Archie to SAM

A Short Operational History of

Ground-Based Air Defense

Second Edition

KENNETH P. WERRELL

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

August 2005
Disclaimer

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are solely those o

the author and do not necessarily represent the views of Air University, the United States A

Force, the Department of Defense, or any other US government agency. Cleared for public re

lease: distribution unlimited.

ii

Air University Library Cataloging Data

Werrell, Kenneth P.

Archie to SAM : a short operational history of ground-based air defense / Kenneth

P. Werrell.—2nd ed.

—p. ; cm.

Rev. ed. of: Archie, flak, AAA, and SAM : a short operational history of ground

based air defense, 1988.

With a new preface.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 1-58566-136-8

1. Air defenses—History. 2. Anti-aircraft guns—History. 3. Anti-aircraft missiles—

History. I. Title.

358.4/145—dc22

Air University Press

131 West Shumacher Avenue

Maxwell AFB AL 36112-6615

http://aupress.maxwell.af.mil
In memory

of

Michael Lewis Hyde

Born 14 May 1938

Graduated USAF Academy 8 June 1960

Killed in action 8 December 1966

A Patriot, A Classmate, A Friend
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
Contents

Chapter Pag

DISCLAIMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i

DEDICATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xii

ABOUT THE AUTHOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION . . . . . . . . xvi

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION . . . . . . . . . . xix

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xx

1 ANTIAIRCRAFT DEFENSE THROUGH 

WORLD WAR II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

British Antiaircraft Artillery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

The V-1 Campaign . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

American Antiaircraft Artillery . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

German Flak . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Allied Countermeasures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

Fratricide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

The US Navy in the Pacific . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Japanese Antiaircraft Artillery . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

The Lessons of World War II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

2 FROM GUNS TO MISSILES, 1945–1965 . . . . . . 69

Antiaircraft Returns to Combat: 

The Korean War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

Antiaircraft Missiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106

3 AIRMEN VERSUS GUERRILLAS: VIETNAM . . . . 113

French Operations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

America Enters the War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

v
Chapter Pag

SAMs Join the Fight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

American Air Operations through 

Linebacker I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Linebacker II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132

Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

4 OPERATIONS BETWEEN VIETNAM AND 

THE PERSIAN GULF . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

Arab-Israeli Wars: 1948, 1956, 1967–1973 . . . 147

The 1973 War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

Combat since 1973: Bekaa Valley . . . . . . . . . . 155

American Air Strikes in the Middle East, 

1983–1986 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157

Indo–Pakistani War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

The Falkland Islands/Malvinas War, 1982 . . . 160

Other Actions in the 1980s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168

Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174

5 BALLISTIC MISSILE DEFENSE: 

THE EARLY YEARS TO 1991 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

Army Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182

The Kennedy Administration . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185

Ballistic Missile Defense: Rebirth . . . . . . . . . . 196

The Strategic Defense Initiative: Star Wars . . . 197

The Gulf War: Patriot versus Scud . . . . . . . . . 199

The Patriot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202

Patriot in Action . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208

6 GROUND-BASED AIR DEFENSE SINCE 1990: 

THE GULF, THE BALKANS, AND 

AFGHANISTAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217

War in the Persian Gulf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217

Air Defense since 1991: Iraq, Balkans, and 

Afghanistan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232

vi
Chapter Pag

7 BALLISTIC MISSILE DEFENSE IN THE 1990s . . 237

TMD Hardware: PAC-3, MEADS, Arrow, 

Naval Developments, and THAAD . . . . . . . . 239

Navy Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244

A New Threat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248

George W. Bush and BMD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260

8 SUMMARY, TRENDS, AND CONCLUSIONS . . . . 269

Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269

Trends (Speculations) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273

Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277

Illustrations

Figure

1 Improvised antiaircraft artillery (AAA) . . . . . . . . 2

2 Standard US heavy AAA gun during 

the interwar years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

3 German 88 mm gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

4 3.7-inch gun on a Pile mattress . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

5 British women in training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

6 Rocket firings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

7 British 40 mm light antiaircraft gun 

and crew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

8 Diving V-1 bomb prior to impact in London . . . . 12

9 Diagram of initial defensive deployment . . . . . . . 14

vii
Figure Pag

10 Pile mattress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

11 Diagram of final defensive deployment . . . . . . . . 18

12 Barrage balloons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

13 US 90 mm M-1 gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

14 US quad .50 gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

15 German 40 mm Bofors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

16 German 88 mm gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

17 German 128 mm AAA gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

18 German railroad-mounted 128 mm guns . . . . . . 30

19 B-24 at Ploesti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

20 Ploesti smoke screen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32

21 Taifun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

22 Enzian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

23 Rheintochter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

24 Schmetterling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

25 Wasserfall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

26 Falling B-24 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

27 Damaged B-17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

28 Chaff . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

29 German 20 mm gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

viii
Figure Pag

30 George Preddy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

31 USN 20 mm gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

32 USN 40 mm gun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52

33 A-20 aircraft sequence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

34 Falling B-29 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

35 Duster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

36 Skysweeper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71

37 Vulcan Phalanx . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72

38 Vulcan M163 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

39 F-51 Mustang . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

40 Army SAMs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

41 Nike Ajax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

42 Nike Hercules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

43 Bomarc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

44 Thunderbird . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

45 Seaslug . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

46 Hawk launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

47 Hawk intercepting an F-80 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94

48 Mauler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

49 Chaparral . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97

ix
Figure Pag

50 Redeye launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

51 Stinger launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

52 Avenger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

53 Bradley Linebacker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

54 SA-7 Grail . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105

55 Captured North Vietnamese antiaircraft gun . . . 116

56 North Vietnamese gunners . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

57 SA-2 position with missiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120

58 SA-2 launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122

59 EB-66 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

60 Navy A-4 firing Shrike . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

61 Wild Weasel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

62 Damaged B-52 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

63 EA-6B Prowler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

64 Talos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136

65 Terrier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

66 RF-4C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

67 SA-6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150

68 ZSU-23 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151

69 SA-9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157

x
Figure Pag

70 Blowpipe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

71 Sea Dart launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162

72 Roland launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163

73 Bofors 40 mm shipboard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165

74 Rapier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166

75 HMS Coventry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167

76 Seacat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168

77 Helicopter kill in Grenada . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170

78 Helicopter kill in Afghanistan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172

79 V-2 launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

80 Nike family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185

81 Spartan launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

82 Sprint . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188

83 Griffon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189

84 Galosh 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190

85 US ABM site at Grand Forks, North Dakota . . . . 195

86 Low altitude defense system (LoADS) . . . . . . . . . 197

87 Scud missile . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200

88 Scud hit on barracks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201

89 Patriot missile in Desert Storm . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204

xi
Figure Pag

90 Scud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206

91 F-117 Stealth aircraft . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220

92 TALD decoy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224

93 BQM-74 drone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225

94 Damaged A-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228

95 Hawk intercepting Lance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241

96 Arrow launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243

97 THAAD maneuver . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245

98 Navy TMD launch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246

99 Taepo Dong 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250

100 Airborne laser . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260

xii
Foreword

Dr. Kenneth Werrell’s history of ground-based air defense

performs an important service both to scholarship and

more importantly, to the defense of our nation’s freedom. I

is perhaps human nature that we tend over time to lose sigh

of the lessons of the past, especially when they do not con

form to certain cherished preconceptions of ours. That such

myopia can be dangerous, if not downright disastrous, Dr

Werrell’s study richly illustrates. Without sentimentalism

he chronicles a pattern of lessons learned and too quickly

forgotten as the marvel of air power was reminded again

and again of its limitations and vulnerability. In Korea and

in Vietnam, the American people were stripped of their illu

sions of national and technical omnipotence. The unhappy

outcome of those two conflicts was doubly lamentable be

cause the lessons of World War II were—or should have

been—fresh in our minds. In that world war, as Dr. Werrel

shows, relatively cheap ground-based air defense did

make a difference: at Ploesti, at Antwerp, and at the Rhine

bridges. 

And it will make a difference tomorrow. The greates

value of Dr. Werrell’s work is that it provides guideposts and

guidance for us as professional soldiers and aviators

charged with upholding American security. We have taken

history’s lessons to heart as we plan and program ou

ground-based air defenses into the next decade and be

yond. In both the forward and the rear areas, we have em

phasized the time-honored principles of mass, mix, and mo

bility. No one weapon, not even today’s modern aircraft, can

do the job alone. The truism applies with particular force to

antiaircraft defense. And at least one other truism emerges

from Dr. Werrell’s and our own studies: effective air defense

requires a joint and combined effort. Our planning has been

predicated on the assumption that counterair will play a

central role in safeguarding our ground forces from air at

tack. On the ground, the air defense artillery will count on

the cooperation and assistance of our colleagues in the in

xiii
fantry, armor, and field artillery. On our success or failure

in working together to meet the challenges of tomorrow wil

rest our nation’s future.

DONALD R. INFANTE

Major General, US Army

Chief of Air Defense Artillery

xiv
Dr. Kenneth P. Werrell conducted the original study while

serving as a visiting professor at the Air University Center fo

Aerospace Doctrine, Research and Education, Maxwell Air Force

Base, Alabama, from 1981 to 1983. He revised the study while

working at the Airpower Research Institute in 1999–2001.

Dr. Werrell graduated from the United States Air Force

Academy in 1960 and earned his pilot wings the next year. He

served with the 56th Weather Reconnaissance Squadron a

Yokota Air Base, Japan, from 1962 until 1965, completing the

tour as an aircraft commander of the WB-50. He resigned his

commission in 1965 and went on to earn his master’s and

doctorate degrees from Duke University.

Dr. Werrell taught at Radford University, Virginia, beginning

in 1970 and retired as a professor in 1996. He also served as

a contract historian at the Army War College and taught one

year at the Command and General Staff College.

Dr. Werrell has authored numerous articles and books

about military history, including Eighth Air Force Bibliography

(Manhattan, Kans.: Aerospace Historian, Kansas State Univer

sity, 1981); The Evolution of the Cruise Missile (Maxwell AFB

Ala.: Air University Press, September 1985); Who Fears?: The

301st in War and Peace, 1942–1979 (Dallas, Tex.: Taylor Pub

lishing, 1991); Blankets of Fire: U.S. Bombers over Japan dur

ing World War II (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution

1998); and Chasing the Silver Bullet: US Air Force Weapons De

velopment from Vietnam to Desert Storm (Washington, D.C.

Smithsonian Institution, 2003). His most recent book is Sabres

over MiG Alley: The F-86 and the Battle for Air Superiority in

Korea (Annapolis, Md.: US Naval Institute Press, 2005).

xv

About the Author
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
Preface to the Second Edition

Archie to SAM is a revised and updated edition of Archie

Flak, AAA, and SAM. For many years, the Air University Press

most especially Tom Lobenstein, has suggested I revise this

work. I finally got the opportunity when I served three years in

the Airpower Research Institute (ARI) where Col Al Howey and

Dr. Jim Titus helped clear the way. My “boss,” Dr. Dan

Mortensen, and two other colleagues, Dr. Lee Dowdy and Tom

Searle, helped in many more ways than they realized. My

coworkers in ARI, especially such computer people as Guy

Frankland and La Don Herring, made things much easier. As

with the original study, the extremely capable staff at the Ai

University Library (particularly Steve Chun, Diana Simpson

and Edith Williams) and the Historical Research Agency (with

special thanks to Joe Caver and Archie DiFante) were ex

tremely helpful. Bud Bennett at Radford University was very

important to this work. I also want to thank the talented staf

at Air University Press who made this project possible. Espe

cially important were Dr. Richard Bailey, who demonstrated

great competence and patience, and Carolyn J. McCormack

who saved me from numerous embarrassing mistakes. In addi

tion, as always my faithful wife Jeanne helped both directly

with typing and editing—and understanding.

A Note for Those Who Read or Used

the Original Edition 

This brief note shows readers what is different between the

original edition and this version. Unlike most reprints where

the author updates the text by adding additional chapters, 

have in fact refashioned the entire study. Not only have I tin

kered with the prose, I have added some materials from

sources that have appeared (or that I have uncovered) since the

original was printed. This will be most noticeable in the greate

attention devoted to the Soviet and US Army surface-to-ai

missiles (SAM). I have also added events that have occurred

since 1986 or so when I cut off research for the original, mos

prominently the Gulf War experience. In addition, two chap

ters cover the story of ballistic missile defense, a subject I had

xvii
excluded from the original for practical purposes. About one

half of the original illustrations were replaced, and the cap

tions were reworked.

Reflecting on the subject of ground-based air defenses, I am

struck by a number of observations. First, little attention con

tinues to be given to this subject, despite its impact on air op

erations. Writers and readers concentrate on the offensive side

of the story, most of all on the pilots and aircraft. Second, the

emergence of stealth technology has changed the balance be

tween air offense and defense—for the moment. That actually

overstates the point, as the potency of SAMs was already in

decline (as demonstrated by the Israelis in the 1982 Bekaa

Valley operation) before stealth appeared in combat. Neverthe

less, air dominance has shifted more toward the offense as

this new technology—coupled with the rise of the United

States as the sole world superpower—has ushered in a new

era in air warfare. Clearly, the United States has massive tech

nological superiority. A third factor is a cautionary one. The

cost of modern technology is immense and continues to grow

which translates in practical terms to far fewer airframes

available for action. Therefore, the loss (or threat of loss) o

only a few machines could affect how an air campaign is

waged.

KENNETH P. WERRELL

xviii
Preface to the First Edition

Archie, Flak, AAA, and SAM is an operational history o

ground-based air defense systems from the beginning of ai

warfare up through 1988. The title refers to the several names

Airmen use, and have used, to describe ground fire: Archie in

World War I (from the British), flak in World War II and Korea

(from the Germans), AAA throughout, but especially in Viet

nam (from the American abbreviation for antiaircraft artillery)

and most recently SAM (from the US abbreviation for surface

to-air missiles). This study concentrates on how these

weapons developed and how they affected both US and non

US air operations.

The subject of ground-based air defense systems is neg

lected for a number of reasons. First, research is difficult be

cause source material is fragmented. Even more significant is

the fact that the topic does not have “sex appeal.” Readers are

more interested in the aircraft than the weapons that bring

them down. Whereas the airplane appears as a dynamic, ad

vanced, exciting, and offensive weapon, ground-based air de

fense systems are seen in the opposite light. Further, US ex

perience has been almost exclusively with the offensive use o

aircraft, not with the defensive use of flak and SAMs; Ameri

cans have seldom fought without air superiority. Too, there is

the World War II example that many, if not most, people hold

as the archetypical war—during which aircraft defeated al

comers on all fronts. Another factor is that the air defense com

munity has been overwhelmed by the air offense community. No

that the former is any less able or less professional than the

latter, only that the air offense community has the attention and

support of both industry and Congress. Little wonder then tha

the subject of flak and SAMs has been neglected.

Despite this neglect and the aforementioned reasons, ground

based air defense systems are important. They have been in

volved, have impacted on most air conflicts, and have achieved

notable successes. These weapons have downed and damaged

large numbers of aircraft and consequently have forced aviators

to make changes and pay higher costs for operations. Clearly

ground-based air defenses have been ever present and have

xix
always been a factor in air wars. There is no indication tha

this influence will diminish in the future.

The neglect of the subject of ground-based air defense sys

tems on the one hand, contrasted with its importance on the

other, prompted this study. In it, I have traced the historica

record from World War I up through a number of smaller con

flicts in the 1980s. Although primarily a narrative, I have tried

to analyze the story and draw from it some generalizations

however tentative they may be. I prefer “generalizations” to the

often-misused term “lessons.” 

The acknowledgments indicate where I conducted my re

search, and the endnotes document the material upon which

I based this study. Research was overwhelmingly confined to

English language sources, the basis of which was US Ai

Force, Army, and Navy documents and studies. In addition, 

found primary materials dealing with both the Royal Air Force

and Luftwaffe. I made considerable use of secondary sources

and I employed a few interviews. Admittedly, the major diffi

culty with this study is that, while I found materials from both

sides covering the World Wars, my coverage of the Korean

Vietnam, and the Middle East Wars is drawn primarily from

one side. Finally, I did not use the rich, although spotty, clas

sified materials for obvious reasons.

Without preempting the conclusions, a number of themes are

present. A study of the evolution of ground-based air defense

weapons provides a classic view of the perennial contest between

offense and defense, as well as of the impact of technology on

warfare. More than just technology is involved, however; cover

age includes such topics as tactics, leadership, change, and in

novation. Perhaps most important, this subject cannot be even

casually studied without the distinct impression that many o

the main features of aircraft versus ground-based air defense

battles are repeated over and over again. Clearly, lessons and

generalizations abound in this story. I trust my treatment wil

do justice to the topic; that is, I hope the result makes up fo

some of the previous neglect of this subject and is commen

surate with its past and continuing importance.

xx
Acknowledgments

Many individuals and organizations helped make this book

possible. First, I wish to thank those at my home institution

Radford University, who encouraged and made possible my

work with the Air University: the Board of Visitors; Dr. Donald

Dedmon, president; Dr. David Moore, vice president for Aca

demic Affairs; Dr. W. D. Stump, dean of the School of Arts and

Sciences; and Dr. W. K. Roberts, chairman of the Departmen

of History. Lt Gen Charles Cleveland, former commander o

the Air University; Maj Gen David Gray, USAF, retired; and

Maj Gen Paul Hodges, former commandant of the Air War Col

lege, were unsparing in their support throughout this project

Col Thomas Fabyanic, USAF, retired, the founder and firs

director of the ARI, and Col Kenneth Alnwick, USAF, retired

his successor, deserve much of the credit for helping conceive

the concept, encourage the project, and remove many of the

barriers encountered. Also, special thanks to Col Neil Jones

USAF, retired; Brig Gen John C. Fryer Jr.; and Col Sidney J

Wise, who provided vital publication assistance. Others at the

Air University helped in many important ways, especially Co

Dennis Drew, Preston Bryant, Dianne Parrish, John Westcott

and Dorothy McCluskie. Many individuals helped in documen

processing: Lula Barnes, Sue Carr, Carolyn Ward, Marcia

Williams, and Cynthia Hall. For logistical support I am thank

ful to Capt Harbert Jones, Betty Brown, and Marilyn Tyus

The US Air Force History Program helped in a number of ways

Individuals include Dr. Richard Morse, Lynn Gamma, Judy

Endicott, Pressley Bickerstaff, and Margaret Claiborn of the

US Air Force Historical Research Center. The Air University

Library played a key role in making this book possible, with

special thanks due Tomma Pastorett, Ruth Griffin, and Kathleen

Golson. The US Army also lent considerable support to this

project. Especially helpful were several agencies at Fort Bliss

Air Defense School, Air Defense Museum, and Directorate o

Combat Development. Special thanks are due Jesse Stiller, the

Air Defense Artillery Command Historian. Overseas, Air Com

modore H. A. Probert, Humphrey Wynn, and J. P. McDonald

at the Air Historical Branch, London; the staff at the Roya

xxi
Artillery Institute, Woolwick, United Kingdom; and E. Hines

and Paul J. Kemp of the Imperial War Museum, London, made

research of the British and German side of the story possible

Finally, I must thank my entire family, especially my wife

Jeanne, who endured much to make this project possible.

xxii
Chapter 1

Antiaircraft Defense through 

World War II

The genesis of antiaircraft defense appeared soon after man

took to the air. There are reports of antiballoon artillery in the

American Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War. During the

latter, 66 balloons are known to have left the besieged city o

Paris, with one destroyed by Prussian guns.1 The first aircraf

downed in combat fell to ground fire in the Italo-Turkish Wa

of 1912.

So, when World War I began, there were clear precedents fo

ground-based air defense systems. However, the ground prob

lem clearly was much more important than dealing with the

few insignificant aircraft. Although the Germans had built a

few guns designed for antiaircraft duty in the decade before

World War I, little attention was given to this issue. Germany

began the war with 18 antiaircraft guns: six of them motorized

and 12 of them horse drawn. The other European powers gave

the matter even less attention.2 Most of the first antiaircraf

guns were artillery pieces modified to elevate higher and tra

verse through a wider arc than standard artillery pieces (fig

1). The task of the antiaircraft gunner proved much more

demanding than that of the traditional artilleryman. But the

target problem was much more difficult. In contrast to the

standard artillery problem of hitting a target located in two di

mensions, the antiaircraft gunner was working in three di

mensions, having to adjust not only for range and deflection

but also for elevation. In addition, the aerial target was mov

ing, possibly in all three dimensions, and possibly varying in

speed, altitude, and direction. Finally, the projectile was un

guided once it left the tube, following a ballistic course over a

number of seconds while en route to the target. The technology

of the day was inadequate for the tasks of detection, tracking

and fire control.

During World War I, both sides bombed their opponents’ cities

German attacks on London and Paris tied down considerable

1
Allied resources, estimated in the British case to be eight times

the resources expended by the German airmen. However, British

defenses became increasingly effective. The Germans launched

43 aircraft on London during their last major raid (19 May 1918

against the British defenders that employed 84 fighter sorties

and 126 guns that fired 30,000 rounds. Although the defenders

claimed but three bombers destroyed, only 13 reached and

bombed London’s center. In the war, home defenses claimed 21

airships (of 201 airship sorties) and 27 aircraft (of 424 aircraf

sorties), of which ground fire accounted for three zeppelins and

2

Figure 1. Improvised antiaircraft artillery (AAA). Early in World War I, the

need for antiaircraft protection outstripped the available equipment

This forced the combatants to improvise using standard artillery pieces

and makeshift arrangements. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
11 to 13 aircraft. In November 1918, the British used 480 anti

aircraft guns and 376 aircraft in the defense of Great Britain.

The bulk of air operations during World War I was no

strategic but was in support of ground forces. On the western

front, German antiaircraft gunners claimed 1,588 Allied air

craft (19 percent of their total kills), while French gunners

claimed 500 German aircraft; Italian gunners claimed 129

British Expeditionary Force gunners, 341; and US gunners

58. The guns grew increasingly effective as hastily improvised

equipment gave way to specially designed equipment, while

relatively speaking, aircraft showed only modest improve

ments in performance. Among the technologies harnessed by

the defenders were sound-detection systems, searchlights, op

tical range-finders, and mechanically timed fuzes.4 As a con

sequence, the number of German antiaircraft rounds for each

claim fell from 11,600 in 1915 to 5,000 in 1918; French rounds

per claim decreased from 11,000 (1916) to 7,000 (1918); Russian

from 11,000 (1916) to 3,000 (1917); and British from 8,000

(1917) to 4,550 (1918). American antiaircraft artillery (AAA

downed 17 German aircraft in three months, averaging 605

rounds per kill.5

In contrast to the advances made during World War I, air de

fenders made little progress between the wars. The three-inch

gun of World War I dominated what little AAA there was, and

acoustical devices provided the best location equipment (fig. 2)

In 1928, the United States adopted as standard equipment the

three-inch M3 gun that had an effective ceiling of 21,000 feet

just exceeding the aircraft ceiling of the day. Meanwhile, new

technology such as removable barrel liners, automatic breech

mechanisms, and continuous fuze setters, improved the anti

aircraft guns. However, the revolution in aviation technology o

the 1930s, permitting much greater aircraft speeds and alti

tudes, rendered three-inch guns and acoustical-location gea

obsolete.6 In brief, from the mid to late 1930s, aircraft (offense

had the edge over the AAA (defense).

In the latter half of the 1930s, new equipment began to ap

pear in antiaircraft units around the world. The major powers

adopted slightly larger but much more powerful guns, deciding

on a caliber of about a 90-millimeter (mm) gun with a muzzle

3
velocity of 2,800 to 3,000 feet per second (fps) and a rate of fire

of 30 shots per minute (spm). The Germans chose the 88 mm

gun (fig. 3), the British built a prototype 3.7-inch (94 mm

gun in 1936, and the Americans began to replace their three

inch gun with a 90 mm gun in 1940. All major powers experi

mented with new detection devices, but it was the British who

forged a lead in the field of radar.7 Radar was a giant advan

tage for the defender, at first giving early warning, later con

trol of aircraft interception (initially with ground and then air

borne radar), and finally aiming antiaircraft guns.

British Antiaircraft Artillery

Of all the European powers, the British had the most acute

air defense problem; for compared to the other European capitals

4

Figure 2. Standard US heavy AAA gun during the interwar years. The

standard US heavy AAA piece during the interwar years was this three

inch gun. Members of the 62d Coast Artillery engage in a practice ex

ercise in August 1941. (Reprinted from USAF.)
London was the easiest to find and closest to the border. In

Winston Churchill’s colorful and frightening words, the British

capital was “a tremendous fat cow . . . tied up to attract the

beasts of prey.”8 The British convinced themselves of the deci

5

Figure 3. German 88 mm gun. The standard German heavy artillery

piece during World War II was the German 88 mm gun. (Reprinted from

Imperial War Museum.)
siveness of air power, fearing what they called the 

knockou

blow.” They accepted the dismal prophecies of such theorists as

the Italian Giulio Douhet, the Briton Sir Hugh Trenchard, and

the American William “Billy” Mitchell, who predicted that the

employment of air power would result in devastated cities, pul

verized industries, panic-stricken civilians, and thus surren

der. These airmen believed there was no direct defense agains

the bombers and as Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin succinctly

put it, “The bomber will always get through.” Without early

warning, the air defense problem seemed impossible, as the

only potential solution to intercepting high-speed, high-flying

bombers through the vast skies was airborne patrols tha

were impractical. Another factor that led top decision makers

to despair was the belief that only a few bombers could delive

adequate firepower (high explosives, incendiaries, and poison

gas) that would have decisive results. Therefore, the British

put their faith and effort into a strategic bomber force, depend

ing on the fear of retribution to deter enemy air attack. Thus

they neglected most defensive air efforts. Not until 1937 did

the Royal Air Force (RAF) shift its emphasis from bombers to

fighters. By then, British radar, integrated into a nationwide

command and control system, promised a solution and led to

a new look at the air defense problem. All the same, British ai

defenses were inconsequential in the late 1930s (fig. 4). On 1

January 1938, the British had only 180 antiaircraft guns large

than 50 mm. This number increased to 341 by Septembe

1938 (Munich), to 540 in September 1939 (declaration of war)

and to 1,140 during the Battle of Britain.9

During the decisive Battle of Britain, AAA played a second

ary role to RAF fighters, as the gunners claimed only 357 o

the 1,733 German aircraft the British believed they destroyed

(A more recent source puts the gunners’ scores at fewer than

300.) But an adequate measure of efficiency must include

more than simply claims. By the end of September 1940, the

British estimated that 48 percent of the German bombers

turned back from the defended areas. Even if that is an over

estimation, flak unquestionably forced the bombers higher

unnerved the crews, and resulted in reduced bombing accu

racy.10 In addition, antiaircraft guns were the principal de

6
fense against night attacks, as night fighters were in their in

fancy. By the end of 1940, AAA defenses claimed 85 percent o

the British night kills.

British AAA defenses had a number of problems. One con

tinual air defense difficulty that is seldom discussed is “friendly

fire.” In fact, the first British kill, three days after the declara

tion of war, was unfortunately a friendly aircraft that had even

given the correct recognition signal. The British gunners claimed

the first German aircraft over a month later on 19 October 1939

Retention of the older three-inch guns until 1943 was anothe

factor that inhibited the British air defenders. Perhaps mos

significant was the reliance on visual aiming. It was not unti

October 1940 that the British began to equip their forces with

gun-laying radar. Radar made a big difference—the number o

rounds fired per destroyed claim at night fell from 30,000 in

September (when German night bombing began) to 11,000 in

October and to 4,087 in January 1941.11

Personnel problems hampered British antiaircraft defenses

throughout the war. The British sent their regular antiaircraf

units overseas and relied on territorial forces similar to the

7

Figure 4. 3.7-inch gun on a Pile mattress. Here it is mounted on a “Pile

mattress” used during the V-1 campaign and named for antiaircraf

artillery commander Gen Frederick Pile. (Reprinted from Imperial Wa

Museum.)
American National Guard for home defense. At the beginning

of the war, the territorial forces were of top quality. But as the

war continued, experienced men were reassigned to other duties

and the overall quality of the forces declined. The first group

of 25 militiamen to arrive at one battery, after passing through

a medical examination at a recruiting center, included two in

dividuals with advanced cases of venereal disease, one person

with a withered right arm, one mentally deficient, one with no

thumbs, and a sixth whose glass eye fell out when he ran.12

The drain on antiaircraft personnel forced the British to take

innovative measures. One was to incorporate women into wha

they called mixed batteries—the first of which became opera

tional in August 1941 (fig. 5). These units were restricted to

deployment in Great Britain until November 1944, when the

first one moved to the continent. Women filled all positions ex

cept those involving heavy loading and firing. 

The women served well—the principal problems resulted no

from them but from their parents, friends, and British culture

One historian notes that “women brought an instinctive skil

to the handling of AAA instruments and radar; they were less

disturbed than men by intervals of inactivity and yet stood up

8

Figure 5. British women in training. British women training on a AAA

gun director. Personnel shortages encouraged the British to employ

women in antiaircraft units. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
well to enemy bombing.

13 In all, about 68,000 women served

in British antiaircraft units during the war.

Another approach to the manpower shortage was to use the

Home Guard. These men were, for the most part, willing

enough but were over age or physically restricted. In addition

they could only serve 48 hours every 28 days. The peak

strength of the Home Guard serving guns exceeded 145,000 in

January 1944. Beginning in October 1941, one weapon em

ployed by the Home Guard was the unguided rocket (fig. 6).

These proved to be visually impressive, but militarily inef

fective.14 Despite these measures to compensate for shortages

in manpower, the number of personnel assigned to antiaircraf

duties declined from 330,000 in 1941 to 264,000 in mid-1942

Britain just did not have sufficient personnel for all its needs

and the number of personnel available for antiaircraft duties

determined how many guns the British could deploy.15

9

Figure 6. Rocket firings. In addition to guns, the British also employed

unguided rockets as antiaircraft weapons. The British deployed thou

sands of rocket barrels at home; but while impressive when fired, they

registered few hits. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
Initially, Allied AAA in the field proved inadequate as

demonstrated in the campaigns in Norway and France. While

British guns did better at Dunkirk, nevertheless, this too was

a losing proposition. The failures of British arms and AAA

were also evident in the 1941 Greek campaign. But even in

losing operations, the power of antiaircraft was evident. In

Crete, the British were only able to field a scratch force o

hodgepodge units, including 16 3.7-inch, 16 3-inch, 37 40 mm

and three two-pound guns against a Luftwaffe force of 280

bombers, 150 dive bombers, and 180 fighters. Nevertheless

the defenders inflicted heavy losses on the Germans and came

close to defeating them. In all, the Germans lost 147 aircraf

to flak and 73 to other causes. Sixty-three were badly dam

aged.16 The Allied antiaircraft gunners continued to improve to

the detriment of the German air force (GAF).

At the siege of Tobruk, for example, the Luftwaffe made a

determined effort to silence British antiaircraft guns and shu

down the harbor. From April 1941 (when the garrison was cu

off) until November 1941 (when it was relieved), British flak

units engaged 4,105 aircraft with 28 heavy guns, 18 40 mm

Bofors, and 42 captured Italian 20 mm Bredas and claimed

374 aircraft destroyed, probably destroyed, and damaged.1

More to the point, the Germans sank only seven ships during

the siege and failed to close the harbor.

In 1941, the Axis airmen attacked Malta, which was only 60

miles from Sicily and was critical in the battle for the Mediter

ranean and North Africa. The island endured a naval blockade

and aerial siege for well over a year, oftentimes defended only

by antiaircraft guns. In January 1941, there were 70 heavy

guns and 34 light flak pieces on the island, a number that in

creased to 112 and 118, respectively, by July. One German

tactic was to attack the gun positions directly, which the GAF

did on 115 occasions in a five-month period, destroying five

heavy and three light guns, killing 149 gunners, and wound

ing 290. In early 1942, the GAF won air superiority over Malta

and pounded it ferociously. For two months, only the British

antiaircraft gunners defended Malta. The critical month was

April when Axis airmen flew 10,323 sorties and dropped abou

7,000 tons of bombs, about half the total tonnage unloaded on

10
the island. The British claimed 102 aircraft destroyed tha

month; however, the correct figure is probably closer to 37

During the entire campaign, the defenders (airmen and gunners

claimed between 860 and 1,000 aircraft destroyed on 1,199

air raids, while the Axis admitted to the loss of 567. Whateve

the actual number, the stout and successful defense of Malta

contributed immensely to the Axis defeat in North Africa.1

This action was probably the most important contribution tha

Allied ground-based antiaircraft made to the war effort.

Developments in technology aided the defenders. By 1943

the British converted from powder to mechanical fuzes. Flash

less propellants also increased the efficiency of their guns, as

did automatic fuze setters that improved accuracy and increased

the firing rate by a factor of two and one-half to three. By this

time, electric predictors were also used.19

Luftwaffe bombing attacks on Britain trailed off in 1941, as

the Soviet campaign began to dominate German attention. On

27 March 1942, the Germans opened a new phase to the ai

war against Britain with attacks on southern coastal towns by

small numbers of low-flying fighter-bombers. A lack of early

warning devices to detect low-flying attackers, a wide range o

targets, and an inadequate number of light antiaircraft guns

created considerable problems for the defenders. The British

could do nothing about the first two factors, but they did in

crease the number of 40 mm guns dramatically from 41 in

May 1942 to 267 by the end of September (fig. 7). By April 1943

the British had deployed 917 40 mm guns, 424 20 mm guns

and 506 two-pounders (one-third of their available 40 mm guns

and two-fifths of their light flak units) along the southern

coast. The increased alertness of the gunners and increased

number of guns brought about impressive results. The gunners

downed four aircraft of 42 sorties on 23 May, four of 24 sor

ties on 25 May, and 10 of 35 sorties on 30 May. In this phase

of the air war—hit-and-run attacks on fringe targets—the British

claimed 56 aircraft destroyed of 1,250 sorties, an attrition rate

of 4.5 percent (fig. 8).20

11
Figure 8. Diving V-1 bomb prior to impact in London. Although the de

fenders destroyed almost 4,000 buzz bombs, about 2,400 bombs hi

London and killed over 6,100 civilians. (Adapted from USAF.)

Figure 7. British 40 mm light antiaircraft gun and crew. Swedish Bofors 40

mm guns saw extensive action throughout the war serving both sides

(Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
The V-1 Campaign

The last major opponents of British home-based AAA were

the German V weapons, the V-1, a winged and pilotless bomb

and the V-2 ballistic missile. The flying bomb, also known as

the buzz bomb, carried a two-ton warhead about 160 miles a

approximately 400 miles per hour (mph). Allied defenses con

sisted of offensive bombing raids against V-1 targets (launch

ing sites, fabrication plants, and supply depots), fighter patrols

balloon barrages, and AAA. Initially, the defenders assumed

that the pilotless bomb would fly at about 400 mph and a

7,500 feet. Later, they revised their assumptions to 350 mph

at 7,000 feet and, finally, to 330 mph at 6,000 feet. The British

completed a detailed plan on the defense of their homeland in

January 1944 (fig. 9). It established fighter patrol lines and an

artillery line of 400 heavy pieces and 346 light pieces immedi

ately south of London. But the demands of supporting the

D-day invasion and optimism resulting from the bombing o

the German launch sites led the British to revise the plan in

March. It called for a reduction in the number of guns de

fending London to 192 heavy pieces and 246 light pieces, a

total reduction from 528 to 288 heavy pieces, and from 804 to

282 light pieces. Air Chief Marshal Roderic Hill, the defense

commander, pointed out that AAA would have difficulties if the

V-ls operated at 2,000 to 3,000 feet and not at the predicted

6,000 feet.21 Events validated Hill’s warning.

After the Allied invasion of Europe on 6 June 1944, Adolph

Hitler pushed for the V-1 campaign as a means of relief for his

troops. The Germans began the bombardment on 12 June bu

could fire only two small salvos; however, by 18 June, the Ger

mans launched the 500th V-1; by 21 June, the 1,000th; by 29

June, the 2,000th; and by 22 July, the 5,000th. These V-1 at

tacks continued until September, when the Germans withdrew

from their French bases before the Allied ground advance.22

The V-ls traveled fast for the day, crossing the English coas

at an average speed of 340 mph and accelerating to about 400

mph as they burned off fuel. Thus, the fighter pilots had bu

six minutes to sight and down the buzz bombs before they

reached their targets. The V-ls were difficult to spot because o

13
their small size, about half that of the FW 190. This problem

was exacerbated by the low-altitude approach averaging be

tween 2,100 and 2,500 feet. Not only was the V-1 tough to

spot and intercept, it was also tough to down. One source es

timated that the missile was eight times as difficult to down as

a manned aircraft, even though it flew straight and level. Al

though that estimate was probably an exaggeration, the V-1

was not an easy target to destroy.23

The Allies steadily increased their fighter units to 15 day and

eight night fighter squadrons (two were part-time). Rules of en

gagement gave the fighters full rein in good weather and AAA

gunners complete freedom in bad weather. During in-between

14

Figure 9. Diagram of initial defensive deployment. Initial defensive de

ployment of London during the V-1 campaign. (Adapted from USAF.)
weather, the most frequent situation, AAA gunners had com

plete freedom up to 8,000 feet. On 10 July, the British modified

a 26 June order allowing fighters to enter the gun belt in ho

pursuit of V-1s. Consequently, fighter pilots entered active

antiaircraft gun areas at their own risk.24

England’s third line of defense, after the offensive bombing

and the fighter patrols, was its AAA. When the campaign began

the defenders rapidly got 192 heavy guns into position with

the support of 200 light guns; and by the end of June 1944

they increased this number to 376 heavy guns, 594 light guns

and 362 rocket launchers.25 Despite these numbers, V-ls were

getting through, as British defenses were not working at opti

mum efficiency. The V-1’s operating altitude of 2,000 to 3,000

feet was the worst possible for the defense: too high for the

light guns and too low for the heavy guns. Heavy mobile pieces

proved unsatisfactory because they could not traverse smoothly

and rapidly. Radar, positioned in hollows and folds in the ter

rain for protection against German countermeasures that did

not materialize, operated at a disadvantage. The proximity o

the gun belt to London created another problem. The British

hit a number of V-1s that later crashed into London, even

though the defenders had done their job.26 Finally, there was

considerable interference between the gunners and the fight

ers, as pilots chasing the missiles sometimes strayed into the

gun belt, inhibiting the gunners who on occasion fired on the

fighters as well as the missiles. The defenders made a fast, ef

fective, and flexible adjustment to the situation, which was

much to their credit and to a large degree responsible for thei

ultimate success.27

The defenders easily came to grips with some of the prob

lems. On 18 June 1944, the British ordered guns within Lon

don silenced and, by the end of June, resited their radar onto

higher ground. The defenders built permanent structures fo

their portable guns (fig. 10). Constructed of 28 railway sleep

ers and 12 ties, these structures were first called Pile portable

platforms; but, they quickly became known as Pile mattresses

named for AAA commander Gen Frederick Pile. In late June

the British began to replace their static guns with mobile guns

and, in early July, they put better gun predictors into action

15
The two most difficult problems remaining involved damaged

V-1s falling on London (causing damage if they hit something

whether or not the warhead detonated) and interference be

tween fighter pilots and gunners.28

Hill and Pile concluded that they should designate an all-gun

belt from which all aircraft would be excluded. As this idea

emerged, a staff officer suggested moving the guns and rada

to the coast. Such a relocation would eliminate the problem o

damaged missiles falling on London and would provide rada

operators and gunners optimum visibility. This scheme would

also give the fighter pilots a clear boundary (the coastline) be

tween the gun and aircraft zones. Almost simultaneously, Rober

16

Figure 10: Pile mattress. The British emplaced their heavy (3.7 inch

guns on a solid base that became known as a “Pile mattress.” (Reprinted

from Imperial War Museum.)
Watson-Watt, the eminent scientist and developer of radar, in

dependently came up with the same concept, giving it even

more weight.29

The plan had a number of dangers. First, there was the

question of effectiveness. Would the new concept actually im

prove the defenses? A split zone would inhibit the fighter pi

lots, who claimed 883 of the 1,192 V-1 kills as of 13 July. Sec

ond, how long would such a redeployment, entailing hundreds

of heavy guns, thousands of personnel, and tens of thousands

of tons of supplies and equipment, take? What would happen

to the defenses in the meantime? Finally, how long would i

take to get a clear decision on this proposal? With each pass

ing day, redeployment became increasingly difficult as more o

the mobile guns were fitted with Pile mattresses and more

guns were added to the gun belt.30

On 13 July, Hill made the decision to create an all-gun bel

on the coast. This bold, quick exercise of authority was re

markable, as was the speed with which the decision was im

plemented. By 17 July, the heavy guns, radar, and supporting

equipment and supplies were in place, followed in two days by

the light guns. This action, which involved the movement o

23,000 people and about 60,000 tons of supplies, was no

small feat (fig. 11). The British deployed the guns on the coas

between Dover and Beachy Head, creating a zone extending

10,000 yards over the water and 5,000 yards inland. Aircraf

were restricted to altitudes above 8,000 feet in this area, bu

the fighter pilots were free to roam over the English Channe

and over England between the gun belt and the balloon line.3

Although the redeployment and separation of the aircraf

and guns was a major factor in the increased effectiveness o

the defenses, there were other factors as well. The number o

heavy guns in the coastal belt increased from 376 on 1 July to

416 on 23 July; to 512 on 30 July; and to 592 on 7 August. In

addition, there were 892 40 mm guns and 504 20 mm guns

plus 254 rocket tubes. The addition of new American rada

(SCR-584) and predictors for the British 3.7-inch guns and the

American 90 mm guns also improved the defenses.32 Anothe

major technical improvement was the use of proximity fuzes

that detonated at a preset distance from the target. The new

17
fuze proved to be about five times more effective than eithe

time or contact fuzes.33 Finally, the gunners improved thei

accuracy as they got more practice.

These defensive improvements, coupled with the known di

rection, altitude, and speed of the V-1s, enabled the defenders

to dramatically improve their effectiveness. Before the rede

ployment, the defenses downed 42 percent of the V-ls observed

after the redeployment, that figure rose to 59 percent. Anothe

set of data, similar but not exactly coinciding, indicated tha

the defenses downed 48 percent of those missiles spotted ove

land before the redeployment and 84 percent of those spotted

18

Figure 11. Diagram of final defensive deployment. Final defensive de

ployment of London during the V-1. (Adapted from USAF.)
after the redeployment. The high point occurred on the nigh

of 27 August and early morning hours of 28 August when the

defenders destroyed 90 of 97 missiles reported, allowing only

four V-ls to get through to London.34

The increased power of the defenses resulted largely from

the tremendous improvement in the effectiveness of AAA. The

gunners got 22 percent of the destroyed credits before the re

deployment and 54 percent afterwards. They downed 17 per

cent of their targets in the first week after redeployment and

74 percent in the last four days of action (29 August through

1 September 1944).35

During the summer campaign, the Germans began to launch

V-ls from bombers. The first test air launch known to the

British occurred on 6 April 1944 at Peenemünde, with the firs

recognizable use of an air-launched weapon against England

occurring on 9 July 1944. Between then and 5 September, the

GAF air launched about 400 V-1s. With the withdrawal of Ger

man forces from the French launching sites, these air-launched

weapons became the chief air threat to Britain in the closing

months of the war. Between 5 September and the last ai

launching on 14 January 1945, the Germans hurled abou

1,200 of these V-ls against Britain, but only 66 reached Lon

don.36 Clearly, their accuracy was very poor. 

The final act in the V-1 campaign against Britain came in

March 1945 when the Germans introduced a long-range ver

sion of the V-1. Fitting the V-1 with a lighter wing and warhead

(36 percent less) permitted it to carry 50 percent more fuel and

enabled it to fly 220 miles compared to the standard missile’s

range of about 150 to 160 miles. The Germans launched the

first modified V-1 from ramps in Holland on 3 March. From

then through 29 March, the Germans fired 275 V-ls agains

Britain, 13 of which reached London. Tipped off by photo

reconnaissance and intelligence reports about this new weapon

the Allies ordered the northern defenses bolstered on 27 Feb

ruary with seven squadrons of day fighters and three squadrons

of night fighters. But the AAA gunners performed so well tha

the British relieved all but one of the day squadrons. The de

fenders downed 73 percent of the 125 missiles observed.37

19
The Germans fired 10,500 V-ls against Britain, of which

about 2,000 crashed shortly after takeoff. The defenders ob

served 7,500 missiles and downed 4,000 (53 percent); they

credited fighter pilots with 1,847 kills, the gunners with 1,878

and the balloons with 232 (fig. 12).38 Efficiency improved from

downing 42 percent of the V-ls observed before the redeploymen

to the coast (during the period 12 June to 15 July) to 59 percen

after the redeployment (16 July to 5 September). The guns

downed 63 percent of the air-launched missiles after this pe

riod (16 September 1944 to 14 January 1945) and 33 percen

of the ground-launched V-ls from Holland. Put another way

the percentage of V-ls that reached London, relative to those

launched, declined in these same periods (29, 23, 6, and 5) fo

an overall figure of 23 percent. About 2,419 V-1s reached the

London Civil Defence Region, killing 6,184 civilians and seri

ously injuring 17,981. About 5 percent of the total casualties

consisted of service personnel, and approximately 92 percen

of the casualties occurred in the London area.39

To put the V-1s into perspective, they must be compared

with other German weapons that killed and maimed British

civilians during World War II. German bombings killed 51,509

V-2s killed 2,754, and long-range guns, 148. Of the 146,777

British civilian casualties (killed or injured) in World War II

bombings caused 112,932; V-1s, 24,165; V-2s, 9,277; and

long-range guns, 403.40 The buzz bombs, along with the V-2

ballistic missiles, did more than just kill and maim Britons

They undermined the morale of a nation war weary after al

most five years of conflict. The V-weapons assault encouraged

almost one and one-half million Londoners to leave the city

more than the number that evacuated during the blitz. During

this period, the authorities estimated that production fell by

one-quarter.41 The defensive effort involved squadrons of fight

ers, about 250,000 personnel, and 2,500 guns.

Another aspect of the V-1 operational story is frequently

overlooked. The Germans also launched about 7,400 to 9,000

V-ls against targets on the continent, mostly (4,900) agains

the port of Antwerp, Belgium. In the city’s defense, the Allies

deployed 18,000 troops manning 208 90 mm guns, 128

3.7-inch guns, and 188 40 mm guns. In addition, they used

20
280 balloons that later were augmented to 1,400. No fighters

were employed in the defense of Antwerp, mainly because o

the short distance between the V-1 launcher and its target.42

In the attack on Antwerp, the Germans fired their first mis

siles from the southeast in October. In mid-December, they

shifted to the northeast and finally, by the end of January, to

the north. The last direction of attack created a particula

problem for the defense because a large airfield in that secto

21

Figure 12. Barrage balloons. Barrage balloons were a relatively cheap

device that inhibited many more low-flying aircraft than they destroyed

These devices were also useful against the V-1s. (Reprinted from

http://www.raf.mod.uk/bob1940/images.)
was not closed until 21 February 1945. Nevertheless, the de

fenders downed 2,183 (91 percent) of the 2,394 missiles plotted

More to the point, only 211 V-1s reached a 7,000-yard radius

around the docks that the defenders designated as the vita

area, of which 150 hit the dock area.43 The Germans also at

tacked Liège, Belgium, with about 3,000 V-1s. V-ls killed 947

military and 3,736 civilians and wounded 1,909 military and

8,166 civilians on the continent. Antwerp suffered 1,812 mili

tary and 8,333 civilian casualties, or 10,145 of the 14,758 V-1

casualties on the continent.44

American Antiaircraft Artillery

American flak made an impressive showing in combat (fig

13). During the first month of the Normandy campaign (7–30

June 1944), First Army antiaircraft gunners claimed 96 air

craft destroyed of 682 enemy sorties. Following the breakou

from the invasion beachhead, between 31 July and 6 August

the Luftwaffe hurled 1,312 aircraft at American forces passing

through difficult terrain at the Avranches bottleneck. Although

US gunners downed only 58 aircraft, the Germans did not hi

a single bridge, dam, or vital target.45 Another major GAF effor

took place on 3 December 1944 when the Luftwaffe launched

80 to 100 aircraft against the First Army and lost 30 to 41 in

a 45-minute engagement. During the Battle of the Bulge (16

December 1944–1 January 1945), the First Army antiaircraf

units claimed 366 German aircraft destroyed or probably de

stroyed of 1,178 sorties.46

The most spectacular one-day Allied air defense effort oc

curred on New Year’s Day 1945. The GAF plan called for abou

900 German fighters, led by Ju 88 night fighters, to attack 16

Anglo-American airfields. Coordination broke down badly as

German flak downed about 100 of their own aircraft before

they reached Allied lines. (This fratricide is interesting in view

of the fact that German AAA was organized within the Luftwaffe.

Poor weather, lack of training, confusion, Allied flak, and Allied

fighters further diluted the impact of the raid. Allied losses

were much lower than might have been expected, and German

losses were much higher. The GAF claimed to have destroyed

22
402 Allied aircraft on the ground and 65 in the air, but the Al

lies stated their losses as 236 destroyed and badly damaged

on the ground and 23 in air-to-air combat. On their part, the

Germans put their losses at 304 aircraft destroyed and 232 pi

lots lost. Anglo-American pilots claimed 102 aerial victories

and Allied gunners claimed 185 to 394 (the former figure, con

firmed kills; the latter, confirmed kills plus those awaiting con

firmation). The Allies recovered 137 German aircraft wrecks in

their area of control and, from their remains, credited the

fighters with 57 kills and flak with 80.47

A clearer view of the confused battle is perhaps possible by

focusing on the attack of one airfield. The German fighter uni

JG 11 launched about 65 fighters against the Anglo-American

airfield (Y-29) at Asch, Belgium, where four RAF Spitfire

squadrons and two US fighter groups were stationed. When

23

Figure 13. US 90 mm M-1 gun. The standard US heavy antiaircraft gun

during World War II was the 90 mm M-1. (Reprinted from US Army Air De

fense Artillery Museum.)
the Germans struck Asch, one Spitfire squadron and one

Thunderbolt squadron were airborne, and a dozen P-51s of the

352d Fighter Group were taking off. The latter’s commander, Co

John Meyer, claimed one FW 190 before he raised his landing

gear. In the ensuing melee, American pilots claimed 32 kills

British pilots, one. In all, the Allied pilots and gunners at Asch

claimed 35 to 41 German aircraft out of 50 attackers. The Allies

lost no P-51s and only one P-47 in the air; they lost seven Spit

fires and several C-47s on the ground. The Germans admitted

losing 27 aircraft in the attack.48

A few months later, US flak gunners scored another impres

sive victory. After American forces unexpectedly captured the

railway bridge across the Rhine River at Remagen, Germany

on 7 March 1945, German forces made considerable and des

perate efforts to destroy it. By 14 March, the American anti

aircraft gunners massed 64 90 mm, 216 40 mm, and 24

37 mm guns as well as 228 quad and 140 single .50-calibe

machine guns in their defensive effort (fig. 14). They claimed

142 German aircraft destroyed of 442 attacking. More impor

tant, German aircraft did not damage the bridge.49

The impact of AAA can be seen in two statistical snapshots

During the European campaign, American forces of the 12th

Army Group (First, Third, and Ninth US Armies) recorded

14,776 sorties by the German air force. US gunners claimed

the destruction of 2,070 Luftwaffe aircraft. The GAF recorded

29,953 aircraft lost to enemy action or missing in the entire

war. Of the 14,938 downed over Germany, the Germans cred

ited AAA with the destruction of 2,598 aircraft.50

German Flak

Of all combatants in World War II, the Germans had the mos

experience with antiaircraft defense. They had come a long way

from the Versailles peace treaty that essentially banned German

antiaircraft weapons. Although the Germans evaded the provi

sions of the treaty to a degree, that agreement clearly inhibited

them from building any real military force until Hitler came to

power in 1933. In April 1934, the Germans assigned the anti

aircraft arm to the Luftwaffe. At first, they considered AAA as

24
the primary defense of the homeland from enemy aircraft. The

Germans expanded the role of flak as they assessed the lessons

of the Spanish Civil War, where AAA also served most notably as

an infantry support weapon. Based on that war, the Germans

doubled the number of their flak units. When World War I

began, the Germans had 2,600 heavy and 6,700 light flak guns

the largest air defense system in the world (fig. 15).51

25

Figure 14. US quad .50 gun. The American quad .50 was an effective

weapon against both air and ground targets. (Adapted from http://www

strand.com/quad50/halftrk.jpg.)
Germany’s best-known artillery piece was its 88 mm gun

Although a gun of that caliber was used in World War I, Krupp

designers at Bofors in Sweden worked out the details of a new

88 mm gun in the interwar years and returned to Germany with

the new model in 1931 (fig. 16). The resulting 8.8-centimete

(cm) Flak 18/36/37 made up about 60 percent of Germany’s

heavy flak guns during World War II. The gun fired a 20.3-pound

shell at a muzzle velocity of 2,600 fps to an effective ceiling o

26,000 feet. This compares to the standard British heavy anti

aircraft gun, the 3.7-inch Mark 3 that fired a 28-pound projec

tile at a muzzle velocity of 2,600 fps to an effective ceiling o

32,000 feet, and the American 90 mm Mark 1 that hurled a

23-pound shell at 2,700 fps to an effective ceiling of 32,000

feet. These two Allied guns weighed more than the German

gun and had a higher rate of fire, 20 spm compared with the

German 15-spm gun.52 The fame of the 8.8 stems mainly from

its versatility as a triple-purpose weapon (antiaircraft, antitank

and standard artillery piece) and its ubiquity.

26

Figure 15: German 40 mm Bofors. The Germans used a wide variety o

light flak guns including this truck-mounted 40 mm Bofors. (Adapted

from Air Force Historical Research Agency.)
The Germans began to work on a more advanced model, the

8.8-cm Flak 41 in 1939 but did not get this gun into service

until 1943. Although it suffered early mechanical problems

this flak gun had greater performance. It fired a 20.7-pound

shell at a muzzle velocity of 3,280 fps to an effective ceiling o

37,000 feet. It also featured a lower silhouette on its turntable

mounting than did the 8.8-cm Flak 18/36/37 on its pedesta

mounting. Because of the high cost and complexity of this flak

gun, the Germans manufactured relatively few of them (556 in

all) and, in February 1944, fielded only 279.53

The Germans supplemented the 88s with two larger guns

In 1933, the Germans established the specifications for a 105

mm antiaircraft gun and three years later selected Rheinmetall’s

27

Figure 16. German 88 mm gun. Probably the best-known artillery piece

of World War II was this German 88 mm gun. It was the most versatile

heavy artillery weapon used in the war, serving very well as a conven

tional artillery piece, as well as against tanks and aircraft. (Reprinted

from Imperial War Museum.)
proposal over Krupp

s. The 10.5-cm Flak 38/39 fired a 33.2

pound shell at a muzzle velocity of 2,885 fps to an effective

ceiling of 31,000 feet. In 1936, Rheinmetall also won a contrac

for a 12.8-cm gun designated as the 12.8-cm Flak 40 (fig. 17). I

fired a 57.2-pound shell at 2,890 fps to a maximum ceiling o

35,000 feet. Compared with the 88 mm gun, the 128 mm gun

used a powder charge four times as great and which resulted

in a shell flight time only one-third as long. In late 1944, there

were 116 105 mm flak guns mounted on railroad mounts, 827

on fixed mounts, and 1,025 on mobile mounts. For increased

mobility, the Germans mounted about 5 percent of their 105

mm and 128 mm flak guns on railroad cars. Germany’s bes

flak gunners, who were correctly considered the cream of the

flak arm, manned these potent guns (fig. 18).54

In the early years of the war (1939–41), flak protected German

troops from the few Allied aircraft that the Luftwaffe had no

destroyed and supported the advancing armies as an antitank

and direct support weapon. In the Western European campaign

of 1940, flak units claimed 854 of 2,379 aircraft destroyed and

over 300 armored vehicles. By October 1941, the German flak

units credited their gunners with destroying 5,381 aircraft and

1,930 armored vehicles.

One important German flak victory occurred during the

evacuation of Axis forces from Sicily over the Strait of Messina

in August 1943. Despite Allied air and sea superiority, almos

40,000 German and 62,000 Italian troops—and even their rea

guard—got to the mainland with much of their equipment, in

cluding nearly 10,000 vehicles. Allied preoccupation with the

upcoming Italian invasion and completion of the conquest o

Sicily as well as the Axis employment of 500 heavy and ligh

flak pieces helped to account for this Axis success.55 The

Messina evacuation was as much an Axis accomplishment as

it was an Allied failure.

During the early years, German home defenses faced ligh

opposition as the British night raiders were few in number, il

equipped, and poorly trained (a bomber could rarely find its

target, much less destroy it). But British airmen began to

strike telling blows as dramatically seen in the first RAF raid

of 1,000 bombers on Cologne in May 1942. Shortly afterwards

28
Figure 17. German 128 mm AAA gun. The 128 mm gun was the mos

powerful antiaircraft gun the Germans put into service during the war

By the end of 1944, they had deployed about 2,000. (Reprinted from

Imperial War Museum.)
American heavy bombers joined the fray with daylight attacks

but they did not launch large raids into Germany until the

spring of 1943.

Oil was critical to war fighting, and Germany was short o

oil before the conflict. One key target was the oil complex a

Ploesti, Romania, that produced 35 percent of Germany’s

crude oil. After an ineffective attack by 13 American B-24s on

12 June 1942, the Army Air Forces (AAF) dispatched 178 heavy

bombers on a low-level attack on 1 August 1943. American in

telligence estimated Axis flak defenses at about 100 heavy guns

and several hundred light guns but encountered twice tha

number (fig. 19). These guns, combined with the vulnerability

of the Liberators at low altitude, confusion of the battle, and

the mission’s long distance (over 2,300 miles round-trip) caused

heavy bomber losses. Fifty-four B-24s failed to return; the air

men attributed the bulk of these losses to flak.

30

Figure 18. German railroad-mounted 128 mm guns. The best German

gunners manned the railroad-mounted 128 mm guns. Two dozen of the

powerful guns defended the Ploesti oil fields. (Adapted from USAF.)
The Allies continued to attack Ploesti, conducting 19 high

level raids on Ploesti between 5 April and 19 August 1944 (fig

20). On 5,479 effective sorties, American bombers dropped

13,469 tons of bombs and lost 223 bombers. Flak downed 131

bombers and 56 fighters.56

Besides the 21 heavy bomber raids by the AAF, there were

four other bombing attacks on Ploesti. The RAF flew three

night missions, dropped 313 tons of bombs on 186 effective

sorties, and lost 15 bombers to unknown causes. In contrast

on 10 June 1944, the Americans dispatched 46 P-38s, each

carrying a 1,000-pound bomb and a 300-gallon fuel tank, es

corted by 48 Lightnings, against the oil target. The Airmen

credited 38 P-38s with effective bombing sorties and with get

31

Figure 19. B-24 at Ploesti. The AAF lost 54 B-24s at the 1 August 1943

raid on the oil refineries at Ploesti. This battle was but one World War 

example of high aircraft losses on low-level missions. (Adapted from

USAF.)
ting 19 bombs on target with good results. But, the Americans

met stiff resistance, including 100 enemy aircraft; as a result

they lost nine dive bombers (seven to flak) and 14 of the es

corting P-38s. American fighters claimed 28 enemy aircraft de

stroyed in the air.57

In early April 1944, 178 heavy and 203 light guns protected

Ploesti. The Germans bolstered this number to 278 heavy guns

32

Figure 20. Ploesti smoke screen. The Germans used various defensive

measures, including smoke screens, to defend the critical Ploesti re

fineries. The Romana American oil refinery is at the center right of this

17 August 1944 photo.The white dots are bomb craters. (Reprinted from

USAF.)
and 280 light guns by the time of the final attack on 19 August

The heavy guns consisted of 128 mm guns (10 percent), 105

mm mobile guns (15 percent), 88 mm mobile guns (60 percent)

and Romanian 75 mm guns. They also captured Soviet 76.5 mm

guns (15 percent). Flak took an increasing toll on American

bombers, doubling from 1.2 percent of sorties in April to 2.4

percent in August, as losses to enemy aircraft declined from 2

percent of sorties to zero.58

The Germans fiercely defended other oil facilities as well. A

Politz, they deployed 600 heavy AAA weapons, and at Leuna

700. At the latter, about 40 percent of the heavy weapons were

larger than 88 mm guns. Between 12 May 1944 and 4 Apri

1945, the Allied airmen waged a bombing campaign agains

Leuna, Germany’s second largest synthetic oil and chemica

plant. It clearly illustrated the power of massive antiaircraf

protection during World War II. The AAF sent 5,236 bombe

sorties, and the RAF sent 1,394 sorties that dropped 18,092

tons of bombs on the target. However, primarily because o

weather and enemy opposition, only 10 percent of these bombs

fell on the plant complex. Bombs on-target declined from 35

percent in May 1944 to 5 percent in July and finally to 1.5

percent in September. On three missions in October, the Ger

mans reported that no bombs fell on the plant. The Americans

lost 119 bombers (2.3 percent of sorties), while the British los

eight (.57 percent), mostly to German flak.59

German cities were also heavily defended by flak. Hamburg’s

defenses included 400 heavy guns, while almost 300 defended

Munich, and 327 protected Vienna. The Allies hit the Austrian

capital on 47 raids and lost 361 heavy bombers, 229 (63 per

cent) to flak. On 7 February 1945, the Fifteenth Air Force los

25 of the 689 aircraft sent against Vienna (19 to flak). The Fif

teenth Air Force hit the city again the next day; but this time

it lost none of its 470 bombers. The losses on the first raid

were due to the clear weather that helped the gunners and to

the Americans’ lack of airborne coordination and electronic

countermeasures (ECM). The AAF attributed success on the

following day to poorer weather (7/10 to 10/10 overcast) and

better American coordination and ECM.60

33
The Germans introduced technological improvements to in

crease flak efficiency. In 1941, flak units began to get gun-laying

radar. Radar was a major advance over sound detectors, the

existing system used to detect and track aircraft. The older de

vice suffered from short range and erratic performance. How

ever, the German introduction of radar was slow, for as late as

August 1944, the GAF was still using over 5,500 sound detec

tors.61 Another improvement was the introduction of grooved

projectiles. These shells fragmented into 80- to 100-gram pieces

instead of the usual 1 to 7 grams, therefore causing much

greater damage.62 Incendiary shells also increased flak efficiency

by three times, according to German estimates.

