophy, is vital to the kind of thinking that compels us to ask the difficult and often disturbing questions about our past and present so that we can better address the uncertainties of a dangerous future.
E.H.T.
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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