Fuzes were another important advance. The Germans re

quested double fuzes (contact and timed) in 1943 and intro

duced them into combat in late 1944. These fuzes increased the

effectiveness of 88 mm guns five times; 105 mm guns, three

times; and 128 mm guns, twice. But the Germans did not make

the big change in fuzes; instead, the Allies introduced proximity

fuzes. After the war, an American study calculated that had the

Germans used proximity fuzes, they could have increased thei

flak efficiency by a factor of 3.4, making B-17 operations very

hazardous and B-24 operations impractical.63

The Germans also experimented with a number of novel ap

proaches to ground-based antiaircraft systems. They tested

squeeze-bore and sabot devices, systems that fired a shell o

smaller size; for example, an 88 mm shell from a 105 mm gun

Such shells achieved greater velocities than they would have

otherwise, as more powder pushed a smaller projectile. Neithe

system got into service.

The Germans examined yet another concept—flak rockets

(later known as surface-to-air missiles or SAM). Although the

Germans realized few positive results with the program in the

1930s, they still gave the new technology consideration for the

task of combating Allied air attacks. In early 1941, Gen Walte

Dornberger, one of the key German decision makers in rocke

and missile development, ordered a study of an antiaircraf

missile with an altitude capability of up to 60,000 feet. Werne

von Braun, chief of missile research at the Peenemünde tes

site, instead proposed using a rocket-powered interceptor

34
This was the initial route the Germans took that yielded the

spectacularly performing, yet tactically lame, Me 163. In any

case, in September Hitler halted all long-range developmen

projects. The Germans later lifted the stop order on the pro

gram, and, in April 1942, drew up the specifications for a va

riety of flak rockets, both guided and unguided. The Germans

made rockets the “centerpiece” of their development program

The Luftwaffe’s leader, Hermann Goering, had high expecta

tions. In September 1942, he authorized work on AAA rockets

In response, von Braun forwarded a study in November 1942

that mentioned three types of guided flak rockets: a 28-foot

single-stage solid-fuel missile; a 33-foot, two-stage solid-fue

missile; and a 20-foot, single-stage liquid-fuel missile. Pushed

by the German antiaircraft chief, Gen Walter von Axthelm, flak

rockets became the core of the 1942 German antiaircraft de

velopment program.64

Subsequently, the Germans developed a number of guided

flak missiles and two small, unguided ground-launched rock

ets, the Foehn and Taifun. The Foehn was designed to comba

low-flying aircraft. It measured less than three inches in di

ameter and about two feet in length and weighed 3.3 pounds

First fired in 1943, the rocket had a 3,600-foot range and was

intended to be fired in ripples from a 35-barrel launcher. The

Germans put three batteries into service and credited them

with downing three Allied aircraft. The rocket’s primary impac

was, however, psychological.65

The other unguided flak rocket, the Taifun, measured less

than four inches in diameter and 76 inches in length, weighed

65 pounds, and carried a 1.4-pound warhead (fig. 21). The

Germans fired the liquid-fuel rockets in ripples from either a

30-barrel launcher or a 50-barrel launcher mounted on an 88

mm gun carriage. The Taifun had an altitude capability o

46,000 to 52,000 feet.66

In addition, the Germans developed four guided rockets

Enzian, Rheintochter, Schmetterling, and Wasserfall. The Enzian

could have passed for an aircraft, albeit a small, radio-controlled

one lacking a horizontal tail (fig. 22). Almost 12 feet in length

the missile’s sweptback wing spanned 13.5 feet. It weighed 4,350

pounds and was assisted in its launch from an 88 mm gun

35
carriage by four solid-fuel boosters. The Enzian carried a 1,050

pound warhead to an altitude of 48,000 feet and a slant range

of 16 miles at 560 mph. The Germans test-fired possibly 24

Enzians, nine of which they considered successes. In January

1945, the Germans canceled the project, although work con

tinued until March.67

Rheintochter I was a subsonic, solid-fuel, two-stage rocke

that measured 20.5 feet and weighed 3,850 pounds. The sec

ond stage had four canard fins and six wings (which spanned

9.8 feet) and carried a 330-pound warhead to a slant range o

18,000 yards and an altitude of 29,000 feet. The Germans firs

tested the radio-controlled device in August 1943 and fired 82

flak rockets by early January 1945 (fig. 23). The Germans can

celled the program the next month. Rheintochter II employed

36

Figure 21. Taifun. The Germans were developing a family of antiaircraf

missiles. Two unguided efforts were the 3.3-pound Foehn and this

65-pound Taifun. (Adapted from Smithsonian Institution.)
two booster rockets, as did Rheintochter III. The third version

used the same first stage, but its second stage was about 3.3

feet longer. It was powered by a liquid-fuel engine and had

slightly better performance than its predecessor, having the

ability to reach an altitude of almost 50,000 feet at a range o

over 20,000 yards. The Germans tested about six of these (none

with radio control) between July 1944 and January 1945 be

fore canceling Rheintochter in favor of the Schmetterling.68

The Schmetterling looked like a swept-wing aircraft tha

measured 12.5 feet in length and 6.5 feet in span (fig. 24). The

Germans worked on two versions of the missiles that had an

all-up weight of 980 pounds. The Hs 117H was air-launched

while the Hs 117 was ground-launched from a 37 mm gun

carriage aided by two solid-fuel boosters. The designers origi

nally intended to use wire guidance but later employed radio

controls. The missile carried a 55-pound warhead to a maxi

mum effective slant-range of 17,500 yards and to an altitude

37

Figure 22. Enzian.The Germans also worked on four guided antiaircraf

missile projects. This 4,400-pound Enzian was one of the less suc

cessful of these. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
of 35,000 feet at a maximum speed of 537 mph. Ordered in

August 1943, the Germans first fired it in January 1944 and

achieved success on 25 of 59 launches, despite engine (fue

regulation) problems.69

Wasserfall, the largest German flak rocket, was a scaled down

V-2, from which it was derived. Unlike the V-2, however

Wasserfall had a set of four fins mounted about one-third down

its 25.6-foot length and larger tail fins.70 Wasserfall had a lift

off weight of 7,800 pounds and carried a 200-pound warhead

at supersonic speeds. The Germans desired a missile that could

down an aircraft flying 560 mph at an altitude of 65,000 fee

and at a distance of 31 miles (fig. 25). The Wasserfall fell shor

of these requirements, but it had the largest engagement enve

lope of the German antiaircraft missiles: an altitude of 6 miles

at a distance of 30 miles, an altitude of 9 miles at 25 miles

and an altitude of 11.4 miles at 16.5 miles. (American bombe

formations in 1945 were flying less than 200 mph and seldom

flew above 30,000 feet.) The Germans intended to use beam

38

Figure 23. Rheintochter. The Germans test-fired 88 of the solid-fue

Rheintochter I’s, shown here, before the project was cancelled in favo

of the liquid-fueled Rheintochter II and III. (Adapted from Imperial Wa

Museum.)
rider guidance, in which the missile rides along an electronic

beam to its target. But telemetry difficulties created problems

The Germans had two schemes for detonating the warhead

ground-activated signals and a proximity fuze. The developers

completed design work for the Wasserfall in early 1943 and

first flew the missile in February 1944. The Germans tested a

least 25 times before canceling the project in February 1945.7

Some authors speculate on what might have been if the

Wasserfall, the most promising flak rocket, had been built in

quantity, rather than the V-2. As it required only one-eighth

the man-hours to build as a V-2, clearly a large number could

have been built. They overlook some basic factors. The anti

aircraft problem is much more difficult than that of ground

bombardment, for the target is small, possibly maneuvering

and fast moving. The Germans lacked an operational proximity

39

Figure 24. Schmetterling.The Schmetterling was about one-quarter the

weight of both Enzian and Rheintochter and looked like a swept-winged

aircraft. The Germans test-fired about 80 of these missiles. (Reprinted

from Air Force Historical Research Agency.)
fuze, and the Allies had a lead in electronics that probably

could have nullified, certainly degraded, the German’s radio

controlled guidance system.

A number of problems inhibited German flak. Flak personne

declined in quality, especially after 1943, as Germany combed

out its forces to make good the war’s heavy attrition. The Ger

mans employed women, old men, young boys, factory workers

foreigners, and even prisoners of war in flak units. In Novembe

1944, 29 percent of flak personnel were civilians and auxiliaries

in April 1945, 44 percent. German flak strength peaked in

February 1945, when it fielded over 13,500 heavy and 21,000

light pieces. The increasing number of guns deployed by the

Germans consumed tremendous amounts of materials, reveal

40

Figure 25. Wasserfall. Wasserfall at Peenemünde in the fall of 1944. I

was a smaller version of the V-2 and the largest of the German fla

rockets. (Adapted from Air Force Historical Research Agency.)
41

ing another difficulty—a shortage of ammunition—that in early

1944 forced the Germans to restrict their firing. Another am

munition shortage occurred in November 1944 and was at

tributed to the bombing of German chemical plants and trans

portation. One consequence of this shortage was that some

German shells were filled with inert materials. By the end o

the war, flak units could deliver only one-half of their firepowe

potential because of these shortages. Another indication of the

decline of efficiency of German flak was the increasing num

ber of shells required to down an Allied aircraft. In the first 20

months of the war, it took 2,800 heavy flak rounds per kill

whereas in 1944, 16,000 flak rounds of 88 mm/model 36-37

or 3,000 rounds of 128 mm caliber rounds were required.72

Nevertheless, German flak was effective in World War II and

grew increasingly potent as the war continued (fig. 26). Through

1944 German gunners inflicted about one-third of Allied air

craft losses and two-thirds of the damage; and after that, they

inflicted about two-thirds of the losses and almost all of the

damage. To be precise, not only did German flak become more

effective through the course of the war but proportionally

more important as German aircraft were swept from the skies

In June 1944, for example, the Germans deployed 10,900

heavy and 22,200 light guns in the west. The AAF lost 18,418

aircraft in combat against Germany in World War II (fig. 27). The

American Airmen credited AAA with downing 7,821 of these

and enemy aircraft with 6,800.73

In addition to downing and damaging Allied aircraft, flak also

degraded bombing accuracy. A 1941 British report estimated

that one-third of bombing accuracy degradation was attributed

to flak. A postwar study of Eighth Air Force bombing errors be

tween May 1944 and February 1945 credits almost 40 percen

of these errors to enemy guns. An additional 22 percent of the

error was attributed to the increased altitude required to counte

flak. The Mediterranean air forces put the same message across

in another way: with little or no flak opposition, fighters required

30 bombs to hit a bridge, but against intense flak, it took 150

bombs per hit. Medium bombers not encountering flak de

stroyed 21 percent of the bridges attacked and completely
missed only 3 percent; but against flak, the bombers destroyed

only 2 percent and completely missed 28 percent.74

Allied Countermeasures

Allied Airmen used a number of measures to reduce the ef

fectiveness of enemy flak. Planners picked routes around known

flak positions, used higher bombing altitudes, employed satu

ration tactics, and devised tighter formations.75 Two othe

measures deserve detailed treatment.

42

Figure 26. Falling B-24. During World War II, ground fire downed more

American aircraft than did enemy fighters. In the European theater o

operations, AAA downed 5,400 American aircraft, while enemy aircraf

destroyed 4,300. (Reprinted from USAF.)
43

Figure 27. Damaged B-17. This B-17 survived a flak hit over Cologne

Germany. During World War II, the Eighth Air Force suffered 20 percen

damage per sortie and wrote off 1,600 bombers as “damaged beyond

economic repair.” (Reprinted from USAF.)

The importance of radar to the defender as both an early

warning and gun-laying device grew as Allied bombers in

creasingly operated at night and in poor weather. Fortunately

for the Allies, the British held a marked advantage over the

Germans in electronic warfare; some say a two-year lead. One

countermeasure used against German radar was called window

(by the British) and chaff (by the Americans). Aircraft dropped

strips of aluminum foil, similar to Christmas tree tinsel, which

created false signals on German radarscopes (fig. 28). The RAF

first used this electronic countermeasure in the July 1943

Hamburg raids, following a command decision that cleared its

use after being withheld for almost 18 months. The second

major ECM device, called carpet, electronically jammed German

radar. In October 1943, the Allies first employed the device in

bomber formations as both a broadband and spot jammer. Es

timates vary on the impact of ECM; and ECM impact changed

as specific conditions changed, especially weather. Although

the ECM device may have decreased the effectiveness of flak
44

Figure 28. Chaff. Chaff was an effective counter used against radar be

ginning in World War II. (Adapted from US Army Air Defense Museum.)

by as much as two-thirds, an overall estimate of one-fourth is

probably closer to the truth.76

The AAF used more direct tactics as well. On the first day o

the Market-Garden operation, 17 September 1944, the AAF at

tacked 112 flak positions. In addition to over 3,000 tons o

bombs dropped by B-17s, P-47s dropped 36 tons of fragmenta

tion bombs and expended almost 123,000 rounds of .50-calibe

machine-gun ammunition. The relatively light losses suffered

by the attackers, the troop carriers, and gliders indicate tha

the effort worked.77 The element of surprise, however, may ac

count for Allied success, as the next day proved far different

On 18 September 1944, 38 P-47s of the crack 56th Fighte

Group attacked German flak positions in the Turnhout area

with .50s and parachute fragmentation bombs. Disaster ensued

Low overcast, haze, and orders requiring pilots to hold thei

fire until fired upon inhibited the American pilots and put them
at a disadvantage. The unit lost 15 aircraft to German flak and

one aircraft to Allied antiaircraft fire; in addition, 13 of the 22

aircraft that returned home were damaged by flak. Eleven pi

lots, three of them injured, returned to Allied lines, while three

others were killed and two captured. That day, the AAF flew

104 sorties against antiaircraft guns and lost 21 aircraft with

another 17 damaged. These missions claimed 18 flak guns de

stroyed.78 In the entire Market-Garden operation, Allied air

men claimed destruction of 118 flak positions and damage to

127 others. But the Anglo-Americans lost 104 aircraft on 4,320

sorties (excluding troop carriers and gliders), of which 37 were

lost on 646 sorties to suppress flak. Analysis of the entire op

eration indicated that flak suppression succeeded only during

the first day of the operations.79 Not surprisingly then, the nex

month, US Strategic Air Forces in Europe recommended agains

attacking heavy flak positions with low-flying aircraft as inef

fective and costly. The report concluded that alternative meas

ures (ECM, formations, evasive maneuvers, and fragmentation

bombing) were more practical.80

The Fifteenth Air Force conducted an experiment that bombed

flak positions from high altitude. On two missions in April 1945

B-24s dropped 260-pound fragmentation bombs fitted with

proximity fuzes on German flak northeast of Venice from abou

25,000 feet. The Airmen considered the operations successful.8

The Americans also employed artillery to blanket known flak

positions as the fighters approached. The American gunners

attempted to pin down the flak gunners so the fighters could

launch their initial attack against minimal resistance. The

Americans employed these tactics with mixed results during

the June 1944 siege of Cherbourg, France.82

Another Allied effort at flak suppression occurred during the

Anglo-American airborne assault across the Rhine River a

Wesel on 24 March 1945 in Operation Varsity. Allied aircraf

and artillery attempted to silence or neutralize the 922 German

flak barrels in the area. Allied bombers dropped over 8,100

tons of bombs on flak positions on 3,741 sorties during the

three days before the airdrop. RAF Typhoons used bullets

bombs, and rockets; and Allied artillery fired 24,000 rounds

(440 tons) at 95 German positions. Despite this awesome fire

45
power, the Allies accomplished little. Allied Airmen and artillery

men scored few hits and, at best, temporarily lowered the morale

of the German gunners. Nevertheless, German flak inflicted

considerable casualties on Allied forces. In addition to destroying

53 tow and 16 supply aircraft, the Germans damaged 381 o

853 American gliders and 160 of 272 British gliders, of which

142 had major damage (fig. 29).83 American Airmen found little

profit in attacking flak positions in World War II. Of 338 Eighth

Air Force fighters lost to flak during the war, 77 percent were

lost while strafing. As Maj Gen Elwood “Pete” Quesada, com

mander of the 9th Tactical Air Command (TAC), put it: “It was

like a man biting a dog.”84

Fratricide

One problem that antiaircraft gunners would rather not talk

about is firing on and hitting friendly aircraft. Fratricide in the

speed and confusion of battle is as understandable as it is re

grettable. Ground troops and antiaircraft gunners had fired on

friendly aircraft in World War I and formed the attitude: “There

46

Figure 29. German 20 mm gun. German light flak was very potent. This

single 20 mm gun is assisted by the German soldier in the background

operating a range finder. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
ain

t no such thing as a friendly airplane.

85 That attitude

and that problem continued.

The most costly Allied fratricide incident in World War II oc

curred during the invasion of Sicily. On the night of 11 July and

the early morning hours of 12 July 1943, the Allies attempted to

reinforce the invasion with elements of the 82d Airborne Divi

sion. Gen Matthew Ridgway, the division’s commander, antici

pating difficulties, attempted to get a protected aerial corrido

for his forces and got assurances from both the US Navy and

the US Army antiaircraft gunners. Unfortunately, Ridgway’s

worst fears were realized. The troop-filled C-47s and the glid

ers arrived over the invasion fleet shortly after an Axis bomb

ing raid. The first flight passed without incident, but then one

gun opened fire and acted as a signal for Allied gunners both

ashore and afloat to cut loose at the rest of the aerial armada

Antiaircraft fire destroyed 23 of the 144 aircraft that departed

Africa that night and badly damaged 37 others. Losses in per

sonnel amounted to 97 paratroopers killed or missing and 132

wounded. Sixty Airmen were killed or missing, and 30 were

wounded.86

Two nights later, a similar incident occurred with similar re

sults. American and British troop carriers attempted to drop

British paratroopers to seize a bridge and establish a bridge

head on the east coast of Sicily. Friendly naval and ground fire

engaged the transports, destroyed 11, damaged 50, and forced

27 others to abort the mission. Of the 87 aircraft that pressed

on, only 39 got their troops within a mile of the designated drop

zone. Thus, only 300 of the 1,900-man force reached their ob

jectives; nevertheless, they carried it.87

Fratricidal problems continued throughout the war. Fortu

nately for the Allies, they proved less costly than the Sicilian de

bacles. On D-day, for example, despite special invasion markings

(white stripes), “friendly fire” hit a number of Allied aircraft. A

2025, guns aboard a landing craft downed two P-51s flying a

500 to 1,000 feet. Ten minutes later, Allied flak destroyed two

more Allied aircraft. At 2050, gunners fired on four Spitfires bu

apparently did not score any decisive hits. At 2130, however

Allied flak holed one Spitfire that was last seen smoking and los

ing altitude. At 2200, gunners engaged two Typhoons and ap

47
peared to hit both. These are the recorded cases; we can only

speculate on how many other incidents escaped reporting.

Although the Allies instituted several measures to preven

fratricide, including electronic identification devices (identifica

tion, friend or foe—[IFF]), recognition signals, and restricted

areas, the problem continued (fig. 30). Between 22 June and 25

July, Allied gunners engaged 25 friendly aircraft and destroyed

eight. Five of these aircraft, two Spitfires on 22 June and three

P-51s on 26 June, were destroyed after they attacked friendly

forces. (There were at least 13 incidents of Allied aircraft at

tacking Allied forces between 20 June and 17 July 1944, killing

at least two soldiers and wounding three others.) Fragmentary

records indicate that Anglo-American flak crews downed six Al

lied aircraft in August, two in October, and at least three in

November. Even the brass could not avoid the problem. On 1

January 1945, US AAA units fired on an aircraft carrying AAF

48

Figure 30. George Preddy. George Preddy was killed by friendly fire as

he chased a German aircraft in December 1944. He was one of the AAF’s

leading aces with 26.8 credits. (Reprinted from http://www.wpafb.af.mi

museum/history/wwII/ce32.htm.)
Generals Carl A. Spaatz and James H. Doolittle. Spaatz in

formed Gen George S. Patton Jr. of his gunners’ poor aircraf

recognition and shooting skills. The 8th Fighter Command los

seven fighters to Allied flak. US gunners admitted engaging 15

friendly aircraft and destroying 12, all of which the gunners

asserted were either committing a hostile act or flying in a re

stricted zone. On the other hand, US gunners complained tha

lack of identification restricted them from engaging one-third

of 6,000 targets.88

Following the 26 June incident with the three US P-51s, the

9th Tactical Air Command restricted free-lance strafing within

10 miles of the bomb line; only prearranged missions were to

be flown in that area. The armies established restricted areas

that by 7 September 1944 constituted an almost continuous

belt from Antwerp, Belgium, to Nancy, France. British Bombe

Command protested that this restriction inhibited their opera

tions, and so the Allies limited the zones without satisfying ei

ther party.89

The problem of fratricide was, of course, not limited to the

Allies or to the European theater. All warring powers had the

problem—for example, the German fighter attack on Allied air

fields on 1 January 1945. The Germans admitted to losing 229

fighters in 1943 and 55 in the first half of 1944 over Germany

to their own flak. In the Pacific between December 1943 and

June 1944, the US Navy downed at least six of its own aircraf

and two or three AAF B-25s.90 The worst case was probably a

the Cape Gloucester, Bismarck Archipelago, assault that began

on 26 December 1943. American naval antiaircraft fire downed

two B-25s and one P-47 and damaged two other B-25s. US

ground gunners also destroyed an American night fighter. Ap

parently, naval gunners fired on “anything that was not a P-38,

the readily identifiable twin-boom American fighter. The Marines

credit friendly antiaircraft fire with downing three of their air

craft during the war.91

The US Navy in the Pacific

The US Navy made strenuous efforts to defend its ships

against enemy aircraft. During World War II, it spent over $4

49
billion on this problem, almost one-half of this amount on am

munition. The Navy estimated that its antiaircraft guns in

creased their effectiveness 100 times from the start to the finish

of the war. Mid- and short-range light antiaircraft guns pre

sented the major problem as the pre–World War II armamen

(.50-caliber machine guns and 1.1-inch guns) proved inade

quate. The US Navy turned to foreign guns, the 20 mm Swiss

Oerlikon and the 40 mm Swedish Bofors.

The Navy estimated that the 20 mm cannon was eight to 10

times as effective as a .50-caliber machine gun and in 1935

bought some of the Swiss Oerlikons, even though Army and

Navy aircraft used the French Hispano Suiza 20 mm guns. By

war’s end, the Navy had 12,561 of the 20 mm guns shipboard

and had spent $787 million for one billion rounds of 20 mm

ammunition. The investment paid off. Between Pearl Harbor and

September 1944, the 20 mm guns downed 32 percent of al

Japanese aircraft claimed by Navy guns and 25 percent afte

that date. Although the 20 mm guns did have certain advan

tages over heavier guns, the 40 mm began to replace them to

ward the end of the war (fig. 31).92

The Bofors 40 mm gun was the most widely used antiair

craft piece of World War II. The Swedes began the gun’s devel

opment in 1928 and fielded the first units in the early 1930s

It could fire a two-pound shell to an effective range of 1,500

yards at a rate of 120 shots per minute. The world took notice

when the British ordered the weapon in 1937, and, by 1939

the Swedes delivered the Bofors to 18 countries and concluded

production licenses with 11 others. Both sides manufactured

and used Bofors during the war.

The Navy’s interest in the Bofors 40 mm gun began in the

fall of 1939; and, in late August 1940, guns and equipment ar

rived in the United States (fig. 32). Tested in September, the

Bofors guns proved superior to both the US 37 mm and the

British two pound (pom pom). The US government signed a

contract in June 1941 and installed the first 40 mm Bofors

aboard ship early the next year. But, there were problems in

manufacturing the Bofors. First, the original metric drawings

had to be converted to English measurements; second, it was

found that the two American manufacturers used different sys

50
51

tems—York decimals and Chrysler fractions. As a result, parts

for the American-made guns were not completely interchange

able. At first 200 parts differed, but this number was eventually

reduced to 10. By June 1945, the US Navy had 5,140 40 mm

guns in dual and quad mounts. These guns claimed about 18

percent of the Japanese aircraft destroyed by antiaircraft guns

through June 1944 and about 50 percent between Octobe

1944 and March 1945.93

The United States experimented with dual-purpose (antiship

and antiaircraft) guns in the 1920s. It produced the 5-inch/

38-caliber gun in the early 1930s that was installed on a de

stroyer in 1934. The gun had a horizontal range of 10 miles, a

vertical range of 6 miles, and a firing rate of 12 to 15 shots pe

Figure 31. USN 20 mm gun.The Navy’s 20 mm guns accounted for one

third of the Japanese aircraft claimed by ship guns prior to Septembe

1944, and one-quarter of the claims after that date. (Reprinted from

http://www.bcoy1cph.pacdat.net/20mm_Oerlikion_AA_USN..jpg.)
minute. The Navy increased the number of these guns from

611 in July 1940 to 2,868 in June 1945.

A major factor in the increased effectiveness of the heavy

caliber gun was the introduction of proximity fuzes. The Navy

first fired the proximity fuze in January 1942, and, in its firs

simulated combat test that August, downed three drones with

52

Figure 32. USN 40 mm gun. The Navy’s 40 mm guns, again the ever

present Bofors, accounted for one-half of the Japanese aircraft de

stroyed by ship guns after October 1944. (Reprinted from http://www

grunts.net/album/navy/guncres.htm.)
53

four shells. In the proximity fuzes first combat engagement a

year later, the USS Helena downed a Japanese bomber with its

second salvo. The Navy estimated that the proximity fuzes in

creased AAA effectiveness three to four times. The fuze helped

account for the high percentage of Japanese aircraft claimed

by the 5-inch/38-caliber guns, numbering 31 percent through

the first half of 1944.94

Japanese Antiaircraft Artillery

Japanese AAA lagged behind the other major powers through

out the war. The Japanese lacked the technological and manu

facturing base to deal with their air defense problems and to

make good their deficiencies. In addition, the Japanese re

ceived only limited assistance from the Germans and failed to

fully mobilize their civilian scientists.95

The most widely used Japanese heavy flak piece was the 75

mm type 88 that entered service in 1928. It fired a 14.5-pound

shell at a muzzle velocity of 2,360 fps to 23,550 feet but was

inaccurate above 16,000 feet. The Japanese stuck with this

gun throughout the war, while the Americans, British, and

Germans went to larger and better performing weapons. No

that the Japanese did not try to upgrade their weapons—they

produced an improved 75 mm gun (75 mm type 4) in 1944 bu

built only 65 and got few into action. Likewise, the Japanese

put a 120 mm gun into production in 1943 but built only 154

Only two 150 mm guns saw service. The Japanese also used a

few 88 mm naval guns.96

In 1941, the Japanese deployed 300 antiaircraft guns in de

fense of the home islands. By March 1945, they deployed

1,250, and, by the end of the war, over 2,000. As might be ex

pected, the Japanese concentrated the largest number of thei

heavy guns (in all 509 to 551) around Tokyo: in August 1945

150 naval 88 mm guns; 72 120 mm guns; and two 150 mm

guns. Thus, compared with the Germans, the Japanese de

ployed fewer and less-capable guns. In addition, Japanese rada

was far behind German radar. The Japanese did not capitalize

on German technology but primarily relied on technology from

captured American and British equipment.
Little wonder that Japanese flak proved less effective than

the firepower of the other combatants. Based on overall losses

and losses per sortie, the air war against Germany was much

more costly to the AAF (18,418 aircraft and 1.26 percent o

sorties) than the air war against Japan (4,530 aircraft and .77

percent of sorties).97 In the entire war, the AAF credited

Japanese flak with destroying 1,524 AAF aircraft and Japanese

fighters with destroying 1,037 (fig. 33). Japanese AAA did bet

ter proportionally against the US Navy than against the US

Marine Corps, claiming 1,545 of 2,166 Navy aircraft lost in

combat as compared with 437 of 723 Marine aircraft.

54

Figure 33. A-20 aircraft sequence. This Douglas A-20 was downed by

Japanese guns over Karos, Dutch New Guinea. (Reprinted from USAF.)
In the strategic bombing campaign against Japan, the AAF

used its best bomber, the Boeing B-29, which was faster

higher flying, and more heavily armed than either the B-17 o

B-24 that bombed Germany.98 The AAF lost 414 B-29s in

combat against Japan. They estimated that 74 fell to enemy

aircraft, 54 to flak, and 19 to both flak and fighters (fig. 34)

The ineffectiveness of Japanese flak and electronics is high

lighted by the American decision to change from their prewa

bombing doctrine and European strategic bombing practice o

high-altitude day attacks to night attacks below 10,000 feet.

55

Figure 33. A-20 aircraft sequence (continued). (Reprinted from USAF.)
Unlike the campaign against Germany that was dominated

by the battle against GAF fighters, this decision resulted from

poor bombing results, not aircraft losses. Consequently, the

B-29s attacked Tokyo at low altitudes at night and suffered

slightly fewer casualties: 39 aircraft on 1,199 sorties (3.2 per

cent) at night compared with 35 bombers lost on 814 sorties

(4.3 percent) on daylight high-altitude missions. At the same

time, bombing effectiveness greatly increased. The limited num

ber of Japanese guns and primitive electronics encouraged the

AAF to fly at lower altitudes with heavier bomb loads, where i

achieved greater accuracy and encountered fewer mechanica

problems than had been the case earlier at higher altitudes

The American Airmen went on to burn out Japanese cities and

towns with conventional weapons. The reduced and bearable

attrition resulted from Japanese flak deficiencies and employ

ment of such American measures as saturating the search

light defenses, ECM, desynchronizing the propellers of the

56

Figure 34. Falling B-29. Japanese air defenses downed about 227

B-29s over Japan, about equally divided between flak and fighters.This

Superfortress was shot down on 26 June 1945. (Reprinted from USAF.)
bombers to inhibit Japanese sound-controlled searchlights

and use of high-gloss black paint. The rate of B-29 losses to

flak and flak plus fighters decreased steadily after peaking in

January 1945 at 1.06 percent of sorties. Tokyo was the mos

bombed (4,300 of 26,000 sorties) and the best defended of the

Japanese targets. Its defenses accounted for 25 of the 55 flak

losses of the Twentieth Air Force and for 14 of its 28 losses to

flak plus fighters. As would be expected, American losses were

much lighter at the less-defended targets. Specifically, in fly

ing 4,776 night sorties at low and medium altitudes agains

major Japanese cities, the Twentieth Air Force lost 83 bombers

(1.8 percent) as compared with seven lost (.1 percent) unde

similar conditions against secondary cities.99

The Lessons of World War II

As in all major wars, World War II provided many lessons

World War II is even more important to the Airman as it was

not only the first full-scale air war but also the only total ai

war and the only American air war against a peer competitor

Airmen of all countries tended to overlook or disregard flak

Although the war indicated the value and lethality of flak, the

Airmen looked instead to lessons that better fit their precon

ceptions and future intentions. The Airmen’s attitude changed

little from the interwar years when they considered flak to be

of little use and not worth the effort. The result of this disdain

would be evident in the wars that would follow.

In retrospect, at least six flak lessons emerged from World Wa

II. First, flak proved to be lethal and effective—downing more

US aircraft than any other enemy weapon. Clearly, it was the

big killer from early 1944 on. Concentrations of guns demon

strated the ability to seriously inhibit or nullify aerial operations

such as the case of the V-1 campaign, the fall-winter 1944 oi

campaign, and operations against the Remagen Bridge.

Second, flak made low-level operations very costly. Flak

downed most of the American fighters lost during the war, the

bulk of these in strafing attacks.100 A number of missions em

phasized the dangers of low-level operations; the most notable

were the Ploesti mission of August 1943, flak suppression a

57
Arnhem, the Netherlands, in September 1944, and the Ger

man attack on Allied airfields in January 1945.

A third lesson that can be gleaned from the war is that the

Airmen came up with countermeasures to AAA that would be

standard for the future. The Airmen attempted to avoid areas

of flak concentrations by flying irregular courses in the face o

ground fire, by flying only one pass over the target, and by using

both the sun and terrain for maximum protection. They also

employed chaff and jammers to degrade radar equipment, es

pecially during the night or in poor weather. Finally, the Airmen

attacked the guns directly. However, in most aircraft-versus

gun duels, the gunners held the advantage. Combat experi

ence indicated that pitting a highly trained pilot and an ex

pensive aircraft against a less-trained crew and less-valuable

gun made little sense.

Fourth, rapidly evolving technology tilted the offensive

defensive balance in favor of the defense. Radar was the firs

and most important piece of equipment. It overturned the the

ories of Douhet and others (such as instructors and students a

the Air Corps Tactical School), who believed that the bombe

would always get through, cause decisive damage, and suffe

sustainable losses. Electronic countermeasures somewha

nullified defensive radar, but radar still gave the defenders

early warning and more accurate aiming information than was

previously available. Radar gave the defenders much greate

capabilities in night and bad weather conditions as well. The

proximity fuze gave another big boost to the defenders, in

creasing the effectiveness of the guns by a multiple of five o

so. One technological advance that was in the developmen

stage but did not see service during the war was the flak

rocket. This device was capable of reaching altitudes well above

that of the highest-flying World War II bombers, and, fitted

with a proximity fuze, would have inflicted heavy casualties on

the bomber formations.

Fifth, flak proved very cost-effective, downing hostile aircraf

at a relatively low cost. However, flak effectiveness should be

measured by more than kills. Ground fire complicated the Air

man’s task, forcing him to fly more sorties, carry additiona

equipment, and adopt additional procedures, all of which de

58
tracted from his primary job. Flak defenses also decreased

bombing accuracy. The best measure, therefore, is the cost (ef

fort and losses) required to put bombs on target.

A sixth and final lesson of the war concerned the difficulty

of correctly identifying aircraft: the gunners never were able to

adequately sort out the friendlies from the foes. Not only did

friendly fire down friendly aircraft—most dramatically demon

strated by the loss of Allied troop carriers over Sicily in July

1943 and German fighters on 1 January 1945—but also fre

quently, friendly fire did not engage hostile aircraft. Despite

electronic equipment, codes, procedures, briefings, and re

stricted zones, the problem persisted and accidents happened

The end of the war brought two other developments tha

seemed to override these advantages gained by the defense

The first was jet propulsion that greatly increased aircraft per

formance, further complicating the defender’s task. The othe

was the atomic bomb that extended the prospect that one air

craft and one bomb could destroy one city, which was very dif

ferent from the massive formations of hundreds of aircraft re

turning day after day. This development overturned the

attritional concept of defense that dominated the air war. This

then, was the air defense situation in the immediate post–World

War II era.

Notes

1. Edward Westermann, Flak: German Anti-Aircraft Defenses 1914–194

(Lawrence, Kans.: University Press, 2001), 9.

2. Ibid., 10–16.

3. The Germans fielded almost 2,800 antiaircraft guns at the end of the wa

with 30 percent geared for homeland defense. See P. T. Cullen, “Air Defense o

London, Paris, and Western Germany” (paper, Air Corps Tactical School

Maxwell Field, Alabama, n.d.), 7, 9, 28, 99, table 5, Air Force Historical Re

search Agency (HRA), Maxwell Air Force Base (AFB), Ala.; “Antiaircraft Defence

of Great Britain: 1914 to 1946,” appendix A, Royal Artillery Institute (RAI)

Woolwick, United Kingdom; “Antiaircraft Gun Trends and Scientific and Tech

nical Projection: Eurasian Communist Countries,” July 1981, 1–1; N.W

Routledge, History of the Royal Regiment of Artillery: Anti-Aircraft Artillery

1914–55 (London: Brassey’s, 1994), 22; and Westermann, Flak, 26.

4. Westermann, Flak, 27.

5. Another source lists the rounds per claim as United States, 1,055

British, 1,800; and French, 3,225. See Ian Hogg, Anti-Aircraft: A History o

59
Air Defence (London: MacDonald and Jane

s, 1978), 67; US Army Air De

fense School, “Air Defense,” 21, 29, 30; Cullen, “Air Defence of London,” 94

extracts from Conference on Antiaircraft Defense, Military Intelligence Divi

sion, France, no. 8312, 26 December 1923, HRA; A. F. Englehart, “Antiaircraf

Defenses: Their Development During the World War” (paper, Air Corps Tac

tical School, circa 1934), 6, 9, HRA; V. P. Ashkerov, “Anti-Aircraft Missil

Forces and Anti-Aircraft Artillery,” translation from Zenitnyye Raketnye

Voyska I Zenitnaya Artilleriya (1968), 5–6, HRA. American machine gunner

got another 41 German aircraft. See Charles Kirkpatrick, Archie in the A.E.F

The Creation of the Antiaircraft Service of the United States Army, 1917–1918

(Fort Bliss, Tex.: Air Defense Artillery Museum, 1984), 85–86.

6. Sound locators were fickle and unreliable. Under the best of condi

tions, they had a range of five to 10 miles. See Hogg, Anti-Aircraft, 64; and

[British] Manual of Anti-Aircraft Defence, Provisional, March 1922, 164, RAI

7. Maj Gen B. P. Hughes and Brig N. W. Routledge, Woolwick, United

Kingdom, interviewed by author, October 1982; “Antiaircraft Artillery,” Ai

Corps Tactical School, 1, 1 November 1932, HRA; Louis Smithey and

Charles Atkinson, “Development of Antiaircraft Artillery,” Coast Artiller

Journal, January–February 1946, 70–71; William Wuest, “The Developmen

of Heavy Antiaircraft Artillery,” Antiaircraft Journal, May–June 1954, 23.

8. Theodore Ropp, War in the Modern World (Durham, N.C.: Duke Uni

versity Press, 1959), 289.

9. “Antiaircraft Defences of Great Britain”; and Frederick Pile, Ack-Ac

(London: Harrap, 1949), 73. One American wrote in his 1929 Air Corps Tac

tical School thesis that flak was not worth the effort, which was the view o

bomber proponents on both sides of the Atlantic. See Kenneth Walker, “I

the Defense of New York City from Air Attack Possible?” Research report, Ai

Corps Tactical School, May 1929, 30, HRA.

10. From the German, Flieger Abwehr Kanone, for antiaircraft cannon.

11. Pile, Ack-Ack, 100, 157, 181, 183; “Antiaircraft Defences of Grea

Britain”; Hughes interview; “Air Defense,” 2:122–24; Frederick Pile, “Th

Anti-Aircraft Defence of the United Kingdom from 28th July, 1939 to 15th

April, 1945,” supplement to the London Gazette, 16 December 1947, 5978

Air University Library (AUL), Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and “History of A. A. Com

mand,” n.d., 14, RAI.

12. Pile, Ack-Ack, 115; Pile, “Antiaircraft Defence of UK,” 5975; and “His

tory of A. A. Command,” 14–15.

13. Routledge, Royal Regiment of Artillery, 400.

14. The British developed a two-inch rocket (that carried a .3-pound war

head) and a three-inch rocket that weighed 54 pounds, including its 4.5

pound warhead. The latter was successfully test-fired in Jamaica in

1938–39 and went into service in 1940. In July 1941, the British deployed

1,000 rocket tubes. Almost 6,000 were deployed by July 1943; most o

which were twin-barrel devices. But rocket units registered few claims. Se

Routledge, Royal Regiment of Artillery, 56, 79.

60
15. Pile, Ack

Ack, 15556, 18693, and 379; Pile, AntiAircraft Defence o

UK,” 5982; “History of A. A. Command,” 123–24, plates 45, 49; “Antiaircraft De

fences of Great Britain,” appendix B; and Routledge, Royal Regiment, 338, 399

16. Routledge, Royal Regiment, 108–12, 124, 144–53.

17. Guns larger than 50-55 mm are considered “heavy”; those less than

this size are considered “light.”

18. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2, 127–28, 131–32; H. E. C

Weldon, “The Artillery Defence of Malta,” Antiaircraft Journal, May–Jun

1954, 24, 26, 27, 29; Charles Jellison, Besieged—The World War II Ordeal o

Malta, 1940–1942 (Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1984)

166–67, 170, 205, 258; Christopher Shores, Duel for the Sky (London

Blandford, 1985), 88, 90, 92; and Routledge, Royal Regiment, 166–74.

19. Pile, Ack-Ack, 266, 301, 303, 305; Pile, “Anti-aircraft Defence of UK,

5984; and “Survey of Antiaircraft Defenses of the United Kingdom,” 1, pt

3:52, 53, 118, RAI.

20. Pile, Ack-Ack, 323–44; and “Fringe Targets,” RAI.

21. For a more detailed discussion of the V-1 and its operations in World

War II, see Kenneth Werrell, The Evolution of the Cruise Missile (Maxwel

AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1985), chap. 3; Basil Collier, The Battle of th

V-Weapons, 1944–1945 (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1964), 56–59

Roderic Hill, “Air Operations by Air Defence of Great Britain and Fighte

Command in Connection with the German Flying Bomb and Rocket Offen

sives, 1944–45,” supplement to the London Gazette, 19 October 1948

5587–89; Basil Collier, The Defence of the United Kingdom (London: He

Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1957), 361, 365; and British Air Ministry, “Ai

Defence of Great Britain, The Flying Bomb and Rocket Campaign: 1944 t

1945,” first draft of report, 7:42–43, HRA.

22. Collier, V-Weapons, 69, 71–75, 79; Hill, “Air Operations by Air Defence,

5591–92; Rowland Pocock, German Guided Missiles of the Second World Wa

(New York: Arco Publishing, Inc., 1967), 48; Jozef Garlinski, Hitler’s Las

Weapons (London: Times Book, 1978), 168; David Irving, The Mares Nes

(London: Kimber, 1969), 233, 236, 240; and M. C. Helfers, The Employmen

of V-Weapons by the Germans during World War II, monograph (Washington

D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 1954)

18–30, HRA.

23. Hill, “Air Operations,” 5594; Collier, Defence of the UK, 374; Mary

Welborn, “V-1 and V-2 Attacks against the United Kingdom during World

War II,” technical report ORO-T-45 (Washington, D.C.: Johns Hopkins Uni

versity Press, 16 May 1950), 9, HRA; “Minutes and Related Data Scientifi

Sub-Committee of Crossbow Committee, V-1, vol. 2,” Operations Research

Section (ADGB) Report 88, n.d., HRA; Report of the British Air Ministry

“Points of Impact and Accuracy of Flying Bombs: 22 June–28 July,” 29 Jul

1944, HRA; “The Speed of Air-Launched Divers,” HRA; Report of the Genera

Board, US Forces, European Theater, “Tactical Employment of Antiaircraf

Artillery Units Including Defense against Pilotless Aircraft (V-1),” study no

38, 39, HRA; “Minutes and Related Data Scientific Sub-Committee of Cross

61
bow Committee, V

1, vol. 2, 7 August 1944, S.B. 60093, HRA; Report o

British Air Ministry, “Air Defence of Great Britain Tactical Memoranda I.G

no. 9675,” 24 November 1944, HRA; British Air Ministry, “Air Defence o

Great Britain,” 126; Hillery Saunders, Royal Air Force, 1939, 1945, vol. 3

The Fight Is Won (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1954), 165.

24. Hill, “Air Operations,” 5592, 5594; “Air Defence of Great Britain,” 121

151, 179; Saunders, Royal Air Force, 165; and Collier, Defence of the UK, 380

25. AC/AS Intelligence, “Flying Bomb,” 8, HRA; Mary Welborn, “Over-al

Effectiveness of First US Army Antiaircraft Guns Against Tactical Aircraft

(working paper, Johns Hopkins University, Washington, D.C., 18 January

1950), 6, AUL; Report of Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force

(SHAEF), Air Defense Division, “Notes on German Flying Bomb,” 22 Augus

1944, HRA.

26. A related but almost entirely overlooked issue is that of the ground

damage caused by the antiaircraft artillery shells. In one instance durin

World War I, for example, the shells caused one-third more damage than did

German bombs. See James Crabtree, On Air Defense (Westport, Conn

Praeger, 1994), 17.

27. Friendly fire also downed British fighters. In the first week, flak sho

down two Tempests. See Bob Ogley, Doodlebugs and Rockets: The Battle o

the Flying Bombs (Brasted Chart, Westerham, U.K.: Froglets, 1992), 83; and

Pile, Ack-Ack, 330–33.

28. Hill, “Air Operations,” 5592, 5594; SHAEF notes, 26 July 1944, HRA

and Collier, Defence of the UK, 375.

29. Hill, “Air Operations,” 5596–97; and British Air Ministry, “Air Defenc

of Great Britain,” 133–35. For another suggestion for a coastal belt, see L

Gen Carl Spaatz to supreme commander, SHAEF, letter, subject: The Use o

Heavy Anti-Aircraft against Diver, 11 July 1944, HRA.

30. Collier, Defence of the UK, 381–83; and Collier, V-Weapons, 91–95.

31. Pile, Ack-Ack, 334–35; Hill, “Air Operations,” 5597; Collier, Defence o

the UK, 523.

32. British Air Ministry, “Air Defence of Great Britain,” 130; “Flyin

Bomb,” 8; and SHAEF notes, 15 August 1944, HRA.

33. British Air Ministry, “Air Defence of Great Britain,” 106; and Ralph

Baldwin, The Deadly Fuze (San Rafael, Calif.: Presidio Press, 1980), 261–66

34. Collier, Defence of the UK, 523; Welborn, “V-1 and V-2 Attacks,” tabl

2; Hill, “Air Operations,” 5599.

35. Collier, Defence of the UK, 523; and Welborn, “V-1 and V-2 Attacks,” 10

36. Hill, “Air Operations,” 5599, 5601; “Air Launched ‘Divers’ Septembe

and October 1944,” HRA; British Air Ministry, “Air Defence of Great Britain,

113; Collier, Defence of the UK, 389, 391, 522; Saunders, Royal Air Force

167–68; Seventeenth report by assistant chief air staff (Intelligence), “Wa

Cabinet Chiefs of Staff Committee Crossbow,” 22 July 1944, HRA; and Collier

V-Weapons, 119, 131.

62
37. Air Ministry Weekly Intelligence Summary, 289, HRA; Benjamin Kin

and Timothy Kutta, Impact: The History of Germany’s V-Weapons in World

War II (Rockville Centre, N.Y.: Sarpedon, 1998), 291.

38. Antiaircraft artillery cost a third of what fighters cost and about 25

percent more than the balloons. Collier, Defence of the UK, 523; Hill, “Ai

Operations,” 5603; and British Air Ministry, “The Economic Balance of th

Fly-Bomb Campaign,” summary report, 4 November 1944, HRA.

39. Memorandum 5-7B by US Strategic Air Forces, Armament and Ord

nance, “An Analysis of the Accuracy of the German Flying Bomb (V-1) 12

June to 5 October 1944,” 144, HRA; British Air Ministry, “Air Defence o

Great Britain,” 123; and Collier, Defence of the UK, 523.

40. Collier, Defence of the UK, appendix L.

41. King and Kutta, Impact, 3, 211.

42. European Theater report no. 38, 40–41, 45, HRA; Operations Repor

of Headquarters Antwerp X Forward, no. 2J, 1 May 1945, annex A, HRA

SHAEF, “Report of ‘V’ Section on Continental Crossbow (Septembe

1944–March 1945),” 28, HRA; and United States Strategic Bombing Surve

(USSBS), V-Weapons (Crossbow) Campaign, January 1947, 2d ed., 15.

43. Report of Headquarters Antwerp X Forward, no. 2H, 4 March 1945

HRA; Antwerp X report no. 2J, annex A; European Theater report no. 38

40–45; and King and Kutta, Impact, 274.

44. Peter G. Cooksley, Flying Bomb (New York: Scribner, 1979), 185. Fo

a good secondary account, see R. J. Backus, “The Defense of Antwerp

Against the V-1 Missile” (master of military arts and sciences thesis, US

Army Command and General Staff College, 1971).

45. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:36; and Welborn

“Over-all Effectiveness,” table 8.

46. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:37; and US Army, “Anti

aircraft Artillery” note no. 8, 4, US Army Command and General Staff College

Fort Leavenworth, Kans.

47. “The GAF 1 January Attack,” United States Strategic Air Forces in

Europe, Air Intelligence Summary 62 (week ending 14 January 1945), 5

HRA; “Airfield Attack of 1 January,” HRA; SHAEF Intelligence Summary 42

30 [USACGSC]; Daily Air Action Summary, Office of Assistant Chief of Staff

Intelligence Headquarters, Army Air Forces, Washington, D.C., 3 January

1945, HRA; Duty Group Captain’s Daily Resume of Air Operations, serial no

1843, Air Ministry, Whitehall, 2 January 1944, HRA; Saunders, Royal Ai

Force, 209; Roger Freeman, The Mighty Eighth War Diary (New York: Jane’

Publishing Co. Ltd., 1981), 412–13; History and Statistical Summary, IX Ai

Defense Command, January 1944–June 1945, 80; Werner Gerbig, Si

Months to Oblivion (London: Allan, 1973), 74, 76–79, 110, 112; USAF Credit

for the Destruction of Enemy Aircraft, World War II, USAF Historical Study

85 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: USAF Historical Division, Air University, 1978), 286

and Air Staff Operational Summary Report nos. 1503, 1504, Air Ministry

War Room, 2, 3 January 1945, HRA. The most detailed, but not necessarily

63
most accurate, account is Norman Franks, The Battle of the Airfields (Lon

don: Kimber, 1982).

48. Gerbig, Oblivion, 99–103, 116; USAF Historical Study 85, 286; IX Ai

Defense Command, 78–79; History, 352d Fighter Group, January 1945

HRA; History, 366th Fighter Group, January 1945, HRA.

49. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:158–63; and Welborn

“Over-all Effectiveness,” 9, 29.

50. See notes 30 and 33; US Army, Antiaircraft Artillery [USACGSC]; and

US Air Forces in Europe, “Air Staff Post Hostilities Intelligence Requirements on

German Air Defenses,” report, vol. 1, sec. 4 (14 September 1945): 17, HRA

51. Walter Grabman, “German Air Force Air Operations Defense

1933–1945,” circa 1957, 3, 18, 40a, 81, 83–84, HRA; D. von Renz, “The De

velopment of German Antiaircraft Weapons and Equipment of all Types up

to 1945,” study, 1958, 102, HRA; and Westermann, Flak, 84, 285.

52. Ian Hogg, German Artillery of World War II (London: Arms and Armour

1975), 162, 167; R. A. Devereux, “German Experience with Antiaircraft Artillery

Guns in WWII,” study, 19 July 1946, AUL; and US Air Forces in Europ

(USAFE), “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 1:3.

53. Hogg, German Artillery, 115, 170, 172; USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investi

gation,” 1:5; Peter Chamberlain and Terry Gander, Antiaircraft Guns (New

York: Arco Publishing, Inc., 1975), 22.

54. The Germans cancelled efforts to build a 150 mm flak gun in 1940

See Hogg, German Artillery, 173–78; Chamberlain and Gander, Antiaircraf

Guns, 23–24; USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 1:10, 22; and Wester

mann, Flak, 69.

55. Matthew Cooper, The German Air Force, 1933–1945 (London: Jane’

Publishing Co. Ltd., 1981), 185; Samuel Morrison, History of US Naval Op

erations in World War II, vol. 9, Sicily-Salerno-Anzio: January 1943–Jun

1944 (Boston, Mass.: Little, Brown and Co., 1954), 215–16; Albert Garland

and Howard Smyth, The US Army in World War II: The Mediterranean Theate

of Operations, Sicily and the Surrender of Italy (Washington, D.C.: Office o

the Chief of Military History, 1965), 375, 379, 412; and John Terraine, A

Time for Courage: The Royal Air Force in the European War, 1939–1945 (New

York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1985), 579.

56. Assistant Chief of Air Staff, Intelligence Historical Division, “Th

Ploesti Mission of 1 August 1943,” USAF Historical Study 103 (Maxwel

Field, Ala.: Historical Division, June 1944), 16, 50, 99, HRA; Report of Army

Air Forces Evaluation Board, “Ploesti,” 15 December 1944, vol. 6:7–8, HRA

and Report of Mediterranean Allied Air Forces (MAAF), “Ploesti: Summary o

Operations Results and Tactical Problems Involved in 24 Attacks between 5

April–19 August 1944,” 13 January 1945, 1–3, HRA.

57. AAF Evaluation Board, “Ploesti,” 2, 4, appendix E; MAAF, “Ploesti,” 2

History, 1st Fighter Group, June 1944, 2, HRA; and History, 82d Fighte

Group, June 1944, 2, HRA.

58. Between 1939 and 1944, the Germans captured and used 9,500 anti

aircraft guns and 14 million rounds of ammunition. See Westermann

64
German Flak, 325; MAAF, 

Ploesti, 13; AAF Evaluation Board, Ploesti, ii

Fifteenth Air Force, “The Air Battle of Ploesti,” report, n.d., 83, HRA.

59. Von Renz, “Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,” 380

USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 8:11; USSBS report, European War

no. 115, “Ammoniakwerke Merseburg, G.M.B.H., Leuna, Germany,” March

1947, 7–16, 21, AUL; and Frank Anderson, “German Antiaircraft Defense

in World War II,” Air University Quarterly Review (Spring 1954): 85.

60. USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 5:2; Report of Army Air Force

Evaluation Board European Theater of Operations, “Flak Defenses of Strategi

Targets in Southern Germany,” 20 January 1945, 25, HRA; Report o

Mediterranean Allied Air Forces, “Flak and MAAF,” 7 May 1945, 9, HRA; and

Report of Fifteenth Air Force, “Comparative Analysis of Altitudes and Flak Ex

perienced during the Attacks on Vienna 7 and 8 February 1945,” 3–4, HRA.

61. Westermann, Flak, 110–11.

62. A gram weighs .035 ounces.

63. Von Renz, “Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,” 257

USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 7:7, 37; USSBS, “The German Flak

Effort Throughout the War,” 13 August 1945, 16, 19, HRA; Johannes Mix

“The Significance of Anti-Aircraft Artillery and the Fighter Arm at the End o

the War,” Flugwehr und Technik, February–March 1950, 5, 10; Thomas Ed

wards and Murray Geisler, “Estimate of Effect on Eighth Air Force Opera

tions if German Antiaircraft Defenses Had Used Proximity Fuzed (VT) Am

munition,” report no. 1, Operations Analysis, AC/AS-3, Headquarters Army

Air Forces, Washington, D.C., 15 February 1947, HRA; and USAFE, Walte

von Axtheim, “Interrogation Report,” vol. 12 (1945): 26–27, HRA.

64. Von Renz, “Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,” 340–43

353; Ernst Klee and Otto Merk, The Birth of the Missile—The Secret of Peene

münde (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1965), 65; and Westermann, Flak, 164

196–97, 209, 227.

65. Von Renz, “Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,” 257

USAFE, Von Axthelm, “Interrogation Report,” 24; and USAFE, “Post Hostilitie

Investigation,” 3:43–44.

66. Von Renz, “Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,” 357

USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” vol. 12, figs. 61, 8, 9, and 1:23; Willy

Ley, Rockets, Missiles and Space Travel (New York: Viking Press, 1951)

222–23, 393.

67. There are various accounts of these missiles, as the citations indi

cate. I have relied primarily on Military Intelligence Division, “Handbook on

Guided Missiles: Germany and Japan,” no. 461, 1946 (hereafter cited a

MID 461). It is a single source, has the most detailed technical data, and i

a postwar publication. Also, see Von Renz, “Development of German Anti

aircraft Weapons,” 362; Von Axthelm, “Interrogation Report”; USAFE, “Pos

Hostilities Investigation,” 12:7, fig. 60; Klee and Merk, The Birth of Missiles

68, 86; and Ley, Rockets, Missiles and Space Travel, 395.

68. MID 461; USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 12:8, fig. 61; and Ley

Rockets, Missiles and Space Travel, 223, 394.

65
69. MID 461; Von Renz, 

Development of German Antiaircraft Weapons,

362; USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 8:10, 12:7, fig. 61; Ley, Rockets

Missiles and Space Travel, 395; Klee and Merk, Birth of Missiles, 68; and

Georgia Institute of Technology, Missile Catalog: A Compendium of Guided

Missiles and Seeker Information, April 1956, 110, 124, Redstone Scientifi

Information Center, Huntsville, Ala. One source states that the HS 117 wa

capable of a slant range of 24,000 yards and 35,000-foot altitude and that th

Germans fired 80 of these. See USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 1, 12:6

70. The V-2 was almost 47 feet long and had a takeoff weight of 28,229

pounds. See Ley, Rockets, Missiles and Space Travel, 390, 393.

71. Ibid.; USAFE, “Post Hostilities Investigation,” 12:5–6; and Klee and

Merk, Birth of Missiles, 66–68, 125. 

72. MID 461; USSBS, “German Flak,” 1, 2, 5, 6, 19; Von Axthelm, Interro

gation Report, 44; Mix, “Significance of Anti-Aircraft Artillery,” 22; and Wester

mann, Flak, 234, 292–93.

73. Army Air Forces Statistical Digest: World War II (Washington, D.C.: Offic

of Statistical Control, December 1945), 255–56; and Hogg, Anti-Aircraft, 115.

74. Thomas Edwards and Murray Gelster, “The Causes of Bombing Error

as Determined from Analysis of Eighth Air Force Combat Operations,” re

port no. 3, Operations Analysis, AC/AS-3, Headquarters Army Air Forces, 15

July 1947, 3, 19, HRA; “Report by Mr. Butt to Bomber Command on His Ex

amination of Night Photographs, 18 August 1941,” in Charles Webster and

Noble Frankland, The Strategic Air War against Germany, 1939–1945, with

four annexes and appendices (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1961)

and minutes of the Flak Conference conducted at Headquarters United

States Strategic Air Forces in Europe (A-2), London, 1–11 June 1945, HRA

75. A tighter formation might appear counterintuitive as it puts more air

craft in one location, seemingly a better target. Operations analysis found

however, that in fact the key was how fast the aircraft crossed over the flak

as the guns could only fire so many rounds in a given period. The quicke

the aircraft passed over the guns meant fewer rounds could be fired at them

76. German sources indicate a three-fourths reduction, while US source

use more modest figures ranging between one-fourth and two-thirds. Se

USSBS, “German Flak,” 19; Harry Smith, “Flak Evasion,” Electronic Warfare

April–May 1970, 18–19, 36; Eighth Air Force, “Reduction of Losses and Battl

Damage,” operational research report, 12 February 1944, 15, 50, HRA; and

Daniel Kuehl, “The Radar Eye Blinded: The USAF and Electronic Warfare

1945–1955” (PhD diss., Duke University, 1992), 30.

77. Eighth Air Force, “Special Report of Operations in Support of First Al

lied Airborne Army: 17–26 September 1944,” 9–13, HRA.

78. Albert Davis et al., 56th Fighter Group in World War II (Washington

D.C.: Infantry Journal Press, 1948), 79–81; History, 56th Fighter Group

summary report, 18 September 1944, HRA; John Tussell Jr., “Flak versu

Fighters,” Coast Artillery Journal, July–August 1946, 43; and Eighth Ai

Force, “Special Report of Operations in Support of First Allied Airborn

Army,” 18, HRA.

66
79. 

Special Report of Operations in Support of First Allied Airborn

Army,” 43–44.

80. Headquarters US Strategic Air Forces in Europe, Office of the Direc

tor of Operations, “Neutralizing German Anti-Aircraft Defenses,” study, 14

November 1944, 1–3, HRA.

81. Fifteenth Air Force, “High Altitude Bombing Attacks on Flak Batteries,

31 March 1945, HRA.

82. Ibid.; Historical Division, Department of the Army, Utah Beach t

Cherbourg (6 June–27 June 1944) (Washington, D.C.: Government Printin

Office [GPO] 1947), 171–73.

83. Joint report no. 4, “German Flak and Allied Counter-Flak Measure

in Operation Varsity,” RAI; “History of Air Defense,” Air Defense Magazine

April–June 1977, 22. Little information is available on Soviet flak defenses

James Hansen writes that the Soviets increased their antiaircraft weapon by

a factor of eight between 1941 and 1945. He asserts that the Soviets credi

flak with 40 percent of their 7,000 aircraft claims. See James Hansen, “Th

Development of Soviet Tactical Air Defenses,” International Defense Review

May 1981, 53.

84. Elwood Quesada, “Effect of Antiaircraft Artillery on IX Tactical Ai

Command Operations,” Coast Artillery Journal, September–October 1946, 29.

85. Kirkpatrick, Archie in the A.E.F., 93, 100, 179.

86. Garland and Smyth, The US Army in World War II, 175–82; and

Charles Shrader, “Amicicide: The Problem of Friendly Fire” (paper, Comba

Studies Institute, Fort Leavenworth, Kans., 1982), 67–68.

87. A British source states that 14 of 100 aircraft were downed, 19 oth

ers turned back, while the rest scattered their loads across the countryside

Routledge, Antiaircraft Guns, 262; and Shrader, “Amicicide,” 69.

88. Just as the subject of fratricide is neglected, so too is the issue o

enemy aircraft not engaged. Only one example should be required to mak

the point: American radar detected aircraft flying toward Pearl Harbor befor

the attack but could not identify them. See Aircraft Identifiers, Gree, 2757

and Brentrall, 2759, to commandant, subject: “Aircraft Identifiers Aboard

Merchant Ships, 9 June 1944,” HRA; “Analysis of Reports Concerning th

Engagement of Friendly Aircraft by Our Own Ground or Shipborne Force

and Also All Reports Covering the Engagement of Our Own Ground Force

by Friendly Aircraft,” item no. 4, “Attacks on Friendly Aircraft by Ground

and Naval Forces,” annex A to 21 Army Group/225/Ops, 29 July 1944

HRA; History, 65th Fighter Wing, “Light, Intense and Accurate: US Eighth

Air Force Strategic Fighters versus German Flak in the ETO,” 89, HRA; US

Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:38, 169; War Diary of Brig Gen

Richard E. Nugent, November 1944, 12, HRA; Shrader, “Amicicide,” 34, 45

66, 70; and David Mets, Master of Airpower (Novato, Calif.: Presidio Press

n.d.), 268.

89. Report of General Board, US Forces, European Theater, “Antiaircraf

Artillery Techniques,” 10, HRA.

67
90. Stephen McFarland and Wesley Newton, To Command the Sky: Th

Battle for Air Superiority over Germany, 1942–1944 (Washington, D.C

Smithsonian Institution, 1991), 81n, 261; US Fleet, “Antiaircraft Action

Summary–October 1944,” Information Bulletin no. 27, 9-2, HRA.

91. Shrader, “Amicicide,” 70–71.

92. Buford Rowland and William Boyd, US Navy Bureau of Ordnance i

World War II (Washington, D.C.: GPO, n.d.), 219–20, 231, 235, 238, 245–47

258, 266; and Robert Sherrod, History of Marine Corps Aviation in World Wa

II (Washington, D.C.: Combat Forces, 1952), 401.

93. Rowland and Boyd, US Navy Bureau, 221–34, 266; Chamberlain and

Gander, Antiaircraft Guns, 40; US Fleet, Information Bulletin no. 27, 1–5

Hogg, Anti-Aircraft, 80; and Routledge, Royal Regiment, R52–53.

94. Rowland and Boyd, US Navy Bureau, 220, 266, 283, 286; US Fleet

Information Bulletin no. 27, 1–5.

95. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:192.

96. Ibid., 197–98; Chamberlain and Gander, Antiaircraft Guns, 34; Report o

General Headquarters, United States Army Forces Pacific, Antiaircraft Re

search Board, “Survey of Japanese Antiaircraft Artillery,” 3–5, 59, 65–66, 72

USACGSC; and United States Pacific Fleet and Pacific Ocean Areas Flak In

telligence Memorandum no. 4, “Japanese Antiaircraft Materiel,” 11 Apri

1945, Naval Historical Center (NHC), Washington, D.C.

97. AAF Statistical Digest, 221–27, 255–61; A. H. Peterson, R. G. Tuck

and D. P. Wilkinson, “Aircraft Vulnerability in World War II” (workin

paper, RAND Corporation, Santa Monica, Calif., rev. 12 July 1950), tabl

8, AUL; Office of Information, Document, 3 May 1967, in “Korean Comba

Statistics for Three-Year Period,” 19 June 1953, NHC; and Kuehl, “Th

Radar Eye Blinded,” 31.

98. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” 2:293; AAA Research

Board, “Survey of Japanese AAA,” 192, HRA; and Chief of Naval Operations

Air Intelligence Group, Flak Information Bulletin no. 10, June 1945, 28, HRA

99. AAF Statistical Digest, 226, 261; Air Intelligence report no. 8, 15–17

Twentieth Air Force, “Flak Damage on Various Types of Missions,” and

“Final Analysis of Flak Loss and Damage for Operations against Japan,” Ai

Intelligence report, vol. 1, nos. 26–27, November–December 1945, 3–7, HRA

See also Kuehl, “The Radar Eye Blinded,” 37–38.

100. Flak downed a number of the top aces. In World War I, ground fir

downed the top ace, the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen (80 credits). In

World War II, the leading American ace in Europe, Francis Gabreski (28

credits), crashed while attacking an airfield; US flak killed George Preddy Jr

(26.8 credits); and German flak downed others such as Hubert Zemke (17.8

credits) and Duane Beeson (17.3 credits). Japanese AAA killed Robert Hanson

(25 credits), the third-ranking Marine ace. Flak also got two of the top

British aces, Brendan Finucane (32 credits) and Robert Tuck (29 credits).

68
Chapter 2

From Guns to Missiles, 1945–1965

Rapid demobilization of the American military followed the

war’s end. As the magnificent US war machine disappeared, no

much was left in its place. Americans thought little of either wa

or the military as they engaged in their peacetime pursuits

thereby leaving the US armed forces with minimal tangible

strength. The two driving forces of national policy during this pe

riod were tight budgets and trust in the atomic bomb. America

based its defense on confidence in overall American superiority

and distance, but most of all, on the bomb. Specifically, the

United States had the atomic bomb and a means to deliver it; the

Soviet Union had neither.

The offensive problem seemed relatively simple to American

Airmen, compared to what they had just faced in World War II

Instead of vast formations of aircraft, now only one aircraf

(with the equivalent bomb load of thousands of World War I

bombers) needed to be employed. The penetration problem also

appeared easier; for, in contrast to dense German defenses

covering a target area of hundreds of miles, the Soviet Union

had relatively sparse defenses to cover thousands of miles. An

other factor favoring the offensive was that jet aircraft offered

performance superior to that of World War II aircraft. Probably

most important, instead of opposing a foe with essentially

equivalent technology and the potential to develop superio

technology, the United States now faced a nation considered

to be years behind its own development. The most serious

problems for the American Airmen appeared to be those o

range and basing.

American technological superiority delayed the Airmen’s de

fensive concerns. Few Airmen thought the Soviets would ge

nuclear weapons in short order, so certainly they would be slow

to master the problem of weapons delivery over intercontinenta

distances. Consequently, American antiaircraft defenses shrank

along with the entire American military to the extent that by

late 1947, the US Army had only two battalions of AAA. Active

69
American air defense took three directions in the late 1940s

The most expensive of these, air defense aircraft, falls beyond

the scope of this study. The other two directions were anti

aircraft guns and missiles.

The postwar story of antiaircraft guns is primarily that o

phase out and false starts. At first, postwar budget cuts and

the existence of World War II equipment disguised the gun’s

fate. The Army did attempt to replace the .50-caliber machine

gun and develop an effective low-altitude weapon. In June

1948, the Ordnance Corps began development of the Stinger

four .60-caliber guns (radar-directed and mounted on a vehicle)

In 1951, the Army terminated the project when the develope

conceded that the .60 guns could not satisfy the slant range

requirement of 14,000 feet (ft).1 The Army did field two new

pieces of antiaircraft equipment. To upgrade its 40 mm anti

aircraft gun, the Army authorized a model in July 1951 and

named it Duster (fig. 35). Mounted on a light tank (M41) chas

sis, the Army planned to link the guns to a second vehicle with

70

Figure 35. Duster. The Duster was one of a number of failed Army anti

aircraft projects. It mounted two 40 mm guns on a tracked vehicle

(Reprinted from http://www.militaryhistorymuseum.org/gallery.html.)
radar fire-control equipment. Cost killed the radar portion in

1952, but the Army adopted the M42 Duster in October 1952

A later Army attempt to add range-only radar called Raduste

failed by 1956. The Army then tried to develop a 37 mm Gatling

gun known as Vigilante for this role in both a self-propelled

and trailer version. By 1957, the Army concluded that Vigilante

could not provide all-weather capability, would have a low-kil

probability against the expected opposition, lacked ruggedness

and reliability, and would create mobility and logistics problems

The United States did develop and field two antiaircraft guns

in the postwar period. The first was the 75 mm Skysweepe

(fig. 36). The pilot model appeared in 1948, and the weapon

went into service in March 1953.2 Despite its many capabili

ties, it was soon replaced by SAMs. The other gun had a longe

and more distinguished career.

The 20 mm cannon was based on the mid-19th century

Gatling gun and German experiments of World War II. In June

1946, the US government awarded General Electric a contrac

for a rapid-fire cannon that became known as the Vulcan. The

71

Figure 36. Skysweeper. The 75 mm Skysweeper was the last American

antiaircraft gun. (Reprinted from USAF Army Air Defense Museum.)
company delivered a .60-caliber version in 1950, and two years

later, a more advanced model appeared in three calibers: .60

mm, 20 mm, and 27 mm. The Air Force and Army adopted the

20 mm as the M61 Vulcan. Its six barrels were electrically

rotated and could fire at a maximum rate of 7,200 shots pe

minute. The cannon was produced in a number of calibers

Not only mounted aboard fixed- and rotary-wing aircraft, the

weapon was also adapted by the Navy (Phalanx) and initially

deployed in 1979 (fig. 37). The Army began development of its

version in 1964 and mounted the M61 on an M113 armored

personnel carrier as a daytime, clear-weather, air-defense

72

Figure 37. Vulcan Phalanx. The Navy fitted a number of its ships with

the fast-firing Vulcan Phalanx for close-in protection against aircraft

(Reprinted from http://www.bb62museum.org/images/phalanx.jpc.)
weapon designated M163 (fig. 38). Deliveries of the Army version

began in 1968. In 1984, the ground service began to upgrade

many of these cannons in the Product Improved Vulcan Ai

Defense System project that added a digital computer and

range-only radar. These modifications increased effectiveness

and simplified operations. Another improvement was new am

munition (armor piercing discarding sabot) that increased

maximum effective antiaircraft range from 1,600 to 2,600

meters. The Army also fielded another version mounted on a

trailer (M167 Vulcan Air Defense System).3

Army efforts to replace the Vulcan with a more advanced

gun system ended in disaster. The Army’s concern over the

Vulcan centered on its short range, its slow reaction times, and

the absence of both crew protection and the ability to distin

guish friend from foe. The success of the Soviet ZSU-23-4 23

mm guns mounted on a tank chassis in the Middle East wars

73

Figure 38. Vulcan M163.The Army mounted the 20 mm Vulcan gun with

radar guidance on an M163 armored personnel carrier. (Reprinted from

http://www.relli.com/weapons.htm.)
(discussed later in chap. 4) and the rising threat of Soviet heli

copter gunships were additional factors. In the early 1980s

the Army sought a mobile, all-weather system that would

overcome these shortcomings. After rejecting the German

Gepard, the Army believed that it could get what it wanted

quickly and cheaply by combining several bits of existing

equipment. After competing with General Dynamics, Ford

Aerospace won a contract in May 1981 for the Division Air De

fense or M247 Sergeant York. It would use an M48A5 tank

chassis, twin 40 mm Bofors guns, and radar (APG-66) from

the F-16. Problems with manufacturing, weight, reliability

and radar increased both time and cost. It also drew a host o

critics, both from inside the Army (SAM and helicopter advo

cates) and outside (an unsympathetic media). Poor, or at leas

questionable, test results did not help. Most of all, the threa

increased beyond what the system could handle. As a result

Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger cancelled the projec

in August 1985. It cost the United States $1.8 billion.4

To drop back in the chronology somewhat, antiaircraft guns

proved useful as ground-support arms, despite the almos

utter lack of air opposition in the Korean War. In the military

buildup prompted by the Korean War, the Army deployed 66

battalions of American aircraft (AA) guns for continental defense

Nevertheless, the Army began to phase out its antiaircraf

guns. Following tests in 1955, the Army dropped its quadruple

.50-caliber guns. The dual 40 mm guns lingered on in service

into the early 1960s before being transferred from the Regula

Army into the National Guard. Army studies in the mid-1950s

indicated that guns could not provide adequate protection

against the expected threat and that guided missiles would be

more effective for the role of air defense in forward areas. The

Army phased out its last antiaircraft guns used in continenta

defense in mid-1960. In this way, the Hawk (Homing All the

Way Killer) missile, although considered a medium- and high

altitude weapon, took over the job of the 40 mm, 75 mm, and

120 mm guns.5 This ends the story of AAA employed by the US

air defenders, but not the end of AAA. American Airmen had a

different perspective—they would continue to face guns in

combat.

74
Antiaircraft Returns to Combat: 

The Korean War

The Korean War was far different from what the planners

anticipated: unlike their experience of World War II or thei

forecasts of World War III. In the Korean War, American Airmen

did not face dense, technically advanced, ground-based anti

aircraft defenses or an extensive air-to-air threat; nor did they

conduct strategic nuclear operations against a major power

Instead, both sides limited the Korean War politically and mili

tarily. The United States (through the United Nations) fought a

second-rate and third-rate power, albeit with major power back

ing, without nuclear weapons, and with few strategic targets

American Airmen waged an air war primarily of close air suppor

(CAS) and interdiction against weak and obsolete antiaircraft de

fenses. American flyers engaged modern fighters but in action

geographically remote from the main theater of operations.

Compared to air defenses the Allies encountered in World Wa

II, Communist ground-based defenses in Korea proved weak

in both numbers and technology. American intelligence esti

mated that initially the North Koreans were poorly equipped

with antiaircraft guns. While their forward units used 12.7

mm (.50-caliber) machine guns, the defense of rear areas was

left to about 20 76 mm guns, which lacked radar direction

But, these weapons multiplied when the Communist Chinese

entered into the war in late 1950. By May 1951, the Commu

nists were estimated to have in action 252 heavy flak pieces

and 673 light pieces, increasing and peaking at 786 heavy and

1,672 light guns in early 1953. Nevertheless, these totals

barely exceeded the numbers the Germans deployed around

some of their key targets late in World War II. The equipmen

itself was vintage World War II. Although the Airmen faced a

few 76 mm guns, the Communists’ principal heavy flak weapon

was the Soviet 85 mm Model 1939 gun that later was supple

mented by the 85 mm Model 1944. In the later stages of the

war, some of these guns were controlled by radar. The main

light flak piece was the 37 mm automatic weapon. The Com

munists also used large numbers of 12.7 mm machine guns

Beginning in October 1951, Allied airmen reported unguided

75
flak rockets that reached 10,560 feet. But there are no indica

tions of any successes with this weapon, and reports of its fir

ing faded out by December 1952.6

How effective was Communist flak in the Korean War? It did

not prevent air operations, but it did make them more expen

sive. Hostile fire forced airmen to fly higher and thus reduced

bombing accuracy. The USAF estimated that dive-bombing ac

curacy declined from a 75-foot circular error probable (CEP) in

1951 to 219 feet in 1953, which meant that more sorties were

required to destroy a target.7 Likewise, B-29s that earlier had

attacked in what one writer describes as an “almost leisurely

fashion” as low as 10,000 feet with multiple passes, now op

erated at 20,000 feet or above.8 Nevertheless, despite increas

ing Red flak, USAF loss rates declined during the course of the

war from 0.18 percent per sortie in 1950 to 0.07 percent in

1953. Overall, American (Air Force, Marine Corps, and Navy

combat losses of 1,230 aircraft on 736,439 sorties amounted

to a rate of .17 percent. The airmen believed that all but 143 o

these were claimed by ground fire (flak and small arms fire).9

A further breakdown reveals that USAF losses were no

evenly distributed. That is, fighter-bombers sustained 58 per

cent of aircraft losses, although they logged only 36 percent o

sorties. Jets suffered less than did propeller-powered aircraft

as they operated at higher speeds and altitudes. The Navy’s

piston-powered F4U Corsair took hits at twice the rate of the

jet-powered F9F and was considered 75 percent more vulner

able. Similarly, the USAF’s famous propeller-powered F-51

Mustang was much more vulnerable than the jet-powered F-80

Shooting Star (fig. 39).10 In the period July through Novembe

1950, the Mustang had a loss rate of 1.9 percent of sorties

compared with the Shooting Star’s loss rate of .74 percent.1

The Air Force assessed the loss rate of prop aircraft to be triple

that of jet aircraft. A breakdown of losses in August 1952 in

dicated that light flak was the main problem. In that month

flak destroyed 14 Fifth Air Force aircraft and damaged 153

others. During the entire war, the Air Force credited light flak

with 79 percent of the downed aircraft and 45 percent of the

damaged aircraft, small arms with 7 and 52 percent, and heavy

flak with 14 and 3 percent.12

76
In early 1952, American losses to ground fire prompted re

medial action. One factor in the equation involved how close

the aircraft flew to the ground; but, despite the wealth of data

from World War II, it apparently took an operations analysis

study in early 1952 to bring this fact to the attention of the de

cision makers. One study indicated that in the first four months

of 1952, Fifth Air Force aircraft sustained half of their ground

fire hits below 2,500 feet.13 Following a Communist flak success

on 10 July 1952, Fifth Air Force ordered a minimum recovery

altitude of 3,000 feet. Similarly, in reaction to B-26 losses

Fifth Air Force established a 4,000-foot attack altitude for ligh

bombers with only selected crews permitted to operate lower

In August, the Navy adopted a 3,000-foot minimum pullout al

titude. As a result, losses to AAA declined.14 In the first fou

months of 1952, Fifth Air Force studies concluded that ground

fire destroyed or damaged 21.6 aircraft per 1,000 sorties

whereas, in the period 1 September 1952 through 30 Apri

77

Figure 39. F-51 Mustang. The North American Mustang, the P-51 o

World War II fame, saw action as the F-51. It suffered the highest num

ber of USAF losses to enemy action, of which 95 percent of the known

losses were to ground fire. (Reprinted from USAF.)
1953, the rate decreased to 11.1 aircraft per 1,000 sorties

Analysts attributed 19 percent of the decrease to the altitude

policy and a further 32 percent to target diversification. As a

counterpoint, the Fifth Air Force removed the altitude restric

tion for two weeks in June 1953 and suffered the consequences

During that month, the unit suffered its highest 1953 monthly

losses—18 aircraft to ground fire, including 12 of its newest je

fighter-bombers, the F-86F.15

Another policy adopted by the Fifth Air Force in June 1952

limited the time over the target. It mandated that, with the ex

ception of air defense and F4U aircraft, pilots were to make

only one run over a target for each type of external ordnance

carried; and it forbade strafing. In August 1952, the Fifth Ai

Force modified the policy by restricting general support and

interdiction missions to one pass and CAS to two passes.16

American Airmen also employed more direct methods

against enemy AAA. The Marines tried flak-suppression tactics

in late 1951 or early 1952, with spotter aircraft temporarily di

verting strike aircraft to hit flak positions. In June 1952, the

Marines published a procedure that put suppressive fire on

flak positions 30 seconds before their aircraft began dive

bombing runs. Thereafter, Marine aircraft losses dropped.17

At about the same time, the Army and Air Force adopted

similar tactics, although there is no indication that there was

any coordination between the three services. Before July 1952

the Army and Air Force operated under procedures estab

lished in plan NEGAT, which curtailed friendly artillery fire

during an air strike and restricted almost all artillery fire

within a 2,500-yard radius of the target. Friendly guns would

mark targets with smoke or white phosphorous shells and, be

tween the time the spotter aircraft left the area and the fighter

bombers arrived, would fire against known antiaircraft posi

tions. Prompted by the loss of two C-119s to American artillery

fire in June 1951, the policy emphasized safety from friendly

fire. However, the policy satisfied neither Airmen nor soldiers

and became even less acceptable to both as the Communists

burrowed deeper into the ground, brought up more flak

pieces, and learned American air-support procedures. Not only

did fighter-bomber losses remain high, but the procedures lef

78
a large area along the front without artillery support for eigh

to 45 minutes during the air strike. Following a meeting between

the two services in July 1952, the Army eased the restriction on

artillery fire to a minimum time, although it retained prohibitions

on the use of proximity-fuzed and high-angle fire when aircraf

were in the area. The Airmen now believed that the danger from

enemy guns exceeded the danger from friendly guns.

In their next step, the Americans actively engaged the flak

On 6 August 1952, the Air Force and Army produced a plan

named SUPPRESS, which set out procedures to neutralize

suspected and known antiaircraft positions. While retaining the

July artillery restrictions, SUPPRESS permitted the fighter

bomber pilots either to accept or to reject artillery support. The

gunners would hit suspected positions with proximity-fuzed

fire before the strike and then signal the end of proximity-fuzed

fire with a radio call and a white phosphorous or colored smoke

round. The artillery would continue the bombardment with

impact-fuzed ammunition. During a one-month experimen

(25 September 1952 through 25 October 1952) with these pro

cedures in IX Corps, the USAF lost only one aircraft on 1,816

CAS sorties, compared with planning figures of one loss fo

every 380 CAS sorties. (Army artillery fired 679,000 rounds in

connection with the air strikes.) This marked decline in air

craft losses came despite the tripling of Communist flak guns

in the area facing the IX Corps.

The Eighth Army and Fifth Air Force adopted the policy tha

became effective on 2 December 1952. Under the slightly

modified procedures, a light aircraft (T-6 Mosquito) led the

fighter-bombers into the area, marked the target, and after the

fighter-bomber pilots identified the target, called in artillery

fire. Friendly artillery would hit all known enemy antiaircraf

guns within 2,500 yards of the target first with proximity

fuzed shells and finally with a white phosphorous or colored

smoke round. The barrage continued with impact-fuzed shells

for three minutes, as the aircraft attacked. Despite such prob

lems as fighter-bomber pilots not always being ready to exploi

the suppression fire and increased numbers of Communis

flak guns, fighter-bomber losses remained acceptable. CAS sor

ties per fighter-bomber loss rose from 917 in December 1952

79
to 1,285 in January 1953, to 2,981 in late March and early

April, then dropped to 1,281 in June, and, finally, rose to

about 1,515 in July.18

The United States Air Force reluctantly and belatedly intro

duced electronic countermeasures (ECM) in the Korean ai

war because of fears that its use would reveal both US tactics

and equipment to the Communists. While this policy risked

Airmen’s lives, there was another issue. Although Korea was a

real war, it was secondary to the buildup stateside and in

Europe and preparations for a nuclear strike in the event o

World War III. Not only were the newest Air Force aircraft no

sent to Korea (for example, B-47s and B-36s), at first ECM was

not used, although this equipment and its associated tactics

had been employed in World War II. However, the Communis

introduction of the MiG-15 that savaged B-29s in daylight op

erations pushed the USAF to begin ECM operations in Apri

1951 and night-bomber operations in October. Increasing losses

at night forced the Air Force to use chaff, a World War II tech

nology, in September 1952. ECM was effective. A postwa

USAF study concluded that during the night-bombing campaign

ECM cut losses and damage by two-thirds. More specifically

during the last six months of the war, in 78 percent of the

cases where the bombers were illuminated by radar-directed

searchlights, the bombers’ ECM broke the lock.19

Another defensive tactic used by the USAF in night opera

tions was the direct attack. In two separate night attacks on

the crucial strategic targets in September and October 1952

the Airmen used B-26s at low level to suppress Communis

searchlights illuminated by flares dropped by B-29s. Although

the bombers knocked out a number of the lights, the USAF

judged the tactic unsuccessful as only one-quarter of the lights

was destroyed, and the flares made the attacking bombers

more visible to the gunners.20

Clearly, the Americans had forgotten much of their experience

with flak in World War II. The Airmen’s flak countermeasures

came as a response to losses and not from any study of the

situation or from previous experience. Not until late in the war

after almost two years, did the Army and Air Force establish

effective coordination tactics. No one attempted to compare

80
notes with the other services. But even having done all of this

the question is how much did the American Airmen learn from

the war? In a study of the lessons from the air war in Korea

that included about 100 items covering such areas as heckling

attacks, rescue operations, and Communist passive defense

the US Air Force did not mention enemy flak. Surely, flak was

more important and more costly to the US Air Force than that

This attitude led Air Force chief of staff Thomas D. White to

tell his top commanders in October 1957 that the USAF had

never respected flak but that it could no longer ignore it. He

insisted that the airmen find out more about antiaircraft de

fenses, and find it out quickly.21

Antiaircraft Missiles

At the same time US military forces were enduring the

post–World War II reduction and then the trauma and frus

trating limited war in Korea, a new weapon was evolving (fig

40). This weapon that would greatly improve air defense and

radically change air warfare, was, of course, the SAM. A num

ber of countries attempted to follow up on the German efforts

in the field, but for 20 years, these first-generation missiles

were notable more for their promise than their performance

The large and unwieldy missiles demonstrated limited mobility

poor reliability, and questionable lethality. Initially, they used

liquid fuel that presented problems of handling, reliability, re

action time, and storage. The early missiles were guided by

command systems in which one radar unit acquired and tracked

the target, a second tracked the missile, and a computer made

missile corrections to enable interception. Although this awk

ward system could down aircraft flying at relatively high alti

tudes, steady courses, and moderate speeds, it had little ability

to kill fast-moving, low-flying, maneuvering targets. (It mus

be remembered, however, that air defenders saw formations o

high-flying aircraft as the threat.) The command guidance sys

tem was also vulnerable to electronic countermeasures.

A number of projects emerged from American designers. The

US Army sponsored the widest variety of missiles. These mis

siles can probably best be divided generically into three fami

81
lies based on the missile’s mobility: large, immobile SAMs; mo

bile missiles; and man-portable systems. The earliest of these

Army projects was the Nike family, begun in 1945 by Bell Lab

oratories. The original Nike requirement was to knock down

an aircraft flying at 600 miles per hour (mph), between 20,000

and 60,000 feet, maneuvering at three Gs at a 60,000-foo

ground range. From the outset, the Army decided to keep the

missile simple and more reliable by emplacing the complicated

aspects (guidance and fuzing) on the ground. The Nike initially

used liquid fuel for the missile and solid fuel for the booster

The Army froze the design in mid-1946.22

82

Figure 40. Army SAMs. The US Army fielded an impressive number o

both surface-to-air missiles and surface-to-surface missiles. From lef

to right: Hercules (SAM), (front) Hawk (SAM), (rear) Sergeant, Zeus

(SAM), Pershing, LaCross, and Ajax (SAM). The soldiers from left to

right are holding LAW, Redeye (SAM), and Entac. (Adapted from Red

stone Arsenal.)
The Army tested eight unguided missiles between late Sep

tember 1946 and late January 1947. Although the first o

these reached an altitude of 140,000 feet and a speed of Mach

2.7, quite impressive for that day, the series was beset by

problems that should have been expected with a new technology

There were difficulties with the motor, but the more serious

ones included booster malfunctions (separation, explosions, and

misfires). This led the developers in 1948 to adopt a unitary

booster positioned underneath the missile that replaced the

four boosters clustered around it and increased the system’s

length. More importantly, this arrangement offered advan

tages of cost, assembly, handling, reliability, and the tactica

advantage of smokelessness. The newness of the technology

also was evident in that initially the testers relied on recovering

a 25-channel flight data recorder by parachute until telemetry

was demonstrated in early 1947.23 Other changes included

moving the position of the control fins and increasing the size

and location of the warhead.24

The Army vigorously tested Nike. Systems tests began in No

vember 1951 and consisted of 23 guided shots, all but three

against a drone aircraft. Ten were unsuccessful because of a

missile component failure, with another four considered par

tially successful despite a missile component failure. The re

maining nine averaged a miss distance (metal to metal) of 15

feet, and two hit the drone. While most of these tests used pyro

technic devices in lieu of a real warhead, in April 1952 the

Army fired five live warheads against drones (QB-17, radio

controlled World War II B-17 bombers). Although these were

low-performance targets when compared to the threat, they

were real aircraft and did yield dramatic photos. Two of the

test missiles malfunctioned (one attributed to the missile, the

other to its beacon), one inflicted heavy damage on the target

while the other two destroyed the drones.25 There were addi

tional live firing tests in early 1953; six were aimed at QB-17s

and 10 at QF6F drones (radio-controlled World War II nava

fighters). The testers concluded that 43 percent of the 49 shots

were completely successful, and another 23 percent achieved

“qualified” success. Six of the seven live warhead rounds were

successful. The tests continued. Between June 1953 and De

83
cember 1958, the Army fired 3,225 Nikes, two-thirds of which

were considered successes.26

In November 1956, the Nike I became known as the Nike Ajax

(fig. 41). The Army deployed the first Ajax unit to Fort Meade

Maryland, in March 1954 and received its last production mis

sile in April 1958. Eleven other countries also deployed the

Ajax. In all, the United States spent $1.2 billion for the system

consisting of more than 13,700 missiles.27

The Army placed the missiles near the major cities they were

to protect because of their short (just over 25 miles) range. Origi

nally, the Army wanted 119 acres for each Ajax battery, but the

cost of real estate in an urban area forced a different arrange

ment. This led to a January 1954 decision to use underground

storage and launch facilities for all US installations, which cu

the requirement to 40 acres per missile site. But even this did

not stem public opposition. This included fears that the Nike

boosters would land on people and property, that the sites

would reduce real estate values, and that locating missiles, fuel

and (conventional) warheads in an urban location was unsafe

84

Figure 41. Nike Ajax. The Nike Ajax was America’s first operational SAM

(Reprinted from US Army Air Defense Museum.)
85

The safety issue was driven home when in May 1958 an ex

plosion of seven Nikes near Middletown, New Jersey, killed six

soldiers and four civilians and caused property damage fo

miles.28 The reason the Army phased the Ajax out of service in

1964 had little to do with safety; it was replaced by a more ad

vanced version. 

In 1953, the US Army Ordnance Corps, Bell Laboratories

Western Electric, and Douglas began work on the Nike Hercules

(fig. 42). One reason for the development of a successor to Ajax

was that by early 1952, it was clear that its radar had diffi

culty dealing with aircraft that flew in formation. One solution

was to use a nuclear warhead. Because of the size of the pro

posed nuclear warhead (30-inch diameter), the Army decided

it was more efficient, albeit more time consuming, to develop a

new missile rather than modify the Ajax. There was, of course

also a desire to improve the system’s performance. The second

generation Nike was to employ an atomic warhead against for

mations of aircraft flying as fast as 1,000 mph at a maximum

altitude of 60,000 feet and at a horizontal range of 28 miles

Hercules could be fitted with a conventional fragmentation

warhead as well. It would build on the existing Ajax technology

and be compatible with the Ajax ground equipment.29

The proposed missile was somewhat larger than its prede

cessor. The Model 1810 Hercules was seven feet longer, con

siderably wider, and four times heavier than the Ajax. The Army

made good use of its experience with missiles in general and

the Nike in particular as it was able to begin deployment of the

Hercules in June 1958.30 Flight tests with research and devel

opment missiles began in early 1955 and extended through

June 1956. In sharp contrast to the Ajax record, Hercules had

few difficulties with the booster but did encounter problems

with the sustainer (main) engine: 12 of the first 20 flight tests

in 1955 were terminated, half by sustainer problems. In addi

tion, the program suffered a setback in September 1955, when

a Hercules blew up on a test stand, killing one civilian and in

juring five others. This led the Army to adopt a solid-fuel sus

tainer engine in 1956, which proved to be more reliable with

out a loss of performance.31 The Army began to test the Hercules

against drone aircraft (again the QB-17) in 1956, achieving its
Figure 42. Nike Hercules. The Nike Hercules was larger, heavier, and

better performing than its predecessor. (Adapted from US Army Air De

fense Museum.)
first kill with the conventional warhead in April 1957. Early

on, the program was hobbled by test failures (76 percent of at

tempts through April 1958) mainly attributed to malfunctions

of the guidance beacon, auxiliary power, and warhead circuitry

The missile improved, and, in its first public launch on 1 July

1958, it intercepted a simulated target flying at a speed of 650

knots (kts) at 100,000 feet. In tests later that month, Hercules

showed it could single out a target when it destroyed three

drones with fragmentation warheads. (It should be further noted

that these targets were more challenging than the tried-and-true

QB-17.) The Army never tested the Hercules with an atomic war

head, although it had scheduled such a demonstration for Au

gust 1958. (The nuclear warhead entered service in 1958.) Late

tests showed a greatly improved missile success rate of 71 per

cent on 75 attempts in July through October 1958.32

The Army was not content with the Hercules missile. From the

outset of the Hercules program in October 1954, overall direc

tion called for modernization, research, and development. The

Army’s specific concern was to defeat such higher-performing

aircraft (expected in the 1960–70s timeframe) as low-flying air

craft and to increase kill effectiveness and target-handling

ability. While the Nike Zeus program (see below) was designed

to combat enemy ballistic missiles, the Army initiated im

provements to Hercules to combat aircraft. Principal improve

ments were made to the system’s radars to extend detection

and tracking ranges to the ground-based units. Testing o

these improvements against flying targets began in early

1960 and by midyear demonstrated successes against both

drones and ballistic missiles (Corporal and Hercules). The

Army began to deploy the improved Hercules in June 1961

and by May 1964 had phased out all of its stateside-based

Ajax missiles. Total Hercules production exceeded 25,500

missiles. Hercules served in six countries in addition to the

United States.33

The Airmen also engaged in SAM work. In April 1946, the

Army Air Forces (AAF) had three SAMs under development ou

of 28 missile projects. Boeing designed the ground-to-air pilot

less aircraft (GAPA) missile system to defend against aircraf

with a range of 35 miles and an altitude of 60,000 feet. The

87
Airmen test-fired about 100 of these missiles. Two other AAF

projects were the University of Michigan’s Wizard and Genera

Electric’s Thumper, both designed to reach ranges of 550 miles

and altitudes of 500,000 feet. In 1947, the USAF relegated the

two antiballistic missile projects to “prolonged study” status

By March 1948, the Air Force canceled Thumper. Wizard con

tinued as a study, but Boeing replaced the GAPA project with

Bomarc (Boeing, University of Michigan Aeronautical Research

Center) in 1949 (fig. 43).34

These efforts emersed the Army and Air Force into a roles

and missions battle.35 While the missile field had been divided

along the lines of ballistic missiles (Army) and aerodynamic

missiles (Air Force), this arrangement mutated into a division

according to range, point or tactical defense (Army), and area

or long-range defense (Air Force). As a result, the Navy’s Talos

missile, which the USAF was adopting for ground-based poin

defense, was given to the Army. This was formalized by Secre

tary of Defense Charles E. Wilson in November 1956.36 Bomarc

fit into this scheme, as it was powered by ramjets that required

atmosphere air, had wings and aerodynamic controls, and had

a longer range than the Nike series. In January 1950, the Ai

Force killed GAPA and replaced it with the Bomarc project. I

was essentially an unmanned aircraft. In fact, the Airmen ini

tially designated the missile XF-99 (later changed to IM-99

[Interceptor Missile]) as it would any experimental fighter

Bomarc had the appearance, size (46.8-foot length, 18-foo

span), and weight (15,500 pounds). It was radio-controlled

with an active radar-homing device. 

The USAF began testing the IM-99A in 1952 but did not ac

complish its first successful launch, without ramjets, until Oc

tober 1954. The missile’s test record was poor, as fewer than

40 percent of 134 Bomarc A launches met their objectives

Nevertheless, in 1958 a Bomarc completed an interception lo

cated 1,500 miles away from its controllers. Two years later

the missile became operational. Bomarc employed a solid fue

booster and two ramjet sustainer engines to reach Mach 2.5

and a 125-mile range. The USAF first fired the B model

boosted by a solid fuel booster, in May 1959. The B had bette

performance (increased range and improved low-altitude ca

88
pability), greater reliability, and superior guidance than its

predecessor. Although 1.7 feet shorter than the A model, i

weighed 532 pounds more and could reach slant ranges of 400

nautical miles and almost Mach 4.0. In its most memorable

flight, it intercepted a Regulus II target drone at 100,000 feet

446 miles from its launch point. That July, the IM-99B be

came operational. It carried a nuclear warhead and remained

in service until October 1972. The Air Force deployed jus

under 500 Bomarcs in eight sites (of the 40 planned) in the

northeastern United States, and the Canadians deployed a

number at two sites. In all, Boeing built 700 Bomarcs at a cos

of $1.6 billion.37

89

Figure 43. Bomarc.The Air Force Bomarc was only in service a brief pe

riod of time. (Reprinted from Smithsonian Institution.)
Bomarc failed for several reasons, including rising costs and

slipping schedules. The threat changed from bombers before

1955 to intercontinental ballistic missiles in the late 1950s o

bomber-launched, air-to-surface missiles, weapons that sur

passed the Bomarc’s capabilities. In addition, the United States

adopted a strategy of offensive deterrence; that is, building up

American nuclear offensive capabilities at the expense of de

fense. Finally, the improved performance of the Nike missiles

duplicated, if not surpassed, the capabilities of Bomarc.38

Other countries also engaged in designing, building, and

testing SAMs (fig. 44). The British put their first SAM, the

Bloodhound, into service in 1958; the Thunderbird in 1960

and the Seaslug in 1962 (fig. 45). These first-generation mis

siles had command guidance systems and were large (abou

20 feet in length).39 The French worked on the PARCA and the

90

Figure 44. Thunderbird. Thunderbird was an early Royal Navy SAM

(Reprinted from http://www.nms.ac.uk/.../the%20collection/rockets_missiles

htm.)
MATRA R422-B, and the Swiss (Oerlikon) built the RSD 58

again all first-generation missiles.

Meanwhile, the Soviets were also making progress with SAMs

Their Soviet antiaircraft missile evolved from German World

War II programs. The first Soviet SAM, the SA-1, was a German

Wasserfall with ground (command) guidance. It became opera

tional in early 1954, the same year the US Army deployed the

Nike Ajax. The West first saw its successor, the SA-2, in 1957

The Soviets designed this missile to defend against high-flying

essentially nonmaneuvering, strategic bombers. The SA-2 firs

achieved prominence by knocking down an American U-2 ove

the Soviet Union in the spring of 1960 and downing anothe

over Cuba in October 1962.40 SAMs introduced a new elemen

into air warfare, shifting the advantage back toward the defense

91

Figure 45. Seaslug. The Seaslug was an early Royal Navy SAM tha

served in the Falklands War but earned no victory credits. (Reprinted

from Imperial War Museum.)
Despite knowledge of the SA-2 since 1957 and its potentia

(similar to the Nike Ajax), the United States made only mixed

progress with countermeasures. Tight budgets in the late

1950s hampered these efforts. Airmen assigned high priority

to countermeasures against the SA-2 in budgets for fisca

years 1964 and 1965, but this was too late. The American Air

men had nothing effective to use when the need arose. Because

of a joint Air Force–Army exercise in 1964, using the Hawk

missile, some Airmen concluded that aircraft could not operate

in SAM-protected areas. (It should be noted that Hawk was a

more capable SAM than was the SA-2.) 

Although it is easy and partially correct to blame tight fund

ing, it is also true that the Airmen underestimated the require

ment for countermeasures. Although the USAF equipped strate

gic bombers with electronic warning and jamming devices in

the late 1950s, it did not similarly equip tactical fighters and

bombers. Initially, the US Navy did a better job. Whatever the

reason—money, obsession with nuclear weapons delivery

electrical power requirements, trust in fighter maneuverability

or speed—the USAF’s tactical air forces were unprepared fo

the style of combat they would face in Vietnam.41

The United States developed two other families of missiles

that were considerably smaller and much more mobile. The

1946 Stilwell Board saw the need for lightweight, man-carried

equipment for US soldiers and concluded that the existing .50

caliber machine gun was inadequate. It sought an antiaircraf

machine gun capable of engaging aircraft flying up to 1,000 mph

at ranges of 200 to 2,500 yards. Four years later, the Army re

quested a family of weapons to counter aircraft flying up to 1,000

mph at altitudes from zero to 60,000 feet and at horizonta

ranges up to 27,000 yards. From these studies came the forma

requirement in early 1951 for a surface-to-air guided missile to

protect forward combat units from low-altitude aerial attack.42

The United States began development of Hawk in 1952 (fig

46). Progress was relatively rapid. The Army awarded

Raytheon a development contract in July 1954, began flight

testing in June 1956, started production in 1957, and acti

vated the first missile unit in August 1960.43 To better defend

against low-flying aircraft, in 1964, the Army began an upgraded

92
93

Figure 46. Hawk launch. The Hawk went into service (1959) only a yea

after the Nike Hercules. Whereas the Nike family was only employed

from fixed installations, the Hawk was mobile. (Reprinted from US Arm

Air Defense Museum.)

program that became known as Improved Hawk or I-Hawk

The changes included better electronics (including solid-state)

an improved warhead, and a more powerful engine. Using the

same basic airframe, the weight increased from about 1,250

pounds to 1,380 pounds. While speed was about the same o

perhaps somewhat faster (Mach 2.5 or Mach 2.7), the I-Hawk

increased its range (from 20 to 25 miles) and altitude (from

45,000 to 58,000 feet) capabilities and its lethality with a 20

percent heavier warhead. The Hawk was air transportable and

quite mobile and was mounted on either a three-round trailer o

a self-propelled unit (fig. 47).44 The most notable aspect of the

Hawk, however, is its adaptability. It has been modified, im

proved, and fielded in a number of advanced variants, some o

which remain first-line equipment today in the Marine Corps

Army National Guard, and several foreign countries.45

The Army’s success with the Hawk tends to obscure its

other less successful efforts. In addition to the various inves

tigations with machine guns and cannons, the Army also studied

missiles. One of these was Porcupine, a system proposed in

the mid-1950s that consisted of 2.75-inch rockets. A battery o
64 launching tubes would have the capability of firing at a rate

of 6,000 shots per minute. But the Army terminated this projec

in February 1956.46

Mauler was another system that failed to become opera

tional (fig. 48). In the mid-1950s, the Army desired a radar

guided missile system that would be highly mobile and provide

short-range, all-weather, low-altitude air defense protection. I

ran into funding and technical problems, and as its historian

explains, Murphy’s Law prevailed. Weight grew as require

ments increased. The Army wanted the entire system mounted

on one lightly armored vehicle that could be carried by a C-123

C-130, or Chinook helicopter. As one Army colonel put it: “We

are essentially compressing a Hawk system into 1/30th of the

94

Figure 47. Hawk intercepting an F-80. The Hawk was the Army’s firs

mobile SAM. It had a long and distinguished career, although it did no

down any aircraft for the United States. This sequence shows what i

could do against an F-80 drone. (Reprinted from Redstone Arsenal.)
Hawk volume.”47 It couldn’t be done, at least not within a rea

sonable time and at a reasonable cost. By late 1964, the pro

gram had lost support at the Department of the Army and Office

of the Secretary of Defense levels. Although Mauler was as

sessed to be superior to Hawk on measures of mobility, reaction

time, and fewer vehicles and personnel, it was “exceedingly ex

pensive.” The historian of the project defends the Mauler, stat

ing that it had no more problems than other complex missile

programs. He summarizes that “the project was plagued by in

adequate funding, a lack of a firm and timely guidance from

higher headquarters, changes and compromises in military re

quirements, unsolved technical problems, and a gradual loss

of confidence in both the contractor and the weapon system.”4

Perhaps a more balanced assessment is that the goals were

too ambitious, the available technology was inadequate, and

the program lacked clear direction and support. The record

shows that development costs had risen from the original $78

million to $380 million, and the readiness date slipped six

years. The secretary of defense killed Mauler in July 1965. The

95

Figure 48. Mauler. The Mauler was another Army antiaircraft missile

system that failed to reach operational status. (Reprinted from Redstone

Arsenal.)
Army decided to terminate Mauler and employ other weapons

instead: Hawk and Hercules (followed by SAM D) as long

range weapons, and, at the front, Hawk, Chaparral, and the

20 mm rapid-fire Vulcan.49

Two systems were acquired in Mauler’s place. The first was

an extremely rapid-firing cannon adapted from aircraft use

(see the Vulcan above). The other was a missile system the

Army initially wanted to fill the gap in its antiaircraft coverage

until the Mauler was deployed. This interim system was in

tended solely for fair-weather use, only for the North Atlantic

Treaty Organization (NATO) arena, and for a brief two to fou

years until the Mauler appeared. The system was to be based

on existing (off-the-shelf) technology. More specifically, the

Army investigated two air-to-air missiles already developed

the Air Force’s Falcon and the Navy’s Sidewinder.50 The Army

eliminated the former in January 1964 and awarded a con

tract for the latter the next year. The Army thought it would be

a relatively cheap and simple system, as it used components

already developed, mounting four of the proven infrared

guided Sidewinder air-to-air missiles atop an M113 armored

personnel carrier.51

As with so many other attempts, this concept, which became

known as Chaparral, proved easier in theory than in practice

(fig. 49). Although the air-to-air and surface-to-air missiles were

95 percent common, a host of problems emerged. The vehicle

was too high for transit through the critical Berne Tunnel, too

large for airlift, and yet too small for the crew and the eigh

spare missiles. The M45 mount and LAU-7A launch rails proved

unsatisfactory, and there were problems with the ground launch

and the seeker. In addition, questions of priority and coordi

nation issues with the Navy also surfaced.52 Testing uncovered

further problems with lethality, detection and identification o

targets, and smoke that obscured the gunner’s vision and tha

revealed the Chaparral’s position. These technical problems

forced major changes that included a new prime mover, rocke

motor, and warhead. The seeker was also upgraded. A smal

radar (Forward Area Alerting Radar [FAAR]) served both the

Vulcan and Chaparral and helped in other areas (and had its

share of problems also).

96
Chaparral began overseas deployment in November 1969

and FAAR was fielded in December 1972. The historian of the

system summarizes that: “What originally appeared to be a fairly

routine task of providing a quick-fix, interim Chaparral/FAAR

capability by January 1968 turned into a nightmare of fund

ing shortages, performance deficiencies, changes in military

requirements, cost overruns, and schedule delays . . . furthe

complicated by the fragmented management structure, man

power deficiencies, and a lack of timely guidance from highe

echelons.”53 Nevertheless, Chaparral continued to soldier on

Later improvements included adding a forward-looking infrared

device that gives the system night capability. Other versions o

the Chaparral include trailer systems (M85) and a nautica

version (Sea Chaparral) used by the Taiwanese navy. The

United States and other countries manufactured over 700 sys

tems and 21,700 missiles for service in eight countries.54

97

Figure 49. Chaparral.The Chaparral consisted of a Sidewinder air-to-ai

missile adapted for surface-to-air operations. Intended as an interim

short-term measure, it saw much longer service, including—as seen

here—in the first Gulf War. (Adapted from Defense Visual Informatio

Center.)
The third family of antiaircraft missiles, man-portable ones

also resulted from this post–World War II Army effort to obtain

more effective and mobile antiaircraft protection. In 1954, the

Army Equipment Development Guide recommended that firs

priority be given to the low-altitude (below 10,000 feet) ai

threat. It went on to note the need to research infrared tech

niques to enable operations in poor visibility conditions. In

1955, Convair began its own feasibility studies of a lightweight

man-transportable, low-altitude missile system, as there was

no formal military requirement for such a weapon. The com

pany named it Redeye, a system built around a small infrared

guided missile that could be carried and fired by one man. In

November 1956, the company presented the concept to Army

and Marine representatives.55

The shoulder-launched system looked like a World War I

bazooka (fig. 50). Its launching tube weighed less than fou

pounds, while the rocket weighed 14.5 pounds and measured

43 inches in length and 2.75 inches in diameter. A boost rocke

would push the missile out about 25 feet, where the main

motor would ignite, safely away from the operator. The infrared

homer was designed to guide the device and its 1.2-pound

warhead into the target for an impact explosion. The company

estimated a maximum range of two nautical miles and a prob

ability of kill of 0.35 to 0.40.56

The Army responded with a requirement in July 1957 tha

called for a one-man system that could destroy aircraft flying

at low altitudes with speeds up to 600 knots at a maximum

range of 4,100 meters. The Army also wanted an antitank

capability and the system operational by fiscal year 1961. Two

other companies besides Convair bid on the contract, Sperry

(Lancer) and North American (Shoulder-Launched Antiaircraf

Missile), but the Army rejected both because of excessive weight

The Army had some doubts about Convair’s Redeye proposal

specifically its seeker and weight, and sought further research

But, the Marines, with one million dollars in research and de

velopment money to use or lose, pushed the Army to begin de

velopment. Thus, in April 1958, Convair received a one-yea

contract for a feasibility study and demonstration from the

Army and Marine Corps.57

98
The military characteristics were refined and approved by

the secretary of the Army in February 1959. Redeye was de

signed to destroy aircraft flying up to 600 kts, up to 9,000 feet

at horizontal ranges out to 4,500 yards, and maneuvering up

to six Gs. The one-man system was not to exceed 20 pounds

in weight but was to have a reliability of 90 percent and a single

shot-kill probability of 0.5. The Army set specific priorities in

case of competing characteristics for (1) weight, (2) simplicity

and (3) effectiveness.58 The program encountered technica

problems in meeting these requirements relative to inadequate

speed, inability to maneuver soon enough, and inadequate

discrimination. It appeared that the Redeye would only be ef

fective against targets up to 400 kts and would have difficulty

99

Figure 50. Redeye launch. The Redeye gave the individual American

soldier a weapon that could down aircraft. This first-generation missile

was limited by its inability to identify friend from foe and restricted en

gagement envelope. (Reprinted from Redstone Arsenal.)
with both less intense infrared targets presented by small heli

copters and liaison aircraft and larger aircraft at certain angles

Kill probability against high-performance aircraft would be less

than the 0.5 requirement, later reduced to 0.3. In addition

weight increased to 29 pounds due to the steel motor case and

a more complex launching system. Thus, Army doubts were

confirmed by various problems the project encountered. The

result was that estimated research costs tripled, and the

schedule stretched so that it took almost seven years to field

an interim system (in October 1967).59

The Army recognized these problems and in May 1961 agreed

to accept a less-capable weapon on an interim basis. Various

failures in what was intended as a demonstration of the sys

tem in July and August 1961 dampened hopes for the Redeye

and forced delays to remedy the deficiencies. Nevertheless, on

12 October 1961, the Army introduced the missile to the public

in a demonstration to 300 onlookers, including Pres. John F

Kennedy and Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara. Bu

the Redeye’s problems were not solved as shown later tha

month, when six of seven missiles missed target drones by

more than 200 feet. The contractor solved some of the aero

dynamic problems but a year later still had not solved the

seeker difficulties: insufficient guidance accuracy and nontarge

infrared (IR) radiation. Nevertheless, the Army stuck with the

project and even began funding an improved weapon, initially

named Redeye II, later known as Stinger.60

The contractor made good progress with Redeye’s majo

technical problems with the exception of background rejection

and weight (exceeding the 22-pound requirement by a third)

Nevertheless, in late 1963, the Army decided to push Redeye

into limited production because of the need for this weapon.6

Difficulties continued, in this case both reliability and pro

duction problems stalled the missile in limited production

until December 1968. In February 1967, the Army issued Red

eye to the troops. The system was making progress with the

problem of background rejection but still lacked a lightweigh

IFF system. Costs and continued problems created some con

gressional resistance to the program.62 But, by 1970, Redeye

met or exceeded all military requirements except weight. Pro

100
duction stopped in 1974 after the delivery of more than 33,000

systems. About 10 countries purchased the system, while smal

numbers were sent to such hot spots as Chad, Nicaragua, So

malia, and Sudan.63 The Redeye gave a man on the ground

unprecedented ability to defend himself against aircraft—the

power to down an aircraft with a single round. But, while the

missile blazed a trail for other man-portable, infrared-guided

missiles, Redeye’s development record was mixed. As one write

noted, the Redeye required “a protracted development pro

gramme, and has never proved entirely successful.”64 It should

be emphasized that these first-generation man-portable sys

tems were limited by their short range, lack of identification

friend or foe capability, vulnerability to simple countermeasures

low speed aircraft, and agility against only tail-chase engage

ments. Nevertheless, they did give attacking pilots consider

able reason for pause.65

The developers made several efforts to adapt the Redeye fo

more diverse roles. In the late 1960s, the Air Force investi

gated using the missile in an air-to-air mode (Redeye air

launched missile [RAM]). It also looked at helicopter-launched

Redeyes directed at both enemy helicopters and trucks. These

missiles were successfully flight-tested but dropped because

of launch restrictions, cost, and nonavailability. The Navy also

saw the possibility of using Redeyes to defend small craft and

in 1966 conducted Redeye firing from 85-foot boats. Furthe

tests through 1969 were successful, but no firm military re

quirement emerged.66

Meanwhile, the Army sought a more capable weapon to

handle the threat postulated for the 1970s. Specifically, it was

looking for a system transportable by a two-man team and

weighing no more than 30 pounds to defeat 660-knot aircraf

using infrared and ECM at ranges from 2,500 to 5,000 meters

The ground service also wanted the ability to identify the air

craft. In 1971, the Army selected the improved Redeye—Redeye

II or Stinger—for this role. It looked like a Redeye, but it was

a much more sophisticated and higher-performing missile

system. Compared to the Redeye, it featured an improved

seeker, warhead, and fuzing. However, it also was larger (10

inches longer) and heavier (three pounds).67 Following tests

101
that fired over 130 missiles, the Army authorized production

in 1978. Stinger reached the troops in February 1981. By

1985, Stinger was superseded by a version fitted with a more

advanced seeker, Passive Optical Seeker Technology. This sys

tem has the added advantage of IFF and a range of 10 kilome

ters. Production of a third improvement version, Reprogramma

ble MicroProcessor, began in 1987. It features a removable

software module that can be upgraded.68 The Stinger has su

perior performance to the Redeye in speed (Mach 2.2 versus

Mach 1.6), range (4,800 meters versus 3,000 meters), and al

titude (3,800 meters versus 3,000 meters) (fig. 51). It also has

several capabilities absent in the Redeye: IFF on the launch

tube and sensor countermeasures to aircraft ECM.69

Although designed as a man-portable system, the Army ac

quired Stingers on a variety of platforms. First production

missiles of an air-to-air version went to the Army in mid-1986

and can be fitted to a number of Army helicopters. Anothe

Stinger application is Avenger (fig. 52). The ubiquitous High

102

Figure 51. Stinger launch. The Stinger was the successor to the Red

eye missile. (Reprinted from Redstone Arsenal.)
Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV or Hummer

mounts a turret armed with eight Stingers. The Army awarded

Boeing a contract to manufacture the system in August 1987

It received its first production system in November 1988 and

by January 1997 had received over 900 units. Current plans

call for the Army to get just over 1,000 Avengers and the Marines

almost 240. It is the first Army antiaircraft system that has the

capability to shoot on the move. Another self-propelled version

of Stinger is the M6 Bradley Linebacker (fig. 53). It consists o

a four-round Stinger pod mounted on a Bradley fighting ve

hicle. The Army awarded the initial contract in 1995, which

now consists of converting 260 Bradleys to this configuration

Besides being fielded by the United States, Stinger serves 17

other countries.70

103

Figure 52. Avenger. The Avenger consisted of a turret with Stinge

missiles mounted on the ubiquitous Hummer. (Reprinted from Red

stone Arsenal.)
Several other countries have fielded similar man-portable

SAMs. These include the French Matra, Swedish Bofors RBS

70, the British Blowpipe and Javelin, but most importantly

the Russian SA-7 (the Russian Strela, NATO code-named

Grail). Prompted by the development of the Redeye, the SA-7

project began in 1959 but entered service in 1966 before the

appearance of the US system (fig. 54). The SA-7 was limited in

a number of ways: strictly a tail-chase system for use agains

aircraft flying less than 574 mph and preferably below 287

mph. It was also very sensitive to IR sources other than the

target; that is, it could not be aimed within 20 degrees of the

sun, or at elevations of less than 20 to 30 degrees, as it could

home on these heat sources. Its small (1.15 kilograms) war

head had limited lethality. An improved version (Strela-2M

appeared in 1971. This version provided a wider engagemen

envelope, with greater range and speed, as well as devices to

104

Figure 53. Bradley Linebacker. The Bradley Linebacker mounted fou

Stinger missiles atop a Bradley fighting vehicle. (Reprinted from internet

army-technology.com.projects/linebacker1.htm.)
detect aircraft radars. The SA-7 has performance similar to

the Redeye but has been in service with far more countries

perhaps as many as 56 in all. About 35,000 were built.71

Just as the Stinger replaced the Redeye, the SA-14 (NATO

code-named Gremlin) replaced the SA-7. It has an improved

motor, warhead, and seeker, giving it not only head-on firing

capability but also better performance than the SA-7. The SA-14

entered operational service in 1974.72

105

Figure 54. SA-7 Grail. The Soviets quickly developed and fielded man

portable SAMs. The North Vietnamese first used the SA-7 in 1972, and i

proved especially effective against slow-moving and low-flying aircraft

(Reprinted from USAF.)
The two-decade period following World War II saw grea

progress in aircraft. The world’s major air forces transitioned

from prop to jet propulsion, which increased speeds from 400

mph to 1,400 mph and ceilings from just over 30,000 feet to

more than 50,000 feet. This performance advance gave the of

fense an increasing advantage over the defense. While the je

transition took place rapidly, jet-powered fighters engaged in

combat during the Korean War (1950–53); the corresponding

improvement in defensive equipment, the surface-to-air mis

sile, took longer. During this period, air defenders phased ou

heavy AAA, retained light guns, and gradually equipped thei

forces with SAMs. Some SAMs were fielded in the 1950s, bu

the first combat use did not take place until U-2s were sho

down over the Soviet Union in 1960 and Cuba in 1962. Now

the defender had a potential counter to the jets, at least high

flying jets. The first wide-scale combat test came in Southeas

Asia in the mid-1960s.

Notes

1. This Stinger should not be confused with the surface-to-air missil

bearing that same name that is discussed below. See Mary Cagle, “History

of the Mauler Weapon System,” December 1968, 4, R.

2. The 20 mm gun would fire a two-ounce projectile at 2,870 feet per sec

ond (fps) out to a vertical range of 5,100 yards and a horizontal range o

5,200 yards. Vigilante was designed to defend against jet aircraft up t

10,000 feet and out to slant ranges of 14,000 feet. The Skysweeper could fir

at a rate of 45 to 55 shots per minute (spm) with a muzzle velocity of 2,825

fps and could reach a vertical altitude of 18,600 feet. See Cagle, “Mauler,” 5

9–10, 19, 55; Robert Frank Futrell, “United States Air Force Operations in

the Korean Conflict: 1 July 1952–27 July 1953,” USAF Historical Study 127

(Maxwell AFB, Ala.: USAF Historical Division, Air University, 1956), 87; and

US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense: A Historical Analysis,” Jun

1965, 3:30–33, AUL.

3. The Army version has two rates of fire, 1,000 and 3,000 spm, either o

which quickly exhausts the 2,300 rounds of ammunition carried aboard th

vehicle. See Tony Cullen and Christopher Foss, eds., Jane’s Battlefield Ai

Defence, 1988–89 (London: Jane’s, 1988), 64–65; “M163 20 mm Vulcan,

blokadvies.www.cistron.nl/m163.htm; Federation of Atomic Scientists, “GAU-4

20 mm Vulcan M61A1/M61A2 20 mm Automatic Gun”; Federation of Atomi

Scientists, “M167 VADS Vulcan Air Defense System”; and US Army TACOM-RI

“The Gatling Gun,” 6 www-acaka1rai.army.mil/LC/cs/csa/aagatlin.htm. 

106
4. The system had an estimated unit cost of $6.6 million, about 2.4 time

the cost of the tanks it was to protect. Its 4 kilometer (km) range was out

distanced by Soviet helicopter missiles at 6 km. See O. B. Koropey, “I

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time”: The Story of the Sergeant York Air De

fense Gun (Alexandria, Va.: US Army Materiel Command, 1993), 44, 46, 66

104–5, 131, 183, 185; and George Mauser, “Off the Shelf and into the Trash

Bin: Sgt York, NDI Integration and Acquisition Reform” (thesis, US Army

War College, 1996), AUL.

5. Cagle, “Mauler,”13–14, 19; US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,

3:33–34; James Eglin, Air Defense in the Nuclear Age (N.Y.: Garland, 1988)

190; Max Rosenberg, “The Air Force and the National Guided Missile Pro

gram: 1944–1954,” study, 1964, 36, 42, HRA; and Joseph Russo, “ADA in

Retrospect,” Air Defense Trends (July–September 1975): 12.

6. The 85 mm Model 1939 was capable of firing 15 to 20 20-pound shell

per minute at 2,625 fps to an effective ceiling of 25,000 feet, while the 85

mm Model 1944 had an additional muzzle velocity of 325 fps and an in

creased altitude capability of 4,000 feet. The 37 mm could fire a 1.6-pound

projectile at a rate of 160 spm up to an effective ceiling of 4,500 feet. Se

Futrell, Historical Study 127, 41, 43; “Far East Air Forces Intelligenc

Roundup,” 12–18 January 1952, 2:11–12; “Far East Air Forces Intelligenc

Roundup,” 29 December 1951–4 January 1952, 3:8; “Far East Air Forces In

telligence Roundup,” 28 February–6 March 1953, no. 31, II-1, II-2, II-10

HRA; and Andrew T. Soltys, “Enemy Antiaircraft Defenses in North Korea,

Air University Quarterly Review 7, no. 1 (Spring 1954): 77–80.

7. Circular error probable is the radius of a circle within which one-half o

a missile’s projectiles are expected to fall. See Futrell, Historical Study, 165.

8. Robert Jackson, Air War over Korea (N.Y.: Scribner’s, 1973), 99.

9. Commander in chief, US Pacific Fleet, Korean War: (25 June 1950–2

July 1953) US Pacific Fleet Operations, chap. 3, NHC; “Carrier Operation

Evaluation Report No. 6, interim, 1 February 1953–27 July 1953,” 44, 68

reproduced in William Hodge et al., “Theater Air Warfare Study” (thesis, Ai

War College, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 1977), 39, AUL; “Far East Air Forces Repor

on the Korean War,” study, bk. 1:63, 82, 97, HRA; Futrell, Historical Study

127, 80; and US Navy Office of Information, “Korean Combat Statistics fo

Three-Year Period,” NHC. A Chinese source states that more than 90 percen

of US aircraft were downed by AAA during the war. See Jon Halliday, “Ai

Operations in Korea: The Soviet Side of the Story,” 156–57, in William Williams

ed., A Revolutionary War: Korea and the Transformation of the Postwar World

(Chicago: Imprint, 1993).

10. The US Air Force knew the F-51 was vulnerable to ground fire be

cause of its liquid-cooled engine and the air scoop beneath the fuselage. On

World War II study of fighters in the European theater indicated that the P-5

(as it was then designated) was three times as vulnerable to flak as was th

P-47. The author was told the decision to employ the F-51, not the mor

rugged P-47, in Korea was based primarily on the availability of parts. Se

107
A. H. Peterson et al., 

Aircraft Vulnerability in World War II, RAND Repor

RM-402, rev. July 1950 (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 1950), fig. 13, AUL.

11. Pacific Fleet Evaluation Group, research memorandum, “The Relativ

Risk to Anti-Aircraft Fire for Jet and Propeller Driven Ground Attack Aircraft in

Korea,” March 1952, NHC; Robert Futrell, “United States Air Force Opera

tions in the Korean Conflict: 25 June–1 November 1950,” USAF Historica

Study 71 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: USAF Historical Division, Air University

1952), 57, HRA.

12. “FEAF Report on Korean War,” 128; and Fifth Air Force Intelligenc

Summary, 15 September 1952, 26, HRA.

13. Futrell, Historical Study 127, 152; Fifth Air Force, Operations Analysi

Office, operations analysis memorandum, “A Survey of Fighter Bomber Tactic

and Flak Losses,” January 1952, 7, HRA; Pat Meid and James Yingling, US

Marine Corps Operations in Korea 1950–1953, vol. 5, Operations in West Kore

(Washington, D.C.: Historical Division, US Marine Corps, 1972), 64, 69.

14. Futrell, Historical Study 127, 152; and Meid and Yingling, US Marin

Corps Operations, 5:70.

15. Futrell, Historical Study 127, 152–53.

16. Meid and Yingling, US Marine Corps Operations, 5:70, 492n.

17. Ibid., 70–72.

18. Futrell, Historical Study 127, 219–22; History, Far East Air Forces

July–December 1952, vol. 1:58, HRA; and “FEAF Report on Korean War,” 39

19. Another reason for the nonuse of ECM was that insufficient jammin

power could be generated by the relatively small number of B-29s involved

and the shortages of both trained operators and equipment. See Danie

Kuehl, “The Radar Eye Blinded: The USAF and Electronic Warfare

1945–1955” (PhD diss., Duke University, 1992), 131, 134, 151–52, 157–58

20. Another problem was that the targets were located very close to th

Yalu River and thus were covered by Chinese guns that could not be sup

pressed. See Kuehl, “The Radar Eye Blinded,” 150–51; and A. Timothy

Warnock, ed., The USAF in Korea: A Chronology, 1950–53 (Maxwell AFB

Ala.: Air Force History and Museums Program, 2000), 75.

21. Futrell, Historical Study 71, 116; “FEAF Report on Korean War,” 39–41

128–33; memorandum from Thomas Power to Gen James Knapp, subject

Commanders’ Conference, Patrick Air Force Base, Fla., 30 September–1 Octo

ber 1957, 4 October 1957, 2; and “Strategic Air Command Participation

in the Missile Program from March 1957 through December 1957,” USAF

Historical Study 70, vol. 2, HRA.

22. The missile had two sets of fins: the forward four spanning 23 inche

and the rearward four measuring 52 inches. Overall, the missile measured

19.5 feet in length and had a maximum diameter of 12 inches that tapered

to 8 inches at the base. See Bell Laboratories and Douglas Aircraft, “Projec

Nike: History of Development,” April 1954, 1, 2, 7, 13, 16, R; and Mary

Cagle, “Development, Production, and Deployment of the Nike Ajax Guided

Missile System, 1945–1959,” June 1959, 3–5, 30, R.

23. Bell Labs, 17, 20, 29–30, 76; and Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 37–39, 54.

108
24. The warhead was the most changed component. It was increased

from the original 200 pounds to 312 pounds and changed in concept from

using large, slow-moving fragments to smaller, faster-moving ones. Initially

each of the two main charges (150 pounds each) was designed to fragmen

into 30,000 pieces each weighing 30 grains (.087 ounces). Later, this wa

changed to 60-grain fragments in a 179-pound center and 122-pound af

warhead. The warhead was designed to “deliver a high order of tactical dam

age within a 20-yard radius.” See Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 87, 89, 154.

25. Bell Labs, 43, 91, 108, 111, 129; and Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 81, 103–17

26. Bell Labs, “Project Nike,” 78; and Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 160, 177–78.

27. Another source gives 15,000 as the total produced. See Tony Cullen

and Christopher Foss, eds., Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence: Ninth Edition

1996–97 (London: Jane’s, 1996), 290; and Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 122, 179–81

28. Cagle, “Nike Ajax,” 167, 182–99.

29. Mary Cagle, “History of the Nike Hercules Weapon System,” Apri

1973, v, 8–9, 15, 35, 39–40, R.

30. Cagle, “Nike Hercules,” 42–43, 53.

31. Ibid., 57–59, 97.

32. Ibid., 97–99, 102–6; Christopher Chant, Air Defence Systems and

Weapons: World AAA and SAM Systems in the 1990s (London: Brassey’s

1989), 93.

33. Cagle, “Nike Hercules,” 161–64, 171–72, 187, 192n; and Cullen and

Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1996–97, 290.

34. US Army Air Defense School, “Air Defense,” vol. 3:48–50; and

Rosenberg, The Air Force, 71, 75, 76, 79, 83, 117–18, 150.

35. See Clayton Chun, “Winged Interceptor: Politics and Strategy in th

Development of the Bomarc Missile,” Air Power History (Winter 1998): 48.

36. Eglin, Nuclear Age, 103, 114, 135–37.

37. Another source states that the Air Force built 570 Bomarcs. See Chun

“Winged Interceptor,” 50–51, 57; Mark Morgan and Mark Berhow, Rings o

Supersonic Steel: Air Defenses of the United States Army 1950–1979 and Intro

ductory History and Site Guide (San Pedro, Calif.: Fort MacArthur Museum

Association, 1996), 22, 24; Kenneth Schaffel, The Emerging Shield: The Ai

Force and the Evolution of Continental Air Defense, 1945–1960 (Washington

D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1991), 236–38; and Eglin, Nuclear Age, 179.

38. Chun, “Winged Interceptor,” 46, 52–53, 55–57.

39. British SAMs are addressed in chap. 4 in a discussion of the Falk

lands War.

40. The SA-2 measured 35 feet in length and weighed 4,875 pounds with

its booster. It could carry a 288-pound warhead at Mach 3.5 out to a slan

range of 24–25 miles and was effective between 3,000 and 60,000 feet. Ap

parently, the Soviets fired 14 SA-2s at Francis Gary Powers in 1960: 12

missed, one destroyed a MiG-19, and one got the U-2. See R. A. Mason, ed

War in the Third Dimension: Essays in Contemporary Air Power (London

Brassey’s, 1986), 105; John Taylor, ed., Jane’s All the World’s Aircraf

1967–68 (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1967), 521–22; C. M. Plattner

109
SAMs Spur Changes in Combat Tactics, New Equipment, Aviation Week

24 January 1966, 26, 30; US Army, “Air Defense Artillery Reference Hand

book,” study, 1977, 18–19, AUL; Lon Nordeen, Air Warfare in the Missile Ag

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1985), 15; and Laurence R

Jensen, “Use of Intelligence Information to Determine Countermeasures Re

quirements for the SA-2” (thesis, Air Command and Staff School, Maxwel

AFB, Ala., 1966), 9–10, AUL.

41. Marshall Michel, Clashes: Air Combat over North Vietnam, 1965–197

(Annapolis: Naval Institute, 1997), 33; Jensen, “Use of Intelligence Informa

tion,” 28–42; Richard Rash, “Electronic Combat, Making the Other Guy Di

for His Country!” (thesis, Air War College, Maxwell AFB, Ala., March 1983)

7, 92, AUL; William Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars (Washington, D.C.

Department of the Air Force, 1978), 138; and Wayne Thompson, To Hano

and Back: The US Air Force and North Vietnam, 1966–1973 (Washington

D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 2000), 48.

42. Mary Cagle, “History of the Redeye Weapon System,” May 1974, 1–3, R

43. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1996–97, 292.

44. Chant, Air Defence Systems, 100; Tony Cullen and Christopher Foss

eds., Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89 (Coulsdon, Surrey, U.K.: Jane’s

1988), 201–2, 205; and Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence

1996–97, 298.

45. Morgan and Berhow, Rings of Supersonic Steel, 24.

46. Cagle, “Redeye,” 4.

47. In December 1958, the Army increased the Mauler requirement t

defeat targets of a one meter square radar cross section to the much mor

difficult requirement of .1 meter square, which would allow engagement o

ballistic missiles. This increased cost and complexity by about 75 percent

See Cagle, “Mauler,” 80, 105, 107, 168.

48. Ibid., 35, 227, 232, 243–44, 251, 255.

49. Ibid., 245, 251; and Chant, Air Defence Systems, 125.

50. The Navy began the Sidewinder project in the late 1940s and test-flew

the first missile in 1953. It was in service by 1956. See Duncan Lennox, ed

Jane’s Air-Launched Weapons (London: Jane’s, 2000), 82.

51. Mary Cagle, “History of the Chaparral/FAAR Air Defense System,

May 1977, 3–5, 10, 18.

52. Cagle, “Chaparral,” 20, 36–37, 44, 66.

53. Ibid., 91–92, 109, 111, 114, 116, 129, 193–94; and Chant, Air De

fence Systems, 126.

54. Chant, Air Defence Systems, 127; and Tony Cullen and Christophe

Foss, eds., Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1999–2000 (Coulsdon, Surrey

U.K.: Jane’s, 1999), 168, 170.

55. Cagle, “Redeye,” 5–8.

56. Ibid., 8, 13. Probability of kill is the estimate of the chances of on

missile downing a target, in this case, a 35 to 40 percent chance.

57. The contract was for $1.58 million. See Cagle, “Redeye,” 14–18.

58. Ibid., 44–45.

110
59. Ibid., 18, 28.

60. Ibid., 85, 96–98, 102–5, 112–13, 198.

61. Ibid., 117–19, 133.

62. Ibid., 121, 127–28, 139.

63. These requirements included target speed, altitude, slant range, ma

neuver, reliability, and warm-up time. Single-shot probability against jet

was set at 0.3 but was estimated at 0.4 against a MiG-21 and calculated a

0.51 against an F9F drone flying at 300 feet and 430 kts. See Cagle, “Redeye,

147, 155; and Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89

23–24.

64. Chant, Air Defence Systems, 105.

65. Ibid.

66. Cagle, “Redeye,” 157, 159–61.

67. Ibid., 198, 203–4; and Chant, Air Defence Systems, 129.

68. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89, 20, 22; and

Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1999–2000, 36.

69. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89, 25; and

Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1999–2000, 39.

70. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89, 22, 23; and

Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1999–2000, 162–63.

71. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89, 4–19; and

Steven Zaloga, Soviet Air Defence Missiles: Design, Development and Tactic

(London: Jane’s, 1989), 177, 184, 237.

72. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence, 1988–89, 10–11; and

Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defence, 1999–2000, 22–23.

111
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Chapter 3

Airmen versus Guerrillas: Vietnam

The Vietnam conflict was another war that pitted Western

armies and high-technology arms against numerous tena

cious foes in primitive terrain. The technology brought with i

many advantages, the most significant of which were firepowe

and mobility. Air power was the most important and visible

manifestation of this technology. In response, the guerrillas

relied on dispersion, camouflage, mobility, and night opera

tions to neutralize the impact of air power, airfield attack, and

ground-based weapons to directly defend themselves.

French Operations

Compared to the later American involvement in Indochina

the French conducted smaller military operations with less

modern equipment. One compensating factor was that initially

the Communists offered little direct defense against air attack

not fielding their first antiaircraft opposition until January

1950.1 During the decisive 1954 battle of Dien Bien Phu, the

French had only 107 World War II–vintage combat aircraf

(fighters, fighter bombers, and bombers). Here, the French at

tempted to duplicate their 1953 success at Na San, where they

used some of their best troops to lure the guerrillas into the

open to be cut down by air and artillery fire.

The Vietminh, however, learned the lessons from their pre

vious defeats and increased their antiaircraft protection. The

Communist AAA forced French aircraft, which had initially

flown at 600 to 1,800 feet, to fly at 2,700 to 3,000 feet, which

decreased French effectiveness. The guns also took a toll on

French aircraft. During attacks on the Vietminh supply lines

for two weeks after 24 November 1953, Communist AAA hit 45

of 51 French aircraft and downed two. Not surprisingly, flak and

air power played a vital role in the actual siege. The Commu

nists opened the battle by attacking French airfields through

out Indochina with artillery and infiltrators and damaged a

113
number of the scarce French aircraft. A Vietminh artillery

bombardment on 10 March 1954 initiated the direct attack on

Dien Bien Phu and within four days closed the garrison’s

airstrips. Meanwhile, the Communists assaulted the French

positions as they fended off French air attacks.

The air portion of the battle saw French aircraft duel Com

munist flak. Communist antiaircraft guns, 16 Vietminh and 64

Chinese, forced French aircraft higher and higher and disrupted

the accuracy of both weapons and supply delivery. Thus, the

Vietminh countered French aerial firepower and forced more

than 50 percent of French air-dropped supplies to miss thei

mark and fall to the Communists. Radar-directed guns hit air

craft flying as high as 10,000 feet. During the battle, the Viet

minh downed 48 French aircraft and damaged another 167

More importantly, they cut off the fortress from the outside and

neutralized one of its most potent weapons. Thus, AAA played

a critical role in the decisive battle of the first Indochina War.

America Enters the War

American involvement in Indochina began in the 1950s

with the dispatch of advisers and equipment. Again, the in

surgents, this time called Vietcong (VC), lacked air power. The

South Vietnamese used American helicopters, which gave

them a tactical advantage over the guerrillas; however, the

Communists employed discipline and .50-caliber machine guns

to counter the choppers, as they demonstrated during the De

cember 1962 battle at Ap Bac. Despite the advantages of su

perior numbers and helicopters in this encounter, the South

Vietnamese suffered heavy losses, including five helicopters

destroyed and 14 others hit. The VC continued to exact a

steady toll on the aircraft attacking them. On 24 Novembe

1963 in An Xuyen province, for example, Communist ground

fire hit 25 aircraft and downed five.3

The American presence and air activity steadily increased

and with this increase came losses. The United States suffered

its first combat aircraft loss on 2 February 1962, when a C-123

flying a low-level training mission failed to return. The United

States lost 11 aircraft to hostile causes in 1962 and 23 aircraf

114
the next year. The first US Navy loss, one of 60 American air

craft lost in combat in Indochina in 1964, occurred in Laos in

June 1964.

The air war expanded in May 1964 as the United States

began a continuing program of Air Force and Navy reconnais

sance flights over Laos. Nevertheless, the Gulf of Tonkin inci

dent of August 1964 marked the “official” start of the American

air war in Vietnam, as it led to the first air strike against North

Vietnam. Two of the 80 attacking Navy planes involved in the

reprisal attack went down. Considering the meagerness of the

North Vietnamese defenses in terms of quantity and quality a

this point, these losses should have been a warning signal to

the decision makers of what was to come. The air war escalated

further with armed reconnaissance and fixed-target strikes in

Laos in December 1964. In February 1965, American reprisa

strikes on North Vietnam resumed on a tit-for-tat basis.

The full-scale bombing offensive against North Vietnam, code

named Rolling Thunder, began in March 1965.4 On the firs

mission, 2 March 1965, North Vietnamese gunners downed

four of the 130 attacking US and South Vietnamese aircraft

The North Vietnamese lacked the most modern equipment—they

had no surface-to-air missiles and few jets—but they did have

numerous conventional AAA weapons. So, while they could no

stop the air attacks, they could make them costly (fig. 55).

From the start, America used air power against the north as a

political tool: first, during the reprisal raids and second, during

the Rolling Thunder campaign. The objectives of the latter were

to stiffen the morale of the South Vietnamese, interdict Com

munist supplies, inflict punishment and cost on the North Viet

namese, and demonstrate American will.5 But many, then and

now, adamantly proclaim the operation was restricted, some say

decisively, by the civilian decision makers. Sortie levels were con

trolled, areas of North Vietnam were put off-limits to air attack

bombing halts were frequent, and targets were carefully selected

from Washington. For example, MiG airfields were off-limits unti

1967, as were missile sites until they downed an American air

craft. In addition, the campaign was graduated, robbing the Air

men of the elements of shock and surprise and permitting the

North Vietnamese to build and adjust their defenses.6

115
The Airmen were also hindered by other factors, the mos

significant was their unpreparedness to fight a sustained, con

ventional air campaign.7 First, American aircraft were unsuited

for these operations. Paradoxically, “strategic” bombers such

as the B-52 were used against “tactical” targets in the south

while tactical fighters such as the F-105 were used agains

strategic targets in the north.8 The limited numbers of all

weather aircraft presented a considerable burden in the ai

war against North Vietnam, especially in the winter monsoon

season (December through mid-May). The only American all

weather aircraft were the Marine and Navy A-6s and Air Force

B-52s and F-111s, the first two types entered action in 1965

the latter in 1968. Second, America fought a conventional ai

116

Figure 55. Captured North Vietnamese antiaircraft gun. The Commu

nists had a plentiful supply of AAA and ammunition. (Reprinted from

USAF.)
war with tactics and aircraft designed for nuclear warfare. The

best example of this mismatch was the F-105. A fighter with

an internal bomb bay—a contradiction in terms—it was the US

Air Force’s workhorse, flying many of the missions over the

north and suffering the most damage.9

The United States, for its entire technological prowess, was

ill equipped in other areas as well. At the beginning of the ai

war, the United States was still using unguided (dumb) muni

tions, just as Airmen had used in World War I! Thus, aircrews

had to overfly their targets, which proved dangerous and often

fatal.10 Second, the United States had inadequate electronic

ECM. Although Strategic Air Command (SAC) B-52s were rea

sonably equipped, TAC fighters were not. The irony therefore is

that, until late in the war, the better-equipped B-52s operated

unopposed over South Vietnam, while throughout the war

fighters flew against the growing and increasingly lethal de

fenses in North Vietnam.

Another factor, perhaps the most important, was that the

Americans underestimated the power of the defense and the

abilities of the North Vietnamese. The Airmen focused on the

weapons on which Airmen always focus, where the glamou

and glory are, fighters and air-to-air combat. It is true that the

North Vietnamese built up their air force. But, this air force

proved as elusive as the Vietcong, using guerrilla tactics of hit

and-run and fighting only when circumstances were favorable

With the major exception of Operation Bolo in January 1967

when US fighter pilots ambushed the North Vietnamese fighters

and destroyed seven MiGs without a loss, American Airmen

did not engage in major air battles and thus were unable to

rack up scores as they had in World War II and Korea.11 While

glamorous as always, a matter of pride, and a symbol of success

air-to-air combat was neither frequent nor important in the

Vietnam air war. The principal Communist weapon against US

aircraft was AAA. American Airmen not only underestimated

North Vietnamese defenses, they especially underestimated

the impact of flak. Both were serious mistakes.

The North Vietnamese fielded a formidable ground-based ai

defense system. In early 1965, the North Vietnamese manned

about 1,200 antiaircraft guns, which they increased to almos

117
2,000 guns within six months. In 1967, Pacific Air Forces es

timated that there were 9,000 antiaircraft weapons in North

Vietnam, while a Headquarters Air Force estimate put the num

ber at 3,100 medium (37 mm or 57 mm) and 1,300 heavy (85

mm or 100 mm) guns. With better intelligence, the estimate

was lowered to 2,000 guns by the end of 1969 and to less than

1,000 guns (37 mm and larger) in 1972. Whatever their num

bers, their impact was significant.12

The farther north the Airmen operated, the more intense were

the defenses. Although only 20 percent of US sorties over Indo

china in 1965 were against North Vietnam, 62 percent of its

combat losses were there. The following year, 1966, proved only

a little better, with about 30 percent of the total Indochina sor

ties and fewer than 60 percent of losses occurring over the north

The area north of 20 degrees latitude, especially around the

Hanoi-Haiphong area, proved most dangerous. In the period

September 1966 through July 1967, the United States flew fewe

than 30 percent of its North Vietnam attack sorties north of 20

degrees yet lost 63.5 percent of its aircraft in that area.13

In all, the United States lost just over 2,400 fixed-wing air

craft in flight to enemy defenses during the Vietnam Wa

(through 15 August 1973). Of the known causes of loss, gun

fire caused 89 percent; SAMs, 8 percent; and MiGs, 3 percent

In addition, the United States lost approximately 2,400 heli

copters in flight to enemy action, all but nine (two to MiGs and

seven to SAMs) to AAA (fig. 56). The Communists downed abou

1,100 American planes over North Vietnam, 72 percent to

gunfire, 19 percent to SAMs, and 8 percent to MiGs.14

The American Airmen initially used nuclear delivery tactics

that they had practiced in the late 1950s and early 1960s

high-speed, low-altitude approaches and a rapid climb (pop

up) to bombing altitude just before reaching the target. One

adjustment with conventional ordnance was to make multiple

passes over the target, but intense ground fire and the result

ing losses forced a change. Therefore, the Airmen raised ap

proach altitudes to 15,000 to 20,000 feet, from which the air

craft dive-bombed their targets and limited attacks to a single

pass. This reduced losses, but, as a consequence, it also reduced

118
accuracy, one author asserts, from under 300 feet to over 500

feet.15

SAMs Join the Fight

The air war changed dramatically on 24 July 1965 when a

Soviet SA-2 missile downed an Air Force F-4 and damaged

three others. Proving this shootdown was no fluke, an SA-2 de

stroyed an American drone two days later. US reconnaissance

spotted construction of the first SAM site in early April and

watched it and three other sites progress throughout the spring

But, the civilian decision makers would not permit the Airmen to

attack the missile sites, another of the many political restrictions

on the air war. Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara argued

that if the Airmen attacked the SAM sites, they must also attack

the MiG bases, which would be a major escalation of the air war

119

Figure 56. North Vietnamese gunners. North Vietnamese gunners

scramble to their guns. Communist guns downed three-quarters of US

aircraft lost in the war. (Reprinted from USAF.)
The leaders also feared that such attacks might cause Sovie

casualties. Besides, one of McNamara’s chief assistants, John

McNaughton, believed that the SAMs only represented a bluf

and would not be used.16

The potential SAM threat grew as the North Vietnamese in

corporated more missiles into their inventory (fig. 57). North

Vietnamese SAM battalions increased from one in 1965 to 25

the next year, to 30 in 1967, and to 35–40 in 1968. This growth

in units permitted the North Vietnamese to increase their missile

120

Figure 57. SA-2 position with missiles. The introduction of the SAM

changed the dynamic of the air war. Although responsible for only 9

percent of total aircraft losses, the SA-2 forced American aircraft lowe

and into the sights of Communist gunners. (Reprinted from USAF.)
firings from 30 per month in the first 11 months of air opera

tions over the north to 270 per month between July 1966 and

October 1967. SAM firings peaked in the latter month when

the North Vietnamese launched 590 to 740 SAMs, the most fired

until the Linebacker II operations of 1972. From October 1967

to the bombing halt on 1 April 1968, SAM firings averaged 220

each month. During this period, the American Airmen observed

5,366–6,037 SAMs, which downed 115–28 aircraft.17

Despite the increase in SAM firings, their effectiveness dimin

ished. In 1965, it took almost 18 SAMs to down each American

aircraft, a figure that rose to 35 in 1966, to 57 in 1967, and to

107 in 1968. A number of factors contributed to this decline.18

The Airmen quickly learned that the SA-2 could be outma

neuvered. The Soviets designed the SA-2 to destroy high-flying

nonmaneuvering, strategic bombers; but until 1972, it engaged

primarily low-flying, maneuvering, tactical fighters. On clea

days, alert Airmen could spot SA-2 launches, as the missile

was large, appeared to most flyers as a flying telephone pole

and left a visible smoke trail (fig. 58). The pilots would rapidly

dive toward the missile, and when it changed direction to fol

low the aircraft, the pilot would pull up as abruptly and as

sharply as possible. The SA-2 could not follow such maneu

vers. However, such action required sufficient warning, prope

timing, and, of course, nerve and skill. To give pilots adequate

time to maneuver, procedures prohibited the pilots from flying

too close to clouds between them and the ground. Later, the

Airmen received electronic devices that gave a visual and aura

warning when SAM radar was tracking them.19

In addition, the American Airmen directly took on the mis

siles. On 27 July, 46 US Air Force fighter-bombers attacked

two missile sites and met disaster. The Central Intelligence

Agency reported that they hit the wrong targets. Worse, North

Vietnamese gunners downed three aircraft while a midair col

lision accounted for two others. Naval aviators had a simila

experience, as they were unable to find one SAM site and los

six aircraft. Nevertheless, the anti-SAM attacks continued. In

the first nine months of 1966, the Airmen launched 75 strikes

against 60 sites and claimed to have destroyed 25 and damaged

25. Such attacks proved unprofitable because of the tough de

121
fenses and the mobility of the SAMs, which could be relocated

within hours.20

One effort to counter North Vietnamese SAMs was standof

ECM—aircraft crammed with electronics gear that orbited a dis

tance from the defenses and interfered with Communist rada

and SAM signals. The Marines employed EF-l0Bs in this role

between April 1965 and 1969. The Douglas Skyknight was an

cient, having first flown in 1948, and it saw action in the Korean

War as a night fighter. It was joined in the ECM role in late

1965 by another Douglas product, the Skywarrior, which firs

flew in 1952. The Navy employed the twin-engine jet bombe

as an electronics warfare aircraft designated as the EKA-3B. 

The Air Force adopted the Navy aircraft and used it in the

ECM role as the RB-66, later EB-66 (1966). It carried a crew

of seven, including four ECM operators in a crew compartmen

fitted in the bomb bay (fig. 59). The US Air Force fielded three

versions in Vietnam, each model with different equipment and

122

Figure 58. SA-2 launch. American Airmen could avoid the Soviet SA-2

if they were alert and spotted them in time. (Reprinted from USAF.)
capabilities. The EB-66 served well throughout the war, but its

operations were limited by its small numbers, old airframe

inadequate engines, fuel leaks, and restricted operator train

ing. The Communists countered the jamming by moving thei

SAMs forward, forcing the EB-66 in turn to move away from

North Vietnam to orbits over both Laos and the Gulf of Tonkin

farther from their radars and thus making them less effective

They also directly attacked the jammers with both MiGs and

missiles, downing six EB-66s over the course of the war.21 In late

1966, the Marines introduced the EA-6A into the jamming role

A third American measure against the SAMs was code

named Wild Weasel. The Air Force installed radar homing and

warning—electronics equipment that could detect SAM rada

and indicate its location—into F-100Fs, the two-seat traine

version of its fighter-bomber. Wild Weasel I went into action in

November 1965, flying with and guiding conventionally armed

123

Figure 59. EB-66. One counter to North Vietnamese radar was standof

electronic jamming. The EB-66 was the chief USAF platform for such

activity. (Reprinted from USAF.)
F-105s against SAM positions. These operations, known as Iron

Hand (SAM suppression), preceded the main force by about five

minutes, attacked and harassed the SAMs, and thus permitted

operations at 4,000–6,000 feet above the light flak into which

the SAMs had forced the American aircraft.22

The Airmen also used a new version, antiradiation missiles

(ARM), in the battle against enemy radars. In April and May o

1966, American Airmen first used the Navy’s AGM-45A Shrike

missiles that homed in on the SAM’s radar signal (fig. 60). I

was a great concept; however, the Shrike had limited range

and maneuverability and could become confused. These lia

bilities reduced the ARM’s effectiveness, as did Communis

countermeasures. North Vietnamese crews soon learned tha

by limiting emissions and coordinating several radars, they

could still operate the SAMs and yet limit their vulnerability to

the Wild Weasels. Just as the North Vietnamese used decoys

to neutralize and ambush American air strikes, SAM operators

sometimes turned on their radar to provoke an ARM launch

and then turned it off before missile impact. The Shrike’s kil

rate declined from 28 percent of those launched by Air Force

124

Figure 60. Navy A-4 firing Shrike. An active counter to Communis

radar was the Navy’s Shrike antiradiation missile that homed in on

radar signals. It was also used by the US Air Force. (Reprinted from

USAF.)
and Navy crews in 1966 to 18 percent in the first quarter o

1967. In the fall of 1967, SA-2 crews began using optical aim

ing, which rendered American ECM efforts useless; however

optical aiming required favorable visual conditions, which also

reduced SAM effectiveness. In March 1968, the Americans in

troduced the more capable AGM-78 Standard ARM. Although

it was constrained by reliability and size problems, the AGM-78

gave American Airmen another and better weapon against the

SAM. Compared to the earlier Shrike radar homing missile, i

had a heavier warhead, greater range, and a memory feature

that allowed it to home in on the last signal it received from its

radar target, even if that radar was turned off.23

In the summer of 1966, Wild Weasel III appeared; it was a

modification of the two-seat F-105 trainer, redesignated F-105G

Iron Hand operations were now easier, as compatible aircraf

were flying together. In late 1966, US Airmen began using

cluster bomb units (CBU) antipersonnel munitions agains

North Vietnamese positions. However, in the period following

the 1968 bombing halt, 1969 until summer 1972, free-fal

munitions were removed from Iron Hand aircraft, degrading

their effectiveness.24

Before leaving this discussion of Iron Hand, one point re

quires amplification. Wild Weasel crews were the first over enemy

territory and the last to leave (fig. 61). They actively sought ou

danger and found it. Losses were substantial. Noting that two

Air Force and one Navy pilot who flew these missions earned

the Medal of Honor best sums this up.25

The United States developed external pods mounted unde

the aircraft to jam Communist electronics. In July 1965, the

US Air Force tested the devices on the reconnaissance versions

of the F-101 and F-4 without success. Later that year, the

Navy tested an internally mounted ECM package that did no

work much better. Both services were more successful when

the Navy in mid-1966 and the US Air Force in September o

October tested ECM pods carried beneath the fighters. A for

mation of fighters using the pods—the Navy’s ALQ-51 and the

Air Force QRC-160 (redesignated ALQ-71)—seriously inhibited

radar-directed defenses. The various jamming devices forced

SAM operators to adopt a new procedure—track-on jamming

125
They fired the SA-2s at the jamming signal, but as this gave

azimuth and not range information, this technique was much

less accurate than the normal method. Thus, the pods per

mitted operations from 10,000 to 17,000 feet, above the reach

of light and medium flak. The Air Force put the pods into ser

vice in January 1967. There were, of course, drawbacks to

using ECM pods. The tighter formations that were best suited

for ECM results made the aircraft more vulnerable to MiG at

tack. Another penalty was that the increased altitude of opera

tions decreased the weapon’s accuracy.26 The Navy did no

adopt the pods and paid a price. In the first nine months o

1967, the US Air Force pod-equipped forces lost five aircraft in

the heavily defended Route Package VI, while at the same time

the Navy lost about 20 aircraft in that area. In the previous

year, SAMs accounted for 50 percent of Air Force losses in tha

area; now they claimed only about 16 percent. During these

times, SAMs were credited with one-half of Navy aircraft losses.2

126

Figure 61. Wild Weasel. The USAF employed special units, called Wild

Weasel, to attack Communist radar. This two-seat F-105G is carrying

two Shrike antiradiation missiles. (Reprinted from USAF.)
American Air Operations

through Linebacker I

The 1968 Tet offensive changed the war for the United States

As a result, Pres. Lyndon B. Johnson capped American troop

levels, stopped American bombing of North Vietnam above 20

degrees north latitude, and then, just before the Novembe

election, stopped all bombing of the north. In the fall, Americans

elected Richard M. Nixon president. He began to withdraw US

troops and turn more of the burden of the war over to the

South Vietnamese. Because of the bombing halt, American

aircraft losses, especially fixed-wing machines, declined.28

The air war raged in other areas besides North Vietnam

however, losses were proportionally the greatest in the north

American combat losses on a per sortie basis were next high

est over Laos, then South Vietnam, and lowest over Cambodia

However, because American Airmen flew most of their sorties

over the south, this became the area where most of the aircraf

fell. Between 1961 and 1968, the United States lost 859 air

craft to hostile action over the north compared with about 1,709

over the south. One sharp difference was the proportion of heli

copters destroyed in the two areas. Only 11 went down in North

Vietnam, but about 1,073 helicopters (or about 63 percent o

all aircraft lost in the south) were lost in South Vietnam.29

The helicopter proved to be vulnerable even in the less-letha

antiaircraft environment of South Vietnam. The vulnerability

of the chopper is highlighted by the deaths associated with it

During most of the war (1961–71) in all of Southeast Asia

about 62 percent of the deaths from combat aircraft losses

and 66 percent of noncombat aircraft losses were associated

with helicopters. These numbers may overemphasize the

point, however, as helicopters were employed in large numbers

as troop carriers near the ground, where ground fire was in

tense, all of which led to high personnel losses. Helicopter vul

nerability was dramatically demonstrated in the 1971 South

Vietnamese invasion of Laos (Lam Son 719). Although officia

figures put helicopter losses at 107–22 and the number dam

aged at 600, some put loss figures much higher, as many as

one-third of those engaged. The same doubt clouds the officia

127
Army figures, which acknowledge 2,166 helicopters lost in

combat and 2,075 lost to noncombat causes during the entire

war. There are allegations that the Army disguised the magni

tude of their chopper losses by repairing many damaged ma

chines that did not deserve such efforts. One source states

that the Communists downed 5,600 Army helicopters, but the

Army successfully retrieved two-thirds of these. One critic puts

total helicopter losses at 10,000.30

In March 1972, the North Vietnamese attempted to knock

the South Vietnamese out of the war with a massive conven

tional invasion. The Communists used weapons heretofore no

seen in the war in the South: tanks, 130 mm artillery, and the

SA-7. The latter was a shoulder-launched, man-portable

heat-seeking missile with a range of just under two miles and

able to reach almost 10,000 feet. The SA-7 gave the guerrillas

a potent weapon against air power and put the slow-moving

low-flying aircraft, especially helicopters and propeller aircraft

at considerable risk. It knocked down a number of helicopters

observer aircraft, and, in June, an AC-130. Between 29 Apri

and 1 September, the Communists fired 351 SA-7s at American

aircraft in 221 incidents and downed 17 fixed-wing and nine

rotary-wing aircraft. It took 1.8 missiles to down each helicop

ter—as compared to 10 required for each slow-moving fixed-wing

aircraft kill—and 135 missiles to destroy one F-4. The American

Airmen used flares to decoy the SA-7, but most effective of all

they increased both their speed and altitude. Thus, although

the number of aircraft downed was not great, SA-7s had a

major impact, forcing American aircraft to fly higher where

they were less effective and to put some aircraft, such as the

A-1, out of business.31

The Communists employed their SA-2s differently during the

1972 campaign. Before their invasion, they deployed SA-2s to

cover the demilitarized zone and on 17 February 1972 fired 81

missiles there that downed three F-4s. In March, once the in

vasion started, SA-2s downed two AC-130s over Laos and the

next month an EB-66. The SA-2s also took on B-52s, which

now ventured further north (fig. 62). The Communists fired 23

SAMs on both 21 and 23 April in defense of Vinh and destroyed

a B-52, the first loss to Communist fire. During Linebacke

128
(later called Linebacker I), the code name for the renewed ai

attacks of the North in 1972, the Communists fired 2,750 SA-2s

at US aircraft and downed 46 planes.32

Just as North Vietnam changed the rules of the game, so did

the United States. Nixon’s policy of détente gave him flexibility

that his predecessor, who feared direct intervention by the So

viets or the Chinese, lacked.33 In 1972, the president author

ized the mining of North Vietnamese ports, long requested by

the military, and used air power as it had not been used before

The Airmen employed air power more effectively also because

they had fewer political restrictions, although some targets

and areas continued to be denied to them.34 US air power played

a major role in stopping the invasion by inflicting terrific losses

on North Vietnamese forces. As never before, American Airmen

had targets they could see, hit, and destroy. The Airmen also

had better weapons.

Although the Airmen had not introduced new aircraft since the

1968 bombing of North Vietnam, they did use other equipmen

that improved bombing effectiveness. These devices put more

bombs on target, thus reducing the exposure of friendly aircraf

129

Figure 62. Damaged B-52. The B-52s operated at high altitudes out o

the reach of most North Vietnamese guns, but not from missiles. SAMs

hit this Stratofortress and forced it to make an emergency landing a

DaNang. (Reprinted from USAF.)
to hostile fire. The Airmen began long-range aid to navigation

(LORAN) bombing in 1970, which made it possible to operate in

the worst weather conditions and still get bombs within hun

dreds of meters of the aiming point.35 Although this was not pre

cision bombing, it did permit bombing during bad weather.

The most important new equipment introduced was guided

munitions (smart bombs), which could get bombs within me

ters of the target. A number of bridges that had withstood nu

merous and costly American strikes quickly fell to these new

weapons. For example, on 13 May 1972, four flights of F-4s at

tacked the formidable Thanh Hoa Bridge with guided bombs

dropping its western span and causing other critical damage

There were no US losses in the attack, whereas the previous

871 sorties had cost 11 aircraft and had not neutralized the

bridge. The Airmen considered the guided bombs to be 100

times more effective than unguided weapons against bridges

and 100–200 times more effective against such hard targets as

bunkers.36 Greater accuracy meant fewer aircraft at risk and

thus, fewer losses.

The Americans also employed new ECM and anti-SAM tactics

to combat the formidable Communist defenses. They introduced

a new electronic jamming platform when in July 1972 US

Marines thrust the EA-6B into action (fig. 63). Against North

Vietnamese electronics, the Airmen employed more chaff, a

World War II device that still worked. Chaff had seldom been

used because the Navy feared its impact on their shipborne

radar, and the US Air Force lacked a suitable dispenser. In

June 1972, American Airmen introduced the ALE-38 chaff dis

penser and, in August, chaff bombs. Both devices greatly en

hanced US ECM capabilities and reduced the vulnerability o

chaff-dispensing aircraft. The Airmen created chaff corridors

within which attackers were almost immune from North Viet

namese radar-guided SAMs and AAA. Seventh Air Force com

mander Gen William W. Momyer noted that only one of seven

losses to SAMs during Linebacker I occurred in a chaff corri

dor. One author called the use of chaff corridors “the most sig

nificant tactical change instituted by the Air Force for its 1972

bombing campaign.”37 In August, the US Air Force also changed

its anti-SAM tactics (Wild Weasel) from Iron Hand—four F-105s

130
using antiradiation missiles—to hunter-killer teams consisting

of two F-105 hunters armed with ARMs and two F-4 killers

armed with CBUs.38

If the Airmen operated successfully over North Vietnam, they

nevertheless paid a price. During the April through Octobe

1972 bombing, the US Air Force flew 9,315 sorties, dropped

155,500 tons of bombs on the north, and lost 63 planes. In all

the United States lost 111 fixed-wing aircraft in combat, ap

parently in equal proportions to AAA, MiGs, and SAMs. In ad

dition to aircraft losses, the Airmen paid another price: only

2,346 of the total sorties directly attacked enemy installations

the others were in support of missions. The ratio of suppor

aircraft was even higher than these numbers indicate (3.4:1)

as they do not include tanker and reconnaissance aircraft.39

As the bombing took its toll in the north and the Vietnamese

invasion of the south stalled and then was pushed back, ne

gotiations prompted Henry A. Kissinger’s “peace-is-at-hand

comment on 26 October. But as close as the peacemakers go

to an agreement, they did not get a treaty.

131

Figure 63. EA-6B Prowler. The EA-6B Prowler carried a four-man crew

to jam enemy radars. (Reprinted from USAF.)
Linebacker II

On 14 December President Nixon gave the North Vietnamese

72 hours to get back to serious negotiations “or else.” The “o

else” was a three-day bombing offensive against North Vietnam

which Nixon ordered that day and then changed on 19 Decem

ber to an indefinite period. The object of Linebacker II—the code

name for the December bombing—was to restart negotiations.40

US Airmen returned to the home of the SAMs, AAA, and MiGs

on the night of 18 December.41 For three consecutive days, the

script was about the same. First, F-111s began with attacks on

airfields and various other targets at 1900, kicking off an opera

tion that lasted about nine and one-half hours.42 About 20 to

65 minutes later, the first of three waves of B-52s unloaded thei

bombs. The second wave followed about four hours later and

was in turn followed by the third wave about five hours later

Each wave consisted of 21 to 51 B-52s supported by 31 to 41

other aircraft, and each wave flew exactly the same pattern

the same heading from the west and, after a sharp turn afte

bombing, the same exit heading to the west. There were also

daylight attacks by Air Force, Marine, and Navy aircraft.

The bombing rocked Hanoi, but the aircraft losses jolted the

Airmen as well. During the first three days of the operations

12 aircraft went down, not a large number and seemingly

bearable; however, B-52 losses—three on the first night and six

on the third—were shocking. B-52s were, after all, America’s

primary strategic nuclear bomber, the foundation of the air

breathing leg of the Triad. Up to this point, the US Air Force

had lost only one B-52 to enemy fire, although 17 had been

lost to other causes. While the overall B-52 loss rate of 3 per

cent of effective sorties on the three missions appeared accept

able, the loss rate on the third mission was 6.8 percent, and

the nine B-52s lost to this point in Linebacker II represented

almost 5 percent of the 170 to 210 B-52s the US Air Force had

deployed in Southeast Asia and over 2 percent of the 402 in

service in 1972.43 This was reminiscent of the summer and fal

of 1943 over Germany.

The B-52 losses highlighted a number of problems. First, the

B-52 fleet was of mixed quality, consisting of 107 of the olde

132
but modified D models and 99 of the later G models. Only hal

of the G models had upgraded ECM equipment, which proved

to be one of the critical factors in determining which aircraf

the SAMs hit, the big killers of the B-52s.44 Although the de

fenders fired more SAMs at the B-52Ds, more B-52Gs were hi

and downed, with five destroyed on the first three missions.

A second problem was that the B-52s were controlled, o

better put, overcontrolled, from SAC headquarters in Omaha

SAC formed the basic battle plan and tactics literally thousands

of miles from the actual combat. Initially, SAC had a policy of no

maneuvers on the bomb run, although such maneuvers often

permitted aircraft to elude the SAMs.45 SAC also mandated a

“press-on” procedure, which dictated that bombers continue

their missions despite the loss of engines, computers, and mos

critically, ECM equipment.46 Not surprisingly, with one head

quarters controlling the bombers and another the support air

craft, there were coordination problems between the bombers

and their escorts, including two instances in which B-52s fired

on US aircraft.47 Other coordination difficulties included US

radios jammed by EB-66 ECM and friendly radar severely de

graded by B-52 ECM.48

Losses indicated that the ECM was inadequate. First, B-52

ECM protection markedly declined in the 100-degree turn im

mediately after bomb release, as the bombers’ bank reduced

the effectiveness of the spot jammers.49 Second, winds tha

differed from forecasts in direction and speed upset the ECM

protection of the chaff corridors. For example, on 20 Decem

ber, only four of 27 B-52 cells received chaff protection at the

bomb-release line, and all of the B-52s downed were 5 to 10

miles from chaff cover. Third, the North Vietnamese gunners

surprised the American Airmen by using radar designed and

deployed for gun control (designated T8209) to guide the SA-2s

American Airmen lacked equipment to both warn of and jam

this “new” I-band radar.50

The North Vietnamese took advantage of the stereotyped tac

tics by salvoing barrages of SAMs at the point where the B-52s

executed their post-target turns. SAM operators limited rada

guidance to the last five to 10 seconds of intercept, which made

133
the tasks of the ECM operators and Wild Weasels difficult.5

The losses forced the Airmen to modify their operations.

Thus, the Air Force formed a tactics panel and changed tac

tics.52 Although most US aircraft continued to fly their missions

about the same way, this was not true for B-52s. On the fou

missions between 21 and 24 December, the US Air Force em

ployed only 30 B-52Ds in a single wave. In addition, the plan

ners varied the timing, headings, and altitudes. The Airmen

increased the amount of chaff, attempting to lay a chaff blan

ket instead of a chaff corridor. Thus, instead of 15 percent o

the bombers receiving chaff protection at the bomb release

point, now 85 percent did. In all, US Airmen dropped 125 tons

of chaff during Linebacker II. Night hunter-killer teams were

first used on 23 December to nullify the SAM threat; however

bad weather permitted only marginal results. The Air Force also

quickly installed jammers and modified ARMs for use agains

the I-band radar that had surprised them.53 But the American

Airmen initially lacked the AGM-45 A-6 version suitable fo

this job and did not get these missiles until 27 December. The

AGM-78, which also could be used against this band of radar

was in short supply even before the start of Linebacker II.54

The Airmen hit Hanoi with these new tactics on 21 Decembe

and lost two B-52s and one A-6A. During the next three nights

bombs fell on targets in Haiphong and north of Hanoi. The new

tactics and new targets paid off as the Airmen lost only three

aircraft on these three missions. There was no bombing on 25

December, a gallant and certainly a diplomatic gesture that al

lowed North Vietnamese defenders to rearm.

The attack on 26 December was one of a kind. The United

States sent 120 B-52s, the most on any of the Linebacker mis

sions, against targets in Hanoi and Haiphong. Although sup

ported by 99 aircraft, two B-52s went down. Both followed SAC’s

“press-on” procedures, attacking in broken cells—formations

of two rather than the normal three bombers—and thus lacked

adequate ECM power. The remaining three missions (27–29

December) employed 60 B-52s each night, but otherwise fi

the same pattern. Five aircraft (two B-52s) went down on 27

December. There were no losses on the last two days.

134
In all, during Linebacker II, B-52s dropped about 15,000

tons of bombs, while tactical aircraft added another 5,000

tons of bombs.55 Because there were only 12 hours of visua

conditions during the 12-day operation, the Airmen aimed the

bulk of their ordnance by nonvisual techniques using rada

and LORAN.56

Despite North Vietnamese claims of 81 aircraft destroyed (38

B-52s), Linebacker II cost 27 aircraft, 15 of which were B-52s.5

Compared to the 3 percent expected losses, the overall loss rate

of below 2 percent and a B-52 loss rate slightly above 2 per

cent were acceptable.58 Thus, Airmen favorably compared the

loss rates in Vietnam and especially those of Linebacker II with

those in World War II and Korea. Such a comparison, however

overlooks the fact that Vietnam-era aircraft were much more

expensive than their predecessors, while inventories and air

craft production were much smaller.59

The American Airmen throttled two parts of the North Viet

namese air defenses. The small Communist air force launched

32 aircraft, attempted interceptions with 20, but scored no

hits on the B-52s, and downed only two F-4s for the loss of six

MiGs.60 American tactics of airfield suppression, fighter es

cort, ECM, night attacks, high-altitude operations, and bad

weather nullified the MiGs. All but the first two tactics were

also successful in neutering North Vietnamese AAA, which

damaged only one B-52 and downed three tactical aircraft.6

But, if the American Airmen adequately handled the fighte

and flak threats, the same cannot be said of the SAMs.

During Linebacker II, the North Vietnamese fired 1,285 SAMs

which downed all 15 B-52s lost and three other aircraft.62 The

American Airmen, however, did not target the SAM sites unti

the sixth day of operations (23 December) and did not attack

them again until 27 December, when B-52s and F-111s at

tacked the most effective single SAM site.63 US Air Force

hunter-killer units also attacked this site, designated by the

Americans as VN 549, with at least nine AGM-45s and two

AGM-78s. But VN 549 survived, and, therefore, on 27 Decem

ber briefers instructed the American bomber crews to fly wel

clear of it. Rumors circulated that it was manned by Chinese

gunners. The B-52 and F-111 attacks on SAM sites continued

135
on the last two days of the operation, along with F-4 attacks

on SAM storage facilities. Despite these efforts, intelligence es

timated that only two sites were 50 percent damaged, eigh

were undamaged, and results against three were unknown.6

It should be noted that only 3 percent of the bombs dropped

during Linebacker II fell on SAM targets as compared with 5.3

percent that fell on airfields.65 The redeeming feature was tha

by 29 December, the north Vietnamese had run out of SAMs

leaving North Vietnam essentially defenseless (fig. 64).66

Clearly, Linebacker II was an outstanding feat of arms

After years of restrictions and frustrations, American Airmen

were able to directly take on and defeat a formidable air de

fense system. For the United States, and especially the Air

men, this was a proud, satisfactory way to end the war, or a

136

Figure 64. Talos. During the Vietnam War, the Navy’s Talos missiles

downed one MiG in 1968 and another in 1972. This Talos is aboard the

USS Galveston. (Reprinted from USAF.)
least an end to American involvement. The US Air Force saw

Linebacker II as a validation of air power and a demonstration

of what it could do if unencumbered by political restrictions

(fig. 65). Yet, the tactical aspects, the victory, should not ob

scure the fact that strategic bombing did not achieve decisive

ends in Vietnam; the final treaty was substantially the same

as the agreements made in October.67

Conclusions

The American Airmen were unprepared for the war fought in

the skies over Southeast Asia—unprepared in terms of the po

litical restrictions levied on them, the scant targets they had to

attack, and the nature of the long conventional war they had to

fight. As the realities of battle forced them to change both thei

tactics and equipment, the Airmen had to relearn the lessons

of the past, and in the process, suffer substantial losses. They

again found that enemy antiaircraft defenses, SAMs rathe

than aircraft, presented the major obstacle to air operations

They again learned how dangerous it was to fly close to the

137

Figure 65.Terrier. A Terrier downed a MiG in 1972, one of three MiGs de

stroyed by Navy SAMs.This Terrier is mounted on the USS McCormick

(Reprinted from USAF.)
ground in the face of intense ground fire. They again realized

that attacking enemy antiaircraft positions (SAM and AAA

was dangerous and of dubious value. Most of all, they again saw

that the tactics used in World War II and Korea were relevan

for modern air warfare.

SAMs greatly enhanced the power of the defense and pre

sented new difficulties to the Airmen. The SA-2s were the firs

challenge. They did not destroy that many aircraft and became

less effective as the war continued, but they did force the Air

men to lower their altitudes and put their aircraft into the teeth

of the guns. Another disturbing weapon introduced was the

man-portable SAM. Although not possessing great lethality, i

was easily concealed, highly mobile, and gave one man the

power to down a multimillion-dollar aircraft. It proved espe

cially effective against low-flying, slower (prop-powered) aircraf

and helicopters. Second, to counter the missiles, the Airmen

had to expand the total number of support sorties, a require

ment that increased as the war progressed. The effectiveness

of the defense is much more than the total aircraft destroyed

by the air defense system but must include the cost for the at

tacker to get bombs on target. SAMs made aerial attack more

complicated, dangerous, and expensive. Clearly, the cost o

conducting the air offensive rose as the Vietnam War continued

Countermeasures helped to keep American aircraft losses to

a manageable rate. One Air Force officer estimated that ECM

reduced losses by 25 percent, while a Navy officer put the fig

ure at 80 percent (fig. 66).68 Nevertheless, air operations were

expensive in both losses and effort. Communist gunners proved

a worthy and resourceful foe, although limited by second-rate

Soviet equipment. Yet, despite the able Communist air defense

tactics and their adaptation to the changing tactical situation

the American Airmen gradually increased their edge. The big

improvement for the offensive side came with the use of ECM

along with antiradiation, “smart,” and standoff weapons. These

weapons increased accuracy and decreased losses. In the full

scale operations of Linebacker II, the American Airmen showed

that massive application of modern aircraft with modern

equipment could succeed against defenses limited in numbers

and quality.69

138
Notes

1. Victor Flintham, Air Wars and Aircraft: A Detailed Record of Air Com

bat, 1945 to the Present (New York: Facts on File Yearbook, Inc., 1990), 256

2. The Vietminh used American 105 mm guns captured in the Korean

War so the errant French ammunition drops were important supply channel

for the Communists. See Bernard Fall, Hell in a Very Small Place: The Sieg

of Dien Bien Phu (Philadelphia, Pa.: J. P. Lippincott, 1966), 31–34, 49, 133

144, 454–55; William Leary, “CAT at Dien Bien Phu,” Aerospace Historian

September 1984, 178–80, 183; Robert Frank Futrell, The United States Ai

Force in Southeast Asia: The Advisory Years to 1965 (Washington, D.C.: Offic

of Air Force History, 1981), 19–20, 116; and V. J. Croizat, trans., A Trans

lation from the French: Lessons of the War in Indochina, vol. 2, RAND Repor

RM-5271-PR (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 1967), 292, 302.

3. Futrell, USAF in Southeast Asia to 1965, 158–59, 163, 196.

4. Benjamin Schemmer, “Vietnam Casualty Rates Dropped 37% afte

Cambodia Raid,” Armed Forces Journal, 18 January 1971, 30; Michael McCrea

“U.S. Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and

Damage in Southeast Asia (1962–1973),” Center for Naval Analyses (CNA)

study, August 1976, 2-1, 2-13, 2-19, 2-20, AUL; and Futrell, USAF in South

east Asia to 1965, 116.

5. The Pentagon Papers, ed., the Senator Gravel edition (Boston, Mass

Beacon Press, 1975), 3:269; and Lon Nordeen, Air Warfare in the Missile Ag

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1985), 11.

139

Figure 66. RF-4C. More F-4s were lost than any other USAF aircraft in

Vietnam. The Air Force attributed 80 percent of these losses to ground

fire, 10 percent to MiGs, 7 percent to SAMs, and 2 percent to ground

attack. (Reprinted from USAF.)
6. The Pentagon Papers, 3:294

95; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 15, 18; U. S

Grant Sharp, Strategy for Defeat: Vietnam in Retrospect (San Rafael, Calif

Presidio Press, 1978), xiii–xiv, 271; Lou Drendel, . . . And Kill MiGs: Air to Ai

Combat in the Vietnam War (Carrollton, Tex.: Squadron Signal Publishers

1984), 8; David Halbertstam, The Best and the Brightest (New York: Random

House, 1972), 367–68; and Richard Kohn, chief of Air Force History, inter

viewed by author, June 1986.

7. For especially sharp criticism of the Airmen, see Hanson Baldwin, “Intro

duction,” in Jack Broughton, Thud Ridge (Philadelphia, Pa.: J. P. Lippincott

1969), 12–13; and Dana Drenkowski, “Operation Linebacker II,” Soldier o

Fortune, September 1977, 32–37, 60–61.

8. A number of factors help explain this situation. Communist air de

fenses over the south were minimal when compared with those over th

north, and no one wanted to risk the nuclear-capable B-52s. In addition, th

decision makers feared that the use of the large strategic bombers would

send the wrong signal to the various warring, unfriendly, neutral, and

friendly powers and generate hostile publicity.

9. This aircraft was poorly designed, having essentially no backup for it

vital hydraulic controls. Of 617 US Air Force aircraft lost over North Vietnam

280 were F-105s. See McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,

6–47. In addition to 334 F-105 combat losses in Southeast Asia, there wer

63 operational losses. See John Granville, “Summary of USAF Aircraft Losse

in SEA,” Tactical Air Command study, 1974, 22, 36, 57, HRA.

10. Broughton, Thud Ridge, 22, 96; and William W. Momyer, Air Power i

Three Wars (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Air Force, 1978), 126.

11. This was one-half of North Vietnam’s MiG-21 force. See R. Frank

Futrell et al., eds., Aces and Aerial Victories: The United States Air Force i

Southeast Asia, 1965–1973 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1976), 35–42. Th

Navy’s MiG kill-to-loss ratio in Vietnam was 3.9:1 (54 MiGs destroyed) and

the Air Force’s was 2.2:1 (129 MiGs destroyed). See “Southeast Asia Air-to-Ai

Combat,” Armed Forces Journal International, May 1974, 38. In World Wa

II, USAAF fighters had a 3.6:1 edge in air-to-air combat against Germany

and 4.3:1 against Japan. The Navy and Marine Corps’ ratio against Japan

was 13:1. See United States Army Air Forces, Army Air Forces Statistical D

gest: World War II (Washington, D.C.: Office of Statistical Control, 1945)

255–61, 263–68; and Adm Louis Denfeld, chief of Naval Operations, US

Navy, address on the 37th anniversary of naval aviation, 9 May 1949, NHC

In the Korean War, US Air Force fighter pilots ran up a 6.9:1 score of victo

ries to losses in air-to-air combat. See Larry Davis, MiG Alley: Air to Air Com

bat over Korea (Carrollton, Tex.: Squadron Signal Publishers, 1978), 70; and

Maurer Maurer, USAF Credits for the Destruction of Enemy Aircraft, Korea

War, USAF Historical Study no. 81 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Albert F. Simpson

Historical Research Center, Air University, 1975).

12. John Kreis, Air Warfare and Air Base Air Defense, 1914–1973 (Wash

ington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1988), 285–86; Nordeen, Air Warfare

13; Paul Burbage et al., “The Battle for the Skies over North Vietnam,” in Ai

140
War Vietnam (Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs

Merrill Co., Inc., 1978), 224; Schem

mer, “Vietnam Casualty Rates,” table 351; Institute for Defense Analyses (IDA)

Jason Study, “The Bombing of North Vietnam,” December 1967, 2:49, LBJ; and

Wayne Thompson, To Hanoi and Back: The U.S. Air Force and North Vietnam

1966–1973 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 2000), 40, 242.

13. Report of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), “The Effectiveness o

the Rolling Thunder Program in North Vietnam: 1 January–30 Septembe

1966,” November 1966, A-2, A-16, LBJ; CIA, “Report on Rolling Thunder,

1966, 6, LBJ; IDA, Jason Study, “The Bombing of North Vietnam,” 3:49–50

and Raphael Littauer and Norman Uphoff, eds., The Air War in Indochina

rev. ed. (Boston, Mass.: Beacon Press, 1971), 283.

14. Rene Francillon, Vietnam: The War in the Air (New York: Arch Cap

Press, 1987), 208; and McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 6

2, 6-11, 6-20.

15. McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 2–3; Futrell

Aces and Aerial Victories, 4; and Thompson, To Hanoi and Back, 49.

16. Cable to White House Situation Room, 12/16437 May, 1; Intelligenc

memorandum, subject: Status Report on SAMs in North Vietnam, 29 Jun

1965, 1–2; and memorandum, subject: CIA Appreciation of SA-2 Activity in

North Vietnam during Late July, 1 August 1965, 1, in CIA Research Reports

Vietnam and Southeast Asia, 1946–1976, ed. Paul Kesaris (Frederick, Md

University Publications, 1983); Futrell, Aces and Aerial Victories, 5; Notes o

Lyndon B. Johnson, White House meeting, 16 May 1965, 3, LBJ; and

Thomas D. Boettcher, Vietnam: The Valor and the Sorrow (Boston, Mass.: Little

Brown and Co., 1985), 232.

17. McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 2–10; Granville

“Summary of USAF Aircraft Losses,” 10–11; and US Pacific Fleet, “An Analysi

of SA-2 Missile Activity in North Vietnam from July 1965 through March

1968,” staff study 8–68, October 1968, 2, NHC.

18. Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars, 136.

19. Nordeen, Air Warfare, 16; Peter Mersky and Norman Polmar, Th

Naval Air War in Vietnam (Annapolis, Md.: Nautical and Aviation, 1981), 61

Bryce Walker, Fighting Jets (Alexandria, Va.: Time-Life Books, 1983), 112

and M. J. Armitage and R. A. Mason, Air Power in the Nuclear Age, 2d ed

(Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois, 1985), 108.

20. Marshall Michel, Clashes: Air Combat over North Vietnam, 1965–197

(Annapolis: Naval Institute, 1997), 32; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 18; CIA, “Ef

fectiveness of Air Campaign,” B-22; and Paul Burbage et al., “Air Superiority

Tactics over North Vietnam” (thesis, Air Command and Staff College

Maxwell AFB, Ala., 1975), 13, AUL.

21. Giles Van Nederveen, “Sparks over Vietnam: The EB-66 and th

Early Struggle of Tactical Electronic Warfare,” CADRE paper, 2000, 11, 14

19, 38–44, 62, 70, 74, 76, 99; Futrell, Aces and Aerial Victories, 4–5

Nordeen, Air Warfare, 13; Gordon Swanborough and Peter Bowers, United

States Navy Aircraft since 1911 (New York: Funk and Wagnalls Co., 1968)

177–78; Gordon Swanborough and Peter Bowers, United States Military Air

141
craft since 1908, rev. ed. (London: Putnam, 1971), 267

69; Julian Lake and

Richard Hartman, “Air Electronic Warfare,” US Naval Institute Proceedings

October 1976, 46; and “US Marine Corps Forces in Vietnam: March

1965–September 1967, Historical Summary,” 2:36.

22. Nordeen, Air Warfare, 16; and Burbage, “The Battle for the Skies,” 240

23. McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 2-24, 2-29

Michel, Clashes, 225; USAF Pacific Command Scientific Advisory Group

“Shrike Missile Effectiveness under Rolling Thunder Operations” (Workin

paper 1-67, Headquarters of the Commander in Chief Pacific, Scientific Ad

visory Group, January 1967), 1, AUL; USAF Pacific Command Scientific Advi

sory Group, “Shrike Effectiveness under Rolling Thunder Operation, Firs

Quarter, 1967,” (Working paper 7–67, assistant for operations analysis

Headquarters Pacific Air Forces, April 1967), 1, AUL; Nordeen, Air Warfare

18–19; Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, uncoordinated draft, “Line

backer Study,” staff study, January 1973, 7, HRA; and Burbage, “The Battl

for the Skies,” 247.

24. Report of Tactical Air Command (TAC), Directorate of Fighter Opera

tions, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” April 1973, 2:77–79, AUL; Nordeen

Air Warfare, 19, 22; Swanborough and Bowers, United States Military Air

craft, 471; and Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars, 130.

25. Ivan Rendall, Rolling Thunder: Jet Combat from World War II to th

Gulf War (New York: Free Press, 1997), 151–54.

26. McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 2–24; Michel

Clashes, 37–38, 62; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 23–24; Burbage, “Battle for th

Skies,” 240; Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars, 127; and Lake and Hartman

“Air Electronic Warfare,” 47.

27. Michel, Clashes, 127.

28. Littauer and Uphoff, The Air War in Indochina, 283.

29. Schemmer, table 351.

30. Ibid.; Carl Berger et al., eds., The United States Air Force in Southeas

Asia: 1961–1973 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1977), 116

Armitage and Mason, Air Power in the Nuclear Age, 2; James Coath and

Michael Kilian, Heavy Losses: The Dangerous Decline of America’s Defens

(New York: Penguin Books, 1985), 136–37; Warren Young, The Helicopter

(Alexandria, Va.: Time-Life Books, 1982), 140; and Peter Mersky, US Marin

Corps Aviation: 1912 to the Present (Baltimore, Md.: Nautical and Aviation

1987), 244. In Vietnam, on average, one helicopter was hit on every 450 sor

ties, one downed on every 7,000, and one lost on every 20,000. See Pete

Borgart, “The Vulnerability of Manned Airborne Weapon Systems, pt. 3: In

fluence on Tactics and Strategy,” International Defense Review, Decembe

1977, 1065.

31. Claude Morita, “Implication of Modern Air Power in a Limited War,

Report of interview with Gen John Vogt Jr., commander, Seventh Air Force

Office of Pacific Air Forces History, 29 November 1973, 23–24, AUL; John

Doglione et al., Airpower and the 1972 Spring Invasion, monograph 3 in

USAF Southeast Asia Monograph Series, ed., Arthur J. C. Lavalle (Washington

142
D.C.: Department of the Air Force, 1975

1979), 142, 197; Nordeen, Air Warfare

64; G. H. Turley, “Time of Change in Modern Warfare,” Marine Corps Gazette

December 1974, 18; CNA, “Documentation and Analysis of US Marine Corp

Activity in Southeast Asia: 1 April–31 July 1972,” 1:110, 1:111, Marine Corp

Historical Center; and Lake and Hartman, “Air Electronic Warfare,” 47.

32. Doglione, Airpower and the 1972 Spring Invasion, 132; Berger et al

The USAF in Southeast Asia, 168; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 64; House of Rep

resentatives, Hearings before the Subcommittee of the Committee on Appro

priations, 93d Cong., 1st sess., 9 January 1973, 10; and CNA, “Summary o

Air Operations in Southeast Asia: January 1972–31 January 1973,

OEG/OP508N, January 1974, 4-17, 4-19.

33. Seymour Hersh, The Price of Power—Kissinger in the Nixon Whit

House (New York: Summit Books, 1983), 506; and Richard Nixon, RN: Th

Memoirs of Richard Nixon (New York: Grosser & Dunlap, 1976), 606–7.

34. Guenter Lewy, America in Vietnam (New York: Oxford University

1978), 410; and Hersh, The Price of Power, 526.

35. TAC, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” 11, 68.

36. Guided weapons were expensive, limited by the weather, and few in

number. See Directorate of Operations Analysis, Headquarters Pacific Ai

Forces, Project Contemporary Historical Examination of Current Operation

Report, “Linebacker: Overview of the First 120 Days,” 27 September 1973

21, 27, AUL; and Nordeen, Air Warfare, 59, 63. One problem encountered

with the ECM pods was that they created interference with the electro-optica

guided bomb (EOGB) guidance system. A wire screen quickly solved tha

problem. See Patrick Breitling, “Guided Bomb Operations in SEA: Th

Weather Dimensions, 1 February–31 December 1972,” Contemporary His

torical Examination of Current Operations Report, 1 October 1973, 3, 24

AUL; Jeffery Rhodes, “Improving the Odds on Ground Attack,” Air Forc

Magazine, November 1986, 48; Delbert Corum et al., The Tale of Two Bridges

monograph 1 in USAF Southeast Asia Monograph Series, ed., Arthur J. C

Lavalle (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Air Force, 1975–1979), 85–86

and Morita, “Implications of Modern Air Power,” 6.

37. Michel, Clashes, 222; Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars, 129; Military

Assistance Command, Vietnam, “Linebacker Study”; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 24

and Senate Committee on Armed Services, Hearing on Fiscal Year 1974 Autho

rization, 92d Cong., 2d sess., 13–20 March 1973, pt. 6:4275.

38. TAC, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” 11, 78. During the period of 10

May through 10 September 1972, the United States lost 63 fixed-wing air

craft in combat over the north: 21 to AAA, 22 to MiGs, and 20 to SAMs.

39. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, “Uncoordinated Draft,” 7

chap. 8; Burbage, “Battle for the Skies,” 267; Directorate of Operation

Analysis, “Linebacker,” 70–72; DOD, Office of the Assistant Secretary o

Defense, “US Aircraft Losses in SE Asia,” October 1973, table 351, 5; R. Mark

Clodfelter, “By Other Means: An Analysis of the Linebacker Bombing Cam

paigns as Instruments of National Policy” (master’s thesis, University o

143
Nebraska, 1983), 77; and CNA, 

Summary of Air Ops in SEA: January

72–January 73,” 4-1, 4-8, 4-19, 4-23.

40. Marvin and Bernard Kalb, Kissinger (Boston, Mass.: Little, Brown

and Co., 1974), 412; Clodfelter, “By Other Means,” 105, 111; W. Hays Parks

“Linebacker and the Law of War,” Air University Review 34 (January–February

1983): 16; and Nixon, RN: The Memoirs, 734.

41. Broughton, Thud Ridge, 36.

42. Briefing Books IV, Headquarters US Air Force, details on the Line

backer II missions, 2 vols., December 1972, HRA.

43. Norman Polmar, ed., Strategic Air Command—People, Aircraft, and

Missiles (Annapolis: Nautical & Aviation, 1979), 126; Granville, “Summary o

USAF Aircraft Losses,” 18; James McCarthy and George Allison, Linebacke

II—A View from the Rock (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air Power Research Institute

1979), 12; and Karl Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Air Support: Line

backer II” (thesis, Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 1985)

70–72, AUL.

44. “The Role of Tactical Support,” 49, 70–72; and McCarthy and Allison

Linebacker II, 86. On these first three missions, 1.6 percent of the Ds and

4.9 percent of the Gs went down per sortie. In the entire 11-day campaign

the Ds suffered 1.8 percent and the Gs, 2.7 percent. About 10 percent of th

missiles fired against the Gs impacted, whereas only 3 percent of those fired

against the Ds impacted. See Headquarters US Air Force, briefing books, De

cember 1972; briefing, Headquarters Pacific Air Forces, “Operations Analysis

Linebacker II Air Operations,” 31 January 1973, HRA; McCarthy and Allison

Linebacker II, 70; and Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 49.

45. This policy quickly changed beginning with the second wave on th

second day. See McCarthy and Allison, Linebacker II, 46–47.

46. Robert Clement, “A Fourth of July in December: A B-52 Navigator’

Perspective of Linebacker II” (thesis, Air Command and Staff College

Maxwell AFB, Ala., 1984), 18, 49, AUL; and McCarthy and Allison, Line

backer II, 30, 32.

47. Headquarters USAF, “Linebacker USAF Bombing Survey,” 1973, 35

HRA; TAC, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” 11, 77; and Eschmann, “The Rol

of Tactical Support,” 60.

48. Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Support,” 60, 63; and Clodfelter, “By

Other Means,” 121.

49. TAC, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” 11, 76.

50. Strategic Air Command (SAC) Briefing, subject: Chaff Effectivenes

in Support of Linebacker II Operations, March 1973, HRA.

51. TAC, “SEA Tactics Review Brochure,” 11, 76.

52. “The Battle for the Skies over North Vietnam: 1964–1972,” 94, HRA

53. SAC, “Chaff Effectiveness,” March 1973; and TAC, “SEA Tactics Re

view Brochure,” 11, 76.

54. SAC, “Chaff Effectiveness,” March 1973. For a general discussion of th

changes, also see Clement, “A Fourth of July in December,” 49; Eschmann

“The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 75–76; McCarthy and Allison, Linebacker II

144
97, 121; and History, 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, October

December 1972

27, 32–33, HRA.

55. B-52s flew 708 effective sorties; F-llls, 148; A-7s, 226; and F-4s, 283

See Headquarters US Air Force, Briefing Books, II.

56. During periods of limited visibility, TAC fighters scored some re

markable successes, most notably hitting two especially difficult targets, th

Hanoi thermal plant and Radio Hanoi. The latter, protected by a 25-foot high

and 10-foot thick blast wall, had survived the bombing of 36 B-52s. F-4s go

four laser-guided bombs inside the walls and destroyed the target. Se

Clodfelter, “By Other Means,” 120; and Office of Assistant Chief of Staff

Intelligence (ACSI), “Linebacker II: 18–29 December 72,” supporting docu

ment III-KI, HRA.

57. History, Air Force Intelligence Service, 1 July 1972–30 June 1973

Linebacker Summary III, K2, HRA; CNA study, “US Navy, Marine Corps, and

Air Force Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damage in Southeast Asi

(1962–1973), Pt. 1: List of Aircraft Lost,” report no. CRC 305 (Alexandria, Va

Defense Documentation Center, 1977), 191–93, 223, 488–92, AUL; Eschmann

“The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 103–4, lists 30 aircraft destroyed, in

cluding three lost in accidents. Futrell, Aces and Aerial Victories, 17, state

that 27 US Air Force aircraft were lost. The North Vietnamese claimed 81 US

aircraft (34 B-52s). See also Gareth Porter, A Peace Denied—The United

States, Vietnam, and the Paris Agreements (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana Uni

versity, 1975), 161–62; and Richard Holloran, “Bombing Halt Brings Relie

to B-52 Crews in Guam,” New York Times, 2 January 1973, 3. Drenkowski

“Operation Linebacker II,” pt. 2, 55, says that 22 to 27 B-52s were destroyed

58. Clodfelter, “By Other Means,” 108; and Clement, “A Fourth of July in

December,” 47.

59. Headquarters US Air Force, Briefing Books, I and II.

60. Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 108; Berger et al

USAF in SEA, 60; Drendel, And Kill MiGs: Air to Air Combat, 47, 73; SAC

“Chaff Effectiveness,” March 1973; McCarthy and Allison, Linebacker II, 65

116; and Futrell, Aces and Aerial Victories, 125.

61. Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 46.

62. CNA, “Summary of Air Ops SEA: January 72–January 73,” 4-17

The North Vietnamese did not have the most modern equipment; in the 1973

Middle East War, Egyptians and Syrians inflicted heavy losses on Israeli air

craft with Soviet SA-3 and SA-6 missiles and ZSU-23-4 guns, equipment no

employed in the Vietnam War. See chap. 4. The North Vietnamese may hav

improved and manned their defenses without the help or knowledge of th

Soviets. See Porter, A Peace Denied, 161; and Jon Van Dyke, North Vietnam’

Strategy for Survival (Palo Alto, Calif.: Pacific Books, 1972), 61, 217.

63. On the third day of the campaign, a SAC commander ordered 

search for North Vietnamese SAM storage facilities. Within 18 hours, the in

telligence people began to find them, whereupon SAC requested JCS per

mission to bomb them. Permission for all but one was forthcoming, although

it took another 24 to 36 hours. As a result, these targets were not hit unti

145
26 December. See McCarthy and Allison, Linebacker II, 97

98.

64. Ibid., 155; Eschmann, “The Role of Tactical Air Support,” 94; and

George Allison, “The Bombers Go to the Bullseye,” Aerospace Historian, De

cember 1982, 233; and History, 388th Tactical Fighter Wing, October

December 1972.

65. While several helicopters and transports were destroyed on the ground

intelligence claimed that only two to three MiG-21s were damaged. The bulk

of the bombs fell on railroad yards (44 percent) and storage facilities (30 per

cent). See ACSI, “Linebacker II,” Headquarters USAF, “Linebacker USAF Bomb

ing Survey,” 3, 14, 16–17, 40–43.

66. Clodfelter, “By Other Means,” 127. The Airmen had also run out o

worthwhile targets in the Hanoi-Haiphong area. See McCarthy and Allison

Linebacker II, 163.

67. It would be a historical mistake to maintain, however, that the sam

terms could have been reached in October. Some believe the Linebacker I

bombing was as much aimed at the South Vietnamese (to reassure them o

American support) as at the North Vietnamese.

68. Momyer, Air Power in Three Wars, 126; and Senate, Hearing on Fisca

Year 1974 Authorization, pt. 6:4253.

69. American antiaircraft gunners tracked very few targets during th

course of the Vietnam War. There were at least two incidents of North Viet

namese aircraft attacking American ground or sea forces. Although some US

Army AAA units served in the war, none fired their weapons against hostil

aircraft. The Navy credits its gunners, however, with downing three North

Vietnamese MiGs. The first fell to a Talos missile fired from the USS Long

Beach in November 1968, the second to a Terrier fired by the USS Sterett on

19 April 1972, and the third to a Talos fired by the USS Chicago on 9 May

1972. See History, Seventh Fleet, 1972, enclosures 1, 20, 25, NHC; and

McCrea, “Fixed-Wing Aircraft Losses and Damages,” 2–30.

146
Chapter 4

Operations between Vietnam 

and the Persian Gulf

There have been several instances since the Vietnam Wa

where ground-based air defense systems made significant con

tributions to the conduct of a conflict. This chapter discusses the

Arab-Israeli Wars, American air strikes in the Middle East

Indo-Pakistani Wars, the Falkland War, and other recen

and ongoing conflicts. During this period, air war shifted from

dominance by the defense to dominance by the offense.

Arab-Israeli Wars: 1948, 1956, 1967–1973

Of the numerous non-American conflicts since World War II

none have stirred more military interest than those between

Arabs and Jews. Their number, Israeli successes against grea

odds, and the employment of modern equipment on a large

scale have helped to generate this interest. Israeli predomi

nance in the air attracts particular attention. All of these wars

illustrate the swings in dominance between offense and defense

Although Arabs and Jews have been fighting each other fo

a long time, the Airmen’s interest focuses on their conflicts

since 1967, in which air power has played a significant role

Both sides employed aircraft in the 1948 and 1956 wars, bu

these forces consisted of small numbers of obsolete, or obso

lescent, aircraft. In 1956, the Israelis lost 10 to 18 aircraft ou

of a total inventory of 136–55 and claimed eight aerial victo

ries. In this war, the Egyptians lost 12, and the Anglo-Franco

forces lost 10 aircraft. While the bulk of the Arab aircraft may

have fallen in air-to-air combat, we would expect that ground

fire downed most of the Israeli aircraft.1 In the 1967 and 1973

conflicts, however, the combatants used modern equipment

and air power became critical, if not predominant.

It can be argued that air power won one of its most striking

victories of all time in the June 1967 war. Preemptive strikes

by the Israeli air force (IAF) on the first day destroyed the bulk

147
of the numerically superior Arab air forces on the ground, per

mitting Israeli armor and close air support (CAS) aircraft to deci

sively crush the numerically superior Arab ground forces. On

that first day, the IAF destroyed 85 percent of the Egyptian ai

force and 410 Arab aircraft in exchange for 19 aircraft lost (al

but two or three to ground fire). This short, sharp war cost the

Israelis 40 to 50 aircraft (all but three to 12 to ground fire)

In contrast, the Arab air forces lost about 450 aircraft, mostly

on the ground, with 60 to 79 to Israeli aircraft and about 50

to Israeli ground-based air defenses.2

Although the Egyptians had 18 to 25 batteries of SA-2s

these SAMs had no direct effect on the battle. Their operators

fired perhaps a dozen missiles but claimed only one possible

hit. While the unclassified sources do not mention a break

down of Israeli credits for their surface-based air defense sys

tems, apparently an Israeli Hawk downed an IAF A-4 on 5 June

The damaged fighter bomber apparently penetrated a restricted

area around an Israeli nuclear facility.3

The Israelis gained a phenomenal military victory and new

territories in the 1967 war, but they did not win peace. Sovie

resupply of Arab clients led to a drawn-out land and air war o

attrition along the Suez Canal, the new border between Egyp

and Israel. Between July 1967 and January 1970, the IAF los

15 aircraft (13 to ground fire), while it claimed 74 Egyptian and

Syrian aircraft. In September–October 1969, the IAF took ou

the Egyptian SAMs along the canal. In January 1970, the Israelis

received US ECM pods and, within three months, neutralized

the Egyptian air defense system by destroying three-fourths o

its early warning radar. The offensive was again triumphant.

The Soviets countered in early 1970 by sending more missiles

including the SA-3, to Egypt. Although the SA-3’s range was

about one-third to one-half that of the SA-2 (slant range of 13–17

miles compared to the SA-2’s slant range of 25–30 miles), the

former could operate against lower-flying aircraft. The missiles

became operational in April 1970, and by the end of June, the

Egyptians had 55 SAM batteries. Soviet technicians and opera

tors bolstered the Egyptian air defenses, which, in essence, they

took over. The air war heated up in late June when SAMs

downed three IAF aircraft in one week. In response, the IAF

148
attacked and destroyed five Egyptian SAM batteries. On 8 July

1970, the two opponents agreed to a cease-fire; and, although

the battle subsided, tensions remained, and the lull permitted

the Egyptians to rebuild their defenses along the canal. In the

War of Attrition (July 1967 to May 1973), the Israelis lost 27

aircraft (25 to ground fire), and the Arabs lost 162 aircraft

most in air-to-air conflict, but at least 13 to Hawks and 24 to

37 mm and 40 mm guns.4

The 1973 War

The joint Egyptian-Syrian attack on Israel on 6 October 1973

took the world and the Israelis by surprise. Because of the

overwhelming superiority of the IAF, no one expected the Arab

armies to win; therefore, no one expected them to attack. In

addition, conventional wisdom held that air superiority was

vital to victory. After all, aviation had ruled the battlefield since

1939, or, put another way, victory was possible only unde

friendly or at least neutral skies. This view conveniently over

looked the various guerrilla wars and, most especially, the

Vietnam War. During the first days of the conflict, the two Arab

states used their air forces sparingly. They relied primarily on

ground-based air defense systems and were modest in their ai

plans, attempting only to gain local and limited air superiority

On day one, the Egyptians flew 200–240 sorties while thei

armies advanced under a protective umbrella of surface-based

air defense weapons.

This air defense umbrella was massive, mixed, and mobile

The Egyptians emphasized their surface-based air defense force

(formed as a separate service in 1968) that had three times as

many personnel as did their air force and made up one-fourth

of their total armed forces. The Syrian air defense was smalle

but denser because of the smaller battlefield. The Syrians

manned nearly 47 SAM batteries (32–35 SA-6s and the res

SA-2s and SA-3s), while the Egyptians operated 150 batteries

of which 46 were SA-6s.5

The Arabs fielded not only a large number but also a grea

assortment of Soviet equipment. The vast number of guns was

imposing and included a small number of the new four-barre

149
23 mm ZSU-23-4. The missile arsenal included the SA-2 and

the SA-7 employed in Vietnam, the SA-3 employed in the Wa

of Attrition, and a new missile, the SA-6. The Arab air defense

system was more than just large and varied, for, unlike the im

mobile North Vietnamese defenses (except for light AAA and

SA-7s), the Arab air defenses could move, as both the ZSU-23-4

and SA-6 were vehicle-mounted, and the SA-7 was man

portable. What must be emphasized is that the impact of the

Arab air defenses came from the combination of numbers

mixture, mobility, and modernity, as the IAF soon found out.

The SA-6, the most modern of these weapons, had been ob

served in 1967 but had not been seen in action. It was a rela

tively small missile, weighing about 1,200 pounds and per

mitting three to be mounted on a (PT-76) tank chassis (fig. 67)

Its size, speed, and smokeless sustainer engine made it diffi

cult to spot visually. The missile was faster (Mach 2.5–2.8) and

much more sophisticated than the other Soviet SAMs, as it used

150

Figure 67. SA-6. The mobile SA-6 did not see service over Vietnam, bu

was effective against the Israeli air force in the 1973 war. (Reprinted

from US Army Air Defense Museum.)
radar to guide its initial flight and rapidly changed frequencies

and then homed in on its prey using heat-seeking sensors. Per

haps more important, it employed radar frequencies outside o

the range covered by Israeli ECM. (The SA-6 used a filter, as did

the SA-7, to counter the use of flares intended to decoy its in

frared sensor.) Its slant range of 17–25 miles is comparable to

the SA-2’s and the SA-3’s; additionally, the SA-6 can kill aircraf

flying at low altitudes. Therefore, the combination of newness

mobility, high speed, sophisticated guidance, and low-altitude

capability gave the SA-6 great potential. While it did not produce

the 97-percent kill rate promised by the Soviets, it downed many

aircraft and forced IAF aircraft into Arab AAA, especially the

ZSU-23.7

The ZSU-23-4 was a very effective AAA piece (fig. 68). Mounted

on a PT-76 tank chassis, its four 23 mm barrels could fire a

a maximum rate of 4,000 shots per minute, although gunners

never just held the trigger down but instead were trained to

fire in short bursts of 75 or so rounds. Radar with a 12-mile

151

Figure 68. ZSU-23.The ZSU-23-4 proved an unpleasant surprise for Israe

aircraft in the 1973 Middle East War. It mounted four 23 mm cannons

guided by radar on a tracked vehicle. (Reprinted from US Army Air De

fense Museum.)
range directed the guns, which could reach an effective range

of about 4,000 feet. There were also optical sights. Similar to

the SA-6, the weapon’s chief assets were its low-altitude capa

bility, mobility, and the absence of previous observation in ac

tion by the West.8

Following the initial Arab assault, as expected, the Israelis

quickly launched tank and aircraft counterattacks to blun

the advance of the invading Arab armies, to succor the out

numbered and outgunned forward defenders, and to shield its

own mobilization. However, Israel’s tankers, airmen, equipment

and tactics failed against Arab missiles and guns. On the Suez

front, the IAF lost four aircraft in their first strike; and, on the

Golan Heights front, they lost four out of four aircraft on the

first wave and two of four aircraft on the second wave. Some

claim that Arab gunners downed as many as 30 to 40 Israel

aircraft on the first day of the war.

During the first three days, the IAF lost dozens of aircraft

perhaps as many as 50, at the Suez front. These heavy losses

(twice the rate of the 1967 war) shocked the Israelis, who, fo

the moment, stopped flying within 10–15 miles of the Suez

Canal. However, the grave military situation required the IAF

to continue its efforts, especially on the critical Syrian front

During the first week, the IAF lost a total of 78–90 aircraft, a

sizable percentage of its force.9

The SA-7 had little direct impact on the battle and probably

served most as a nuisance to the Israelis and a morale booste

to the Arabs. The shoulder-fired SAM downed only two fixed

wing aircraft and damaged 30 others. Aircraft could outrun

and outmaneuver the missile, as US Airmen had proved the

year before. In addition, the SA-7 lacked killing power; it hi

aircraft in their tail, where its small warhead usually did no

inflict catastrophic damage. A vehicle-mounted arrangement

the SA-8, fitted with eight SA-7s, was no more effective.10

On the other hand, the SA-6 proved especially effective by

destroying a sizable proportion of IAF aircraft and indirectly by

forcing Israeli aircraft into Arab AAA fire. The SAM’s rapid

speed and its new and changing frequencies were difficult to

counter. The overconfidence of the Israelis, their neglect of ECM

(at one point, the IAF stripped ECM from their aircraft for greate

152
economy, speed, and maneuverability), and US restrictions on

ECM sales left the IAF in a serious bind. The result was tha

“The IAF could go anywhere except near the Golan Heights

and the Suez fronts, where it was needed most. As they had

begun to do three years earlier, the Soviet missiles successfully

redefined the nature of modern war.”11 In response, Israeli im

provisation was speedy and effective, yet costly.

The IAF used a variety of means to deal with the SAM threat

To defeat heat-seeking missiles, it employed violent maneuvers

turning toward the missile to present the IR seeker a “cold

side,” and maneuvering aircraft to cross in the sky creating a

“hot spot.” In addition, Israeli airmen dropped flares, even jetti

soned fuel, and then ignited it to decoy the heat-seeking missiles

Spotters in helicopters warned pilots of missile launches. The

IAF also used chaff, first carried in speed brakes, later in a

more conventional manner; improved American ECM pods

and standoff jammers operating from the ground, helicopters

and transports.

In addition, the Israelis directly assaulted the SA-6s. The

SA-6’s low initial trajectory encouraged the IAF to dive-bomb

the SAMs from very steep angles—desperate measures impro

vised for a desperate situation. The IAF also fired Shrike anti

radiation missiles.12

The Israelis turned around the air war and to a degree the

ground action by taking out the Arab SAMs. Concentrating

first on the Syrians, the IAF destroyed half of their SAMs in

four days. Another factor that aided the IAF was that the Syrians

ran out of SA-6s. One source claims that the Israelis knocked

out a Syrian control center that seriously hampered the Syrian

missile defenses. The Syrians were defeated, and only politica

restraints prevented a much greater Israeli victory.13

The solution to the IAF’s problem on the Egyptian front came

from an unexpected source, the Israeli army. The Egyptians

made one major thrust from their formidable position along

the canal, venturing outside of their protective antiaircraft cover

and suffering a decisive defeat on 14 October in the larges

tank battle since World War II. The Israelis quickly followed up

their tactical victory. In the early morning of 16 October, Israel

forces crossed the canal and in short order created havoc in

153
the Egyptian army. By midday, the Israelis had destroyed fou

SAM sites, and by the next morning, the IAF was operating in

full support of the ground forces. In reverse of the accepted

practice, the army made it possible for the air force to operate

According to one account, an Israeli armored division destroyed

34 missile batteries, about one-half of the Egyptian SAMs de

fending the canal. The Israelis now had the initiative and easily

could have inflicted an overwhelming defeat on the Egyptians

But, the major powers intervened, which led to a cease-fire on

22 October. The Israelis won the war and in the process de

stroyed approximately 40 of the 55–60 SAM batteries that the

Egyptians had in action. This destruction was inflicted by the

IAF, as well as by Israeli ground forces.14

Nevertheless, the ground-based air defenses took a substan

tial toll. Secondary sources state that the Arabs lost 40 to 75

aircraft (one or two dozen to Hawks) and the Israelis perhaps

82 to 100 to SAMs and flak.15 A US Army study put the tota

number of Israeli losses at 109, 81 to ground-based air de

fenses. The study credits AAA with 31 aircraft, SAMs (othe

than SA-7) 40, SA-7s 4, and a combination of SAMs and AAA

6. Of the 516 Arab aircraft losses, the study attributed 36 to

ground weapons, 42 to 20 mm guns, and 23 to Hawks.16

The ground defenses also claimed a number of friendly air

craft. Israeli gunners apparently downed two of their own air

craft, which probably were Mirages mistaken for the same type

aircraft the Egyptians received from the Libyans. The Arabs

destroyed 45 to 60 of their own aircraft. On 8 October, for ex

ample, Syrian SAMs destroyed 20 Iraqi MiGs, while Egyptian

SA-6s may have downed 40 Egyptian aircraft. Thus, Arab

SAMs destroyed more Arab aircraft (45–58) than Israeli air

craft (39–44). This “friendly fire” accounted for about 10 to 12

percent of total Arab losses.17

Helicopters again proved vulnerable. Israeli air and ground

defenses devastated an Egyptian commando strike on the firs

day of the war, downing 20–35 of approximately 50 Mi-8 heli

copters. An Egyptian attack on the critical Israeli canal bridge

on 18 October ended with all five helicopters downed. On the

Arab side, SA-7s claimed six IAF rotary-wing aircraft.18

154
The IAF clearly won the air war, destroying about 450 Arab

aircraft, while losing about 107 aircraft in combat, 115 overall

Compared to the 1967 war, the Arabs lost about the same

number of aircraft—although many more in the air—while the

Israelis lost twice as many. On a sortie basis, however, IAF losses

actually declined from 4 percent in 1967 to just over 1 percen

in 1973. Arab losses in 1973 were just under 5 percent.19

Although the IAF defeated the Arab air forces in the air, i

failed to use air power as it had in the 1967 war. CAS proved

limited and disappointing, especially in the first three critica

days of the war. One study concluded that aircraft did not un

equivocally damage or destroy one tank. Even if this decline in

CAS effectiveness is overdrawn, air power clearly influenced

the war less in 1973 than it had in 1967. A dense, mobile, mixed

surface-based air defense system thwarted arguably the best

trained and highest motivated air force in the world and in

flicted severe losses on it. Just as American Airmen under

estimated North Vietnamese air defenses, so had the Israel

airmen underestimated Arab air defenses. Both paid the price

The 1973 war seemed to indicate that the balance between the

offense and defense (specifically aircraft versus ground defenses

had swung in favor of the latter. Aircraft appeared to have los

its battlefield dominance.20 The IAF action in Lebanon in the

summer of 1982 altered this view.

Combat since 1973: Bekaa Valley

Lebanon existed in a state of chaos from the occupation by

militias of right and left, Palestinian guerrillas, the Syrian army

and from fighting among these groups and between them and

the Israelis. The Syrians rebuilt their military forces from the

defeat of the 1973 war and, in so doing, almost tripled thei

ground-based air defenses, increasing them from 30 to 80 bat

teries and manning them with their best personnel. In late

April 1981, the Syrians moved 19 missile batteries, including

SA-6s, into Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. Here, the Syrians estab

lished a dense and, what appeared from the record of the 1973

war, to be a formidable air defense system.21

155
In early June 1982, the Israelis invaded Lebanon, primarily

fighting the Palestinian guerrillas but also engaging the Syrians

The Israelis battered the latter, despite their large arsenal o

modern Soviet equipment and the “lessons” of the 1973 war. In

this brief but intense action, the Israelis won a lopsided vic

tory, destroying 80 to 90 Syrian aircraft and 19 to 36 batteries o

missiles, for the destruction of three to six Israeli aircraft. In

addition, Israeli ground fire downed at least one Syrian jet (a

Vulcan gun got an Su-7) and two helicopters.22

On 9 June, the IAF took on the Syrian air defenses in the

Bekaa Valley with a complex, carefully planned, well-coordinated

and effectively executed attack. The Israelis used air- and

ground-launched drones as decoys to activate Syrian radar

This allowed the Israeli EC-135s to obtain the location and fre

quency of the Syrian radars, information they rapidly relayed

to strike elements. The Israelis thereby coupled real-time in

telligence with rapid response to give their pilots precise loca

tions of the SAMs and accurate tuning information for thei

jamming equipment. In the electronics war, the IAF used ECM

pods, chaff rockets, possibly chaff from drones, and standof

jammers in CH-53, Boeing 707, and Arava transports. The Is

raeli airmen employed diversionary tactics, precise timing

sharply executed low-level tactics, and weapons such as

ARMs, standoff munitions, iron bombs, and cluster bombs. In

addition, the Israelis used a new surface-to-surface ARM, the

Wolf missile. Ground forces fired artillery, launched ground

assaults along the front, and just before the air attack, took

out a control center with a commando raid. The Syrians did

not help their own cause, as they failed to dig in, sited thei

radar poorly, and ignited smoke screens that guided, rathe

than confused, the IAF. On the first day, the IAF destroyed 17

missile batteries and severely damaged two others. The Syrians

pushed more SAM units into the Bekaa Valley, but to no avail

On the second day of the action, the IAF destroyed 11 more

missile batteries. On 24 July, the Israelis knocked out three

batteries of SA-8s. A few days later, they destroyed some

SA-9s. Reportedly, the IAF destroyed four SA-9 batteries in

September (fig. 69).23

156
American Air Strikes in the Middle East,

1983–1986

American strikes in the Middle East a little more than a yea

later were much less successful. The United States intervened

in Lebanon in 1983, and that December the US Navy responded

to Syrian firing on American reconnaissance aircraft with an

air strike consisting of 12 A-7Es and 16 A-6Es. The naval avia

tors used tactics proven in Vietnam: they penetrated at 20,000

feet, then descended to 3,000 feet for their attacks. To counte

Syrian heat-seeking missiles, they dropped numerous decoy

157

Figure 69. SA-9. The Soviet SA-9 mounts eight SA-7 missiles on a

mobile platform. (Reprinted from USAF.)
flares—but to little effect. The American flyers encountered in

tense defenses, more than expected, and Soviet SA-7 and SA-9

missiles modified to counter the decoy flares. The Syrians

launched 40–50 SAMs, which downed one A-7 and one A-6

and damaged another A-7. While the Navy blamed the losses

on changes in Soviet missile sensors, the Israelis criticized

American planning, tactics, and experience. Later Syrian fire

against US aircraft was met by ship bombardment.24

This less-than-satisfactory experience jarred the Americans

and probably influenced the next US air operation, the Apri

1986 raid on Libya. One factor driving American planning was

to avoid the SA-7s, which meant operating at night. There were

of course, other reasons for night operations, such as achieving

maximum surprise, avoiding a major engagement with Libyan

air defenses, avoiding casualties to both Soviet advisers and

Libyan civilians, and revealing as little American ECM as pos

sible. However, night operations also meant that only two

American aircraft could be effectively used: the Air Force’s FB

111 and the Navy’s A-6. While the A-6s were aboard carriers

cruising in the Mediterranean, the FB-111 bombers were sta

tioned in Britain, a round-trip of 5,600 miles (a 14-hour flight)

The FB-111s would require numerous aerial refueling because

of the distance and air space overflight restrictions.25

US Airmen launched a large strike force of 32 bombers (18

FB-111s and 14 A-6s) supported by almost 70 aircraft. The

mammoth supporting force was required because Libyan ai

defenses were both large and sophisticated for a third world

country. Besides MiGs, the defenses consisted of 100 batter

ies of SA-2s, SA-3s, and SA-6s (about 30 to 60 batteries were

operational), as well as SA-5, SA-8, SA-9, and French Crotale

missiles, and perhaps 450 AAA guns.26

American aircraft successfully penetrated Libyan defenses

suppressing and evading fire from Libyan SAMs and AAA and

encountering no aerial opposition. Airmen used low-level and

high-speed tactics—the FB-111s at 400 feet and 500 knots, the

A-6s as low as 200 feet and 450 knots—to deliver both laser

guided and iron bombs. One FB-111 went down, the cause was

not publicly known. Although the Libyans received 30 to 45

minutes’ notice from Maltese air controllers that unidentified

158
aircraft were heading for North Africa, apparently Libyan rada

did not activate until about four minutes before the 0200 attack

Standoff jamming by EF-111s and EA-6Bs, on-board ECM, and

about 50 antiradiation missiles almost completely nullified

Libyan radar. The mission was both a technical and politica

success: the Airmen got their bombs on target (mostly), losses

were light (one FB-111 downed), and since the air attack, there

has been a lack of terrorist activity openly and directly associated

with the Libyans. Thus, the 12-minute raid demonstrated

that the American military could hit difficult targets despite dis

tance and other natural obstacles as well as penetrate numerous

and sophisticated defenses with light losses.27

Indo–Pakistani War

In September 1965, war erupted on the Asian subcontinen

between India and Pakistan and lasted 23 days. Both sides

fielded small air forces equipped with a few modern aircraf

(Indian MiG-21s and Pakistani F-104s), but most aircraft were

at least a decade beyond their prime (Indian Hunters and

Vampires and Pakistani F-86s).

Just as the ground war ended in a stalemate, so did the ai

war. But even at this writing (2005), it is difficult from the con

flicting claims to sort out exactly what happened. The Pakistanis

claim to have destroyed 110 Indian aircraft, 35 in air-to-ai

combat, 32 by antiaircraft guns, and the remainder in attacks

on airfields. They admit to losing 19 aircraft, eight in air combat

two to their own AAA, and nine to other causes. The Pakistanis

admit that Indian guns downed a few aircraft but claim tha

none of the F-86s engaged in almost 500 CAS sorties were lost

although 58 were damaged. The Indians claim 73 Pakistan

aircraft were destroyed and admitted losing 35. The Indians

fired a few SA-2 missiles and claimed one C-130. The Pakistanis

dispute this claim, stating that they did not lose a C-130 to the

SAMs, and counter that the SA-2 got an Indian An-12 trans

port. The Pakistanis do admit that an SA-2 damaged an RB-57F

at 52,000 feet.28

In December 1971, the two countries fought another brie

(two-week) war. By this time, both sides had upgraded their ai

159
forces in quality and quantity but still fielded forces that were

relatively small and of mixed vintage. Pakistan lost the wa

and its eastern territory—what is now Bangladesh. Again, the

combatants’ claims markedly conflict, and these differences

remain along with the political problems. Indians claimed to

have destroyed 94 Pakistani aircraft for the loss of 54 and

stated that one aircraft fell to an SA-2 missile. The Pakistanis

claimed the destruction of 104 Indian aircraft at the cost of 26

planes. They admit losing three to four aircraft to flak as wel

as two aircraft to friendly fire. The Pakistanis assert that AAA

registered 49 of their 104 kills. Another source states that one

half of the lost Pakistani aircraft fell to ground defenses.29

The Falkland Islands/Malvinas War, 1982

Early in the 1980s, another brief campaign in a remote par

of the world captured the public’s attention. The Falkland

campaign surprised the civilians and military alike on a num

ber of counts: that Argentina and Britain went to war, Britain

successfully liberated the islands over such a great distance

and Argentina inflicted startling losses on the more modern

British forces. The conflict pitted a small, well-trained, and

well-equipped modern force of a European nation operating

7,000 miles from home against a larger, less well-trained con

script force armed with a mixture of old and modern equip

ment of a developing nation.

From the standpoint of the air war, the Argentines fielded an

air force of mixed capabilities equipped with old Canberras

and A-4s, counterinsurgency Pucaris, and the more modern

Mirages and Super Etendards. For ground-based defenses

the Argentines had, in addition to automatic weapons, British

(Sea Dart, Seacat, and Blowpipe) and Franco-German (Roland

surface-to-air missiles (fig. 70).

Although the British used the old Vulcan bomber, their pri

mary combat aircraft was the vertical-takeoff-and-landing

Harrier. The Royal Navy ships operated a mixture of gun de

fenses and SAMs (Seacat, Seawolf, Sea Dart, and Seaslug) (fig

71). British troops ashore used three SAM systems: Blowpipe

Stinger, and Rapier.30

160
The Argentine air defense proved minimal against the British

Harriers and helicopters. However, it should be quickly noted

that, in contrast to the Argentine air force, which flew and

fought without ECM, the British employed both airborne ECM

jammers aboard Vulcan bombers, chaff dispensers on Sea

Harriers, shipborne ECM jammers, and Corvus chaff rockets

The British used antiradiation missiles (Shrikes) against the

161

Figure 70. Blowpipe. The British Blowpipe was another shoulder-fired

SAM. It was used by both sides in the Falklands War, and both sides

claimed it downed aircraft. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
main Falkland-based Argentine radar without success, bu

the missile did destroy one other radar set.31 The Argentine ai

arms lacked similar weapons. Argentine fire destroyed 22

British aircraft, 13 of which were helicopters destroyed aboard

ships sunk or damaged by air attack. Argentine ground fire

destroyed all but one of the remaining nine, a Scout helicopte

downed by a Pucari. The British flew 2,000 sorties but state

that they lost only five Harriers in combat: one to a Roland

missile, one to small arms, and three to 35 mm antiaircraft fire

(fig. 72). Small arms or Blowpipe missiles accounted for three

Gazelle helicopters. One source claims that the Argentines en

gaged two of their own helicopters—not unlikely, as both sides

flew the same kind of machines.32

The effectiveness of the Argentine air force provided one o

the big surprises of the war, especially considering its limita

162

Figure 71. Sea Dart launch. The Sea Dart, shown here in a peacetime

launch, equipped both Argentine and British forces. It downed five to

eight Argentine aircraft. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
tions. The Argentine airmen flew mostly outdated aircraft dur

ing daytime, in clear weather, without ECM, and at the limits

of their range. In addition, with the exception of five French

made Exocet missiles, they dropped gravity bombs on targets

(mainly ships) that they had not been trained to engage. Nev

ertheless, they sank seven ships and damaged another dozen

British losses could have been far worse, but at least one-fifth

(perhaps three-quarters) of the Argentine bombs failed to ex

plode due to faulty fuze settings, defective fuzes or bombs, and

most of all, to extremely low-level and short bomb releases

(One-half of the dozen ships damaged were hit by dud bombs.

The Argentine pilots demonstrated their courage and dedica

tion by their repeated attacks, despite the formidable odds and

high losses. For example, between 21 and 25 May, they lost 19

aircraft on 117 sorties.33

The British also operated under a number of severe handi

caps in the campaign. The British supply line stretched 7,000

163

Figure 72. Roland launch. The Roland was developed by the French

who claimed it destroyed four British aircraft in the Falklands War, a

claim denied by the British. (Reprinted from Redstone Arsenal.)
miles between the Falkland Islands and Britain, relieved only

by the spare, American-operated base on Ascension Island. The

British had only two small carriers available to support the

campaign. (The British planned to reduce even this small force

Thus, had the Argentines delayed their action, British difficulties

would have multiplied.) Their small decks forced the British to

rely for air superiority on a handful of Harriers, an aircraft nei

ther designed nor equipped for such a role. British ship designs

also proved flawed in that damage-control systems were inade

quate, and some of the ships lacked armored cables. Initially

only two ships in the invasion fleet carried modern missiles

(Seawolf) for defense against low-level attacks.

Combat revealed the biggest British problem to be the lack

of early warning aircraft. Although the British brilliantly and

rapidly improvised to make good other serious deficiencies

(such as adapting the land-based Harrier GR3 to operate of

aircraft carriers, expanding air-to-air refueling capabilities

mating the Sidewinder to the Harrier, and installing ECM

aboard the Vulcan), this one glaring gap remained. In addi

tion, the inadequacy of early warning proved costly to the

British. In short, the British entered the conflict ill prepared.3

British authorities claimed the destruction of 72 aircraft in

the air, not an unreasonable number when compared with the

Argentine admission of 36 pilots killed in the campaign on 505

sorties. They believe that the Harriers downed 20 aircraft

small arms, as many as six; and naval 4.5-inch guns, one

Forty-five aircraft fell to various surface-to-air missiles.35

As usual, these numbers are probably overstated. Secondary

accounts based on Argentine documents and interviews pu

total Argentine air losses between 44 and 55. The most detailed

account, based upon Argentine sources, puts the losses to the

Harriers at 21; to SAMs, 18; AAA, 3 (fig. 73); and friendly fire

to at least two.36

The official British account credits the Blowpipe with destroy

ing nine Argentine aircraft, while other authors say the true

number is from two to four. The troops who carried the 47-pound

Blowpipe across the difficult Falklands’ terrain criticized its

weight. This is understandable under the circumstances, but the

missile did give the troops some protection against Argentine

164
aircraft. The Blowpipe, like the SA-7 and the American Redeye

and Stinger, is operated by one man; but, unlike the heat

seeking Soviet and American devices, Blowpipe is optically

guided. It proved it could do the job, both ashore and afloat

One detachment aboard a Royal Fleet auxiliary fired six mis

siles and claimed three aircraft destroyed. The Argentines also

used the Blowpipe and claimed hits on one Harrier and two

helicopters. In addition, the British used the lighter-weigh

Stinger but fired only four missiles for one kill. (However, there

is some controversy about that particular claim.)37

The British initially credited the Rapier, their other ground

based SAM, with 13 kills, later raised to 20 (fig. 74). Just as

the Roland kills are hotly disputed by the British, so are the

Rapier kills by those who have seen Argentine documents and

talked to Argentine pilots. (Perhaps this argument has more to

do with future sales of these weapons than with history.) Au

thors using Argentine sources put the Rapier credits at one to

three. While the British stated that the campaign validates the

165

Figure 73. Bofors 40 mm shipboard. In addition to numerous SAMs, the

Royal Navy retained guns to protect against air strikes. This Bofors 40

mm L/60 and crew are aboard either the HMS Fearless or HMS Intrepid

during the Falklands War. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
weapon, the question of the actual kills casts some doubt on

these assertions. The army unit (T Battery) fired only with op

tical tracking and achieved 40 percent of its kills in the tail

chase mode. The missile’s kinetic (direct hit) system coupled

with contact (not proximity) fuzes worked well, as British gun

ners often had to fire over their own men and ships. Firing

over friendly forces also highlighted the manual-control fea

ture (it is not a fire-and-forget weapon), which proved usefu

because the operator could pull the missile off a target if it flew

behind friendly forces.38

The British naval air defense concept consisted of Harriers

as air cover, destroyers armed with Sea Dart missiles as long

range defenses, and a close-in air defense of ships armed with

guns and other missiles. The British claim that Royal Navy

SAMs downed 21 aircraft. The large Seaslug missile, which en

tered service in 1962, received no credits. The two-stage Sea Dar

destroyed five to eight aircraft, but more importantly, forced

Argentine aircraft into low-level tactics. However, it could handle

only one target at a time, as was dramatically demonstrated

when four A-4s attacked the HMS Coventry (fig. 75). The de

stroyer’s Sea Darts destroyed the first two Argentine aircraft

166

Figure 74. Rapier. Another British SAM employed in the Falklands cam

paign was the Rapier. (Reprinted from USAF.)
but the third scored a direct hit, which sank the ship. According

to the manufacturer, obsolescent radar and computers ham

pered the missile. In addition, seas rougher than anticipated

in its design degraded the system’s performance against low

flying aircraft.39

The small, short-range Seacat began development in 1958

and is in service with a number of countries (fig. 76). Although

British sources credit it with eight kills, other sources put this

figure at one. The other short-range missile system was the

more advanced Seawolf. Although clearly a better system than

the Seacat, which it was designed to replace, Seawolf was only

fitted on two ships. (Argentine duds hit both.) Nevertheless

this SAM received credit for downing three to five aircraft and

at least one air-to-surface missile.40

Regardless of the actual number of kills and the dispute

over claims, the fact is the Royal Navy’s defenses proved barely

adequate; the Argentine air force came close to driving off the

167

Figure 75. HMS Coventry. Argentine airmen suffered high losses in the

Falklands War but pressed home attacks that nearly repelled the British

counter invasion. They sank a number of ships, one of which was the

HMS Coventry. (Reprinted from http://www.jove.prohosting.com-sinking

falklands/shtml.)
British fleet. The Argentine air force sank seven ships and hi

another dozen.41 Clearly, the Argentines came off better in the

air-sea battle in terms of resources expended. Each British

ship cost tens if not hundreds of millions of dollars; the HMS

Sheffield, for example, cost $225 million. Argentine Exocets

and aircraft cost far less, approximately $200,000 for the mis

siles and perhaps $5 million for a modern jet fighter.42 But, the

British did win the war and did achieve their national objective

Other Actions in the 1980s

There were no major air operations by developed powers in

the 1980s. Three other actions deserve mention, however, be

168

Figure 76. Seacat.The short-range British Seacat was an older SAM used

by the Royal Navy, as well as by the Argentines. There is some dispute

as to its effectiveness in the Falklands War. This picture is of a training

exercise before that war. (Reprinted from Imperial War Museum.)
fore moving on to the next major conflict. Ground-based ai

defenses played varying roles in the Iran-Iraq War, the inva

sion of Grenada, and the Afghan-Soviet War.

The war between Iran and Iraq was the bloodiest conflic

since the Korean War. Both countries had considerable quan

tities of relatively modern aircraft and air defense equipment

the Iranians using American aircraft and British and American

missiles (Hawk, Rapier, and Tigercat); and the Iraqis relying on

Soviet equipment, including 70 SAM batteries (SA-2s, SA-3s

and a few SA-6s). Reportedly, both sides lost about 150 aircraf

by the end of 1981, with most of the combat losses to ground

weapons. Neither side made effective use of SAMs, but man

portable SAMs did have a major impact on the air war. While

registering few hits, perhaps one for every 20 to 30 fired, the

missiles forced attacking aircraft higher and thus degraded

their effectiveness. The inability of either side to make good use

of modern technology stems from problems with parts, main

tenance, and training. In addition, the main objective of both

air forces apparently was to avoid attrition and defeat and to

deter attacks. The lessons of this conflict therefore may be tha

modern equipment does not automatically make modern forces

and that air forces without access to secure support and resup

ply may adopt a defensive strategy to preserve their forces.43

In contrast to the long and costly Iran-Iraq War, US action

in Grenada was short and cheap. The 1984 invasion will prob

ably best be remembered for its nonmilitary aspects; never

theless, air power played a significant role in the short, one-sided

operation. The United States faced neither hostile aircraft no

any heavy antiaircraft weapons (greater than 23 mm), only

small arms and 24 ZSU-23 guns, lacking radar guidance. De

spite this imbalance, the defenders downed four helicopters (a

fifth was destroyed after colliding with a damaged helicopter

and severely damaged at least four others (fig. 77). The loss o

so many machines against such minor resistance here and in

the 1975 Mayaguez incident, during which eight of nine heli

copters employed were disabled, again raised the question o

helicopter survival in combat operations.44

Finally, in recent years guerrilla groups have claimed success

against aircraft. Although it is difficult to separate insurgents

169
claims from their propaganda, a number of aircraft have gone

down in anti-guerrilla operations in Angola, Chad, Nicaragua

and the Sudan. Whether they were victims of SAMs, small arms

operational problems, or propaganda remains to be determined

In any case, the acquisition of shoulder-launched SAMs gives

the guerrillas a potent antiaircraft weapon.45

The man-portable SAM has had an impact on air warfare

Airmen—Americans in Vietnam and Soviets in Afghanistan—

quickly found countermeasures to the first-generation SA-7

and Redeye missiles. Both missiles are limited by lack of elec

tronic identification capability and three performance factors

they are strictly tail-chase (revenge) weapons, susceptible to

decoy flares, and are restricted in maneuverability. The second

generation Stinger is a different story. It is a foot longer than

the four-foot Redeye and weighs an additional 16 pounds

More importantly, the Stinger has improved its performance in

170

Figure 77. Helicopter kill in Grenada. The 1983 American invasion o

Grenada was not much of a war due to the overwhelming US military

superiority. Nevertheless, antiaircraft guns shot down four Army heli

copters, again demonstrating their vulnerability to ground fire. (Reprinted

from http://www.2arts.net/.../grenada_thumbs_downed_helicoper.htm.)
four areas. In addition to having an electronic IFF capability

the Stinger has a forward-firing capability, more resistance to

decoy flares, greater speed, and outranges the two-mile Redeye

by a mile. General Dynamics began development of the Stinge

in 1971, and it became operational in 1981. The missile’s

biggest success has been in Afghanistan. In fact, its influence

in that conflict prompted one reporter to write, “What the long

bow was to English yeomen . . . the Stinger antiaircraft missile

is to today’s American-backed guerrilla fighters.”46

The war in Afghanistan clearly shows how missile technology

has given the guerrillas a valuable weapon. Initially, the Soviets

while bogged down on the ground and largely confined to the

cities and fortified positions, made effective and growing use o

both fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft against sparse rebe

antiaircraft defenses (the United States sent 40 20 mm guns

in 1985), including SA-7 missiles. Soviet successes prompted

the United States to increase its support. In 1985, Blowpipes

were ordered, and reportedly, the rebels received 225 missiles

Then, after an intra-governmental battle that pitted the US

State Department against the Central Intelligence Agency, in

which the former prevailed, the United States in late 1985 de

cided to send Stingers to the insurgents. 

The American Stingers were initially criticized for their weigh

and complexity, but after a month in which 11 were fired with

out a miss, they clearly demonstrated their effectiveness. One

secondary account asserts that the rebels scored their firs

confirmed Stinger kills in late September 1986, downing three

Hind helicopters. Other accounts claim that the guerrillas

downed two helicopters and one fighter in October and 11 heli

copters and one MiG-23 in November (fig. 78). These losses

forced the Soviets to fly higher, to operate at farther distances

from their targets, and to restrict, if not abandon, their gunship

strikes, markedly reducing the military effectiveness of air powe

and the Soviet military in general. In February 1987, Air Force

chief of staff Larry Welch testified that “somewhere between

150 and 300 Stingers have absolutely driven the Russian ai

force out of the skies in Afghanistan.”47 The rebels claimed to

have downed as many as 15 to 20 Soviet helicopters a month

and by the summer of 1987 may have downed one aircraft a

171
day. During the fall 1987 offensive, the Afghan governmen

reportedly lost 17 helicopters, an An-22 transport, and fou

MiG-21s to the Stingers. A US Army study estimated that the

Afghans achieved 269 hits from the 340 Stingers they fired.

The Stinger’s impact goes beyond the aircraft losses and less

effective offensive tactics. A Western journal reports that 20

Afghanistan pilots refused to fly against rebel positions defended

by the American-built missiles. The leader of the Afghanistan

Communist Party acknowledged the weapon’s effectiveness

and how it changed the conflict, noting that in the siege of Khost

a city about 100 miles south of Kabul, US and British SAMs

halted Communist daytime air supply of the city. Thus, the

Communists were forced to concede the countryside to the

rebels and concentrate their forces in Kabul and other majo

cities. The Stinger tipped the air balance, and it is not far

172

Figure 78. Helicopter kill in Afghanistan. Afghan forces downed this

Soviet helicopter in 1979. The later introduction of shoulder-fired

SAMs, particularly the Stinger, shifted the balance of the air war and

played a major role in the Soviet withdrawal. (Reprinted from USAF.)
fetched to assert that it overturned the military balance as

well. The Soviets began their withdrawal from the conflict in

February 1989. Defeat in Afghanistan surely was a factor in

the demise of the Soviet Union only a short time later.48

Summary

Any war is difficult to evaluate, but small wars are especially

tricky. Because the amount of equipment used is usually smal

and for the most part less than the most modern, it is difficul

to extrapolate the findings into more general and future uses

When wars are fought between other countries, problems o

analysis increase. Nevertheless, war is the only laboratory the

soldier has, and he or she must make the most of it.

The 1973 Arab-Israeli War presented many surprises, from

its origin to the way it was fought. The Arabs defied the con

ventional wisdom in two respects: by attacking a country having

a superior military and attacking without air superiority. Ini

tially, the Arabs used their air forces sparingly and advanced

under a dense and lethal umbrella of SAMs and guns. This ai

defense proved effective and inflicted heavy losses on the Israel

air force. Arab missiles and guns sorely tested the IAF; but

the Israelis changed their tactics, adopted new equipment

persisted, and won. However, Arab air defenses did not permi

the Israelis to fight the air and ground war as they had in 1967

and as they would have liked. Because of this war, some com

mentators spoke of the demise of the tank and aircraft, victims

of the modern missile. The defense seemed to be supreme.

However, the wars of 1982 seemingly offered different lessons

The IAF won a striking victory against Syrian aircraft and SAMs

This came about with coordinated efforts of all arms and es

pecially with high-technology equipment such as ARMs, re

motely piloted vehicles (RPV), and electronics aircraft.

The implications of the war in the Falklands appear less

clear. It might be thought of as the converse of Vietnam; tha

is, a relatively sophisticated but small British force pitted agains

a larger but less-modern Argentine one. The Argentines used

mostly old aircraft and old bombs, without ECM protection

and at the limits of their range. Not surprisingly, the British

173
even with small numbers of aircraft and SAMs, imposed heavy

losses on these aircraft and aircrews. But the Argentines did

penetrate the defenses, did inflict much damage on the more

costly British fleet, and came close to repulsing the British

counterinvasion. Nevertheless, the British won the war.

Immediately after the invasion of Afghanistan, the Soviets

made good use of air power in support of ground operations

against the guerrillas. Initially, limited rebel antiaircraft pro

tection could not disrupt this air support; but, the introduc

tion of more modern and lethal man-portable SAMs did. These

missiles not only inflicted substantial losses on Soviet aircraft

they forced the Airmen to use less-effective tactics and eroded

the morale of the Afghan pilots. In brief, these weapons neu

tralized air power, which, in turn, turned the tide on the ground

In short order, the Soviets withdrew in defeat. 

If these wars demonstrated anything, they showed the po

tential of high technology. At the same time, they indicated tha

numbers and weapons handling are extremely important to the

final outcome. High-technology weapons demand high-quality

personnel.

Notes

1. Victor Flintham, Air Wars and Aircraft: A Detailed Record of Air Com

bat, 1945 to the Present (New York: Facts on File Yearbook, Inc., 1990), 46

Moshe Dayan, Diary of the Sinai Campaign (New York: Schocken Books, Inc

1965), 177–78, 221; Chaim Herzog, The Arab-Israeli Wars: War and Peace i

the Middle East (New York: Random House, 1982), 145; Trevor Dupuy, Elu

sive Victory: The Arab-Israeli Wars, 1947–1974 (New York: Harper and Row

1978), 212; and Stephen Peltz, “Israeli Air Power,” Flying Review Interna

tional, December 1967, 1019.

2. Edward N. Luttwak and Daniel Horowitz, The Israeli Army (New York

Harper and Row, 1975), 229–30; Nadav Safran, From War to War—The Arab

Israeli Confrontation, 1948–1967 (Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc

1969), 324–25; Murray Rubenstein and Richard Goldman, Shield of David

(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, Inc., 1978), 100; Robert Jackson, Th

Israeli Air Force Story (London: Stacey, 1970), 218; Warren Wetmore, “Israel

Air Punch Major Factor in War,” Aviation Week, 3 July 1967, 22; and Edga

O’ Ballance, The Third Arab-Israeli War (Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books, 1972)

67, 75, 82.

3. Jackson, The Israeli Air Force, 153, 248; Wetmore, “Israeli Air Punch,

2; James Hansen, “The Development of Soviet Tactical Air Defense,” Inter

174
national Defense Review, May 1981, 532; and 

Off the Record, Journal o

Defense and Diplomacy, January 1988, 63. 

4. Soviet pilots also were involved, but that is another subject for anothe

study. See Jackson, Israeli Air Force, 233; Luttwak and Horowitz, The Israe

Army, 302, 321–23; Chaim Herzog, The War of Atonement, October 1973

(Boston, Mass.: Little, Brown and Co., 1975), 8, 9, 232, 235–37, 253; Insigh

Team of the Sunday Times (London), The Yom Kippur War (Garden City, N.Y

Doubleday and Co., 1974), 33, 36; and Lon Nordeen, Air Warfare in the Missil

Age (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1985), 134.

5. Hansen, “The Development of Soviet Tactical Air Defense,” 533

Nordeen, Air Warfare, 149–50; Herzog, War of Atonement, 256; and Ronald

Bergquist, The Role of Airpower in the Iran-Iraq War (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Ai

Power Research Institute, 1988).

6. Herzog, War of Atonement, 256; Hansen, “The Development of Sovie

Tactical Air Defense,” 533; C. N. Barclay, “Lessons from the October War,

Army, March 1974, 28; Charles Corddry, “The Yom Kippur War, 1973—

Lessons New and Old,” National Defense, May–June 1974, 508; Rober

Ropelewski, “Setbacks Spur System to Counter Israel,” Aviation Week, 7

July 1975, 15; Amnon Sella, “The Struggle for Air Supremacy: Octobe

1973–December 1975,” RUSI Journal for Defense Studies, December 1976

33; and Insight Team, The Yom Kippur War, 189.

7. Brereton Greenhouse, “The Israeli Experience,” in Case Studies in th

Achievement of Air Superiority, ed. Benjamin Cooling (Washington, D.C

Center for Air Force History, 1994), 590; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 149; Luttwak

and Horowitz, The Israeli Army, 348; Herbert Coleman, “Israeli Air Force De

cisive in War,” Aviation Week, 3 December 1973, 19; “US Finds SA-6 to b

Simple, Effective,” Aviation Week, 3 December 1973, 22; Robert Ropelewski

“Egypt Assesses Lessons of October War,” Aviation Week, 17 December 1973

16; “SA-6–Arab Ace in the 20-Day War,” International Defense Review, De

cember 1973, 779–80; and Robert Hotz, “The Shock of Technical Surprise,

Aviation Week, 24 March 1975, 9.

8. Nordeen, Air Warfare, 149; Ropelewski, “Egypt Assesses,” 16; and “Sovie

Antiaircraft Gun Takes Toll,” Aviation Week, 22 October 1973, 19.

9. Insight Team, The Yom Kippur War, 161, 184–85; Herzog, The Arab-Israe

Wars, 281, 346; Herzog, The War of Atonement, 87, 256; J. Viksne, “The Yom

Kippur War in Retrospect,” Army Journal, April 1976, pt. 1:41; “Israeli Aircraft

Arab SAMs in Key Battle,” Aviation Week, 22 October 1973, 14; Historica

Evaluation and Research Organization, “The Middle East War of Octobe

1973 in Historical Perspective,” study, February 1976, 145, AUL; Dupuy

Elusive Victory, 551; Bryce Walker, Fighting Jets (Alexandria, Va.: Time-Lif

Books, 1983), 149; and Peter Borgart, “The Vulnerability of the Manned

Airborne Weapon System, pt. 3: Influence on Tactics and Strategy,” Inter

national Defense Review, December 1977, 1066.

10. Nordeen, Air Warfare, 165; Luttwak and Horowitz, The Israeli Army

349; Coleman, “Israeli Air Force Decisive,” 19; “SA-7 Avoids Homing on Flares,

Aviation Week, 5 November 1973, 17; Robert R. Rodwell, “The Mid-East War

175
A Damned Close

Run Thing, Air Force Magazine, February 1974, 39; and

Hotz, “The Shock,” 9.

11. Ehud Yonay, No Margin for Error: The Making of the Israeli Air Forc

(New York: Pantheon, 1993), 321; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 349, 351; and Jeffrey

Greenhunt, “Air War: Middle East,” Aerospace Historian, March 1976, 22.

12. Rodwell, “The Mid-East War,” 39; Dupuy, Elusive Victory, 552; Nordeen

Air Warfare, 156; Luttwak and Horowitz, The Israeli Army, 349; Insight Team

The Yom Kippur War, 187–88, 370; Coleman, “The Israeli Air Force,” 19; Bil

Gunston et al., War Planes: 1945–1976 (London: Salamander, 1976), 58

Walker, Fighting Jets, 149; and Borgart, “The Vulnerability,” pt. 3, 1064.

13. Insight Team, The Yom Kippur War, 204; Walker, Fighting Jets, 150

Coleman, “The Israeli Air Force,” 18; and Yonay, No Margin for Error, 353.

14. Yonay, No Margin for Error, 313. Another author states that the IAF

destroyed 28 SAM sites and the Israeli army 12 others. See Herzog, War o

Atonement, 242, 259; Insight Team, The Yom Kippur War, 338; Herzog, Arab

Israeli Wars, 285, 341; and Rubenstein and Goldman, Shield, 127, 129.

15. Greenhouse, “The Israeli Experience,” 597–98; Herzog, Arab-Israe

Wars, 346–47; Herzog, War of Atonement, 257; Luttwak and Horowitz, Th

Israeli Army, 347; Nordeen, Air Warfare, 163–66; M. J. Armitage and R. A

Mason, Air Power in the Nuclear Age, 2d ed. (Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois

1985), 134; Roy Braybrook, “Is It Goodbye to Ground Attack?” Air Internationa

May 1976, 234–44; Charles Wakebridge, “The Technological Gap in the Middl

East,” National Defense (May–June 1975): 461; and “SA-6–Arab Ace,” 779.

16. John Kreis, Air Warfare and Air Base Air Defense, 1914–1973 (Wash

ington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1988), 336.

17. “Bekaa Valley Combat,” Flight International, 16 October 1982, 1110

Herzog, The War of Atonement, 260; Insight Team, The Yom Kippur War, 315

Kreis, Air Warfare and Air Base, 336; Thomas Walczyk, “October War,” Strateg

and Tactics (March–April 1977): 10; Martin van Creveld, The Washingto

Papers, Military Lessons of the Yom Kippur War—Historical Perspectives, no. 24

(Beverly Hills/London: Sage Publications, 1975): 31; Borgart, “The Vulnera

bility,” 1064, 1066; Rubenstein and Goldman, Shield, 128; Herzog, Arab-Israe

Wars, 347; and Ropelewski, “Egypt Assesses,” 16.

18. Rubenstein and Goldman, Shield, 13; Dupuy, Elusive Victory, 592

Nordeen, Air Warfare, 151; Herzog, Arab-Israeli Wars, 266; Herzog, War o

Atonement, 258; and Lawrence Whetten and Michael Johnson, “Military

Lessons of the Yom Kippur War,” World Today, March 1974, 109.

19. Herzog, The War of Atonement, 260–61; Corddry, “The Yom Kippu

War–1973,” 508; Historical Evaluation and Research Organization, appen

dix; Walczyk, “October War,” 10; William Staudenmaier, “Learning from th

Middle East War,” Air Defense Trends, April–June 1975, 18; “Israeli Aircraft

Arab SAMs in Key Battle,” 14; Rubenstein and Goldman, Shield, 128; and

Borgart, “The Vulnerability,” 1066. A number of factors contribute to th

discrepancy in losses. Besides the differences in the training, leadership

motivation, and doctrine of the opposing forces, two other factors stand out

Soviet versus Western hardware and the Arab lack of ECM equipment and

176
Israel

s use of it. See Dupuy, Elusive Victory, 549; Coleman, The Israeli Ai

Force,” 18; and Nordeen, Air Warfare, 162–63.

20. Van Creveld, The Washington Papers, 31–32; Luttwak and Horowitz

The Israeli War, 350–51; Hansen, “The Development of Soviet Air Defense,

533; Historical Evaluation and Research Organization, “The Middle Eas

War,” 148, 177; and Drew Middleton, “Missiles Blunt Thrust of Traditiona

Tank-Plane Team,” New York Times, 2 November 1973, 19.

21. “Bekaa Valley Combat,” 1110; William Haddad, “Divided Lebanon,

Current History, January 1982, 35.

22. “Antiaircraft Defence Force: The PLO in Lebanon,” Born in Battle, no. 27

7, 32; R. D. M. Furlong, “Israel Lashes Out,” Interavia, August 1982, 1002–3

Clarence Robinson Jr., “Surveillance Integration Pivotal in Israeli Suc

cesses,” Aviation Week, 5 July 1982, 17; Edgar Ulsamer, “In Focus: TAC Ai

Feels the Squeeze,” Air Force Magazine, October 1982, 23; and Anthony

Cordesman, “The Sixth Arab-Israeli Conflict,” Armed Forces Journal Interna

tional, August 1982, 30. The IAF may have destroyed as many as 108 Syrian

aircraft. See “Syrian Resupply,” Aerospace Daily, 15 November 1982, 74.

23. Furlong, “Israel,” 1002–3; Robinson, “Surveillance,”17; Ulsamer, “In

Focus,” 23; Cordesman, “Sixth Arab-Israeli Conflict,” 30; “Bekaa Valley

Combat,” 1110; Drew Middleton, “Soviet Arms Come in Second in Lebanon,

New York Times, 19 September 1982, 2E; “Israeli Defense Forces in th

Lebanon War,” Born in Battle, no. 30, 22, 45–47; “The Syrians in Lebanon,

no. 27, 12, 28, 31–33; and “SA-9 Firings Seen Part of Attempt to Probe Israel

Capabilities,” Aerospace Daily, 8 November 1982, 45.

24. Eugene Kozicharow, “Navy Blames Aircraft Loss on Soviet Senso

Change,” Aviation Week, 12 December 1983, 25–26; Richard Halloran, “Navy

Stung by Criticism, Defends Cost of Bombing Raid in Lebanon,” New Yor

Times, 7 December 1983, 1, 19; and Thomas Friedman, “US Ships Attack

Syrian Positions in Beirut Region,” New York Times, 14 December 1983, 1.

25. “US Demonstrates Advanced Weapons Technology in Libya,” Aviatio

Week, 21 April 1986, 19; Fred Hiatt, “Jet Believed Lost, 5 Sites Damaged in

Raid on Libya,” Washington Post, 16 April 1986, A25; and Anthony Cordesman

“After the Raid,” Armed Forces, August 1986, 359.

26. Cordesman, “After the Raid,” 358, 360.

27. Ibid., 355–60; “US Air Power Hits Back,” Defence Update/73, 1986

27–32; Hiatt, “Jet Believed Lost,” A25; “US Demonstrates Advanced

Weapons Technology in Libya,” 20, 21; David North, “Air Force, Navy Brie

Congress on Lessons from Libya Strikes,” Aviation Week, 2 June 1986, 63

and Judith Miller, “Malta Says Libya Got Tip on Raid,” New York Times, 6

August 1983, 1, 8.

28. Flintham, Air Wars and Aircraft, 195; John Fricker, Battle for Pakistan

The Air War of 1965 (London: Allan, 1979), 122, 124, 183–84. Slightly differen

claims can be found in Nordeen, Air Warfare, 113.

29. Flintham, Air Wars and Aircraft, 200–202; John Fricker, “Post

Mortem of an Air War,” Air Enthusiast, May 1972, 230, 232; Nordeen, Ai

177
Warfare, 103

4; Borgart, The Vulnerability, 1066; and Pushpindar Chopra

“Journal of an Air War,” Air Enthusiast, April 1972, 177–83, 206.

30. Great Britain, Ministry of Defence, The Falklands Campaign: Th

Lessons (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1982), annex B, AUL; and

Dov Zakheim, “The South Atlantic: Evaluating the Lessons” (paper pre

sented at Southern Methodist University Conference on The Three Wars o

1982: Lessons to be Learned, Dallas, Tex., 15 April 1983), 29.

31. Jeffrey Ethell and Alfred Price, Air War South Atlantic (New York

Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1983), 146.

32. Ibid., 180–81; David Brown, “Countermeasures Aided British Fleet,

Aviation Week, 19 July 1982, 18; “British Government on Performance o

Roland, Rapier in Falklands,” Aerospace Daily, 27 October 1982, 309

“British SAMs Credited with Most Kills in Falklands Conflict,” Aerospac

Daily, 9 August 1982, 211; Insight Team of the Sunday Times (London), Wa

in the Falklands (Cambridge, Mass.: Harper and Row Publishers, 1982), 201

Ministry of Defence, Falklands Campaign, 19, annex C; Derek Wood and

Mark Hewish, “The Falklands Conflict, pt. 1: The Air War,” International De

fense Review 8 (1982): 978, 980; Brian Moore, “The Falklands War: The Ai

Defense Role,” Air Defense Artillery (Winter 1983): 19; “Blowpipe Draws Com

mendation for Falklands Performance,” Aerospace Daily, 12 August 1982

239; and David Griffiths, “Layered Air Defense Keyed British Falklands Vic

tory,” Defense Week, 30 August 1982, 13. The French claimed that nin

Roland missiles downed four Harriers and damaged another, a claim fiercely

disputed by the British. Interestingly, the British had attempted to sell thei

Rapier missile to the Argentines. See “Euromissile on Performance of Roland

in Falklands, Middle East,” Aerospace Daily, 23 September 1982, 126; “Exocet

Roland Combat Performance Rated High,” Aviation Week, 1 November 1982

26; and Anthony Cordesman, “The Falklands: The Air War and Missile Con

flict,” Armed Forces Journal International, September 1982, 40.

33. Anthony Cordesman and Abraham Wagner, The Lessons of Modern War

vol. 3, The Afghan and Falklands Conflicts (Boulder: Westview, 1990), 337–38

Brad Roberts, “The Military Implications of the Falklands/Malvinas Island Con

flict,” report no. 82-140F, Congressional Research Service, Library of Congress

August 1982, 15, AUL; Cordesman, “The Falklands,” 33, 35; Steward Menaul

“The Falklands Campaign: A War of Yesterday?” Strategic Review (Fall 1982)

87–88; Wood and Hewish, “The Falklands Conflict, pt. 1,” 978; Ezio Bonsignore

“Hard Lessons from the South Atlantic,” Military Technology, June 1982, 32

John Guilmartin, “The South Atlantic War: Lessons and Analytical Guideposts

A Military Historian’s Perspective,” 17, Southern Methodist University

Conference, April 1983; Ethell and Price, Air War South Atlantic, 120–21

183, 217–18; and Jesus Briasco and Salvador Huertas, Falklands: Wit

ness of Battles (Valencia, Spain: Domenech, 1985), 172.

34. Guilmartin, “The South Atlantic,” 12; and Ethell and Price, Air Wa

South Atlantic, 179.

35. I have relied primarily on the official British reports for the statistics

See Ministry of Defence, Falklands Campaign, annex B. See also the figures

178
which vary at times from these numbers, in Wood and Hewish, 

The Falk

lands Conflict, pt.1,” 980; Moore, “The Falklands War,” 21; Cordesman, “Th

Falklands,” 32; and Guilmartin, “The South Atlantic,” 17.

36. Briasco and Huertas, Falklands, 165–68, 173; Ethell and Price, Ai

War South Atlantic, 207; and Rodney Burden et al., Falklands: The Air Wa

(London: Arms and Armour, 1986), 33–147.

37. Derek Wood and Mark Hewish, “The Falklands Conflict, pt. 2: Missil

Operations,” International Defense Review, September 1982, 1151, 1154

Moore, “The Falklands War,” 20; Christopher Foss, “European Tactical Missil

Systems,” Armor, July–August 1975, 24; Ethell and Price, Air War South At

lantic, 196–209; Briasco and Huertas, Falklands, 165–69; and Terry Gander

“Maintaining the Effectiveness of Blowpipe SAM,” Jane’s Defence Review, 4

no. 2 (1983): 159.

38. Some accounts claim that Rapier’s radar interfered with the Roya

Navy’s radar. After all, the British army did not expect to fight alongside de

stroyers on the plains of central Europe! Others state that the British sen

the army unit to the Falklands without radar, in contrast to the Royal Ai

Force regiment that arrived later with Rapier and radar. Whatever the case

the initial unit that went ashore in the campaign, and the only one that saw

action, fired optically guided missiles. See “UK Planned to Use Shrike Mis

siles against Argentine Radars,” Aerospace Daily, 30 August 1982, 334; “Ai

Defense Missiles Limited Tactics of Argentine Aircraft,” Aviation Week, 19

July 1982, 21; Great Britain, Ministry of Defence, Falklands Campaign, 22

Wood and Hewish, “The Falklands Conflict, pt. 2,” 1153; Moore, “The Falk

lands War,” 19; and Price, Air War South Atlantic, 196–208; Briasco and

Huertas, Falklands, 165–69; and Jacques du Boucher, “Missiles in the Falk

lands,” African Defence, October 1983, 60.

39. John Laffin, Fight for the Falklands (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1982)

92–93; Ministry of Defence, Falklands Campaign, 9, annex B; Wood and

Hewish, “The Falklands Conflict, pt. 2,” 1151, 1154; Ethell and Price, Ai

War South Atlantic, 196–208; and Briasco and Huertas, Falklands, 165–69

40. Cordesman, “The Falklands,” 38; Ministry of Defence, Falklands Cam

paign, annex B; Insight Team, War in the Falklands, 216; Ethell and Price

Air War South Atlantic, 196–208; Briasco and Huertas, Falklands, 165–69

Roger Villar, “The Sea Wolf Story-GW S25 to VM40,” Jane’s Defence Review

2, no. 1 (1981): 75.

41. Cordesman and Wagner, Afghan and Falklands Conflicts, 337–38, 351

42. Cordesman, “The Falklands,” 34; Alistair Horne, “A British Historian’

Meditations: Lessons of the Falklands,” National Review, 23 July 1982, 888.

43. Anthony Cordesman and Abraham Wagner, The Lessons of Moder

War, vol. 2, The Iran-Iraq War (Boulder: Westview, 1990), 460–62; Anthony

Cordesman, “Lessons of the Iran-Iraq War: pt. II, Tactics, Technology, and

Training,” Armed Forces Journal International, June 1982, 70, 78–79; “Th

Iranian Air Force at War,” Born in Battle, no. 24, 13; “The Iraq-Iran War,” De

fence Update, no. 44 (1984): 43–44; and Nordeen, Air Warfare, 185–88.

179
44. Stephen Harding, Air War Grenada (Missoula, Mont.: Pictorial Histories

1984), 9, 33, 36, 51; and Thomas D. Des Brisay, “The Mayaguez Incident,” in

Air War–Vietnam (Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc., 1978), 326.

45. Jean de Galard, “French Jaguar Shot Down in Chad,” Jane’s Defenc

Weekly 1, no. 4 (4 February 1984): 142; Charles Mohr, “Contras Say They Fea

a Long War,” New York Times, 16 June 1986, 8; Pico Iyer, “Sudan: Stranded

Amid the Gunfire,” Time, 1 September 1986, 34; and William Claiborne, “S

African Military Says Intervention in Angola Staved Off Rebel Defeat,” Wash

ington Post, 13 November 1987, A28.

46. John Cushman, “The Stinger Missile: Helping to Change the Cours

of a War,” New York Times, 17 January 1988, E2; Ray Barnes, ed., The U.S

War Machine (New York: Crown Publishers, 1978), 234–35; Maurice Robertson

“Stinger: Proven Plane Killer,” International Combat Arms, July 1985; and

General Dynamics, The World’s Missile Systems (Pomona, Calif.: General Dy

namics, 1982).

47. Cordesman and Wagner, Afghan and Falklands Conflicts, 170, 174

Bill Gertz, “Stinger Bite Feared in CIA,” Washington Times, 9 October 2000

“Soviets Press Countermeasures to Stinger Missile,” Aerospace Daily, 6 Augus

1987, 205; “Disjointed Rebels Join Forces as They Oust Their Enemy,” Insigh

25 January 1988, 21; and Anthony Cordesman, “The Afghan Chronology

Another Brutal Year of Conflict,” Armed Forces, April 1987, 156–60.

48. Cordesman and Wagner, Afghan and Falklands Conflicts, 177

Cordesman, “Afghan Chronology,” 158–60; Cushman, “The Stinger Missile,

E2; Rone Tempest, “Afghan Rebel Rockets Jar Government Assembly,

Washington Post, 30 November 1987, A24; John Kifner, “Moscow Is Seen a

Turning Point in Its Intervention in Afghanistan,” New York Times, 29 No

vember 1987, 1; Peter Youngsband, “Grappling for the Advantage When Talk

Replaces Gunfire,” Insight, 7 December 1987, 43; Robert Schultheis, “Th

Mujahedin Press Hard,” Time, 18 May 1987, 51; and Steven R. Weisman

“US in Crossfire of Border War,” New York Times, 17 May 1987, E3.

180
Chapter 5

Ballistic Missile Defense: 

The Early Years to 1991

In contrast to the eventual successful defense against the

German V-1 flying bomb, Allied efforts against the V-2 ballistic

missile proved futile.1 The Allies bombed German missile tes

sites, manufacturing, launching, and storage faculties but had

no impact on the V-2s (fig. 79). Despite total air dominance, the

Allied air forces never successfully attacked a single German

launch unit. Although a large device, it proved mobile and elu

sive. Technical difficulties delayed the V-2s, not the bombing.

181

Figure 79. V-2 launch. V-2s at the German Peenemünde test site during

World War II. The World War II V-2 campaign was the first, largest, and

deadliest missile campaign yet seen. (Reprinted from US Army Aviatio

and Missile Command.)
Downing ballistic missiles after launch was essentially im

possible. One secondary source claims there were two such in

stances, but, alas, neither can be confirmed.3 There is docu

mentation, however, of British investigations of the concept o

firing an artillery barrage into the missile’s path after the de

fenders were alerted by radar. Although the British estimated

that they could down 3 to 10 percent of the V-2s they engaged

the scheme would have required 20,000 shells to destroy one

V-1. Of greater consequence, the British expected that about 2

percent of the shells would not detonate and that these duds and

the debris from the exploding shells would cause more casual

ties than the V-2s that might be intercepted.4

Meanwhile, the US military was looking into ballistic missile

defense (BMD). In March 1946, the Army Air Forces (AAF) began

two missile defense projects: General Electric’s Project Thumpe

(MX-795) that lasted only until March 1948, while the other

the University of Michigan’s Project Wizard (MX-794), survived

somewhat longer. It was designed to defend the continenta

United States but was pitted against the Army’s Nike project tha

was intended for theater operations. In 1958, the Air Force

conceded it was too costly, and thus the Department of Defense

(DOD) merged it with the Nike-Zeus project.5

Army Development

The Army was making progress on the issue of ballistic mis

sile defense. In January 1949, the Army established a forma

requirement for ballistic missile defense that early in 1951

spawned the PLATO Project that was to provide antiballistic

missile (ABM) protection for the field army. The Army increased

the requirement in 1954 to defend against intercontinenta

ballistic missiles (ICBM) in the 1960–70 time frame. A numbe

of studies emerged, with one in 1956 suggesting a Nike-Zeus

variant. PLATO was shut down in 1959, not for technical rea

sons, but because of funding problems.6

The follow-on to PLATO was the Field Army Ballistic Missile

Defense System (FABMDS) program that began in 1959. How

ever, as this had a long lead time, with an expected operationa

date of 1967, the Army sought other equipment. Early on, the

182
Army considered using Hawk in this role, and before this con

cept was discarded in 1960, a Hawk intercepted a short-range

HONEST JOHN ballistic missile. The Army wanted more bu

settled for the Nike-Hercules as an interim system. An improved

Hercules intercepted a higher-performing Corporal missile in

June 1960 and then another Hercules. The Army deployed the

Nike-Hercules as an antitactical ballistic missile to Germany in

the early 1960s. Meanwhile, DOD cancelled FABMDS in late

1962. In October, the Army renamed the project AAADS-70

which became known as SAM-D.7

In March 1955, the Army gave Bell Labs a contract to study

future (1960–70) threats presented by air-breathing vehicles

and ballistic missiles. In short order, the Army began to focus

on the latter problem, which led to a proposal for a new defen

sive missile, the Nike II. The missile was to have interchangeable

noses, one with an active sensor for use against air breathers

and the other a jet-control device (thrust vector motor) tha

would permit maneuver above 120,000 feet to enable intercep

tion of ballistic missiles outside the atmosphere. The system

would use two sets of radars: one considerably distant from

the missile site and the other more closely located.8

The Army and Air Force dueled for the BMD role. In Novembe

1956, Secretary of Defense Charles Wilson directed the Army

to develop, procure, and man the land-based surface-to-ai

missile (SAM) for terminal defense, and the Air Force was to

handle area defense—long-range acquisition radars and the

communications network that tied this system to the termina

defenses. In January 1958, the secretary assigned responsi

bility for development of all antiballistic missiles to the Army

and assigned the Air Force the development of the system’s

long-distance radar acquisition system, the ballistic missile

early warning system (BMEWS).9

Challenges to the BMD system were powerful, enunciated

early, and have persisted over the decades. Most of these ob

jections have been technical. The opponents have doubted tha

the ABM could sort out warheads, especially of small radar cross

sections, from decoys or debris. There has also been a ques

tion regarding the system’s effectiveness against a massive

saturation attack. A further difficulty has been the system’s

183
vulnerability to direct attack and to radar blackout caused by

nuclear explosions. Another issue was that the system could

not be tested against a surprise mass attack. In addition, o

course, there have been concerns involving cost.10 Perhaps

this is best summarized by one critical study that bluntly

states that “BMD proposed against an exaggerated threat, in

capable of being effectively deployed, destructive of arms con

trol agreements, and likely to provoke a new arms race, destroys

the national security it is designed to enhance.”11

The services had contrasting views on supporting the ABM

Both the Air Force and Navy opposed production. While critics

and cynics might see the US Air Force as being a “poor sport

after losing the ABM mission, this position is closer to the tra

ditional Air Force offensive view reaching back to the Air Corps

Tactical School in the 1930s. It is also consistent with bombe

exploits over both Germany and Japan in World War II. Offensive

Air Force weapons bolstered deterrence, the strategic paradigm

of the Cold War.12 For its part, the Army sought a larger piece

of the military budget. At this point, nuclear weapons seemed

to be the way to gain access to these funds, and ballistic missile

defense seemed the surest path to that end.13 The Executive

Branch of government had other ideas.

The military buildup that had begun during the Korean Wa

tapered off in the late 1950s under the frugal hand of Pres

Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower. Despite the shock of the sputnik

launch in October 1957, the next year Ike rejected the ABM

proposal as he slashed military spending in a massive economy

effort. But industry countered with an effective campaign tha

forced the administration to continue ABM research efforts.14

Meanwhile, in February 1957 the Army pressed forward by

awarding Western Electric a contract to become the prime

contractor for an anti-ICBM missile now called Nike-Zeus (fig

80). The next January, the National Security Council assigned

the project the highest national priority.15 Nike-Zeus was sub

jected to a thorough testing program, with the Army firing the

first of 69 missiles in August 1959. In December 1961, the ABM

intercepted a ballistic missile over the White Sands range

Overall, the Army considered nine of the 13 tests against the

ICBMs successful.16

184
As with most missiles, the Zeus encountered problems. Bu

using the experience gained in other missile programs, these

problems were largely overcome. Throughout, the missile en

countered difficulties involving the radar detecting the incoming

target and discriminating the warhead from the decoys and de

bris (and with the electronics to properly guide the interceptor).1

The Kennedy Administration

In 1961, the outgoing Eisenhower administration passed the

ABM program on to the new president, John F. Kennedy, who

was caught between the desire to expand nonnuclear military

capabilities and the growing Soviet ICBM threat (not to men

185

Figure 80. Nike family. America’s first ABM family. From right to lef

(and in the order of their deployment), the Nike Ajax, Nike Hercules

and Nike Zeus. (Reprinted from US Army Aviation and Missile Command.
tion Kennedy

s campaign issue of the missile gap). The new

secretary of defense, Robert S. McNamara, studied the ABM

program and in April concluded that the system could no

handle a massive attack or decoys and that the program would

only prompt the Soviets to build more ballistic missiles. De

spite these misgivings, and probably for political purposes

McNamara allowed about $250 million for ABM research and

development.18

A few months later in 1961, the secretary requested esti

mates of an ABM production program. In September, he ap

proved the first of a three-phase program that would protec

six cities with 12 batteries with just fewer than 1,200 missiles

for about $3 billion. McNamara briefed Kennedy on the proposa

in November, and the president gave it his tentative approval

But budget talks in December 1961 convinced the president to

forego this interim deployment.19

By this time, American engineers developed two technologies

that promised to overcome two of the difficulties (penetration

aids and sheer numbers) that doomed Nike-Zeus: the phased

array radar and a new high-acceleration missile.20 McNamara

directed development of the newer missile system in January

1963, which was named Nike X in February 1964. The system

would employ the Zeus missile, renamed Spartan in January

1967, to intercept incoming missiles at ranges of about 300 nau

tical miles (nm) and altitudes of 100 nm (fig. 81).21 A new close

in defense missile, the Sprint, would use the atmosphere to sor

out the warhead from decoys and debris, as these would decel

erate at different speeds due to atmospheric friction. It would

then intercept these surviving warheads between 5,000 and

100,000 feet at a maximum range of 100 nm (fig. 82). The mis

sile first flew in November 1965 and then underwent flight

testing in 1965–70, during which time 42 Sprints were flight

tested with results significantly better than the requirements.22

Phased array radar was the system’s other innovation and

a major improvement. In contrast to the Nike-Zeus radars tha

could only track one target and one interceptor missile at a

time, the new radar could handle many more objects and serve

more than one function simultaneously. Another advantage o

this radar was that it operated in the UHF spectrum that was

186
Figure 81. Spartan launch. The Spartan missile was the long-range

component of the first American ABM system. It was designed to hit in

coming ballistic missiles before their reentry. (Reprinted from US Arm

Aviation and Missile Command.)
more resistant to nuclear blackout than the existing rada

that operated in the VHF spectrum. This system also had greate

power and thus greater range. The Army awarded the rada

contract to Raytheon in December 1963.23

In the early and mid-1960s, the rationale for the ABM system

expanded in two different directions. The first was to provide

protection for US strategic forces. The military began to study

this issue in 1963–64 and in November 1965 concentrated on

the defense of hardened ICBM sites.24 The other effort that began

in February 1965 was to look at the problem of Nth country

threats, that is, nuclear-armed missiles possessed by countries

other than the Soviet Union. (The decision makers recognized

that defending against a massive Soviet missile attack would be

extremely difficult, if not impossible, whereas a defense agains

188

Figure 82. Sprint.The Sprint missile was the short-range component o

the American ABM system. It was a high-acceleration missile designed

to destroy incoming warheads that eluded the Spartan. (Reprinted from

http://www.brook.educ/FP/projects/nucwcost/sprint.htm.)
a limited attack, although difficult, was perhaps possible.) A

this point, the major country of interest was the People’s Re

public of China, which had detonated a nuclear device in Octo

ber 1964 and test-fired an ICBM in October 1966. These two

objectives merged in the December 1966 Plan I-67 that identi

fied the Chinese as a potential nuclear missile threat and also

focused on ABM defense of US land-based missiles. 

The Soviets’ ABM efforts also prodded the US system. In July

1962, for example, Nikita Khruschev boasted that the Soviets

could hit a fly in space. The first missile to attract Western at

tention with the possibility of ABM capability was code-named

Griffon (fig. 83). It resembled a large-sized SA-2 (the surface-to

air missile type that had downed American U-2s over Russia and

Cuba and was used by the communists in the Vietnam War). The

Soviets began flight tests in 1957, deployed the missile out

side Leningrad in 1960, and built 30 firing sites within two

189

Figure 83. Griffon. The first Soviet ABM known to the West was the

Griffon. Flight tests in 1957 led to the construction of 30 firing sites in

the early 1960s. But the Soviets stopped construction in 1963 and

abandoned the sites the next year. (Reprinted from Federation of Atomi

Scientists.)
years. Then, in 1963, the Soviets stopped work around

Leningrad and by the end of 1964 abandoned these sites.25

The Soviets began work on a successor to the Griffon in the

mid-1950s. Code-named Galosh (ABM-1) by NATO, it was a

much larger missile than the Griffon and larger than the

ICBMs it was intended to intercept outside the atmosphere

(fig. 84). Western intelligence first detected it in early 1964 and

two years later noted 64 deployed in four sites in a ring abou

40–50 miles from the center of Moscow. The United States be

lieved it had limitations similar to the Nike-Zeus: it could only

engage a limited number of ICBMs and was vulnerable to nu

clear blackout. It achieved initial operational capability (IOC

in 1968 and was fully operational in 1970.26

US intelligence detected the construction in northwestern

Russia of another potential ABM site called Tallinn in 1963–64

The Defense Intelligence Agency thought this system had ABM

capabilities, although there were those in both military intelli

gence and the Central Intelligence Agency who believed it was

an antibomber defense system. If it did have ABM capabilities

190

Figure 84. Galosh 1. The Soviets deployed the Galosh in four sites in a

ring around Moscow. It was fully operational in 1970. (Reprinted from

Department of Defense.)
these were marginal and only capable against earlier missiles

The SA-5 (Gammon) was first flight-tested in 1962 but did no

become operational until 1968. In the early 1980s, the Soviets

deployed more than 2,000 launchers at 120 sites.27

The Soviets clearly were making a much greater effort in the

ABM field than was the United States. In a benign view, this

could be explained by the traditional defensive mind-set of the

Russians or attributed to their horrific experience in World

War II. A more ominous view was that the Soviets were trying

to obtain strategic nuclear superiority. In any case, it was be

lieved that the Soviets had invested $4 to $5 billion in ABM

programs by 1967 as compared to about $2 billion by the

United States. In 1967, Secretary McNamara estimated the

Soviets were spending 2.5 times as much as the United States

on air defense, while two years later, Secretary Melvin Laird

put that figure at 3.5 to 4 times.28

In the early 1960s, ABM opponents focused on three majo

aspects of the system. They raised the issue of the adverse im

pact of a successful ABM system on the system of deterrence

mutually assured destruction (MAD). Their fear was that ABM

defense would lead to an arms race (of both defensive and of

fensive weapons) that would destabilize the international bal

ance of power. Cost was always a factor. While some used figures

as “low” as $4 to $5 billion, others saw much higher costs

ranging between $4 billion for a thin ABM system to perhaps

$40 billion over 10 years for a more complete one. Some be

lieved that since fielding the ABM would only lead to the de

ployment of more ICBMs that would nullify the defense, both

sides would only spend a lot of money for nothing. In the end

however, the major objection to the deployment of an ABM

system was technical: would the system work against a mass

attack, work the first time it was needed, and work against so

phisticated threats that included decoys and jammers?29

There was a wide range of opponents to the system, both in

side and outside the government. Perhaps the most prominen

within the administration was the secretary of defense. His ob

jections centered on the ABM cost and what it might encourage

(or force) the Soviets to do. He was consistent in his position

and tied the ABM to a nationwide shelter program that was ex

191
pensive and unpopular with both the public and politicians.3

McNamara instead supported a deterrent strategy.31

There were, of course, supporters of the system. Systems

analysts opposed a growth in offensive systems and instead

supported ABM defense for silo-based Minuteman ICBM mis

siles. And, while both the Advanced Research Projects Agency

and the director of Defense Research and Engineering opposed

deploying a Nike-X system, they both were “quite enthusiastic

about an ABM system oriented against a smaller ICBM threat

The military at the highest level, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS)

put aside its interservice bickering to unite behind the Army’s

ABM, one of a number of core programs. Within the adminis

tration, there were conflicting voices. The secretary of the Ai

Force (Harold Brown) and secretary of the Navy (Paul Nitze) fa

vored some sort of deployment. There were also political pres

sures from Congress and not only from Republicans. Pres

Lyndon B. Johnson feared that failure to deploy the system

could generate a potential ABM gap that would be used by the

Republicans in the upcoming election, just as the Democrats

had effectively used the proported missile gap in the 1960

election. Johnson also feared that the military (specifically the

JCS), unhappy about the conduct of the Vietnam War, would

cause political woes. At this point, the public, as is so often the

case, was uninformed and uninterested in the issue. In fact, a

1965 public opinion poll in Chicago revealed that 80 percen

of the respondents thought the United States already had an

ABM system in place!32 As a side note, this misperception con

tinues to this day.

In late 1966, McNamara sold the president on a dual-track

strategy to deal with the issue. The Johnson administration

would attempt to fend off ABM proponents by continuing de

velopment and procuring long-lead items, while trying to pla

cate opponents and negate a need for ABM by negotiating an

arms control treaty with the Soviets. President Johnson favored

arms control, as he preferred spending on his beloved Grea

Society domestic programs rather than on an unproductive, i

not provocative, arms race. But the Soviets were not interested

In June 1967, President Johnson met with Soviet Premier Alex

Kosygin at Glassboro, New Jersey, and discussed an arrange

192
ment to curtail ABM deployment. McNamara told the Russians

that limitations on defensive weapons were necessary to avoid

an arms race. In response, the Soviet leader pounded the table

and angrily replied: “Defense is moral, offense is immoral!”3

Pressure on the administration mounted shortly thereafter when

the Chinese announced they had detonated a hydrogen bomb

A few days after the Glassboro meeting, Johnson told McNamara

that he would approve deployment.34

In September 1967, McNamara delivered a key speech in San

Francisco. Although he made clear that an ABM defense agains

a Soviet ICBM attack was both futile and expensive, the sec

retary of defense announced that the United States would de

ploy a “light” ABM system to protect the United States from a

Chinese attack.35 Another purpose of the US ABM system was to

protect US (Minuteman) ICBMs and the United States agains

an accidental ICBM launch. The system would consist of the

Spartan area defense and Sprint terminal defense of 25 majo

cities. The system would be known as Sentinel and cost an es

timated $4–$5 billion.36

ABM supporters had won a significant victory and though

the way was now clear. But if politics played an important role

in bringing this about, the politics of the times played a role in

derailing, or at least deflecting, ABM deployment. Citizen groups

rose to oppose siting of the missiles in and around the majo

cities in which they lived. This was unexpected, as public opinion

polls indicated that the public (the 40 percent of the public who

expressed an opinion) supported ABM deployment by a mar

gin of almost two to one. The problem was the classic one o

“not in my backyard.” Stimulated by the activism and anti

establishment wave of the late 1960s and supported by the

leadership and advice of numerous articulate, activist, and

passionate scientists and academics, a protest movement upse

the administration’s and proponent’s plans. Another, albeit less

pervasive factor, was that intelligence agencies downgraded

the threat of Chinese ICBMs to the United States.37

Meanwhile, diplomatic efforts continued. In July 1968

President Johnson announced that talks with the Soviets would

begin in September, but the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia

193
derailed this effort.38 This was the situation when a new ad

ministration came into office.

Proponents of ABM expected the incoming Republicans to

press forward with the ABM deployment. But Pres. Richard M

Nixon, the stereotypical cold warrior, was also a shrewd politi

cian. Reacting to the popular discontent over the path Sentine

was taking, he changed the direction of the project within weeks

In March 1969, Nixon announced that the ABM system was

being renamed (Safeguard), scaled down (from 17 Sprint sites

to 12), relocated (from the cities), and reoriented (to defend the

United States ICBMs). This was not only a compromise between

the extremes of increase or cancellation; it also was a differen

path from the one trod by the previous Democratic adminis

tration. The fact of the matter was that Nixon saw the system

as a bargaining chip in the ongoing arms negotiations.39

The public and political battle continued. Early 1969 saw

one of the hottest discussions of defense policy of post–World

War II America. The public remained relatively uninformed o

confused about the issue, but those who expressed an opinion

continued to support ABM by a margin of nearly two to one

The Senate was a different matter. After a record 29-day debate

on 6 August 1969 the Senate voted and divided evenly, allowing

Vice Pres. Spiro T. Agnew to cast the deciding vote to preserve

the system.40

Then, to the surprise of some and relief of many, America

and the Soviet Union reached an agreement after difficult ne

gotiations. In May 1972, the two superpowers signed the

Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT) agreement that lim

ited the number of strategic weapons.41 As important as tha

treaty was, more important to this story was the agreement to

limit ABMs.

The ABM treaty was also concluded in May 1972. It permitted

each country to have two ABM sites, one within 150 kilometers

(km) of its national capital and another at least 1,300 km from

the first and within 150 km of ICBM sites. Each site was limited

to a maximum of 100 launchers and 100 interceptor missiles

The treaty prohibited developing, testing, and deploying systems

(or their air-, mobile-, sea-, or space-based components) and up

grading existing systems to ABM capabilities. It further forbade

194
developing, testing, and deploying rapid reload launchers and

multiple, independently guided warheads and testing of ABMs

against strategic missiles. The treaty could be revoked by giving

six months’ notice. In 1974, the two countries amended the

treaty by reducing the permitted sites for each country from two

to one. The Soviets chose to defend Moscow, the United States to

continue to work on its Grand Forks, North Dakota, site.42

The life of the US system was brief. The Air Force declared

the installation at Grand Forks operational in September 1975

(fig. 85). By this time, the military decided that the system was

expensive and of dubious value. Therefore, the next February

the JCS ordered the site deactivated, leaving the United States

without an active ABM system. Safeguard cost the United States

about $6 billion. Meanwhile, the Soviets continued to operate

their one system in the Moscow area.43

195

Figure 85. US ABM site at Grand Forks, North Dakota. The 16 round ob

jects in the foreground are Sprint silos, the longish objects behind

them are the Spartan silos, and the pyramid-shaped structure to the rea

is the missile site radar. (Reprinted from http://www.paineless.id.au

missile/Hsafeguard.html.)
The American ABM appeared dead. It would not come back to

life for another decade.

Ballistic Missile Defense: Rebirth

Ballistic missile defense continued after the demise of Safe

guard, albeit on a much-reduced scale. Funding dropped from

about $1 billion a year in the late 1960s to about a tenth o

that by 1980. It would take major events to reverse this trend

Meanwhile, one effort attempted to connect the BMD with the

defense of Minuteman sites. It began in 1971 as Hardsite De

fense, a prototype program built around a modified Sprint and

hardened silos. From this, the Army proposed a system it called

LoAD (low altitude defense) that featured a high-acceleration

missile armed with a nuclear warhead like the Sprint but con

siderably smaller (fig. 86).44 It came into view linked to the siting

of the MX (missile experimental) ICBM that followed the Minute

man series in a basing proposal, known as Multiple Protective

Shelter (MPS).45 The defenders would bury a mobile BMD system

in a tunnel, one defensive unit per ICBM complex, which they be

lieved would effectively double the number of missiles the at

tacker would have to use to ensure destruction of the ICBMs

There were major obstacles to this arrangement. First, this

scheme could require modification or abrogation of the ABM

treaty because of LoAD’s mobility. Second, an October 1980

Army study estimated its cost at $8.6 billion over 10 years

Third, MPS required a massive land area, sparking resistance by

the residents and congressmen of the affected areas.46

Pres. Ronald Reagan created a commission, chaired by retired

US Air Force lieutenant general Brent Scowcroft, to study the

issues of ICBM basing and updating of strategic forces. The re

port in April 1983 concluded that no current BMD technology

appeared to combine “practicability, survivability, low cost and

technical effectiveness sufficient to justify proceeding beyond

the stage of technology development.”47 Partially because of this

report, the government cancelled the BMD system for MPS in

1984 and decided to put the new missiles into silos that had

housed Minuteman III missiles.48 Reagan ended this one BMD

scheme and went on to start another more far-reaching one.

196
The Strategic Defense Initiative: Star Wars

On 23 March 1983, President Reagan delivered probably his

most memorable speech and one of the country’s more signifi

cant presidential speeches, certainly in defense matters, in a

number of decades.49 The president called for new strategic de

fense thinking and a shift from a policy of nuclear deterrence to

one of defense. Unlike those who pushed for a diplomatic solu

tion to the problems of nuclear weapons and superpower rivalry

Reagan sought a technical solution. In his words, “Wouldn’t it be

better to save lives than to avenge them?” He put forward a new

197

Radar

Shelter

Interceptor

Figure 86. Low altitude defense system (LoADS). The low altitude de

fense system was a mobile underground ABM system designed to pro

tect American missile fields. Neither the missile field (Multiple Protec

tive Shelter) nor LoADS was built. (Reprinted from Office of Technolog

Assessment.)
vision based on American technical and industrial capabilities

to render offensive nuclear weapons “impotent and obsolete.”50

The space-based Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI) promised

a way out of the “balance of terror,” the system of nuclear de

terrence that had been American policy for decades.51 Those

who distrusted the movement toward arms control and feared

that these treaties and the unrelenting arms buildup gave the

Soviets parity, if not superiority, in strategic weapons cheered

the proposal.52 SDI would give the United States more options

play to American technical and industrial strengths, serve as a

counter to Soviet BMD and heavy ICBMs, defend against both

an accidental (or unauthorized) attack, and add uncertainty to

an attacker’s considerations. Finally, an American BMD would

provide insurance against the possibility of the Soviets cheat

ing or breaking out of the ABM treaty.53

Opponents of BMD quickly responded. They attempted to

ridicule the system by naming it Star Wars for the popular, fu

turistic movie of the day, a tag quickly picked up and circu

lated by the media. There was substantial opposition from both

the Air Force and Navy—both feared that SDI would take money

from other programs. Of course, the arms-control community

along with many in academia rose against the project. Close to

7,000 scientists pledged not to accept SDI money, including 15

Nobel Laureates and the majority in the physics departments

at the nation’s top 20 colleges. The criticisms were perhaps bes

summarized by former president Jimmy Carter who called SD

“infeasible, extremely costly, misleading and an obstacle to

nuclear arms control.”54

The problems were as grand as the scheme. The technica

obstacles were daunting, as this project was well beyond the

state of the art, as were the costs, which were estimated in the

range of hundreds of billions, with some going as high as one

trillion, dollars.55 A third major criticism of SDI was that it would

unravel the various arms-control agreements (specifically vio

late the ABM treaty) and lead to an arms race. Opinion polls

indicated that the public opposed SDI, especially when in

formed of its price.56

The system made technical progress in the 1980s. One new

development was a nonnuclear warhead, forced on the projec

198
when the proponents were unable to convince the public tha

exploding defensive nuclear warheads overhead would defend

them against nuclear annihilation. There were test successes

Perhaps most impressive was the Homing Overlay Experimen

(HOE) that in June 1984 successfully intercepted a Minuteman

over 100 miles in altitude and traveling at upwards of 15,000

miles per hour. Although some critics charged that the tests were

rigged, this certainly appeared to be an outstanding success.5

The SDI deployment plan also evolved. The original concep

called for 300 satellites, each carrying about 100 interceptors

sometimes called “battle stations” or “smart rocks.” This plan

changed to one of smaller interceptors that would independ

ently engage targets, so-called brilliant pebbles.58

Before the end of the decade, the world was turned upside

down when the Soviet Union collapsed. A major factor in this

momentous event was the US arms buildup in the 1980s tha

bolstered and highlighted the significant and growing techno

logical gap between America and the Soviet Union. SDI was

the most prominent of these technologies.

But the demise of the Soviet system didn’t end the BMD

story. In fact, it brought a new ballistic missile threat, not from

a superpower that was deterred by offensive nuclear weapons

but by third world countries that might not be. The end of the

bipolar superpower system also meant the end of the contro

that each nation had over its alliance members and client states

This threat from countries other than the Soviet Union became

clearly visible for decision makers and the public alike in the

1990–91 Gulf War.

The Gulf War: Patriot versus Scud

The Gulf War was an overwhelming coalition, military, and

technological success, with one notable exception. What looked

to be a mismatch between the coalition’s overwhelming technica

superiority and the Iraqis’ outdated missiles turned out far dif

ferently in the campaign against Iraqi tactical ballistic missiles

The Iraqis effectively used their Scuds to frustrate the coali

tion, seize the initiative, and apply great political and psycho

logical pressure that had the potential to unravel the alliance

199
Scud is the NATO code name for a Soviet surface-to-surface

ballistic missile that evolved from the German V-2. Compared to

the German missile, it has a longer range, greater accuracy, bu

a lighter payload (fig. 87).59 The Iraqis modified the Scud B to ex

tend its range to 650 km. This conversion also increased mis

sile speed 40 to 50 percent but reduced both warhead weigh

and accuracy. Because of shoddy manufacturing, the modified

missile also had a tendency to break up during its termina

phase.60 Unintentionally, the corkscrewing, disintegrating mis

sile became in effect a maneuvering reentry vehicle with decoys—

a much more difficult target to intercept than the designed Scud

warhead.61

Before the war, there were fears that fatalities from missile

attacks might be on average as high as 10 per Scud fired, an

estimate in line with the five killed by each V-2 during World

War II. However, this did not take into account the impact o

chemical warheads, which would have inflicted even greate

200

Figure 87. Scud missile. The Iraqis modified the Soviet Scud missile

which extended its range but lessened its accuracy. Iraqi Scud attacks

put political pressure on the coalition and, as a result, diverted resources

(Reprinted from http://www.acq.osd.mil.)
casualties. During the war, the Iraqis launched about 91 Scuds

three at Bahrain, 40 at Israel, and 48 at Saudi Arabia.62 Despite

considerable coalition and Israeli concerns, the Iraqis did no

employ chemical warheads, and casualties were far lower than

estimated. The Israelis suffered only two direct deaths from the

Scuds and another 11 indirectly. In addition, probably 12 Saudis

were killed and 121 were wounded.63

There were also American casualties. On 26 February, a Scud

hit a Dhahran warehouse being used as a billet by about 127

American troops, killing 28 and wounding 97 others (fig. 88)

This one Scud accounted for 21 percent of the US personne

killed during the war and 40 percent of those wounded.64 A

number of factors explain this incident. Apparently, one Patrio

battery was shut down for maintenance, and another had cumu

lative computer timing problems. Another factor was just plain

bad luck. This Scud not only hit the warehouse, but unlike so

many other Iraqi missiles, this one remained intact, and the

201

Figure 88. Scud hit on barracks. The coalition suffered amazingly low

casualties in the first Gulf War. The worst single incident was a Scud

hit on an American barracks in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, that killed 28

Americans and wounded another 97. (Reprinted from Defense Visual In

formation Center.)
warhead detonated.65 Nevertheless, the overall death rate was

less than one killed for each missile fired.66

The political power of the Scud far exceeded its military im

pact. The Israelis were not about to stand by as Iraqi missiles

showered their cities with death and destruction. If they inter

vened, however, the carefully constructed coalition would

quickly unravel, which, of course, was what the Iraqis desired.6

Although the Israelis rejected American aid before the shoot

ing started, they changed everything after the firing of the firs

Scud. The Israelis quickly requested both American Patrio

missiles and identification friend or foe codes to allow thei

aircraft to strike Iraqi targets without tangling with coalition

aircraft. The United States quickly agreed to the first reques

but refused the second. However, American decision makers

understood that the Scud menace had to be contained to keep

the Israelis out of the conflict.68 One important element in this

effort was the Army’s Patriot.

The Patriot

The Army had been concerned about defense against tactica

ballistic missiles since the V-2s appeared in World War II. As al

ready related, the ground service had conducted a number o

various projects to accomplish this goal. In August 1965, DOD

established a project office at the Redstone Arsenal for the sys

tem that was renamed SAM-D (surface-to-air missile develop

ment). The Army wanted a system that was mobile, included an

antimissile capability, and could replace its Hawk and Nike

Hercules missiles. To be clear, the missile was designed mainly

as a point defense weapon (meaning it had limited range) agains

relatively lower-flying and lower-speed aircraft rather than

against much higher- and faster-flying ballistic missiles.

There were various efforts to cancel the program. The Army

responded by simplifying the technology and cutting costs. More

to the point, in 1974 DOD dropped the BMD requirement to save

money. Now SAM-D was to be strictly a mobile SAM to counte

aircraft. In May 1976, the program was renamed Patriot (phased

array tracking to intercept of target), which was a rather strained

acronym. However, some say this was intended to please in

202
fluential Speaker of the House of Representatives Tip O

Neil o

Massachusetts, while others believed that no program named

Patriot would be cancelled in the nation’s bicentennial year.69

The Patriot first flew in February 1970. Two features distin

guished it. First, it carried a conventional warhead that made

its task of intercepting missiles much more difficult. This led to

a new guidance-system approach called track-via-missile (TVM)

A single ground-based phased-array radar guided the intercep

tor missile toward the incoming missile. As the two missiles

approached one another, the interceptor’s seeker attempted to

detect radar energy emanated by the ground radar that had

bounced off the incoming missile. The system relayed this infor

mation to the ground computer to guide the interceptor toward

interception. In theory, this makes the system more accurate

and more difficult to jam. TVM was so critical to the Patriot tha

in February 1974, DOD stopped the project for two years unti

the concept was successfully demonstrated.70

In 1980, the Army decided to modify the Patriot to enable i

to defend against a Soviet ballistic missile threat. The first ver

sion (PAC-1, Patriot ATM Capability) was only a minor change

to the system’s software and was completed by December 1988

The second upgrade, PAC-2, was somewhat more involved. I

included changes in the software, a better warhead, a differen

fuze, and improved radar that gave it some capability agains

ballistic missiles, increasing its radius of defense from 3 to 12

miles.71

Patriot was flying high. DOD granted full production authority

in April 1982. In 63 flight tests in April through June 1982, the

missile scored 52 successes. Therefore, the Army scheduled

first production deliveries for June 1982 and IOC for June 1983

Operational testing in May and June 1983, however, revealed

serious reliability and maintainability problems that threatened

Patriot with cancellation. Raytheon recovered from this crisis

and exceeded expectations in the retest, scoring 17 hits on 17

tests between 1986 and January 1991. Most impressive was

what the Patriot promised against ballistic missiles. In Sep

tember 1986, Patriot intercepted a Lance ballistic missile and

then in November 1987 intercepted another Patriot acting as

a surrogate for an incoming ballistic missile.72

203
The 2,200-pound missile (at launch) carries a 200-pound con

ventional warhead up to almost 79,000 feet and out to a distance

of 37 nm. The Patriot’s electronics can simultaneously track up

to 50 targets and handle five engagements at the same time. I

is able to defend an area 20 km forward of its position and 5 km

to both right and left. Four missiles are mounted on a traile

pulled by a tractor or a truck.73

Patriot in Action

The Patriot was the only US weapon used against an incoming

ballistic missile, and it formed the last line of active defense

against the Scuds (fig. 89). The United States airlifted 32 Patrio

204

Figure 89. Patriot missile in Desert Storm. The Patriot missile was the

American counter to the Iraqi Scud during the first Gulf War. Its perfor

mance was controversial, but it did ease political and psychologica

pressures. (Reprinted from Redstone Arsenal.)
missiles to Israel within 17 hours and got them operationa

within three days. Patriot deployment in the Gulf War eventu

ally consisted of seven batteries to Israel, 21 to Saudi Arabia

and four to Turkey.74

Crucial to the active BMD was early warning provided by

strategic satellites. Although American Defense Support Program

satellites were designed to give warning of ICBM launches

they had the ability to track the lower-flying, cooler, shorter

range, tactical ballistic missiles, as demonstrated against hun

dreds of tactical ballistic missiles during their tests and in two

Mid-Eastern wars.75 Before the shooting started in the Gul

War, Strategic Air Command (SAC) worked out a system tha

coordinated information from the satellites, routed it through

three widely separated headquarters (SAC, Space Command

and Central Command), and passed it to the user in the field

While the satellite did not precisely indicate either the location

of launch or anticipated point of impact, it did give general in

formation. The bottleneck was the communications; neverthe

less, the jury-rigged system gave a few minutes’ warning to both

the defending Patriot crews and people in the target area. Dur

ing the war, the satellites detected all 88 Scud launches.76

One of the main controversies of the war centered on how

many Patriots hit Scuds. The Patriots engaged most of the 53

Scuds that flew within their area of coverage, 46 to 52 according

to secondary accounts, with 158 SAMs (fig. 90). Gen Norman

Schwarzkopf initially claimed 100 percent Patriot success. Afte

the war, the manufacturer boasted of 89 percent success ove

Saudi Arabia and 44 percent over Israel. Then, in Decembe

1991, the Army asserted 80 percent and 50 percent successes

respectively. The following April, they were further reduced to

70 and 40 percent, respectively.77

Outside experts criticized these figures. Congressional re

searchers noted that the Army had little evidence on which to

base its high claims. The General Accounting Office (GAO) stated

that while the Army was highly confident that 25 percent of the

engagements resulted in kills of the Scud warhead, it had the

strongest supporting evidence in only one-third of these cases

The most visible critic, Theodore Postal of the Massachusetts

Institute of Technology, was much sharper in his attack on the

205
Army’s claims. He wrote that his studies “indicate[d] that Patrio

was a near total failure in terms of its ability to destroy, dam

age, or divert Scud warheads.”78 Postal went on to state tha

there was only one clear example of a hit but that it was un

certain whether this impacted on a Scud warhead or fuel tank

He approvingly quoted Yitzhak Rabin: “The biggest disappoint

ment of the war is reserved for the Patriot. It was excellen

public relations, but its intercept rate was rather poor.”79 Posta

claimed that not only was the Patriot unsuccessful in neutering

the Scud, it may have caused more ground damage than did the

Scuds. The defenders fired three Patriots at each of the incoming

Scuds, and each interceptor missile weighed more than did the

Scud’s warhead.80

Whatever the facts of the matter, this line of argumen

misses the main point. Just as the Scuds were primarily a

206

Figure 90. Scud. Scud debris, first Gulf War. The coalition’s inability to

throttle the Scud attacks was an embarrassment, but otherwise the

missile was not an effective military weapon. (Reprinted from Defense

Visual Information Center.)
psychological weapon, so too were the Patriots. They provided

great theater, with live videos of fiery launches, smoke trails

and aerial fireworks made more vivid with a dark, night back

ground that had a positive impact on civilians and decision

makers in the United States, Saudi Arabia, and Israel. (There is

no indication that any Iraqis saw this very visible performance

and, if so, what impact it had on them.) The situation was

manageable for the defenders as long as the Scud attacks were

limited in number, accuracy, and lethality. Missile warning

protected civilians from death and injury, while active missile

defenses bolstered morale. The Patriots were an important facto

in keeping Israel out of the war.

Another factor in deterring Israel’s intervention was the in

tense direct offensive campaign waged against the Scuds. The

Airmen flew almost 4,000 sorties, about 3.5 percent of the tota

scheduled by the coalition and three times the planned effort.8

The Army joined the Air Force in the anti-Scud campaign with

both surface-to-surface rockets ATACMS (Army Tactical Missile

System) and American and British Special Forces. According

to secondary sources, they claimed between 10 and 20 Scud

launchers destroyed. But to be clear, despite this massive

coalition air and ground effort, similar to the World War I

experience against the V-2, there is no confirmation of the

destruction of a single mobile Scud launcher.82

In short, the Scuds were the greatest difficulty encountered

by US forces in the Gulf War. Although not a military threa

and inflicting few casualties, they certainly presented a valid

challenge to the coalition’s unity and diverted considerable re

sources. While the Airmen did not perform as they would have

liked against the Scuds, they did enough to help keep the Israelis

out of the war. The Airmen also can take some credit for reduc

ing the Iraqi launch rates from a one-third to one-half that seen

in the Iran-Iraq War, even though the Iraqis had more missiles

in 1991. Suppressing the launch rate meant the Iraqis could no

fire in salvos that had the potential to swamp the Patriots.8

The Scuds were much less deadly than the German V-2s. In

brief, although the Iraqis beat the coalition tactically with the

Scuds, as coalition forces could not find and thus destroy the

dated tactical ballistic missiles, the coalition was able to manage

207
the political aspects by using the Patriot. However question

able BMD was in fact, it appeared successful to the press and

public, and this political and psychological impression was

most important.84

The Patriot-Scud duel had implications well beyond the Per

sian Gulf War. The Iraqi Scud indicated the threat that faced

the United States and its friends. The war showed how this

crude weapon could create great political problems and force

a significant diversion of military resources. Especially grave

were the implications of ballistic missiles armed with nuclear

biological, or chemical warheads. At the same time, the ap

parent success of the Patriot against the Scud gave impetus to

BMD programs.

Notes

1. A fuller version of the ballistic missile defense story can be found in

this author’s “Hitting a Bullet with a Bullet: A History of Ballistic Missile De

fense,” CADRE Research Paper 2000–02 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: College of Aero

space Doctrine, Research and Education, 2000).

2. United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Overall Report (Washington

D.C.: Government Printing Office [GPO], 1945), 88–89; Adam Gruen, Preemp

tive Defense: Allied Air Power versus Hitler’s V-Weapons, 1943–1945 (Wash

ington, D.C.: Air Force History and Museums Program, 1998), 15; Robert Allen

“Counterforce in World War II,” in Theater Missile Defense: Systems and

Issues—1993 (Washington, D.C.: American Institute of Aeronautics and

Astronautics, 1993), 109; and Military Intelligence Division, Handbook o

Guided Missiles of Germany and Japan, February 1946, R.

3. David Johnson, V-1, V-2: Hitler’s Vengeance on London (New York

Stein and Day, 1981), 168–69.

4. Donald Baucom, The Origins of SDI, 1944–1983 (Lawrence, Kans

University Press of Kansas, 1992), 4; and Frederick Pile, Ack-Ack: Britain’

Defence against Air Attack during the Second World War (London: Harrap

1949), 388.

5. Army Ordnance Missile Command, Surface-to-Air Missiles Referenc

Book, V-1, 2, R; Stephen Blanchette, “The Air Force and Ballistic Missile De

fense” (thesis, Air Command and Staff College, February 1987), 10–11, 15–16

AUL; Baucom, The Origins of SDI, 4, 6, 12–13; Georgia Institute of Technology

“Missile Catalog: A Compendium of Guided Missile and Seeker Information,

April 1956, 101, 128, 130, R; “History of Air Research and Development Com

mand: July–December 1954,” vol.1, 225–27, Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and James Walker, Frances Martin, and Sharon Watkins

Strategic Defense: Four Decades of Progress (n.p.: Historical Office, US Army

Space and Strategic Defense Command, 1995), 4.

208
6. Army Ordnance Missile Command, 

SAM Reference Book, IV16, V1

2–3, 6, R; John Bullard, “History of the Field Army Ballistic Missile Defens

System Project, 1959–1962,” December 1963, 5, R; Mary Cagle, “History o

Nike Hercules Weapon System,” April 1973, 191, R; and Woodrow Sigley

“Department of the Army Presentation to the Department of Defense Anti

ballistic Missile Committee: Scheduling and Costs for the Army Antiballisti

Missile Program,” October 1956, 4, R.

7. Bullard, History, 2, 4, 9, 12–13, 80; Cagle, “Nike Hercules,” 173, 191

192n; and Tony Cullen and Christopher Foss, eds., Jane’s Land-Based Ai

Defence, 1996–97, 9th ed. (Coulsdon, Surrey, U.K.: Jane’s, 1996), 290.

8. “ABM Research and Development at Bell Laboratories: Project History,

I-1, I-2, I-3, I-5, I-6, I-10, I-15, R; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategi

Defense, 10.

9. “ABM Project History,” I-15; Space and Missile Defense Command

(SMDC), “A Discussion of Nike Zeus Decisions,” 5, HRA; and Ralph Taylor

“Space Counter Weapon Program: Air Defense Panel Presentation,” February

1961, HRA.

10. “ABM Project History,” I-5, I-32; and K. Scott McMahon, Pursuit of th

Shield: The US Quest for Limited Ballistic Missile Defense (Lanham, Md.: Uni

versity Press of America, 1997), 15; SMDC, “Discussion of Nike Zeus Deci

sions,” 5–7; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 18.

11. Craig Eisendrath, Melvin Goodman, and Gerard Marsh, The Phantom

Defense: America’s Pursuit of the Star Wars Illusion (Westport, Conn.

Praeger, 2001), xix.

12. A clarification on terminology may be in order. In the early years, bal

listic missile defense was oriented primarily, if not exclusively, against strate

gic missiles and was usually referred to as ABM. Later, defensive efforts wer

aimed at both strategic and tactical weapons, and the term ballistic missil

defense was used. To keep matters simple, I have used ABM and BMD inter

changeably to indicate ballistic missile defense in general against eithe

strategic or tactical weapons. See Daniel Papp, “From Project Thumper to SDI

The Role of Ballistic Missile Defense in US Security Policy,” Air Power Journa

April 1987, 41.

13. Army Ordnance Command, “SAM Reference Book,” IV-4; North Ameri

can Air Defense Command (NORAD), “Quest for Nike Zeus and a Long

Range Interceptor,” historical reference paper no. 6, 7–13, HRA; B. Bruc

Briggs, The Shield of Faith: A Chronicle of Strategic Defense from Zeppelins t

Star Wars (N.Y.: Simon and Schuster, 1988), 141; Edward Jayne, “The ABM

Debate: Strategic Defense and National Security” (PhD diss., Political Science

Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1969), 24; NORAD, “Quest for Nik

Zeus,” 2; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 18.

14. For example, the Eisenhower administration cut the planned inter

ceptor fighter buy from 4,500 aircraft to 1,000, and the planned buy o

8,300 Nike Hercules to 2,400. See Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 137, 141; and

Edward Reiss, The Strategic Defense Initiative (New York: Cambridge University

1992), 22. 

209
15. 

ABM Project History, I15; and NORAD, Quest for Nike Zeus, 1.

16. “ABM Project History,” I-24, I-26; History of the 1st Strategic Aero

space Division: The Nike–Zeus Program, August 1959–April 1963, 17–18

29, HRA; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 19.

17. “ABM Project History,” I-22, I-23.

18. Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 19.

19. SMDC, “Discussion of Nike-Zeus Decisions,” 10; and NORAD, “Ques

for Nike Zeus,” 16–17.

20. SMDC, “Discussion of Nike-Zeus Decisions,” 8–9.

21. SMDC, “ABM Project History,” 2–9, X-1, I-36, I-37; and Walker, Martin

and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 23.

22. Army Ordnance Missile Command, reference book, IV-14; “ABM

Project History,” I-37, 2–9, 9-1, IX-4, IX-21, IX-23; and Briggs, The Shield

of Faith, 246–47.

23. “ABM Project History,” I-37, I-44, II-1; Baucom, The Origins of SDI

19; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 23, 26.

24. Other methods to enhance survivability of offensive forces were t

launch on warning, disperse, proliferate, and increase the number of weapon

on alert.

25. Steven Zaloga, Soviet Air Defence Missiles: Design, Development and

Tactics (Coulsdon, Surrey, U.K.: Jane’s, 1989), 121–22.

26. Galosh was a three-stage liquid-fuel rocket that carried a nuclea

warhead of 2–3 megaton yield out to a maximum range of 300 km and to 

maximum altitude of 300 km. See David Yost, Soviet Ballistic Missiles and

the Western Alliance (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University, 1988), 28; and

Zaloga, Soviet Air Defence Missiles, 128, 133, 135, 137.

27. According to a highly placed official and creditable academic, the ma

jority of the intelligence community believed Tallinn was an air defense sys

tem. See Morton Halperin, The Decision to Deploy the ABM: Bureaucratic and

Domestic Politics in the Johnson Administration (Washington, D.C.: Brook

ings Institution, 1973), 82; “ABM Project History,” I-41, I-43, I-44, 2–4

Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 277; David Grogan, “Power Play: Theater Ballisti

Missile Defense, National Ballistic Missile Defense and the ABM Treaty

(Master of Laws, George Washington University Law School, May 1998), 9

Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 307, 318; Benjamin Lambeth, “Soviet Perspective

on the SDI,” in Samuel Wells and Robert Litwak, eds., Strategic Defense

and Soviet-American Relations (Cambridge, Mass.: Ballinger, 1987), 50; Kerry

Stryker, “A Bureaucratic Politics Examination of US Strategic Policy Making

A Case Study of the ABM” (MA thesis, San Diego State University, 1979), 107

156; Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 29–30; and Zaloga, Sovie

Air Defence Missiles, 15, 100, 102.

28. Douglas Johnston, “Ballistic Missile Defense: Panacea or Pandora?

(PhD diss., Harvard, 1982), 195; and Yost, Soviet Ballistic Missiles, 26.

29. Interview with Lt Gen Austin Betts, 12 March 1971, 8, HRA; Briggs

The Shield of Faith, 259; Donald Bussey, “Deployment of Antiballistic Missil

(ABM): The Pros and Cons,” Library of Congress Legislative Reference Service

210
April 1967, 17, 24; Halperin, The Decision to Deploy, 63; and Walker, Martin

and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 26. See also “The ABM Debate,” 129–31, fo

example.

30. McNamara’s predecessor, Thomas Gates, was also against deploy

ment because he believed the public would not support the required shelte

program. See Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 90; and Howard Stoffer, “Congres

sional Defense Policy-Making and the Arms Control Community: The Cas

of the Antiballistic Missile” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 1980), 117

McNamara’s position on the limits of the ABM system remained constant

The Kennedy administration had pushed through a shelter request in Augus

1961 but had difficulties with follow-up programs the next year. One DOD

study in the early 1960s concluded that shelters could save a life for $20

versus $700 per person for the Nike-X. See Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 252

and Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 182, 230.

31. The arguments for and against the ABM during this period are mos

clearly set out in Halperin, The Decision to Deploy, 79–81. See also Baucom

Origins of SDI, 23; Betts interview, 4; Stryker, “A Bureaucratic Politics Ex

amination,” 104; Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 285; and Walker, Martin, and

Watkins, Strategic Defense, 29–30.

32. Betts interview, 8; Halperin, The Decision to Deploy, 78, 83; Jayne

“The ABM Debate,” 309, 359; Stryker, “A Bureaucratic Politics Examination,

171, 181–82, 208, 227; and Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs, “Staf

Memorandum on Current Status of the Antiballistic Missile (ABM) Program,

90th Cong., 1st sess., March 1967, 2.

33. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 33, 34; Halperin, The Decision to Deploy

84–86; and Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 360.

34. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 34; and Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 372.

35. Casualty estimates for a small Chinese attack against the United State

were about 6 to 12 million without defenses, 3 to 6 million with terminal de

fenses, and zero to 2 million with terminal and area defenses. See Jayne

“The ABM Debate,” 302; and Halperin, The Decision to Deploy, 89n.

36. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 35–37; Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 286, 327

Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 249n38, 374n2; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins

Strategic Defense, 33.

37. James Bowman, “The 1969 ABM Debate” (PhD diss., University o

Nebraska, 1973), 127–32, 170; McMahon, Pursuit of the Shield, 45, 47; Stoffer

“Congressional Defense Policy Making,” 149; Walker, Martin, and Watkins

Strategic Defense, 33.

38. Jayne, “The ABM Debate,” 413–14; Thomas Longstreth and John

Pike, A Report on the Impact of US and Soviet Ballistic Missile Defense Pro

grams on the ABM Treaty (n.p.: National Campaign to Save the ABM Treaty

1984), 4; and McMahon, Pursuit of the Shield, 45.

39. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 38; Bowman, “The 1969 ABM Debate,” 178

Briggs, The Shield of Faith, 299; Erik Pratt, “Weapons Sponsorship: Promot

ing Strategic Defense in the Nuclear Era” (PhD diss., University of California

211
Riverside, 1989), 148; Stryker, 

A Bureaucratic Politics Examination, 229

and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 33, 38.

40. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 43; and Bowman, “The 1969 ABM Debate,

173, 177.

41. The SALT I agreement gave the Soviets a numerical edge with both

ICBMs (1,618 to 1,054) and submarine-launched strategic missiles (62 boat

and 950 missiles to 44 boats and 710 missiles). See Baucom, Origins of SDI

51–71; and Longstreth and Pike, A Report on the Impact, 4.

42. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 70; Grogan, “Power Play” (May 1998), 11

and L. Maust, G. W. Goodman, and C. E. McLain, “History of Strategic De

fense,” System Planning Corporation (SPC) final report, SPC 742, Septembe

1981, 16–17.

43. Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 38; Bradley Graham

Hit to Kill: The New Battle over Shielding America from Missile Attack (N.Y

Public Affairs, 2001), 12; and Eisendrath, Goodman, and Marsh, The Phantom

Defense, 7.

44. The radar was about one-tenth the size of the SAFEGUARD system

and the missile one-fourth the size of the Sprint.

45. It consisted of randomly moving the ICBMs and decoys between th

shelters so that an attacker would have to target all 4,600 shelters to tak

out the 200 strategic missiles. The Air Force opposed such a system, but in

the interest of maintaining military solidarity, muted its views. See Desmond

Ball, “US Strategic Concepts and Programs: The Historical Context,” in Well

and Litwak, eds., Strategic Defenses, 25; Baucom, Origins of SDI, 95, 172–73

and Douglas Johnston, “Ballistic Missile Defense: Panacea or Pandora?

(PhD diss., Harvard University, 1982), 54.

46. Air Force Magazine, May 1999, 150; and Office of Technology As

sessment, MX Missile Basing (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1981), 5–6, 17, 125

47. Reiss, The Strategic Defense Initiative, 56.

48. The BMD system was renamed SENTRY in 1982. See Reiss, Th

Strategic Defense Initiative, 57; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategi

Defense, 43.

49. The key source on SDI is Baucom, Origins of SDI.

50. Kerry Hunter, “The Reign of Fantasy: A Better Explanation for th

Reagan Strategic Defense Initiative” (PhD diss., University of Washington

1989), 182–84.

51. Ibid., 91–95, 142.

52. The major US concern was that the Soviets could convert their advan

tage of heavier missile throw weight into many more maneuvering warhead

and move toward strategic superiority. See Baucom, Origins of SDI, 77–85.

53. David Dennon, Ballistic Missile Defense in the Post-Cold War Er

(Boulder: Westview Press, 1995), 97; William Kincade, “The SDI and Arm

Control,” in Wells and Litwak, Strategic Defenses, 102; and Roberto Zuazua

“The Strategic Defense Initiative: An Examination on the Impact of Construct

ing a Defensive System to Protect the United States from Nuclear Ballisti

Missiles” (MA thesis, Southwest Texas State University, 1988), 28.

212
54. Reiss, The Strategic Defense Initiative, 2, 89; Dennon, Ballistic Missil

Defense, 90; Paul Uhlir, “The Reagan Administration’s Proposal to Build 

Ballistic Missile Defense System in Space: Strategic, Political and Legal Im

plications” (MA thesis in International Relations, University of San Diego

1984), 101.

55. Hugh Funderburg, “The Strategic Defense Initiative and ABM Efforts

An Analysis” (MA thesis, Political Science, Western Illinois University, 1985)

17; Longstreth and Pike, A Report on the Impact of US and Soviet Ballisti

Missile Defense Programs, 10; Reiss, The Strategic Defense Initiative, 60; and

Zuazua, “A Strategic Defense Initiative,” 38.

56. Hunter, “The Reign of Fantasy,” 154–69; Kincade, “The SDI and Arm

Control,” 103; Zuazua, “A Strategic Defense Initiative,” 38.

57. Dennon, Ballistic Missile Defense, 13, 105n53; Aengus Dowley, “A

Review of the Strategic Defense Initiative and Ballistic Missile Defenses” (MS

thesis, Southwest Missouri State University, 1995), 69, 124; Funderburg

“Strategic Defense Initiative,” 17; Papp, “From Project Thumper to SDI”; and

Zuazua, “A Strategic Defense Initiative,” 28.

58. Dennon, Ballistic Missile Defense, 111; and McMahon, Pursuit of th

Shield, 7.

59. Norman Freidman, Desert Victory: The War for Kuwait (Annapolis

Naval Institute, 1992), 340.

60. Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf Wa

(New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1993), 79; Freidman, Desert Victory, 340

McMahon, Pursuit of the Shield, 298; David Snodgrass, “Attacking the Theate

Mobile Ballistic Missile Threat,” School of Advanced Airpower Studies, n.d

89, AUL; Roy Braybrook, Air Power: The Coalition and Iraqi Air Forces (London

Osprey, 1991), 9; James Coyne, Airpower in the Gulf (Alexandria, Va.: Aero

space Education Foundation, 1992), 55; Warren Lenhart and Todd Masse

“Persian Gulf War: Iraqi Ballistic Missile Systems,” CTS, February 1991, 1–2

AUL; and R. A. Mason, “The Air Power in the Gulf,” Survival, May/Jun

1991, 216.

61. Friedman, Desert Victory, 340.

62. Anthony Cordesman and Abraham Wagner, The Lessons of Moder

War, vol. 4, The Gulf War (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996), 856; Coyne, Air

power in the Gulf, 55, 122; Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and

the Gulf War (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1992), 186; Georg

Lewis, Steve Fetter, and Lisbeth Gronlund, “Casualties and Damage from

Scud Attacks in the 1991 Gulf War” (DSCS working paper, March 1993), 5

and, Atkinson, Crusade, 90.

63. Gulf War Air Power Survey (GWAPS), vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and

Training (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1993), 332; and Hallion, Storm over Iraq

185–86.

64. Atkinson, Crusade, 418, 420; GWAPS, vol. 5, Statistical Compendium

(Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1993), 657–58; and Hallion, Storm over Iraq, 185

213
65. Atkinson, Crusade, 416

17, 419; Hallion, Storm over Iraq, 185; Michae

Hockett, “Air Interdiction of Scud Missiles: A Need for Alarm,” Air War Colleg

paper, April 1995, 40, AUL; and McMahon, Pursuit of the Shield, 299–300.

66. GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 191; Michae

Gordon and Bernard Trainor, The Generals’ War (Boston: Little, Brown and

Company, 1995), 239; and Edward Marolda and Robert Schneller, Shield and

Sword: The United States Navy and the Persian Gulf War (Washington, D.C

The Naval Historical Center, 1998), 197.

67. There certainly was a reluctance on the part of many of the Arab

countries to do battle with the Iraqis. Some, if not most, would much rathe

have fought Israel. Reportedly, Egyptian and Syrian soldiers cheered when

they learned that Iraq had launched Scuds against Israel. See GWAPS, vol. 4

Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 35; and Gordon and Trainor, The Generals

War, 235.

68. Gordon and Trainor, The Generals’ War, 231; Hallion, Storm ove

Iraq, 180; and Robert Scales, Certain Victory (Washington, D.C.: Brassey’s

1994), 183.

69. Richard Barbera, “The Patriot Missile System: A Review and Analysi

of Its Acquisition Process,” Naval Postgraduate School, March 1994, 9, AUL

Donald Baucom, “Providing High Technology Systems for the Modern Battle

field: The Case of Patriot’s Antitactical Ballistic Missile Capability,” Air Powe

History (Spring 1992): 4–6, 8; Tony Cullen and Christopher Foss, eds., Jane’

Battlefield Air Defence 1988–89, 9th ed. (Coulsdon, Surrey, U.K.: Jane’s, 1988)

206; William Gregory, “How Patriot Survived: Its Project Managers,” Interavi

Space Review, March 1991, 66; and Steven Hildreth and Paul Zinsmeistser

“The Patriot Air Defense System and the Search for an Antitactical Ballisti

Missile Defense,” Congressional Research Service, June 1991, 9, AUL.

70. Barbera, “The Patriot Missile System,” 11, 48; Baucom, “Providing High

Technology,” 7; Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence 1988–89, 206

Theodore Postal, “Lessons of the Gulf War Experience with Patriot,” Inter

national Security (Winter 1991/92): 129–33; Frank Schubert and Theres

Kraus, The Whirlwind War: The United States Army in Operations Desert Shield

and Desert Storm (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, 1995), 241.

71. Barbera, “The Patriot Missile System,” 13–14, 23–24; Baucom, “Pro

viding High Technology,” 7, 9; and Cordesman and Wagner, The Lessons o

Modern War, 869.

72. Barbera, “The Patriot Missile System,” 13–17; Baucom, “Providing High

Technology,” 9; Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defence 1988–89

206; Hans Fenstermacher, “The Patriot Crisis” (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard

University, Kennedy School of Government Case Program, 1990), 3, 5, 7–9, 13

Gregory, “How Patriot Survived,” 67; and Hildreth and Zinsmeistser, “Th

Patriot Air Defense System,” 11.

73. Jorg Bahneman and Thomas Enders, “Reconsidering Ballistic Missil

Defence,” Military Technology, April 1991, 50; Barbera, “The Patriot Missil

System,” 22, 37, 65; Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Battlefield Air Defenc

1988–89, 209; and Schubert and Kraus, The Whirlwind War, 264.

214
74. GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 118; Hallion

Storm over Iraq, 180; and Snodgrass, “Attacking the Theater Mobile Ballisti

Missile,” 87.

75. The Scuds emitted one-third the heat signature of an ICBM. Se

Cordesman and Wagner, The Lessons of Modern War, 862; and Donald Kutyna

“Space Systems in the Gulf War,” draft, 138.

76. Gulf War Air Power Survey, Command and Control (Washington, D.C

GPO, 1993), 248–50; GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 280–81

This warning was an important factor in the relatively low casualty rate. On

reason the V-2 ballistic missile was so much more deadly (five killed per mis

sile) than the V-1 flying bomb (0.6 kills per missile) during World War II wa

that the former gave no warning as it arrived at supersonic speeds, while th

latter flew at subsonic speeds with a very distinctive sound that stopped be

fore its last plunge. See Hallion, Storm over Iraq, 186; and Kenneth P. Wer

rell, The Evolution of the Cruise Missile (Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala.: Ai

University Press, 1985), 60–61. For slightly different figures but the sam

conclusion, see Lewis, “Casualties and Damage,” 4–5. The satellites were no

infallible. For example, on one occasion, they mistook a B-52 strike for 

Scud launch. See Tom Clancy with Chuck Horner, Every Man a Tiger (New

York: Putnam, 1999), 385, 464; and Gary Waters, Gulf Lesson One—Th

Value of Air Power: Doctrinal Lessons for Australia (Canberra, Australia: Ai

Power Studies Centre, 1992), 217.

77. Part of the reason for the disparity in the rate of success in the tw

areas came from different crews, doctrine, and conditions. See Cordesman

and Wagner, The Lessons of Modern War, 871–74; Coyne, Airpower in th

Gulf, 122; GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 118n

GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 280n; Hallion, Storm ove

Iraq, 185; Stewart Powell, “Scud War, Round Three,” Air Force Magazine

October 1992, 35; and Snodgrass, “Attacking the Theater Mobile Ballisti

Missile,” 88–90.

78. Ted Postal, letter to the editor, International Security (Summer 1992)

226; General Accounting Office, Operation Desert Storm: Data Does Not Exis

to Conclusively Say How Well Patriot Performed, September 1992, 3–4; and

Steven Hildreth, “Evaluation of US Army Assessment of Patriot Antitactica

Missile Effectiveness in the War Against Iraq,” Congressional Research Service

April 1992, 7, 16.

79. Postal letter, 235n, 237–39.

80. Postal, “Lessons of the Gulf War Experience with Patriot,” 146; and

Theodore Postal, “Lessons for SDI from the Gulf War Patriot Experience: A

Technical Perspective,” testimony before the House Armed Services Com

mittee, 16 April 1991, 4, AUL. For a defense of the Patriot, see Robert Stein

“Patriot ATBM Experience in the Gulf War,” International Security (Summe

1992): 199–225. The participants in this fight had a specific agenda—they

were contesting the facts for the impact of the Patriot’s Gulf War perfor

mance on SDI and National Ballistic Missile Defense. For a more balanced

215
view, see Alexander Simon, 

The Patriot Missile: Performance in the Gul

War Reviewed,” July 1996, http://www.cdi.org/issues/bmd/Patriot.html.

81. Atkinson, Crusade, 147–48, 175; Clancy, Every Man a Tiger, 321

379; GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 182; 330, 335

GWAPS, vol. 5, Statistical Compendium, 418; Gordon and Trainor, The Gen

erals’ War, 237–38; Thomas Keaney and Eliot Cohen, Revolution in Warfare

(Annapolis: Naval Institute, 1995), 73n; Mason, “The Air Power,” 217; and

Snodgrass, “Attacking the Theater Mobile Ballistic Missile,” 3.

82. Atkinson, Crusade, 177–81; GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effect

and Effectiveness, 330–31; Gordon and Trainor, The Generals’ War, 241

245–46; Hallion, Storm over Iraq, 181; Keaney and Cohen, Revolution, 73

and Scales, Certain Victory, 186.

83. Cordesman and Wagner, The Lessons of Modern War, 331–32

GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 292–93; and Gordon and

Trainor, The Generals’ War, 240. The Scud problem could have been much

worse. If the missile had been more modern, it could have been maneuverin

and more accurate. It also could have been used in greater numbers, armed

with chemical warheads, or with a more dependable warhead. (Of 39 warhead

that impacted in Israel, only a third detonated. See Lewis, “Casualties and

Damage,” 1.)

84. James Winnefeld, Preston Niblack, and Dana Johnson, League of Air

men (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 1994), 132, 134.

216
Chapter 6

Ground-Based Air Defense since 1990:

The Gulf, the Balkans, and Afghanistan

In the half century since World War II, the US military has

been designed to battle masses of communist ground and ai

forces on and over the plains of Central Europe. Many believed

the military could operate as well in other locales against lesse

threats; and since it could fight and win a large war against a

major foe, surely it could fight and win a small one against a

lesser one. But the conflicts in both Korea (1950–53) and Viet

nam (1965–72) demolished this assumption, as air units there

had at best mixed results. Some would even insist the Airmen’s

efforts in Vietnam were both expensive and counterproductive

The American military’s next major combat test would come

within months of the fall of the communist empire and the end

of the Cold War. Like the previous two wars, this one would

also be thousands of miles from Europe, against a foe mainly

equipped with Soviet materiel, and fought with a force config

ured for the NATO defense of Western Europe. However, unlike

the conflicts in Northeast and Southeast Asia, after more than 40

years, the US military would finally fight its kind of fight.1

War in the Persian Gulf

The Iraqis had just fought a long, bitter war against the

Iranians (1980–88). They survived that costly war, and arguably

won it, or at least did not lose it. During that conflict, air op

erations were secondary, with both sides preserving rather than

employing their air forces. Apparently, the Iraqis intended to

repeat that strategy in the Gulf War, that is, to preserve thei

air force and rely on ground-based air defenses to protect them

from coalition air power. As one commentator so well put it: the

Iraqis were “prepared to refight their last war while the coalition

prepared to fight the next [one].”2 The Iraqis failed to recognize

that the coalition was a far different foe than the Iranians. 

217
Iraqi air defenses were certainly impressive in numbers and

did include some very modern elements. The Iraqi air force was

perhaps the sixth largest air force in the world, consisting o

about 915 aircraft. These included almost 180 high-quality fight

ers (Mirages, MiG-25s, MiG-29s, and Su-24s) and more than

300 moderate-quality aircraft (MiG-23s, Su-7s, Su-25s, Tu-16s

and Tu-22s), with the remainder a mixed bag of older Sovie

equipment, including MiG-17s and MiG-21s. Iraqi aircraft lacked

air-to-air refueling capabilities; so, their aircraft had limited

range compared with coalition aircraft. The difference between

the Iraqi airmen and their coalition foes in terms of training and

experience was even greater than the equipment gap.3

The Iraqi ground-based air defenses were imposing. This

arsenal consisted of hundreds of surface-to-air missiles and

thousands of antiaircraft guns and included a whole range o

Soviet weapons (130–80 SA–2s, 100–125 SA–3s, 100–125 SA–6s

20–35 SA–8s, 30–45 SA–9s, 3 SA–13s, and SA–14 launchers

as well as 55 to 65 French Crotale-Roland units. While mos

of the SAMs were older Russian systems (SA-2s and SA-3s)

others were more modern and lethal.4 In addition, the Iraqis

had 20 to 25 American-built Improved Hawk launchers cap

tured from the Kuwaitis that were of some, but not a serious

concern to the coalition.5

The Iraqi flak assets were both large and impressive. Thei

self-propelled inventory consisted of 167 ZSU-23/4, 425 30 mm

and 60 57 mm guns. The number of towed guns was a stagger

ing 3,185 14.5 mm, 450 20–23 mm, 2,075 35–40 mm, and 363

100 mm and larger.6 Iraqi defenses were particularly numerous

around the capital and major city of Baghdad. The most detailed

(unclassified) source states that there were 58 SAM launchers

with 552 missiles and almost 1,300 guns defending the city

While other sources give other numbers, in any case, there was

a lot of firepower. Baghdad was protected by more SAMs and

guns than any eastern European city during the height of the

Cold War, with seven times the number of SAMs as there were

around Hanoi at the peak of the Vietnam War. Gen Charles A

“Chuck” Horner, the air commander in the Gulf War, later told

a Senate committee that Iraqi defenses were twice as thick as

218
those in eastern Europe 

from the air standpoint, we looked a

about as tough a threat as you are going to find anywhere.”7

These air- and ground-based defenses were highly centralized

The key to the system was a computerized control system called

KARI (Iraq spelled backwards in French in honor of its devel

opers and installers). It consisted of 1970s technology that be

came operational in 1987. KARI was oriented against a threa

from the west (Israel) and the east (Iran) consisting of a numbe

of radars and more than two dozen operations centers. Buil

to handle attacks of 20 to 40 aircraft, KARI showed the capa

bility of handling up to 120 tracks at one time during the Iran

Iraq War. It was highly automated and “user friendly,” demand

ing little of lower-level operators. In fact, it was designed to be

operated by personnel with the equivalent of a sixth grade edu

cation. KARI was both extensive and redundant, covering all o

Iraq and, after the August invasion, Kuwait as well.8

As with their other systems, the Iraqis had a great number and

variety of radars, about 500 located at 100 sites. American intel

ligence considered six Chinese (Nanjing) low-frequency radars

the most dangerous, as they were least susceptible to jamming

and, in theory, could detect the stealth aircraft.9

Thus, the Iraqis fielded a potent air force and air defenses

However, they faced the strongest, largest, and most modern

air force in the world, bolstered by allies. Clearly, the coalition

had air power superiority across the board in terms of num

bers, aircraft quality, communications, and doctrine. Coalition

airmen had other major advantages as well.

The coalition airmen greatly benefited from the maturation

of two recent technologies that tilted the balance in favor of the

offensive: stealth and precision-guided munitions (PGM) (fig. 91)

Stealth greatly reduced the ability of radar to detect aircraf

and, combined with carefully planned flight routing, made nigh

and bad weather attacks essentially invisible. Thus, radar, which

had been the air defender’s chief asset from the early 1940s

was nullified, leaving the defenders dependent on blind luck

and eyeballs for detection of attacks and guidance of guns and

missiles. (Infrared homing was somewhat lessened but not to

the same degree as radar.) The impact of this technology was

enhanced by the development of PGMs. PGMs permitted almos

219
Figure 91. F-117 Stealth aircraft. The F-117 Stealth, an aircraft with ex

tremely low detectability, introduced a new element into air warfare. Some

believe it has revolutionized air warfare. If not, clearly it has radically

changed air combat. (Reprinted from Defense Visual Information Center.)
one shot, one hit accuracy, which meant that a few aircraf

could exact significant damage on the defender. Great fleets o

attack and support aircraft were no longer needed to inflic

critical damage on an opponent.10

The coalition had significant intelligence advantages. Cer

tainly, the American fleet of sophisticated photographic, in

frared, and electronic surveillance satellites was crucial. Air

borne platforms added to this capability. In addition, the

coalition contacted and received information from the companies

that had built and installed equipment in potential targets

The Airmen also utilized agents on the ground.11 On the othe

side, the Iraqis had a good idea of US reconnaissance capabili

ties because of US intelligence assistance to the Iraqis during

the Iran-Iraq War. Therefore, they employed various methods

to deny US overhead capabilities. In the end, however, seldom

has one force so well informed fought another so ill informed

Perhaps the greatest advantage the coalition forces had ove

the Iraqis was in the quality of personnel. The allied airmen were

competent and highly trained. Not only did they have more fly

ing experience than their opponents, but also many (certainly

from the NATO forces) had trained in the highly realistic flag

exercises. Even had the two combatants exchanged equipment

the coalition would have won—albeit at a greater cost. 

The coalition planned to use its overwhelming air power to

simultaneously attack both air defense and strategic targets.1

The initial plan called for the F-117s to attack key air defense

centers, cruise missiles to hit the electric power grid, along with

attacks on command and communications facilities. These as

saults would be followed by flights of American F-14 and F-15

fighters to counter any Iraqi interceptors. Later, massive coalition

air attacks supported by drones, jammers, and aircraft equipped

with radar-homing missiles would overload, neutralize, and

destroy the Iraqi air defense system.13

The strategic plan called for a four-phase operation to achieve

the coalition’s military and political goals. The Airmen’s targe

list grew from 84 in August 1990 (Instant Thunder) to 481 by the

start of the shooting on 15 January 1991. At the same time, the

number of targets in the target set “Strategic Air Defense” grew

from 10 to 56, and those in “Airfields” grew from 7 to 31.14

221
The coalition shooting war began with an effort to blind the

Iraqi air defense system. Task Force Normandy, nine Army

AH-64 Apache helicopters led by three Air Force helicopters

attacked two early warning radars 21 minutes before the main

assault (H-hour). (This, in fact, may have alerted the defenders.

Shortly after the initial assault, cruise missiles launched from

B-52s and Navy ships and laser-guided bombs dropped from

F-117s slammed into crucial targets. The stealth bombers and

cruise missiles and the suddenness, accuracy, and fury of the

assault caught the Iraqis by surprise. The coalition had lulled

the Iraqi defenders during the prewar buildup by repeatedly

flying a standard set of flights along the border. Forty minutes

after H-hour, massive numbers of coalition aircraft supported

by drones and defense suppression aircraft hit the Iraqis.1

Within hours, the coalition had achieved air superiority, if no

air supremacy. Or, to put it a bit more elegantly, “The initia

strike delivered a paralyzing blow from which Iraq never re

covered.”16 Now the Airmen could pick the helpless Iraqis

apart at their leisure.

The Airmen used a variety of technologies and considerable

resources to combat the Iraqi air defenses. These were success

ful well beyond their most optimistic hopes. In hindsight, it is

easy to forget that while there was no doubt as to the ultimate

outcome of a war with Iraq, there were questions and concerns

about its cost. As one observer wrote after the war: “It was a

war that could not be lost. The only question was the price to

be paid in winning it.”17 Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf writes

that some feared that as many as 75 aircraft would be lost on

the first night. Gen Buster C. Glosson, who would run the ai

campaign, thought that 10 to 18 aircraft might go down, while

Col John A. Warden III, a major planner, estimated that num

ber might be 10 to 15. The estimates for total losses were also

varied and considerable. At the high end, one Central Command

(CENTCOM) official opined that as many as 10 to 15 percen

of the attackers would be lost. Another estimate out of tha

headquarters was that the coalition’s aircraft losses could be

as high as 114 to 141 in the first three phases of the war, with

additional losses in the ground phase. Gen Merrill M. McPeak

Air Force chief of staff, would not accept one estimate of 0.5

222
percent losses and instead expected losses of about 150 aircraf

in a 30-day campaign. Warden thought that probably no more

than 40 would be lost over a six-day campaign. At his dramatic

and crucial briefing of General Horner, Warden used the fig

ures of 3 percent losses on the first day and then a 0.5 per

cent attrition rate. He believed that about 150 aircraft would

be lost. Retired Air Force general Charles Donnelly told a

House committee that 100 aircraft would be lost in a 10-day

campaign of 20,000 sorties. Horner writes in his postwa

memoirs that he expected to lose 42 US Air Force aircraft

while Glosson thought no more than 80 aircraft would be lost

A computer study that did not employ stealth aircraft (it is un

clear why, but it apparently also did not include cruise missiles

indicated losses of one-half of the Air Force F-111Fs and Navy

A-6s. This led to the decision to only use the F-117 and cruise

missile against targets in Baghdad. A postwar account notes

that in contrast to the predictions of an attrition rate of 0.5

percent of sorties, combat losses amounted to 0.05 percent.1

The coalition employed three principal means to neuter Iraq

ground-based air defenses: deception, jamming, and destruc

tion. The Airmen used drones to spoof Iraqi radar, not only to

confuse the operators but also to encourage them to disclose

their position and thus make them vulnerable to direct counter

measures. The Navy was out in front with this concept, learn

ing from the successful Israeli use of spoofing drones in the

1982 Bekaa Valley operation. The Navy bought versions of the

Israeli Sampson drone, which they named TALD (Tactical Ai

Launched Decoy) (fig. 92). Marine and Navy aircraft could

carry up to eight of the small (less than eight feet long and

fewer than 400 pounds), cheap ($18,000) drones on a standard

bomb rack. It was equipped with various means to simulate

American aircraft and in addition, could drop chaff. The majo

disadvantage of the unpowered device was its limited range

which was dependent on launch altitude.19

The Air Force, at the initiative of one of Warden’s subordi

nates, Maj Mark “Buck” Rogers, proposed using some Navy

BQM-74 target drones for the same purpose (fig. 93). Although

the deputy chief of staff for planning, Gen Jimmie Adams, re

jected the plan, a request from CENTCOM led to its adoption

223
The Air Force fitted reflectors to the drone and formed crews

to operate them with men who had manned the US Air Force’s

discarded ground-launched cruise missile. They were to fly

“figure eight” patterns over targets in the Baghdad and Basra

areas until they ran out of fuel (they could fly about an hour

or were shot down.20

The drones worked wonderfully well for the coalition. The

Air Force launched 38 of the devices from two different sites

against their targets, while the Marines and Navy used 137

TALDs during the first three days. Intelligence noted an in

crease of 25 percent in SAM and AAA radar activity during the

first wave. The Airmen estimated that the decoy use doubled

or tripled the kills achieved by the antiradiation missiles. Genera

Glosson noted that the Iraqis fired an average of 10 SAMs a

each of the decoy drones.21

The Airmen found themselves short of jamming platforms

The Air Force used 36 EF-111Fs and 18 EC-130Hs, while the

Marine and Navy employed 39 EA-6Bs. There were no allied

jammers. Therefore, while the coalition had jamming aircraft

it realized the density of the defenses and the number of air

craft and strikes demanded more. Nevertheless, the jamming

224

Figure 92. TALD decoy. The TALD is an unpowered, short-range decoy

used to confuse and pinpoint enemy radars. (Reprinted from http://www

topedge.com/.../aircraft/sites/mats/f14-detail-tald.htm.)
worked well, with the EA-6B and EF-111 receiving praise as

“highly effective.”22

The coalition also employed 60 F-4G Wild Weasels whose

airframes and basic mission had first seen action in the Viet

nam War. They carried electronic equipment that enabled them

to detect, identify, and locate radar signals and then attack the

radars with homing air-to-ground missiles. According to the Ai

Force’s Gulf War Air Power Survey, the F-4G was the weapon

of choice for combating the Iraqi radars. One reason was tha

it was the only US Air Force aircraft that could program the

HARM (high-speed antiradiation missile) in flight as to wha

targets not to hit, making them “smart weapons.” The Weasels

flew both autonomous and support missions, in all 2,700 sorties

during the war with one combat loss.23

225

Figure 93. BQM-74 drone.The Airmen used the BQM-74 drone to deceive

enemy radars as well as force them to reveal their positions to more

active defensive measures. (Reprinted from http://www.multipull.com

twascasefile/bqm74e.gif.)
The Marines and Navy fielded 39 EA-6B Prowlers. These air

craft also dated back to the Vietnam War and used both jam

mers and missiles to counter enemy radars. They flew 1,630

combat sorties while firing more than 150 HARMs without a

combat loss. The Navy claimed it flew 60 percent of the sup

pression of enemy air defenses (SEAD) missions.24

The Air Force also used two dozen EF-111A Ravens. The air

craft had a speed and range advantage over the Prowler, while

the latter had jammers that were more effective. The EF-111’s

airframe also dated back to the Vietnam War era when they

were used as bombers. (The US Air Force converted 42 to the

electronic warfare role.) The Raven carried equipment to detec

and jam enemy radars in both a standoff role and along with

the penetrating attackers. The EF-111s flew 1,105 comba

missions with one noncombat loss.25

Another Air Force jamming platform was the EC-130H Com

pass Call, a modified C-130 four-engine turboprop transport

Its mission was to intercept and jam enemy radio communi

cations to confuse and disrupt the Iraqis. Although automated

the crew included nine Airmen who operated the electronic

equipment. The US Air Force had 18 of these aircraft that flew

450 sorties during Desert Storm.26

The coalition used direct attack as well and employed a va

riety of air-to-surface missiles that homed in on the Iraqi radars

Shrike was the oldest of these missiles, having first seen ser

vice in Vietnam in 1965. Carrying a 149-pound warhead agains

Iraqi radars, the missile was limited by its range. American

forces fired 78 of these during the campaign, more than hal

by the US Air Force.27

The most used antiradiation missile, however, was the HARM

This missile first flew in 1979 and achieved IOC in 1984. It could

carry its 145-pound warhead more than 10 miles (dependen

on launch altitude).28 Because of the HARMs, after the firs

three hours of the war, the Iraqis seldom used their radars to

guide their SAMs. The Air Force concluded that 45 percent o

the HARMs fired by the Wild Weasels caused Iraqi radars to

stop operating. Instead, the Iraqis fired their radar-guided

SAMs ballistically, scary—but ineffective. On the first night

226
the coalition forces fired 200 HARMs and during the first week

used most of the 2,000 expended in the war.29

Another antiradiation missile was the ALARM (air-launched

antiradar missile). The British completed its trials in Octobe

1990 and rushed it to the theater. The two-stage missile climbed

to about 40,000 feet, where after rocket burnout, a parachute

deployed and allowed the missile to slowly float earthward

During this 10-minute period, the missile searched for radars

entered into its electronic library and, if detected, discarded

the parachute and sought them out. In all, the Royal Air Force

flew two dozen missions and fired 113 ALARMs.30

The Airmen were especially effective against Iraqi electronic

equipment. Iraqi radar activity on day seven of the war was

only 10 percent of that on day one. Reportedly, 85 percent o

the radar-guided SAMs launched by the Iraqis were unguided

and these missiles accounted for only 10 percent of the coali

tion aircraft losses.31

In addition to the intimidation and destruction caused by

the antiradiation missiles, the coalition airmen made tactica

changes that degraded the Iraqi ground-based air defenses

Specifically, after suffering losses in the first three days o

combat employing low-level tactics with which they had trained

before the war, the airmen shifted their operations to medium

altitudes of around 15,000 feet.32 Higher-altitude operations

decreased the effectiveness of both AAA and infrared-guided

SAMs. However, operations from higher altitudes also decreased

bombing accuracy with “dumb” bombs, increased the interfer

ence of weather to precision-guided munitions delivery, and

reduced the effectiveness of the A-10’s potent 30 mm cannon

For example, the F-16s achieved peacetime accuracy of 30 fee

with unguided bombs, but during the war, this rose to 200

feet.33 One postwar study notes that this change in altitude

“was one of the most significant changes in allied strike plan

ning, since peacetime training for most of the contributors fo

air power (including the most important, the United States and

the United Kingdom) had emphasized low-level delivery o

weapons.”34 The Gulf War demonstrated that the better way to

combat dense air defenses was to use SEAD operations (US

Air Force tactics) rather than the low-level tactics of NATO.35

227
Coalition efforts against Iraqi ground defenses were effective

The combination of destructive measures, the antiradiation

missiles along with attacks on the KARI system, and jamming

overwhelmed the Iraqi air defenders. Offensive air power was

effective because the defenses could not enact a serious cos

on the attackers. Both aggregate aircraft losses and rate o

losses were dramatically below those seen in previous wars

and those anticipated and, perhaps most remarkedly, at a lowe

rate than Air Force training. 

The coalition lost 38 aircraft along with another 48 due to

damage suffered in combat. The coalition attributed 71 percen

of these incidents to infrared SAMs and AAA, 16 percent to

radar-guided SAMs, and 13 percent to MiGs (one) and unknown

causes (fig. 94). On just over 4,800 combat sorties, the non

American forces lost 11 aircraft: two to antiaircraft artillery

228

Figure 94. Damaged A-10. Of the 38 coalition air forces lost in combat

only one fell to enemy aircraft. AAA also damaged 24, IR SAMs 15

and radar-guided SAMs four aircraft, including this A-10, one of 13

Warthogs damaged. (Reprinted from Defense Visual Information Center.)
one to infrared-guided SAMs, five to radar-guided missiles

and three to unknown agents. Of the 27 US aircraft lost on

over 60,200 combat sorties, seven were credited to AAA, 12 to

infrared-guided SAMs, five to radar-guided SAMs, one to MiGs

and two to other or unknown causes. Only one of the five

American aircraft downed by Iraqi radar-guided SAMs was fly

ing under the protection of Air Force Wild Weasels.36

Coalition forces had won a great success. While some would

later debate its political dimensions, it was clearly a great and

overwhelming military victory. Air power played a major role in

this achievement. In sharp contrast to the heavy losses the

Airmen had suffered in previous wars and contrary to expec

tations, the cost in the Gulf conflict was relatively low. The

Airmen had clearly beaten the ground defenders. For the mo

ment, the offensive and Airmen had the advantage over the de

fensive and the ground defenders.

Air Defense since 1991: 

Iraq, Balkans, and Afghanistan

US dominance continued after the great military success in

the Gulf War. While there were no direct challenges to US su

premacy, there were smaller probes. These actions pitted the

numerically and technically superior American Airmen agains

smaller and technically inferior third world (developing world

air defenses. 

Political success failed to follow the glorious 1991 military

victory in the Persian Gulf. To protect rebellious Iraqis in the

northern and southern portions of the country, the coalition

flew aerial patrols to prevent Iraqi use of fixed-winged aircraft

Operations out of Incirlik Air Base, Turkey, covered the country

north of 36 degrees under the code name Northern Watch, while

operations south of 32 degrees (extended in September 1996

to the area south of 33 degrees) were initially called Provide Com

fort, and in 1997, Southern Watch. Both saw spasmodic action

as the Iraqis played cat-and-mouse games. The Iraqis sent thei

aircraft through the two zones to test and taunt the coalition

airmen, turned on their radar, and fired both AAA and SAMs

The airmen responded. Up through May 1998, the coalition flew

229
more than 175,000 sorties in the south and a comparable

number in the north without combat loss. It also shot down a

few Iraqi aircraft, fired rockets, and dropped bombs.37

In December 1998, the Airmen took the initiative in response

to Iraqi obstructionism regarding weapons’ inspectors. They

flew 650 sorties in a four-day attack of 93 targets in Iraq. The

Iraqis did not launch aircraft or medium-range SAMs agains

the coalition forces but did respond with short-range SAMs and

AAA. Operation Desert Fox claimed to have destroyed 14 targets

and severely damaged another 26 without loss or damage to

Anglo-American aircraft. The two Watch operations were stil

in effect in 2002.38

The breakup of Yugoslavia led to a conflict that drew NATO

into the Balkans. In April 1993, the United Nations requested

that NATO enforce a no-fly zone in the area. As in Iraq, the Air

men faced a large, partially modern, but certainly dangerous

air defense system. The Air Force history of the engagemen

noted that the “planners recognized that the Serbian inte

grated air defenses were a fairly sophisticated system, bu

consisted principally of older equipment with limited numbers

of potentially modified or third-generation weapons systems.”3

It consisted of almost the full spectrum of Soviet air defense

equipment: SA-2 (three launchers), SA-3 (16), SA-7/14/16 (more

than 10,000), SA-6 (80), and SA-9 (130). The Serbs also fielded

54 ZSU-57-2 (57 mm) and 350 M53/59 (30 mm) AAA guns.

The Serbs fired at the Airmen and were able to down a British

Sea Harrier in April 1994 with a SAM and a US Air Force F-16

in June 1995 with an SA-6. In August of that year, Serb morta

attacks on Sarajevo ignited Operation Deliberate Force, an ai

campaign that continued from 30 August until 14 Septembe

1995. Airmen from eight NATO countries flew 3,500 sorties on

11 days of attacks on 48 targets. There was one combat loss, a

French Mirage claimed by a man-portable missile.40

In mid-1999, the NATO alliance engaged in an air campaign

to force the Serbian army out of Kosovo. Beginning with strikes

on 24 March, Operation Allied Force lasted 78 days during which

time the Airmen flew about 10,500 combat sorties (38,000 air

craft sorties in all) and almost 500 unmanned aerial vehicle

(UAV) sorties. The Serbs fired nearly 850 SAMs and untold

230
AAA at the airmen but were able to down only one F-117 and

one F-16. However, the loss of the F-117 was shocking, as none

had been hit, much less lost, in the Gulf War. The cause of loss

was not made public, but it was probably due to an SA-3. Never

theless, the aircraft loss rate was less than that of the Gul

War. However, the loss of 15 UAVs by one account (25 UAVs by

another) and three to five percent of the sorties indicates both

their vulnerability and, in fact, why they were employed.41

The Serbs learned from the Iraqi experience. On only a few

occasions did they directly confront allied forces; instead, they

attempted to preserve their air defense system as a force in

being. They were successful, as Serbs were firing as many SAMs

at allied aircraft on the last days of the operation as on the

first. Thus, the Airmen had to maintain high levels of suppor

aircraft and operate from higher altitudes (above 15,000 feet

throughout the campaign, unlike the action in Iraq where both

altitude and support sorties declined later in the operation

after the air defenses had been suppressed.42

The United States responded to the 11 September 2001 at

tacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon with an as

sault on the terrorist sanctuary in Afghanistan as well as the

government of Afghanistan that protected them. On 7 October

US air strikes hit command and control, air defense, and air

fields in Afghanistan. Compared to the operations against Iraq

and Serbia, the opposition was weaker and American capabilities

greater. The American Airmen used not only the equipment tha

proved so successful against Iraq but such new equipment as

the B-1 and B-2 bombers, UAVs, and munitions: wind-corrected

munitions dispenser, joint direct attack munition, and GPS

guided bombs. Neither the terrorists nor the Afghans had much

of an air defense. In the one-sided conflict, American Airmen los

three aircraft in accidents and two of three UAVs to icing bu

none to enemy causes. Against this minimal resistance, the prin

cipal problem was that of distinguishing the correct target.43

A year and a half later, Iraq was the site of another swift war

On 21 March 2003, coalition air forces began air strikes on

Iraq. Iraqi air defenses were significantly weaker than they

were in the first Gulf War, consisting of 325 combat aircraf

and 210 large SAMs. Coalition air forces were also smaller in

231
number than in the earlier war: 1,800 aircraft compared with

2,400. However, this force was much more capable because

more aircraft were able to deliver precision-guided munitions

some of the technology used in small numbers in the Gulf Wa

were more widely used (such as unmanned aerial vehicles

[UAV]), and new technology was introduced (some new guided

munitions). As a consequence, the Airmen dropped more than

twice as many guided weapons as they did in the first war, al

though they flew fewer sorties. Whereas in the first war 8 per

cent of the total munitions delivered were guided weapons, in

the second war, 68 percent were guided. There was no air-to

air combat; in fact, the Iraqi air force buried its best fighters

in the sand rather than risk them in combat or in shelters.44

Therefore, it is not surprising that Iraqi air defenses were

even less effective than they had been a decade earlier. The

coalition air forces logged 1,224 incidents of antiaircraft fire

and 1,660 SAM launches, mostly fired without radar assistance

Enemy fire downed only seven aircraft, six helicopters, and one

A-10.45 The coalition air forces effectively neutralized Iraqi ai

defenses, gained air superiority, and applied air power as they

wished. Nevertheless, some old problems remained. With such

an ineffective enemy opposition, the instances of friendly fire

stand out. Patriots downed both an RAF Tornado and a Navy

F/A-18 Hornet. In addition, an F-16 fired a HARM (AGM-88

that took out a radar sited with a Patriot battery.46 Helicopters

again faired far worse than fixed-winged aircraft, accounting fo

six of the seven US losses. Another indication is that on one raid

Iraqi ground fire hit 27 of 35 Army helicopters and downed

one.47 While the conflict itself was a walkover, the end of majo

combat did not end the war, only changed its character from

a conventional campaign into a guerrilla clash. As this is written

(November 2003), five US helicopters have been destroyed mostly

by rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) or shoulder-launched

SAMs since the end of the conventional war.48

Notes

1. A further irony is that the US military trained (for practical reasons) in

the western American desert on terrain perhaps as close to the actual battle

field in the Persian Gulf War as could be expected.

232
2. Anthony Cordesman and Abraham Wagner, The Lessons of Moder

War, vol. 4, The Gulf War (Boulder: Westview, 1996), 396.

3. The numbers were pulled from Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf Wa

127. Apparently, the Iraqis did convert some transports to tankers in Liby

between the invasion of Kuwait and the onset of the Gulf War. See Michae

Gordon and Bernard Trainor, The Generals’ War (Boston: Little, Brown and

Company, 1995), 104; and Gulf War Air Power Survey (GWAPS), vol. 4

Weapons, Tactics, and Training (Washington, D.C.: Government Printin

Office [GPO], 1993), 22.

4. These numbers are primarily from Cordesman and Wagner, The Gu

War, 431, supplemented by GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training

10, which are somewhat different from the less-detailed figures in GWAPS

vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 82; and W. J. Barlow, “Com

mand, Control, and Communications Countermeasures (C3CM) during Deser

Shield/Desert Storm,” June 1992, IDA paper P-2678, 137, HRA.

5. The Iraqis considered the Hawk far more effective than any of thei

Soviet SAMs during the Iraq-Iran War. See Anthony Cordesman and Abraham

Wagner, The Lessons of Modern War, vol. 2, The Iran-Iraq War (Boulder

Westview Press, 1990), 461; Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 431

Mike Freeman, briefing, “Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses (SEAD),” De

cember 1990, HRA; William Peters, “Background Paper on Captured Hawk

Kuwaiti SAMs,” 12 August 1990, HRA; Major Bell, information paper, “Cap

tured Kuwaiti Hawk Air Defense Systems,” 27 December 1990, HRA; and

Robert Boyd, Memo for XOOSE, “Status of Iraqi I-Hawk,” 27 Decembe

1990, HRA.

6. GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 15.

7. Gen Charles Horner, testimony, Senate Committee on Armed Services

Hearings before the Committee on Armed Services, United States, 102d Cong

1st sess., “Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm,” 12 May 1991, 235; and

Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 407. However, the Airmen believed

that the Iraqi air defense system was not as good as the Vietnamese one had

been. See Gen Larry Henry at Horner briefing, “Extract of Major Comment

of Questions: Notes from Horner Brief,” 20 August 1990, HRA; and Jame

Winnefeld, Preston Niblack, and Dana Johnson, A League of Airmen: U.S. Ai

Power in the Gulf War (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 1994), 172. Also see Gor

don and Trainor, The Generals’ War, 108; and GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and

Effects and Effectiveness, 82.

8. The Iraqis unsuccessfully attempted to add an airborne early warnin

capability to this system. They installed French (Tiger) radars aboard Sovie

Il-76 transports, but this makeshift effort had little capability. See Gordon

and Trainor, The Generals’ War, 105–8; Barlow, “Command, Control, and

Communications,” 140; and GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 6

9. Gordon and Trainor, The Generals’ War, 105; and GWAPS, vol. 2, Op

erations and Effects and Effectiveness, 83.

10. For a detailed discussion of the development of stealth and PGM

and their employment in the Gulf War, see Kenneth Werrell, Chasing th

233
Silver Bullet: US Air Force Weapons Development from Vietnam to Deser

Storm (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, April 2003).

11. Barlow, “Command, Control, and Communications,” 136.

12. This was a change from the prior air campaigns that attacked air de

fenses first and then went on to hit other targets. This new kind of air warfare

parallel rather than serial, was credited to Col John A. Warden III, USAF. Se

his book, The Air Campaign: Planning for Combat (Washington, D.C.: Nationa

Defense University, 1988).

13. GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 171.

14. Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 495; and GWAPS, vol. 1, Plan

ning, 5.

15. Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 397; and GWAPS, vol. 4

Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 172–74, 181.

16. Barlow, “Command, Control, and Communications,” 148.

17. Bernard Trainor, “War by Miscalculation,” 204, in Joseph Nye and

Roger Smith, eds., After the Storm: Lessons from the Gulf War (Lanham, Md

Madison, 1992).

18. Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf Wa

(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1993), 40; Tom Clancy and Charles Horner

Every Man a Tiger (New York: Putnam, 1999), 339; James Coyne, Air Powe

in the Gulf (Arlington, Va.: Aerospace Educational Foundation, 1992), 104

“Desert Storm/Desert Shield: Preliminary Report on Air Force Lesson

Learned,” 25, n.d. (postwar) HRA; “Desert Storm: A Strategic and an Opera

tional Air Campaign,” briefing, n.d. (prior to the air war) HRA; Gordon and

Trainor, The Generals’ War, 90, 115, 132, 188; GWAPS, vol. 1, Planning, 151

R. A. Mason, Air Power: A Centennial Appraisal (London: Brassey’s, 1994)

137–38; H. Norman Schwarzkopf, It Doesn’t Take a Hero (New York: Bantam

1997), 415; Bob Woodward, The Commanders (New York: Simon and Schuster

1991), 340; David A. Deptula, “Lessons Learned: The Desert Storm Air Cam

paign,” April 1991, 24, HRA; “Extract of Major Comments and Question: Note

from Horner Brief,” interview with Brig Gen Buster C. Glosson, n.d. [6 March

1991], 4, HRA; and interview with General Glosson, n.d., 82–83, HRA. Fo

another view of the estimated losses, see Cordesman and Wagner, The Gu

War, 399.

19. When launched from 40,000 feet and at minimum air speed, TALD

could reach 86 miles. Effective range under combat conditions would, o

course, be somewhat less than that—30 to 40 miles as noted in the open

sources. See Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 413; “Conduct of th

Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress,” appendix T, “Performance o

Selected Weapon Systems,” T-197; Barlow, “Command, Control, and Com

munications,” 149; James Dunnigan and Austin Bay, Shield to Sword: High

Tech Weapons, Military Strategy, and Coalition Warfare in the Persian Gu

(New York: Morrow, 1992), 213–14; Gordon and Trainor, The Generals’ Wa

113, 217; GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 133; and

GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 186.

234
20. Gordon and Trainor, The Generals

 War, 11314; GWAPS, vol. 2, Op

erations and Effects and Effectiveness, 132; and GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons

Tactics, and Training, 102–3. The decoys could fly as fast as 550 knots, a

far as 450 nautical miles, and as high as 40,000 feet for about an hour bu

not at the same time. See Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 413.

21. Barlow, “Command, Control, and Communications,” 149; Thoma

Christie, John Donis, and Alfred Victor, “Desert Shield/Desert Storm Sup

pression of Enemy Air Defenses,” Phase I report, IDA Document D-1076

January 1996, 4, HRA; and Glosson interview, 6 March 1991, 8, HRA.

22. Cordesman and Wagner, The Gulf War, 427; Marine lieutenant genera

Royal Moore cited in Winnefeld, Niblack, and Johnson, A League of Airmen

179, note 46; and Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, Final Report to Congress

April 1992, 129, 218.

23. GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 92–93; and GWAPS

vol. 5, A Statistical Compendium, 339, 641.

24. Norman Friedman, Desert Victory: The War for Kuwait (Annapolis

Md.: Naval Institute, 1991), 166; and GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and

Training, 94.

25. GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 94–96.

26. Ibid., 96–97.

27. Ibid., 104.

28. “AGM-88 HARM,” Air Force Magazine, May 2000, 156.

29. Christie, Donis, Victor, Desert Shield/Desert Storm, II-4; Glosson in

terview, March 1991; Lt Gen Charles A. “Chuck” Horner interview, 4 March

1992, 55, HRA; Thomas Keaney and Eliot Cohen, Revolution in Warfare?: Ai

Power in the Persian Gulf (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute, 1995), 195; GWAPS

vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 133; and GWAPS, vol. 5, Sta

tistical Compendium, 550–53.

30. GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons, Tactics, and Training, 114; and Stan Morse

ed., Gulf Air War Debrief (London: Aerospace, 1991), 154–57.

31. “Airborne Electronic Combat in the Gulf War,” n.d., 2, HRA.

32. Later in the campaign, Horner lowered this altitude to 10,000 feet and

then to 8,000 feet.

33. This accuracy is measured in circular error probable, with one-hal

of the bombs falling within that radius.

34. William Andrews, Airpower against an Army: Challenge and Response i

CENTAF’s Duel with the Republican Guard, CADRE Paper (Maxwell AFB

Ala.: Air University Press, 1998), 35; Atkinson, Crusade, 101–2; GWAPS, vol

2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 99; GWAPS, vol. 4, Weapons

Tactics, and Training, 51; Edward Marolda and Robert Schneller, Shield and

Sword: The United States Navy and the Persian Gulf War (Washington, D.C

Naval Historical Center, 1998), 183, 194; and Winnefeld, Niblack, and Johnson

A League of Airmen, 127.

35. Friedman, Desert Victory,164.

36. In addition, US forces lost 13 aircraft, and the allies lost five aircraf

to noncombat causes. See Keaney and Cohen, Revolution in Warfare?, 196

235
GWAPS, vol. 2, Operations and Effects and Effectiveness, 142; and GWAPS

vol. 5, Statistical Compendium, 640–51.

37. “Fact Sheet,” US Central Command Air Forces, 2, May 1998.

38. The United States also fired 325 TLAMs and 90 CALCMs. See Gre

Seigle, “‘Fox’: The Results,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 13 January 1999, 25.

39. Headquarters USAF, “The One Year Report of the Air War over Serbia

Aerospace Power in Operation Allied Force,” October 2000, 34.

40. Allied Forces Southern Europe, Fact Sheet: Operation Deliberate Force

Federation of American Scientists, “Operation Deliberate Force”; Kevin Fedark

and Mark Thompson, “All For One,” Time, 19 June 1995; and Richard P

Hallion, “Control of the Air: The Enduring Requirement” (Washington, D.C

Bolling AFB, 1999).

41. Apparently, Serb helicopters downed some UAVs. See Tim Ripley, “UAV

over Kosovo—Did the Earth Move?,” Defense System Daily, 1 December 1999

Anthony Cordesman, “The Lessons and Non-Lessons of the Air and Missil

Campaign in Kosovo,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, Sep

tember 1999, 24, 132, 209–10; David Fulghum, “Report Tallies Damage, List

US Weaknesses,” Aviation Week and Space Technology, 14 February 2000

34; Joel Hayward, “NATO’s War in the Balkans: A Preliminary Assessment,

New Zealand Army Journal, July 1999; Headquarters USAF, “Air War ove

Serbia,” 44; “Operation Allied Force: The First 30 Days,” World Air Powe

Journal (Fall 1999): 18, 21; “NATO’s Role in Kosovo,” 30 October 2000

http://www.NATO.int/kosovo/ kosovo; USAF, “Air War Over Serbia (AWOS

Fact Sheet,” 31 January 2000 [in USAF, One Year Report]; and Headquar

ters USAF, “The Air War over Serbia,” 33, 44.

42. Headquarters USAF, “The Air War over Serbia,” 19, 43.

43. David Donald, “Operation Enduring Freedom,” International Ai

Power Review (Spring 2002): 16–29.

44. Michael T. Moseley, “Operation Iraqi Freedom: By the Numbers

(Shaw AFB, S.C.: USAF Assessment and Analysis Division, 30 April 2003)

and Werrell, Chasing the Silver Bullet, 256, 258.

45. Moseley, “Operation Iraqi Freedom”; and David Willis, “Operation

Iraqi Freedom,” International Air Power Review (Summer 2003): 24.

46. Willis, “Operation Iraqi Freedom,” 17.

47. Barry Posen, “Command of the Commons,” International Securit

28:1, 25.

48. Dexter Filkins, “At Least 17 Dead as 2 U.S. Copters Collide over Iraq,

New York Times, 16 November 2003, 1.

236
Chapter 7

Ballistic Missile Defense in the 1990s

The breakup of the Soviet Union ended the Cold War and

dramatically changed the balance of strategic power and the

nature of the threat to the United States. On the positive side

the lessening of tensions between Russia and the United

States greatly reduced the possibilities of an all-out nuclea

exchange between the two. At same time, the fragmentation o

the Soviet Union presented new challenges. There were fears

for the security of Russian nuclear weapons, as underscored

by the abortive August 1991 coup. The threat from Russia

seemed to be less of a massive, planned strike and more of an

accidental or unauthorized launch (action by a rogue com

mander or perhaps a rebel group). 

Aside from Russia, another problem was the proliferation o

weapons of mass destruction (nuclear, biological, and chemica

[NBC]) and of ballistic missiles. If some could shrug off posses

sion of such weapons in the hands of such responsible states as

Britain, France, and Israel, the same was not the case with such

terrorist-sponsoring states as Iran, Iraq, Libya, North Korea, and

Syria. During a visit to Russia in 1991, a congressional delega

tion found that this was more than just a Western perception.1

In response to these changes, the United States refocused

its BMD program. In his 1991 State of the Union address

Pres. George Bush announced that the American BMD would

be redirected from defending against a massive Soviet ballistic

missile strike to defending against a more limited missile at

tack of up to 200 warheads. His view was summed up in the

system’s new name, global protection against limited strikes

(GPALS). It would shift the strategic defense initiative into a

three-fold program consisting of theater warning to allies and

forward-deployed US troops, defense of stateside Americans, and

a space-based system to fend off an attack anywhere in the

world.2 GPALS was a two-layer system consisting of 1,000

space-based brilliant pebbles to intercept hostile missiles in

their boost phase and 750 ground-based interceptors to defend

237
against surviving missiles in midcourse. Cost estimates ranged

from $100 to $150 billion. The shift from national to tactica

ballistic missile defense is clear. By 1993, US spending on theate

missile defense (TMD) greatly exceeded that spent on nationa

(strategic) missile defense (NMD). The new administration con

tinued this trend.3

In the 1992 election campaign, Bill Clinton promised a tighte

defense budget than his Republican opponent and, upon taking

office, cut defense spending. The new administration empha

sized TMD at the expense of NMD in its funding for fiscal years

1995–99.4 TMD received top priority based around three core

programs: Patriot improvement, PAC-3; improvement of the

Navy’s Aegis program, the Navy Area program; and the Army’s

Theater High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) program. Three

other TMD systems would compete to join this select three: the

Navy upper-tier system, a mobile Army system then known as

Corps-SAM (surface-to-air missile), and a third system to pro

vide boost-phase intercept capability. NMD dropped to second

priority, focusing on technical problems.5

Congress also responded to the increased interest in ballistic

missile defense. In 1991, Congress passed legislation that called

for deployment of an advanced TMD system by the mid-1990s

and for a cost-effective and operationally effective BMD system

by 1996.6 Although the Democratic administration saw inter

national agreement as a better solution to the problem than a

technical one, the Republican congressional victories in fal

1994 changed the Washington power equation. The Grand Old

Party put forth a bold contract with America that included a

commitment to deploy a limited NMD system. Congress per

sisted and in 1995 passed a measure that called for a limited

NMD. Congress wanted to revise the ABM treaty, but failing

Russian agreement, was willing to withdraw from the arrange

ment and build a multi-site BMD system with space sensors

that could defend the 50 states. President Clinton vetoed the

bill because it violated the existing treaty and responded with

a program that called for a three-plus-three option. This plan

consisted of three years of development that would be treaty

compliant and then a decision that, if positive, would permi

238
limited deployment in another three years. Thus, the United

States might field BMD by the year 2002 or 2003.7

TMD Hardware: PAC-3, MEADS, Arrow, 

Naval Developments, and THAAD

The increased attention led to progress, the baseline of which

is the Army’s Patriot system. The Army planned a number o

incremental improvements of missile, launcher, and radar to

field the PAC-3 (Patriot Advanced Capability) version. This began

with a quick-reaction program (improved radar sensing and

remote launch capability) deployed in 1993. PAC-3 increased

the area it could defend, previously about 10 by 20 kilometers

(km), by a factor of five. At about the same time, the developers

improved the missile with the guidance enhanced missile (GEM

that increased range by 30 to 40 percent. The Army began to

deploy it and the next improvement, Configuration 1, that con

sisted of improved battle management, command, control

communications, and intelligence.8

The most noticeable change was to replace the missile. The

existing Patriot missile with its blast-fragmentation warhead

and improved multimode seeker was matched against an en

tirely different warhead concept, hit to kill. The Army had begun

work on this idea, most notably in the Flexible Lightweight Agile

Guided Experiment (FLAGE) in 1983. In May 1987, FLAGE

successfully intercepted a Lance ballistic missile. The Army

upgraded FLAGE to extend the missile’s range and speed in a

follow-on design called Extended Range Intercept Technology

(ERINT). It used a hit-to-kill mechanism along with a lethality

enhancer that dispensed small pellets. The Loral-Vought missile

flew a number of successful intercept tests during 1992–94.

ERINT competed with the improved Patriot missile for use in

the PAC-3 configuration. Patriot’s multi-mode seeker enabled

the missile to hit a target Patriot in July 1992, and it appar

ently performed better against cruise missiles, aircraft, and

drones than did ERINT. Nevertheless, in early 1994 the Army

picked ERINT as its PAC-3 missile. The Army stated tha

ERINT had greater range, accuracy, and lethality than its

rival. One source claims it had about 10 times the footprint o

239
the PAC-2 system.9 As the new missile was considerably

smaller than the previous Patriot missile, four could be fitted

into each Patriot tube, allowing each launcher to carry 16 in

stead of four of the older missiles. ERINT also did considerably

better than the multimode seeker in simulated tests agains

biological and chemical warheads. Its IOC was scheduled fo

late 1998 or 1999.10

The PAC-3 program encountered scheduling delays, cost over

runs, and technical challenges in the 1990s. By mid-1999, i

was two years behind schedule and 37 percent over budget

This forced the Army to cut the buy by more than 50 percent

resulting in cost escalation from $2 million to $4–$5 million

per missile. The PAC-3 achieved mixed testing results, although

most tests were successful. This encouraged the governmen

to authorize limited low-rate production and schedule IOC fo

2001. A decision on full-rate production was scheduled for late

2002. Full deployment is not expected before 2005. The Army

intends to keep the weapon in inventory until 2025, with

planned upgrades of ground equipment.11

Another system later upgraded to handle BMD is the Hawk

By the 1990s, it was no longer in the Army inventory but was

in service with over 15 countries as well as with the Marine

Corps. The Marines lacked the Patriot and required a stopgap

TMD until they fielded the medium extended air defense sys

tem (MEADS) in the 21st century. As early as 1988, the Hawk

demonstrated BMD capabilities against a simulated ballistic

missile target. The Army started efforts to modify it for the

TMD role and then passed it along to the Marines in 1992

There were two principal modifications. The first extended

radar range to 400 nm and up to 500,000 feet, and the sec

ond increased warhead size and used a new fuze. Anothe

development was to make the system interoperable with the

upgraded Patriot system, allowing the Hawk to share data

from the Patriot’s more sophisticated and capable electronics

Cued by Patriot radar in May 1991, the system intercepted a

ballistic missile. In September 1994, the modified system

called Improved Hawk II, downed two Lance ballistic missiles

(fig. 95). The Marines modified Hawks to this new standard by

1999.12

240
The Army wanted to replace Hawk with a SAM system pos

sessing capabilities between that of the man-portable Stinge

and the much larger, complex, and capable Patriot. It desired

better range, mobility, and firepower than the Hawk and

greater mobility and survivability than the Patriot. (Anothe

goal of the program was to reduce the manpower required to

man the SAM battalion from 500 to about 300.) The new sys

tem began life under the name Corps Surface-to-Air Missile, a

joint Army-Marine project intended to replace the Hawk. I

soon became an international project when the Germans

French, and Italians joined the effort, formalized in February

1995 when the system was renamed MEADS.13

241

Figure 95. Hawk intercepting Lance. The Hawk had the potential to

intercept ballistic missiles, as it demonstrated in intercepting this

Lance surface-to-surface missile. (Reprinted from Ballistic Missile De

fense Organization.)
Mounted on a wheeled or tracked vehicle, MEADS features

both strategic and tactical mobility. Unlike the Patriot that re

quired the C-5 for air transport, MEADS will be transportable

on the ubiquitous C-130; in fact, this became the system’s

driving requirement.14 The cost estimates fluctuate from the

original $36 billion, and the IOC has been pushed back from

2007 to 2010.15

In May 1999, the three government consortium awarded

Lockheed-Martin the MEADS contract. This surprised some ob

servers in view of that company’s difficulties with the THAAD

program (see below). As the Americans desired, the missile wil

be based on the PAC-3 missile as a cost-saving measure tha

may cut the $5 billion missile development cost in half. MEADS

will be a versatile weapon, able to intercept ballistic missiles, as

well as defend against unmanned vehicles at lower altitudes.16

Another system under development to fulfill the TMD role is

the Israeli Arrow (fig. 96). The Israelis began work on the projec

in 1986 and gained US support two years later. This evolved into

an unusual weapon relationship that involved almost complete

US funding of the missile’s development, while the Israelis

funded the early warning and fire control system.17 The Arrow

had considerable technical problems. In the period 1988 through

1991, its record was called disappointing, and the missile did

not achieve its first interception until November 1999.18 The

Arrow was designed to have a footprint larger than the PAC-3

(one Arrow battery could cover as much area as four Patrio

batteries according to one source) but smaller than the THAAD

Less mobile than the Patriot, it uses a blast-fragmentation

warhead to destroy its target.19 The Israelis declared the system

operational in October 2000. They intend to field three batteries

with an overall program cost of $2–$10 billion.20

In contrast to these lower-tier missile systems, the THAAD

system is an upper-tier system. It is intended to engage targets

at a minimum 200 km range and 150 km in altitude that wil

give it 10 times the footprint of the Patriot missile. This extended

performance would permit a shoot-look-shoot capability—

sequential shots at an incoming missile. It will be more portable

than the Patriot, as it will be air-transportable aboard the

C-130.21 Like the more recent US BMDs, it has a hit-to-kil

242
Figure 96. Arrow launch.The Arrow is a joint US-Israeli development.The

Israelis declared the theater ballistic missile defense weapon operationa

in 2000. (Reprinted from Ballistic Missile Defense Organization.)
warhead. THAAD uses radar early in the engagement and then

an infrared sensor and computer aboard the missile for inter

ception.22 Estimated costs range from $10-$15 billion, with an

IOC in 2007.23

THAAD began development in 1988 and accelerated with an

award to Lockheed-Martin in September 1992 (fig. 97). The ef

fort has been difficult with repeated test failures. Even the two

(of 16 attempts) successes in 1984 and 1991 were disputed by

critics who claimed they were rigged.24 After six failed inter

ceptions between 1995 and 1999, THAAD achieved its firs

interception in June 1999 when it hit a modified Minuteman

missile 50 miles high and with a (combined) closing speed o

15,000 fps. On the next test in August 1999, THAAD scored

another intercept.25

Less than three weeks after the second success, the Depart

ment of Defense (DOD) announced that the weapon would ente

engineering and manufacturing development (EMD) withou

further testing. This changed the earlier requirement that a

positive EMD decision would hinge on three successful inter

cepts. A few days later, the top DOD tester, Philip Coyle, the

director of Operational Testing and Evaluation, stated tha

these successes were “not operationally realistic” and called

for further testing. Coyle based his statement on the facts tha

the missile used was not the one that would be fielded, the

targets were employed over a shorter range than the system

might face, and test conditions were contrived. Coyle doubts

the system can be deployed before 2010.26

Navy Systems

The push for a nautical BMD had two roots. First, the Navy

required protection of its assets from ballistic missiles. Second

ship-based BMDs would permit shifting of scarce resources

and eliminate the problem of host-country permission. Such

mobility would represent a show of force and give the United

States a political/diplomatic advantage. 

The Navy developed two programs: the lower-tier Navy area

wide system and the upper-tier Navy theaterwide (NTW) system

both based on the standard missile. The short-range BMD

244
called area, equivalent to the land-based PAC-3, was based on

the Navy’s SM-2 Block IV A missile. It has a blast-fragmentation

warhead and the ability to hit targets up to an altitude of 35 km

and out to a range of 125 km (another source states it can cove

245

Figure 97.THAAD maneuver.THAAD maneuvering after launch. (Reprinted

from http://army-technology.com/projects/thaad/images/Thaad3.jpl.)
an area 50 km by 150 km). The Navy modified two Aegis

class

cruisers with the system in September 1998 and successfully

completed sea trials the next month (fig. 98). The Navy con

ducted the missile’s first flight test in June 2000 and scheduled

246

Figure 98. Navy TMD launch.The Navy’s Theater Ballistic Missile Defense

system is being tested. (Reprinted from http://www.checkpoint-online.ch

CheckPoint/Monde/Mon0010-Pro11.)
deployment of the first unit in 2003. This system was designed

to protect against aircraft, cruise missiles, and short-range

ballistic missiles. DOD cancelled the program in Decembe

2001, as it was $2 billion over budget (60 percent cost growth

and two years behind schedule.27

DOD considered several missiles for the system. The trade

press reported that the DOD was considering standardizing on

one missile for both the Army and Navy programs. Because o

the technical status of the two programs, this would probably

mean using the THAAD. While that might make economic

sense, and perhaps technical sense, it had political problems

That is, Republican legislators, holding the majority in Con

gress in the late 1990s, strongly supported separate Army and

Navy programs.28

Another proposal was to mate the light exoatmospheric pro

jectile (LEAP) to a Standard missile. LEAP began with a 220

pound device in August 1989, but within three years it appeared

in five versions that weighed between 12 and 40 pounds. It was

estimated to have a maximum speed twice that of THAAD and

an altitude capability of 80 km. LEAP had its first successfu

test in September 1992.29

The NTW Ballistic Missile Defense program is also based on

the standard missile aboard Aegis ships, but in contrast to the

Area program, it is designed for longer range and higher altitude

(outside the atmosphere) interception of ballistic missiles. It is

comparable to THAAD. Designated SM-3, it is an SM-2 Block IV

with a third-stage motor and a maneuvering hit-to-kill warhead

that uses the LEAP IIR seeker. The missile had its first suc

cessful flight in September 1999, although this did not include

the all-important third stage. But the system cannot handle

ICBMs, which would require twice the interceptor missile speed

and more powerful radars. Some believe that it might also re

quire new ships. The original plan was to field an interim missile

(Block I) by 2006, but by February 2001 the Navy rejected this

concept to concentrate on the final version (Block II). The Navy

now believes that 2010 is the earliest it can deploy this weapon

when it expects to get 80 SM-3 missiles aboard four Aegis

cruisers.30 A 1999 Heritage Foundation study asserted tha

NTW could be expanded into an NMD by putting 650 missiles

247
aboard 22 Aegis ships in less than five years, for an initial cos

of $3 billion. However, a Navy estimate for a 12-ship system was

$15 billion, while later estimates for such a system were between

$16 billion and $19 billion. A sea-based NMD would violate

the ABM treaty.31

The attractiveness of the Navy system was evident in 1999

In September, the Japanese agreed to conduct joint research

with the United States for the NTW system. The two partners

intend to jointly deploy a Block II Standard, with an undeter

mined IOC. The next month, naval representatives from the

United States, Australia, Germany, Italy, and the Netherlands

met to investigate a future cooperative naval effort. The Standard

missile figured prominently in these talks.32

To jump a bit ahead of the chronology, the election o

George W. Bush to the presidency in 2000 renewed interest in

the Navy BMD programs. Bush, Senate Majority leader Tren

Lott, Secretary of State Colin Powell, and former secretary o

state Henry Kissinger all called for the deployment of a sea

based system.33

A New Threat

One reason for this increased activity was the recognition o

an increased threat. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union

and the overwhelming military victory in the Gulf War in the

early 1990s, Americans relaxed, expected a peace dividend

and believed they were secure. They also began to cut the mili

tary. The politicians were also lulled by a 1995 national intel

ligence estimate (NIE) and the intelligence community’s March

1998 annual report that held that it would take 15 years for a

country without a ballistic missile infrastructure to deploy an

ICBM. This would give the United States ample warning before

such a deployment.34 Critics noted that this estimate ignored

the existing Russian and Chinese ICBMs, turned a blind eye

to the vulnerability of Alaska and Hawaii, and disregarded

missile and missile technology transfer. 

This complacent view was jarred by events in the summer o

1998. First, a congressionally mandated committee chaired by

former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld concluded tha

248
the threat to the United States from emerging ballistic missile

capabilities is broader, more mature, and is evolving more rap

idly than contained in earlier estimates and reports by the US

intelligence community.”35 It observed that part of the problem

was that America’s ability to get timely and accurate intelligence

was declining, leaving the possibility “under some plausible

scenarios” that “the US might well have little or no warning be

fore operational ballistic missile deployment.”36 The committee

specifically noted that “a fairly significant ballistic missile threa

is emerging almost overnight in North Korea.”37 Further, the

North Koreans, Chinese, and Russians were exporting ballistic

missile technology to other nations. As some of these countries

were making efforts to develop nuclear and biological weapons

and all had chemical capabilities, the threat was obvious.38

The administration countered these dire warnings at the end

of August 1998 with a letter from the top US military leader

chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Gen Hugh Shelton, to

Senator James Inhofe. The four-star general wrote that the

JCS “remain[s] confident that the Intelligence community can

provide the necessary warning of the indigenous developmen

and deployment by a rogue state of an ICBM threat to the

United States.”39 He held that the current defense policy was

prudent and that continued adherence to the 1972 ABM treaty

was “consistent with our national interests.”40

Events were not kind to either General Shelton or to the ad

ministration’s course of action. A week after Shelton’s letter

the North Koreans fired a three-stage missile (Taepo Dong 2

eastward, with the second stage landing east of Japan and the

third stage near Alaska (fig. 99). Thus, North Korea, a failed

state that was unable to feed its people, demonstrated alarm

ing and advanced technological and military capabilities. The

multistage missile showed a high level of competence, as did

the fact that the third stage was powered by solid propellants

Particularly disturbing was that until this demonstration

North Korean expertise with solid fuels was unknown to US in

telligence agencies. The Taepo Dong 1 missile with a 1,200-mile

range could hit targets in South Korea and Japan. The Taepo

Dong 2 had a nominal range of 3,700 miles that put Alaska

and Hawaii within its reach. Lighter versions of that missile

249
could fly as far as 6,200 miles, threatening the western United

States. A 1999 NIE concluded that the North Koreans could

field an ICBM by 2005.41

These events galvanized the Japanese. Since 1945, they have

been bound both psychologically and politically by a no-wa

constitution and attitude that led to miniscule rates of defense

spending. Although the Japanese had been importing sophis

ticated US military technology such as the PAC-3, Aegis war

ships, and the airborne warning and control system, they showed

considerable reluctance toward the BMD. While the Japanese

military and elements of the government supported Japanese

US cooperation on BMD, Japanese industry and the powerfu

ministry of international trade and industry questioned such

an action. However, events in both China and North Korea led

to an increase in Japanese military spending and a rise in fund

ing for ballistic missile defense by the end of 1999. In Augus

1999, the Japanese and Americans signed an agreement to

conduct joint research on a BMD system.42

250

Figure 99. Taepo Dong 1. The North Koreans developed a family o

ballistic missiles capable of delivering nuclear weapons, based on

this Taepo Dong 1 missile. (Reprinted from Ballistic Missile Defense

Organization.)
In contrast to the Japanese, who showed uncharacteristic

concern over these developments in North Korea, South Korea

was much less disturbed. This is remarkable in view of the close

South Korean geographic, emotional, and political proximity to

the threat. The South Korean defense ministry stated that i

would not join the joint American-Japanese BMD program

citing a lack of money and technology. For their part, the South

Koreans wanted to modify their 20-year-old agreement with the

United States that confined them to surface-to-surface missiles

with ranges less than 180 km. They wished to extend the per

mitted ranges to 500 km, which would enable them to reach

all of North Korea, while the United States appeared willing to

extend the limit to 300 km. The South Koreans apparently pu

more value in deterrence and less in a direct BMD system than

does the United States.43

Unlike the South Koreans, the government of Taiwan very

much wanted BMD. In March 1999, it announced a $9 billion

program over a 10-year period to develop a low-altitude air de

fense system. At the same time, there was intense speculation

that the Taiwanese wanted to get under the US-Japanese BMD

umbrella. This effort was aided by a US congressional reques

that the DOD study a defensive arrangement with Taiwan. In

June 1999, Taiwan’s president made it clear that his country

wanted to join the theater ballistic missile defense program.44

American relations with Taiwan are sensitive. China opposes

American BMD more than the Russians, but it is even more

adamant about Taiwan. Therefore, American military aid to the

island has been cautious. Nevertheless, in April 2001, the Bush

administration announced the largest arms sale to Taiwan in

decades. However, the United States deferred supplying BMD

although it reserved the right to transfer PAC-3 for deploymen

in 2010 under certain circumstances. Bush explicitly declared

US intentions to defend Taiwan from a Chinese invasion.45

America’s European allies criticized the American BMD ef

fort. They saw it as another example of American arrogance and

unilateralism, not as consultation and agreement among allies

They believed America was exaggerating the threat. More seri

ously, they feared that US BMD deployment would decouple the

United States from Europe, as the partners would no longe

251
share a nuclear risk. This, they postulated, would reinforce

the ever-present American isolationist sentiment and the

fortress America attitude and action.46

The chief European complaint centers on the impact of BMD

development on the 1972 ABM treaty. These European critics

believe that a modification of this agreement and developmen

of the BMD would encourage the Russians to build up their of

fensive and defensive forces, nullify the deterrent forces o

both Britain and France, and lead to an arms race with China

and Russia.47 French President Jacques Chirac noted that “the

development of shields will always result in the proliferation o

swords.”48 These advocates believed that the solution to the

problem of nuclear weapons was not technology but diplo

macy centered on the 1972 ABM treaty and the various agree

ments that limit both defensive and offensive systems. They

insisted that the ABM treaty had to be maintained to achieve

arms reduction. 

At the same time, technical and political changes were buf

feting the treaty.49 In December 1993, the United States pro

posed modifications to the agreement to clarify testing of BMDs

in what some perceived as being in the gray area. The treaty

permitted BMD geared against tactical ballistic missiles bu

not against strategic missiles; however, these terms were no

defined. Nevertheless, for years the United States had infor

mally used the so-called Foster Box concept. It required ap

proval by a treaty compliance panel for American BMD tests

against targets exceeding 2 km per second and an intercept al

titude of 40 km. Therefore, the United States proposed setting

an upper limit on target speed and range against which the

systems could be tested, specifically 5 km per second in speed

and 3,500 km in range.50 The Russians were willing to accept the

target speed limit but also wanted to restrict the intercepto

missile to a maximum speed of 3 km per second. In May 1995

the two nations agreed to this arrangement.51

At this point, these were the only concessions the Clinton

administration made toward deploying or developing the BMD

In fact, earlier in a September 1993 five-year review of the

treaty, the administration moved away from some of the changes

proposed by the previous administration to relax treaty restric

252
tions. In 1996, Clinton countered congressional pressure fo

BMD with a veto.52

Events, however, conspired against the treaty: the prolifera

tion of missiles and NBC concerns with a number of countries

the Rumsfeld Report; North Korean missile developments; and

domestic politics, especially Democratic fears that Republi

cans would use BMD as an issue in the 2000 elections. These

events forced the administration to make key concessions, i

not to capitulate, to BMD proponents. In January 1999, Sec

retary of Defense William Cohen announced a $6.6 billion

five-year program to develop a BMD system in addition to the

almost $4 billion already budgeted. Cohen declared that the

United States was seeking limited changes in the ABM treaty

that would permit deployment of a restricted BMD and added

that, failing such amendments, the United States might with

draw from the treaty. One journalist observed that Cohen’s

announcement “angered the Russians, dismayed arms contro

advocates and spurred new efforts by congressional hawks to

abandon the 1972 Antiballistic Missile Treaty, which they be

lieve inhibits US ability to protect itself against a growing mis

sile threat.”53

Meanwhile, the administration attempted to reassure the

Russians and arms-control supporters. Within hours of Cohen’s

remarks, top administration officials, including Secretary o

State Madeleine Albright and the president’s national security

advisor, Samuel Berger, clarified or, according to some, repudi

ated Cohen’s words.54 In an attempt to encourage the Russians

to agree to treaty modifications, the administration went as fa

as to offer US financial support to help the Russians finish an

important radar installation in Siberia and upgrade another in

Azerbaijan. Although there were a few weak mixed signals from

Moscow, the Russians held to the view that the ABM treaty had

to remain intact.55

Nevertheless, Clinton bent to the political realities as the Con

gress passed, by a veto-proof margin, a National Missile Defense

bill in March 1999. In July, Clinton signed the measure tha

called for a national BMD as soon as technically feasible. The

president also pledged to make the hard and fast decision in

June 2000, although it appeared to be a mere formality in view

253
of the upcoming presidential election.56 In early 2000, a numbe

of influential individuals called for a delay in this decision. Some

fervent BMD proponents feared that Clinton would opt for a

minimal system and cut off the possibilities of a more robust one

and thus preferred to wait for the hoped-for election of a Repub

lican. Others wanted the decision taken out of the heated but no

particularly enlightening glare of election-year politics. Mean

while, the 2000 presidential nominees staked out positions on

the subject. The Republican, George W. Bush, proposed suppor

for not one but two missile defense systems (national and theate

BMD) at the earliest possible date. His opponent, Al Gore, was

more cautious. He supported the BMD concept but would no

deploy the system without further testing, talks with the Rus

sians, and international approval.57

Clinton made clear that he would approve BMD if it met fou

criteria. These included affordable cost, a real threat, workable

technology, and tolerable diplomatic impact.58 All four criteria

were open to wide interpretations. For example, what cost is

tolerable? How much is it worth to save one American city?

What measure will define “workable technology”? That is, how

well must the system work? Similarly, the appraisals of threa

and diplomatic impact are subject to considerable subjective

judgment.

Throughout the history of BMD, its opponents raised

technical objections. These centered on the ease by which an

attacker could deceive, or overwhelm, the system by using rela

tively simple decoys. A new issue was to point out that the

booster for the missile would not be tested until after the sys

tem was deployed. The critics noted that it would produce 10

times the high-frequency vibrations as the test system, and

according to a Congressional Budget Office study, “distort o

damage the kill vehicle’s optics or electronics, rendering the

interceptor impotent.”59 Three major science groups opposed

the plan. Perhaps most impressive was a petition that about hal

of all living American science Nobel laureates sent the presiden

urging him to reject NMD. They called the plan “premature

wasteful, and dangerous.”60 Opponents also raised the othe

perennial objection, cost. In early April 2000, the Ballistic Missile

Defense Organization director announced that the first phase o

254
the system would cost almost 60 percent more than prio

estimates and $20.2 billion to develop, deploy, and suppor

the 100-missile system in Alaska through 2025. The estimate

increased from $26–$30 billion in July reports and to $40.3 bil

lion in August. But, the number the press insisted on using was

$60 billion, the same figure the Congressional Budget Office re

leased in April for a much-expanded system.61 Regardless of the

specifics, clearly the costs were large and seemingly rising.

The Clinton administration proposed a plan for a midcourse

BMD. America would build tracking radar on remote Shemya

Island, a westerly island in the western Aleutians; upgrade five

early-warning radars; and replace the current early-warning

satellite system (Defense Support Program) with the space

based infrared satellite (SBIRS-High) system. Later, the United

States would add ground-based radars and the space-based

infrared satellite (SBIRS-Low) system. To protect western Alaska

and Hawaii (along with the other 48 states)—politically impor

tant areas, although relatively few Americans live there—mis

siles initially would be sited in Alaska. Later, the United States

would build a second interceptor missile site in the northern

section of the United States to better protect the heavily popu

lated eastern section of the country.62 The plan’s first phase

called for new radar on Shemya by 2005, 20 missiles based in

Alaska by 2005, and 100 missiles by 2007. The United States

desired changes in the 1972 ABM treaty to permit upgrades o

other radars in Alaska, Massachusetts, and California. The

second phase would expand the radar system. In the third

phase, the United States would add a second missile site in

North Dakota with 150 missiles.63

Ballistic Missile Defense continued its oscillating course

during the last half of 2000 and early 2001. The system suf

fered setbacks brought on by technical problems and diplomatic

developments. The threat of a North Korean ICBM abated in

2000 as that country held encouraging talks with the South

Koreans, including a meeting of the leaders of the two Koreas

In addition, and more to the point for the Americans, in late

1999, the North Koreans announced a moratorium on thei

missile tests. Then in late July 2000, Russian presiden

Vladimir Putin announced that the North Koreans were willing

255
to abandon their missile program in exchange for a booster to

launch satellites into space. The much-emphasized North

Korean threat seemed to be receding.64

The Russians waged a tough and effective diplomatic cam

paign to undermine the BMD program. President Putin’s visits

with American allies were troublesome to NMD proponents

but Russian and Chinese cooperation was worrisome to US

decision makers. In a joint statement in July 2000, the two

countries called the 1972 ABM treaty “the cornerstone of globa

strategic stability and international security” and warned o

“the most grave adverse consequences” if the United States

went ahead with the NMD.65 In July 2001, Russia and China

signed a friendship pact, with press commentators emphasiz

ing that the NMD was a major factor in this development.66 In

another move, the Russians offered to share a theater missile

defense with the West, specifically a boost-phase intercept (BPI

defense. Hitting hostile missiles as they were being launched

had numerous advantages, as the missile would be a slowe

(and thus an easier) target during its first 120 to 210 seconds

of flight. Destruction then would finesse the decoy problem

and bring the missile debris down on the enemy’s homeland

Such a system based in Russia would cover the United States

from ICBM attacks from North Korea, and most from Iran and

Iraq, although not from Libya nor launches from either China

or Russia.67 The BPI concept also had support from a numbe

of long-time critics of BMD, including Theodore Postal, who

opined that the concept “makes tremendously more sense. Al

the technology is in hand.”68 Others noted that BPI would be

one-third cheaper than the Alaska plan and was less threat

ening to the Chinese and Russians. The only small Russian

nudge toward the American position was an agreement by

Putin in June that there was cause for concern over the issue

of ballistic missile proliferation. Even here, however, the Rus

sian generals insisted that the threat from rogue states was

not as urgent as the United States maintained.69

More serious and certainly more dramatic were test failures

After achieving a success in its first intercept test in Octobe

1999, the missile missed in January 2000. Because of the

pending decision by President Clinton, the test scheduled in

256
the summer of that year was critical.70 Before the event, some

claimed that the upcoming test was rigged. An article in Time

stated that “little is being left to chance . . . . So little, in fact, tha

this may be a test in name only—an expensive piece of Potemkin

performance art to win enormous military appropriations.”7

In any event, the program suffered a twin failure on 8 July

2000, when the kill vehicle failed to separate from the booster

and the balloon decoy did not deploy from the target missile

The Los Angeles Times called it a “spectacular test failure” and

a “debacle of monumental proportions.”72 In addition, while a

neutral observer might consider the incident a nontest, certainly

it was bad public relations and politics.

With only one success on three attempts, diplomatic pressure

from friends and nonfriends alike, domestic pressure magnified

by the media, and escalating cost estimates, President Clinton

was under great pressure to cancel the program. The close

presidential election campaign did not help matters. On 1 Sep

tember 2000, he announced that he was postponing a decision

leaving that responsibility to his successor.73

George W. Bush and BMD

That successor turned out to be the more enthusiastic BMD

supporter of the two presidential candidates, Republican

George W. Bush. With his election, the path of the BMD took

another turn. In May 2000, well before the election heated up

candidate Bush proposed deep unilateral cuts of nuclea

weapons along with a robust BMD that would be shared with

allies and at a more distant date shared with both the Russians

and Chinese.74 Shortly after Bush’s election, the Russians sug

gested an arrangement that would exchange cuts in offensive

weapons for some level of cuts in defensive weapons. In mid

November, the commander of Russia’s missile forces proposed

a scheme that would limit each side to an agreed-upon numbe

of offensive and defensive weapons but allow each to decide the

exact mix. Bush repeated his call in January 2001 for building

the BMD and nuclear arms reduction; he also seemed willing

to consider the Russian proposal.75

257
By early 2001, the Russians were no longer pushing thei

joint BPI concept. They and the American allies had reluctantly

accepted the idea that the new administration was going forward

with BMD. In late February 2001, the New York Times re

ported that the Russians had begun serious talks about BMD

The Russian foreign minister, Igor Ivanov, stated that “we are

ready and interested in starting a direct dialogue with the US

administration.”76 For their part, the Europeans saw the way

things were going and tried to make the best of the situation

There was press speculation that the Europeans would accep

the American BMD plan in exchange for US acceptance of a

proposed European Union deployment force that would be

separate from NATO.77

President Bush continued to push NMD despite domestic and

foreign criticism. The administration asked Congress to increase

missile defense spending from $3 billion to $8.3 billion. At the

same time, there were reports that the Pentagon planned to

notify Congress that it would begin building a missile-defense

test range in Alaska. Not only was this in violation of the 1972

ABM treaty that limited testing to White Sands, New Mexico

and Kwajalein Atoll in the Marshall Islands, but this facility

could also be used for an emergency deployment. The Alaska

site could field 10 interceptor missiles. This helps explains the

high-level view that the testing could conflict with the treaty

“within months, not years.”78

The first two years of the Bush administration produced three

sets of events critical to BMD development. The first event in

volved domestic politics: in June 2001, power in the US Senate

shifted from Republican to Democratic hands. NMD was a sig

nature issue for the Republicans, while the Democrats have

been much more reluctant; the Republicans have tended to favo

armaments, while the Democrats advocated treaties to dea

with international threats. Or, in the incendiary words of the

former speaker of the House of Representatives, Newt Gingrich

“It’s the difference between those who would rely on lawyers to

defend America and those who would rely on engineers and

scientists.”79 Thus, NMD certainly will have a more difficul

route than appeared to be the case after the November 1990

258
elections. The fate of the system may well depend on which po

litical party controls the executive and legislative branches. 

The second set of events was technological—successful missile

tests. As one reporter opened his piece on the July 2001 test

saying, “The brilliant flash in the sky above the Pacific signified

not just a hit by the Pentagon’s prototype missile intercepto

but an opening shot in President Bush’s long political, diplo

matic, and technical battle over a national missile defense sys

tem.”80 Avoiding a simple decoy, the interception demonstrated

that the system could work. For its part, the military was sub

dued and modest in its reaction, noting that the full results o

the tests would not be known for two months and that this

was just the first step on a long journey. Critics noted that the

test vehicle would differ in both hardware and capability from

the deployed system and that even with the successful inter

ception, a key component failed.81 The next test (Decembe

2001) was also successful against a warhead obscured by a

single balloon decoy and pieces of debris. A third consecutive

success in March 2002 was more impressive: the intercepto

missile picked the warhead instead of the three decoys.82

The third set of events was diplomatic. President Bush an

nounced in December 2001 that the United States was with

drawing from the ABM treaty. Despite the dire warnings o

BMD critics, relations with Russia did not spin out of control

In fact, Bush was able to fulfill his campaign promise of reduc

ing the numbers of nuclear warheads. When the Soviet Union

collapsed in 1991, each side had about 11,000 warheads. The

START II agreement (1993), signed but not ratified, called fo

a reduction of 3,000 to 3,500. Nevertheless, by 2002, each

side had reduced its nuclear arsenal to approximately 6,000

warheads. With lessened tensions, further reductions were

possible and pursued. The United States was willing to accep

a figure of 2,000 to 2,500 warheads, while the Russians, severely

strapped for funds, sought even deeper cuts to 1,500 or less

In May 2002, American and Russian leaders signed an agree

ment to reduce nuclear warheads to 1,700 to 2,200 by 2012

The Russians accepted higher numbers than they desired bu

did get a concession in a legally binding document. In addi

tion, they got a role in NATO. The warming relations between

259
Russia and the United States, especially in the wake of the

September 2001 terrorist attacks on the United States, held the

promise of even wider collaboration in the future (fig. 100).83

260

Figure 100. Airborne laser. One futurist ABM weapon is the airborne

laser. Seven of these aircraft are scheduled to enter service before the

end of the decade. (Reprinted from http://www.sargentfletcher.com/bus_dew

yalla.jpg.)

Notes

1. David Dennon, Ballistic Missile Defense in the Post-Cold War Era (Boul

der: Westview Press, 1995), 11.

2. Donald Baucom, The Origins of SDI, 1944–1983 (Lawrence, Kans

University Press of Kansas, 1992), 199; Ballistic Missile Defense Organization

(BMDO), “Fact Sheet: Ballistic Missile Defense Organization Budgetary His

tory,” http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bndolink/htm/tmd.html; Dennon

Ballistic Missile Defense, 8–10; General Accounting Office, Theater Missil

Defense Program: Funding and Personnel Requirements Are Not Fully Defined

December 1992, 1–2, AUL; James Lindsay and Michael O’Hanlon, Defending

America: The Case for Limited National Missile Defense (Washington, D.C

Brookings Institution, 2001), 114.

3. BMD funding shifted from $1,103 million on TMD in 1993 and $1,886

million on NMD to $1,646 million and $553 million in 1994. See BMDO

“Fact Sheet,” 1.
4. Theater Missile Defense: Systems and Issues, 1994 (Washington, D.C

American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, June 1994), 3, 8; and

Dennon, Ballistic Missile Defense, 14, 54.

5. BMDO, “Fact Sheet,” 2.

6. James Walker, Frances Martin, and Sharon Watkins, Strategic De

fense: Four Decades of Progress (n.p.: Historical Office US Army Space and

Strategic Defense Command, 1995), 107.

7. Ballistic Missile Defence Organization, “Fact Sheet, History of the Bal

listic Missile Defense,” http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink/html/tmd

html, 3; David Grogan, “Power Play: Theater Ballistic Missile Defense, Nationa

Ballistic Missile Defense and the ABM Treaty” (Master of Laws thesis, Georg

Washington University Law School, May 1998), 57–64.

8. BMDO, “Fact Sheet: Patriot Advanced Capabability-3,” 1–2, http://www

acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink/html/tmd/html; Tony Cullen and Christophe

Foss, eds., Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 9th ed., 1996–97 (London: Jane’s

1996), 286; Richard Falkenrath, “US and Ballistic Missile Defense,” Cente

for Science and International Affairs (Harvard University), October 1994, 18

and Lisbeth Gronlund et al., “The Weakest Line of Defense: Interceptin

Ballistic Missiles,” in Joseph Cirincione and Frank von Hippel, eds., The Las

Fifteen Minutes: Ballistic Missile Defense in Perspective (Washington, D.C

Coalition to Reduce Nuclear Dangers, 1996), 57. 

9. Gronlund et al., “The Weakest Line of Defense,” 57.

10. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 9th ed., 1996–97

209, 284; Falkenrath, “US and Ballistic Missile Defense,” 20–21; J. W

Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide to Theater Missile Defense (Arlington, Va.: Pasha

1994), 47, 49, 51; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic Defense, 99, 102

11. Philip Coyle, “Rhetoric or Reality? Missile Defense Under Bush,” Cente

for Defense Information, Washington, D.C., May 2002; John Donnelly, “Patrio

Interceptions Hit Targets in Tests,” Space and Missile Defense Report, 24

March 2002, 2; John Donnelly, “Military May Cut in Half Buys of Anti-Scud

Missiles,” Defense Week, 17 July 2000; Bradley Graham, “Army Hit in New

Mexico Test Said to Bode Well for Missile Defense,” Washington Post, 16

March 1999, 7; “PAC-3 Missile Program Cost Overruns Soar to $278 Million,

Aerospace Daily, 18 June 1999; James Hackett, “Missile Defense Skeptical Re

vival,” Washington Times, 26 August 1999, 13; “Missile Defense Succes

Story,” Washington Times, 20 October 2000; Gopal Ratnam, “U.S. Army

Struggles to Lower PAC-3 Missile Costs,” Defense News, 31 July 2000

Robert Wall, “Missile Defense Changes Emerge,” Aviation Week and Spac

Technology, 30 August 1999, 30; “Lockheed’s PAC-3 Knocks Down a Con

tract,” Baltimore Sun, 17 September 1999; and Hunter Keeter, “PAC-3 Inter

cept Clears Way for LRIP Decision,” Defense Daily, 17 September 1999, 1.

12. Centre for Defence and International Security Studies, “Current and

Near-Term Missile Defences,” 3, http://www.cdiss.org/near 1.htm; Cullen and

Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 289, 293–95; Falkenrath, “US and

Ballistic Missile Defense,” 19; and Federation of Atomic Scientists, “HAWK,

1–2, http://www.fas.org/spp/starwars/program/hawk.htm.

261
13. The French dropped out in May 1996. See BMDO, 

Fact Sheet: Medium

Extended Air Defense System,” 1–2, http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo

bmdolink/htm/tmd/html; Center for Defense and International Security

Studies, “US-Allied Cooperation,” 3, http://www.cdiss.org/coopt.htm; and

Vago Muradian, “Lockheed Martin Beats Raytheon to Win MEADS Effort,

Defense Daily, 20 May 1999.

14. BMDO, “Fact Sheet,” 1; Federation of Atomic Scientists, “Medium Ex

tended Air Defense System (MEADS) Corps SAM,” 1, http://www.fas.org

spp/starwars/program/MEADS.htm; Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land

Based Air Defense, 292; Ramon Lopez, Andy Nativi, and Andrew Doyle, “Th

Need for MEADS,” Flight International, 17–23 March 1999, 34; and

Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 78.

15. BMDO, “Fact Sheet,” 2; Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air De

fense, 292; Gronlund, “The Weakest Line of Defense,” 47; Lopez, Nativi, and

Doyle, “The Need for MEADS,” 34; Greg Seigle, “US Spending Row Put

MEADS in Jeopardy,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 25 August 1999; and Wall

“Missile Defense Changes Emerge,” 30.

16. Muradian, “Lockheed Martin.”

17. General Accounting Office, US Israel Arrow/Aces Program: Cost, Tech

nical, Proliferation and Management Concerns, August 1993, 1–2; Arieh

O’Sullivan, “Final Arrow Test to be Held Soon,” Jerusalem Post, 22 Octobe

1999; and Arieh O’Sullivan, “Air Force Welcomes Arrow 2,” Jerusalem Pos

15 March 2000.

18. BMDO, “Fact Sheet,” 1, http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink

html/tmd.html; Steven Hildreth, “Theater Ballistic Missile Defense Policy, Mis

sions and Program: Current Status,” Congressional Research Service, Jun

1993, 30; William Orme, “In Major Test, New Israeli Missile Destroys ‘In

coming’ Rocket,” New York Times, 2 November 1999; Schomisch, 1994/9

Guide, 125; and Greg Seigle, “Confidence Over US-Israeli Target Test o

Arrow 2,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 20 October 1999.

19. BMDO, “Fact Sheet,” 2; Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 124–25; and

Seigle, “Confidence over US-Israeli Target Test.”

20. Arieh O’Sullivan, “Arrow Anti-Missile Shield is Operational,

Jerusalem Post, 17 October 2000; “The Arrow Shield,” Jerusalem Post, 16

March 2000; Hildreth, “Theater Ballistic Missile Defense Policy,” 30; William

Orme, “Israel: Missile Defense Deploys,” New York Times, 15 March 2000

A6; and Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 125.

21. Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 9th ed., 1996–97

283; David Heebner, “An Overview of the U.S. DOD Theater Missile Defens

Initiative,” 53, in American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, Theate

Missile Defense: Systems and Issues—1993 (Washington, D.C.: AIAA, 1993)

and Earl Ficken, “Tactical Ballistic Missile Defense: Have We Learned Ou

Lesson?” Air War College, April 1995, 21.

22. Ballistic Missile Defense Organization, “Fact Sheet: Theater High Al

titude Area Defense System,” 2, http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink/

262
html/tmd.html; Ficken, 

Tactical Ballistic Missile Defense, 21; and Cullen

and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 284.

23. Confusion over cost may be due to the inclusion/exclusion of th

ground-based TMD-GBR sensor that will provide search and tracking infor

mation to the TMD. See Cirincione and von Hippel, “Last 15 Minutes,” 48

Cullen and Foss, Jane’s Land-Based Air Defense, 283–84; General Account

ing Office, Theater Missile Defense Program: Funding and Personnel Require

ments Are Not Fully Defined, December 1992, 10–11, HRA; Bradley Graham

“Pentagon Gives THAAD a Boost,” Washington Post, 20 August 1999, 2

Joseph Peterson, “Theater Missile Defense: Beyond Patriot?” Naval Post

graduate School, June 1994, 97; and Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 250.

24. The Federal Bureau of Investigation cleared the contractor of thes

allegations. See Bradley Graham, Hit to Kill: The New Battle over Shielding

America from Missile Attack (New York: Public Affairs, 2001), 228; Crai

Eisendrath, Melvin Gorman, and Gerald March, The Phantom Defense

America’s Pursuit of the Star Wars Illusion (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2001)

23; William Broad, “New Anti-Missile System to be Tested this Week,” New

York Times, 24 May 1999, 1; and Walker, Martin, and Watkins, Strategic De

fense, 103.

25. BMDO, “Fact Sheet, THAAD,” 1; Glenn Goodman, “Layered Protec

tion,” Armed Forces Journal International, November 2000; Bradley Graham

“Anti-Ballistic Missile Has 2d Hit,” Washington Post, 3 August 1999, 6

James Hackett, “What the THAAD Hit Means,” Washington Times, 15 Jun

1999, 18; Robert Holzer, “U.S. Navy Rips Missile Merger,” Defense News, 8

February 1999, 3; and Philip Shelton, “After Six Failures, Test on Antimissil

System Succeeds,” New York Times, 11 June 1999.

26. John Donnelly, “THAAD Intercepts Were Unrealistic, Top Tester Says,

Defense Daily, 23 August 1999, 1; Graham, “Pentagon Gives THAAD 

Boost,” 2; and “THAAD Test Flight Pushed Back as Accelerated Developmen

is Mulled,” Inside Missile Defense, 14 July 1999, 4; and Coyle, “Rhetoric o

Reality?”

27. BMDO, “Fact Sheet: Navy Area Ballistic Missile Defense Program,

November 2000, 1–2, http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink/html/tmd

html; “Navy Optimistic Following Recent Success of Navy Area Missile De

fense System,” Defense Daily, 28 August 2000; Peter Skibitski, “Navy Again

Slides Date of First Area Anti-Ballistic Missile Shot,” Inside the Navy, 13

March 2000; “White House Decision May Move Sea-Based NMD into Spot

light,” Inside Missile Defense, 6 September 2000; Robert Wall and David

Fulghum, “What’s Next For Navy Missile Defense,” Aviation Week and Spac

Technology, 24 December 2001, 44; and Ron Laurenzo, “Adridge Speaks on

Osprey, Missile Defense, More,” Space and Missile Defense Report, 3 January

2002, 1.

28. John Donnelly, “Pentagon Plans $5 Billion for ‘Upper Tier’ Missil

Defense,” Defense Week, 20 December 1999, 1.

29. Gronlund, “The Weakest Line of Defense,” 48; Heebner, “An Overview,

56; Peterson, “Theater Missile Defense,” 72; Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 75

263
77; and Simon Worden, 

Technology and Theater Missile Defense, in American

Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, Theater Missile Defense: System

and Issues—1993 (Washington, D.C.: AIAA, 1993), 94.

30. BMDO, “Fact Sheet: Navy Theater Wide Ballistic Missile Defense,

1–2; Wade Boese, “Navy Theater Missile Defense Test Successful,” Arms Con

trol Today, March 2002, 29; Goodman, “Layered Protection”; Anthony Sommer

“Defense Missile Test Will Be Held Off Kauai,” Honolulu Star-Bulletin, 11 July

2000; and Robert Suro, “Missile Defense is Still Just A Pie in the Sky,

Washington Post, 12 February 2001.

31. The Aegis ships already have cost the country $50 billion. See Coyle

“Rhetoric or Reality?”; Kim Holmes and Baker Spring, “Missile Defense Com

pass,” Washington Times, 14 July 2000; Murray Hiebert, “Flying High on

Blind Faith,” Far Eastern Economic Review, 22 February 2001; and Lindsay

and O’Hanlon, Defending America, 102–3.

32. Colin Clark and Robert Holzer, “U.S., Allies Move on Maritime TMD

Partnership Plan,” Defense News, 29 November 1999, 1; and Sandra Erwin

“U.S. Ponders Sea-Based Missile Defense,” National Defense, October 1999, 25

33. “Let President Defer Missile Deployment,” Minneapolis Star Tribune

11 July 2000; and Richard Newman, “Shooting from the Ship,” U.S. New

and World Report, 3 July 2000. 

34. This reminds historically minded individuals of the interwar British

10-year rule that justified minimal defense budgets. This policy left th

British unprepared for World War II, perhaps encouraging German aggres

sion, and certainly leading to military setbacks early in the war. 

35. Quoted in Clarence Robinson, “Missile Technology Access Embolden

Rogue Nations,” Signal, April 1999; and James Hackett, “CIA Candor on

Missile Threat,” Washington Times, 20 September 1999, 19.

36. Lindsay and O’Hanlon, Defending America, 198, appendix C, “Excerpt

from the 1998 Rumsfeld Commission Report.” 

37. Robinson, “Missile Technology.”

38. Ibid. The report had considerable credibility due to its unanimou

findings and its impressive authors. See Lindsay and O’Hanlon, Defending

America, 197n.

39. Quoted in “Missile Controversies,” Air Force Magazine, January

1999, 50.

40. “Missile Controversies,” 50.

41. Specifically, the National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) stated, “We projec

that during the next 15 years the United States most likely will face ICBM

threats from Russia, China, and North Korea, probably from Iran, and pos

sibly from Iraq.” See Lindsay and O’Hanlon, Defending America, 218, ap

pendix D, “Excerpts from the 1999 National Intelligence Estimate”; John

Donnelly, “Iran Has Makings of North Korea’s Taepo Dong,” Defense Week

24 May 1999, 1; Jim Lea, “Report: N. Korea Using Japanese Technology fo

Developing Missiles,” Pacific Stars and Stripes, 20 February 1999, 3; Jim

Lea, “ROK Won’t Join Missile Program,” Pacific Stars and Stripes, 5 May

1999, 3; Robinson, “Missile Technology”; and Steven Myers and Eric Schmitt

264
Korea Accord Fails to Stall Missile Plan, New York Times, 18 June 2000.

42. “Budget Rise Sought to Cover Missile Shield,” South China Morning

Post, 21 December 1999; Steven Hildreth and Gary Pagliano, “Theater Mis

sile Defense and Technology Cooperation: Implications for the U.S.-Japan

Relationship,” Congressional Research Service, August 1995; and Calvin

Sims, “U.S. and Japan Agree to Joint Research on Missile Defense,” New

York Times, 17 August 1999.

43. Don Kirk, “U.S. to Back Seoul’s Plan For Extended Missile Force,” In

ternational Herald Tribune, 13 July 2000; Lea, “ROK Won’t Join”; and Don

Kirk, “U.S. and Japan to Join in Missile Defense to Meet Pyongyang Threat,

International Herald Tribune, 29 July 1999.

44. Vanessa Guest, “Missile Defense is Wrong Call on Taiwan,” Los Angele

Times, 3 May 1999, 17; “Missile Defense System Necessary,” South Chin

Morning Post, 25 June 1999; and “Taiwan Plans to Buy Missile Defense,

Washington Post, 26 March 1999, 22.

45. William Tow and William Choung, “Asian Perceptions of BMD: De

fense or Disequilibrium?” Contemporary Southeast Asia, December 2001

and Lindsay and O’Hanlon, Defending America, 124–25.

46. Joseph Fitchett, “Washington’s Pursuit of Missile Defense Drive

Wedge in NATO,” International Herald Tribune, 15 February 2000.

47. Elizabeth Becker, “Allies Fear U.S. Project May Renew Arms Race,

New York Times, 20 November 1999, 5; Clifford Beal, “Racing to Meet th

Ballistic Missile Threat,” International Defense Review, March 1993, 211

William Drozdiak, “Possible U.S. Missile Shield Alarms Europe,” Washingto

Post, 6 November 1999, 1; “Experts: U.S., Europe Far Apart on Response t

Ballistic Missile Threat,” Inside Missile Defense, 14 July 1999, 1; and

Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 99.

48. Tow and Choung, “Asian Perceptions of BMD.” 

49. There were allegations of Soviet cheating on the treaty. While most o

these cases fell into the gray category, matters that lawyers can argue end

lessly over, the Soviet foreign minister Eduard Shevardnadze admitted in

October 1989 that the radar installation at Krasnoyarsk was in violation o

the treaty. See Ralph Bennett, “Needed: Missile Defense,” Reader’s Digest

July 1999.

50. ICBMs have a speed of 7 km per second and a 10,000 km range

while tactical ballistic missiles have speeds around 2 km per second. Se

Falkenrath, “US and Ballistic Missile Defense,” 37, 39; and Gronlund, “Th

Weakest Line of Defense,” 59.

51. Gronlund, “The Weakest Line of Defense,” 59.

52. “Missile Defense,” Kansas City Star, 24 January 1999, K2; and

Schomisch, 1994/95 Guide, 24.

53. Thomas Lippman, “New Missile Defense Plan Ignites Post–Cold Wa

Arms Debate,” Washington Post, 14 February 1999, 2; Steven Myers, “U.S

Asking Russia to Ease the Pact on Missile Defense,” New York Times, 2

January 1999, 1.

265
54. The administration wanted to get further arms reductions, even though

the START II agreement had not been ratified by the Russian parliament

There were hopes that START III would further reduce each power’s strategi

nuclear warheads from 6,000 to 1,500. See Sheila Foote, “White Hous

Threatens Veto of Cochran’s NMD Bill,” Defense Daily, 5 February 1999, 1

Lippman, “New Missile Defense Plan”; Bill Gertz, “U.S. Missile Plan Hit

Roadblock,” Washington Times, 22 October 1999, 1; Frank Gaffney, “Wha

ABM Treaty?” Washington Times, 4 March 1999, 17; Bradley Graham, “U.S

to Go Slowly on Treaty,” Washington Post, 8 September 1999, 12; and

Jonathan Weisman, “U.S., Russia to Develop a Joint Missile Defense,” Balt

more Sun, 1 August 1999.

55. Michael Gordon, “U.S. Seeking to Renegotiate a Landmark Missil

Treaty,” New York Times, 17 October 1999, 1; Graham, “U.S. To Go Slowly

on Treaty,” 13; Jane Perlez, “Russian Aide Opens Door a Bit to U.S. Bid fo

Missile Defense,” New York Times, 19 February 2000; “Russia: Talks with

U.S.,” New York Times, 23 December 1999, A8; “Russia Rejects Changes in

ABM Treaty,” Washington Post, 4 March 2000, 14; and Weisman, “U.S., Rus

sia to Develop.”

56. Bennett, “Needed”; and David Sands, “U.S. Considers Placing Missile

at Alaska Sites,” Washington Times, 9 September 1999, 17. 

57. Elizabeth Becker and Eric Schmitt, “Delay Sought in Decision on

Missile Defense,” New York Times, 20 January 2000; Justin Brown, “Tw

Views of Security, as Seen in ‘Star Wars,’ ” Christian Science Monitor, 13

March 2000; Bradley Graham, “Missile Shield Still Drawing Friends, Fire,

Washington Post, 17 January 2000; James Hackett, “Sorties Against Missil

Defenses,” Washington Times, 27 December 1999; and Jane Perlez, “Biden

Joins G.O.P. in Call for a Delay In Missile-Defense Plan,” New York Times, 9

March 2000.

58. In February 1985, long-time government policy maker Paul Nitze pro

posed that SDI should be judged by its military effectiveness, survivability

and cost effectiveness at the margin; that is, it should be cheaper for the de

fense than the offense to add additional systems. See Eisendrath, Goodman

and Marsh, The Phantom Defense, 16; and Mary McGrory, “Going Ballistic,

Washington Post, 30 March 2000.

59. “A Misdirected Missile Defense Plan,” Los Angeles Times, 30 Apri

2000, M4.

60. Davis Abel, “Missile System’s Best Defense is Public Opinion,” Bosto

Globe, 28 January 2001; William Broad, “Nobel Winners Urge Halt to Missil

Plan,” New York Times, 6 July 2000; and Elaine Sciolino, “Critics Askin

Clinton to Stop Advancing Missile Plan,” New York Times, 7 July 2000. 

61. Jim Abrams, “Report Puts $60 Billion Tag on Shield,” USA Today, 27

April 2000; Tony Capaccio, “National Missile Defense Cost Estimate Rise

nearly 20 Percent,” Defense Week, 11 September 2000; Helen Dewar, “Clinton

is Urged to Defer to Successor on Missile Shield,” Washington Post, 14 July

2000; and John Donnelly, “Missile Defense Costs 60 Percent More than Ad

vertised Price,” Defense Week, 3 April 2000.

266
62. Dean Wilkening, 

Keeping National Missile Defense in Perspective,

Issues in Science and Technology (Winter 2001); and Lindsay and O’Hanlon

Defending America, 89.

63. “Pentagon Delays Test of Defense Using Missiles,” New York Times

22 March 2000; Steven Myers and Jane Perlez, “Documents Detail U.S. Plan

to Alter ’72 Missile Treaty,” New York Times, 28 April 2000; “Misdirected

Missile Defense Plan,” Los Angeles Times, 30 April 2000; and Robert Sur

and Steven Mufson, “GAO Report Finds Fault with Missile Shield Plan,

Washington Post, 17 June 2000.

64. Center for Defense Information, National Missile Defense: What Doe

It All Mean? (Washington, D.C.: Center for Defense Information, 2000), 4

Michael Gordon, “North Korea Reported Open to Halting Missile Program,

New York Times, 20 July 2000; and Steven Myers, “Russian Resistance Key

in Decision to Delay Missile Shield,” New York Times, 3 September 2000.

65. Ted Plafker, “China, Russia Unify Against U.S. Missile Shield,” Wash

ington Post, 19 July 2000.

66. American economic and military dominance was, of course, the majo

factor in driving these two countries together. 

67. Christopher Castelli, “Russian BPI Could Help Negate Missile from

North Korea, Iran, Iraq,” Inside the Navy, 19 February 2001; Michael Gordon

“Joint Exercise on Missiles Seen for U.S. and Russia,” New York Times, 29

June 2000; and James Hackett, “Putin’s Missile Defense Policy,” Washing

ton Times, 21 July 2000.

68. Tom Bowman, “Consensus Grows for ‘Boost-Phase’ Missile Defense,

Baltimore Sun, 18 July 2000.

69. Ibid.; David Hoffman, “Russian Generals Diverge from Putin-Clinton

Stance on Missile Threat,” Washington Post, 30 June 2000; and Eisendrath

Goodman, and March, The Phantom Defense, 107.

70. Coyle, “Rhetoric or Reality?”; and Graham, Hit to Kill, 188.

71. Mark Thompson, “Missile Impossible?” Time, 10 July 2000.

72. Tom Plate, “The Costs of a Ridiculous ‘Defense,’ ” Los Angeles Times

12 July 2000; and Tom Bowman, “Missile Defense Supporters Still Hopefu

After Failed Test,” Baltimore Sun, 9 July 2000. 

73. Charles Babington, “Clinton’s Decision Presents Challenges to Gore

Bush,” Washington Post, 2 September 2000.

74. Eric Schmitt, “In Search of a Missing Link in the Logic of Arms Con

trol,” New York Times, 16 July 2000.

75. John Barry, “Looking Forward to NMD,” Newsweek, 29 January

2001; Steven Myers, “Bush Repeats Call for Arms Reduction and Missil

Shield,” New York Times, 27 January 2001; and Miles Pomper, “Politica

Turmoil May Up Odds for Missile Defense Accord,” Congressional Quarterl

Weekly, 18 November 2000.

76. Michael Gordon, “Moscow Signaling a Change in Tone on Missile De

fense,” New York Times, 22 February 2001.

77. Joseph Fitchett, “Bush Can’t Afford to Ignore Missile Defense, Envoy

Tell Europeans,” International Herald Tribune, 6 February 2001; and David

267
Sands, 

Shadow Official Backs Missile Shield Guarding NATO, Washingto

Times, 15 February 2001.

78. The Alaska site could be ready between 2003 and 2005 with an emer

gency capability before two other systems deemed to have emergency capa

bilities—the airborne laser and Navy systems. See Carla Robbins and Gre

Jaffe, “Bush’s Planned Missile-Shield Program May Violate ABM Treaty

‘Within Months,’ ” Wall Street Journal, 12 July 2001; James Dao, “Pentagon

Sets Fourth Test of Missile For July 14,” New York Times, 7 July 2001; and

Wayne Specht, “Pacific ‘Test Bed’ for Missile Defense Raises Questions abou

ABM Treaty,” Pacific Stars and Stripes, 16 July 2001.

79. “Conservatives Determined to Carry Torch for US Missile Defence,

London Financial Times, 12 July 2001.

80. John Diamond, “Missile Test Inspires Praise and Caution,” Chicag

Tribune, 16 July 2001.

81. Ibid.; Vernon Loeb, “Interceptor Scores a Direct Hit on Missile,

Washington Post, 15 July 2001. Radar that was supposed to report the suc

cessful interception failed. This is important, as without indication of a suc

cessful interception, the system will launch backup interceptors against th

destroyed target, wasting limited defense missiles. See Peter Pae, “Crucia

Radar Failed Missile Defense Test,” Los Angeles Times, 18 July 2001.

82. Coyle, “Rhetoric or Reality?”; and Robert Wall, “Missile Defenses New

Look to Emerge This Summer,” Aviation Week and Space Technology, 25

March 2002, 28.

83. Coyle, “Rhetoric or Reality?”; Graham, Hit to Kill, 245; David Sanger

“NATO Formally Embraces Russia as a Junior Partner,” New York Times, 29

May 2002; and Michael Wine, “U.S. and Russia Sign Nuclear Weapons Re

duction Treaty,” New York Times, 24 May 2002.

268
Chapter 8

Summary, Trends, and Conclusions

Ground-based air defenses have been a problem for Airmen

almost from the onset of manned flight. Although seldom able

to stop air power, air defenses have made air operations more

dangerous and costly. Just as aircraft have become more ca

pable, so too have air defenses. This extended offensive versus

defensive battle shows no sign of abating. In fact, every sign

points to it becoming more complex and costly as it continues

Summary

Airmen have had to contend with ground-based air defense

since it downed the first aircraft in 1912. In every war excep

World War I, more American aircraft have been lost to ground

based air defenses than to fighters; nevertheless, air-to-ai

combat has dominated both the public’s and the Airmen’s

mind. While this mistaken and romantic attitude is probably

understandable and excusable for the public, it is not for Air

men, who must be held to a higher standard. They should, and

must, know better.

Probably this attitude of denigrating AAA and the defense (the

idea that the bomber would always get through) peaked in the

1930s and 1940s. In the late 1920s and the early 1930s, avia

tion made great strides, and the gap between offense and defense

widened. During the early years of World War II, the offense

held the advantage, as flak was relatively ineffective. However

between 1935 and 1944, almost to the end of the war, aviation

advanced modestly. (For example, the B-17 that first flew in

1935 was still frontline equipment in 1945, as were such fight

ers as the Me 109 and Spitfire, which first flew in 1935 and

1936.) These aircraft and others like them are more represen

tative of air combat in World War II than the better performing

and better remembered B-29s and Me 262s that both went into

combat in June 1944.

269
In contrast, defense technology made great strides during

the war. Flak grew from an ineffective nuisance weapon into a

potent force by 1944. Although AAA could not stop determined

Airmen, it could inflict heavy losses on the flyers, disrupt ac

curacy, and, in general, make air operations much more ex

pensive. The notable antiaircraft successes, such as Allied guns

in the V-1 campaign, German flak defense of the oil targets

and American defense of the Remagen Bridge, all strongly

support this point. Relative to defensive aircraft, flak proved

inexpensive and very cost effective.

The two major technical advances responsible for the im

provement and success of ground-based air defenses during

World War II were radar and proximity fuzes. Radar stripped

the cloak of surprise and invisibility from aircraft. It provided

detection and warning of attacking aircraft, allowed control o

defensive fighters, and permitted more accurate all-weather

day/night firing of AAA. Other devices increased the lethality

of flak, none more so than proximity fuzes. Fortunately for the

Allies, only they fielded this device.

As a result, Airmen learned that AAA constituted a dangerous

and powerful force. The World War II experience also proved

that low-level operations in the face of flak were costly because

guns were increasingly effective at lower altitudes. The increas

ing lethality of the guns exposed an enduring problem, the

gunner’s difficulty in correctly identifying friend or foe—no

engaging the former and always engaging the latter. Experi

ence showed numerous instances, however, of friends downed

by friendly fire and gunners letting foes slip by.

To counter ground fire, Airmen adopted tactics that would be

used repeatedly in subsequent air wars. Besides avoiding flak

areas, the flyers took advantage of surprise, the sun, the terrain

and one-pass attacks. They also employed electronic counter

measures, specifically, chaff and jammers. Finally, howeve

Airmen attacked their tormentors, although direct action sel

dom proved effective, it usually was expensive. The trade-off o

cheap guns for valuable aircraft made direct attack a high-risk

proposition with low return.

Therefore, during the course of World War II, the balance be

tween air offense and air defense tilted toward the defense. Yet

270
events in the last stages of the war obscured these facts. The

introduction of jets markedly improved aircraft performance

just as the atomic bomb enormously expanded firepower. There

fore, both the public and military saw the offensive as supreme

However, the combatants used only the jet, not the atomic

bomb, in America’s next war. Korea was different from World Wa

II and the wars that the prophets and theorists had forecast. The

peasant hordes on the periphery of Asia stalemated the stronges

nation in the world. This war was limited by both sides (at leas

by the major players, the United States, China, and the Sovie

Union; the Koreans understandably had a different view) in

terms of means and objectives. With the exception of the MiG-15

the Communists used only obsolete equipment to thwart and im

pose considerable losses on United Nations’ airmen. Air powe

was not decisive in the war. At the same time, the war reempha

sized many of the basic AAA lessons from World War II—the

lethality of flak, the danger of low-altitude operations, and the

usefulness of antiflak countermeasures. 

In many respects, the Vietnam War repeated the same pattern

Again, American Airmen were unprepared for the reality of com

bat and especially AAA, their chief opponent. Once more, the les

sons of World War II and Korea had to be relearned. Yet again

the air power of the strongest nation in the world proved indeci

sive against Asian masses armed with simple weapons.

The one new air defense weapon introduced into combat in

Vietnam was the SAM. Although these missiles claimed rela

tively few aircraft, they made air operations more difficult and

expensive. American tactics and equipment were able to over

come the SAMs, but the missiles forced the Airmen to increase

the number of support aircraft and to operate at lower altitudes

where AAA proved even more deadly. American Airmen learned

to cope with the ground-based defenses. They used modified

tactics, ECM, and new technology, such as antiradiation missiles

(ARM) and standoff weapons. Linebacker II (December 1972

clearly demonstrated that modest numbers (compared to World

War II) of second-rate air defense equipment could not stop

large-scale air efforts by a major power but could inflict both

a burden and a loss on the attacker.

271
Shortly after American involvement in the Vietnam War ended

air operations in the Middle East seemed to indicate the pre

dominance of the defense. Unlike the 1967 Arab-Israeli War in

which the Israeli Air Force was overwhelmingly triumphant, the

1973 war indicated the renewed power of the defense. The

Arabs violated two concepts of conventional war: attacking a

country with superior military forces and attacking without ai

superiority. They advanced under a dense umbrella of SAMs and

guns that downed many Israeli aircraft. Although the Israelis

won the war, they suffered heavy aircraft losses, and their ai

force was unable to influence operations as it had in 1967

Ground-based air defenses appeared to have regained the edge

Operations in 1982 between the Arabs and Israelis cast doub

on these findings. In a short and sharp action, the Israeli ai

force won an air battle against Syrian MiGs and SAMs, a battle

that was even more lopsided than their 1967 victory. 

A few months earlier, on the other side of the world, the les

sons of another conflict were less clear. In the Falklands, a smal

force from a Western power with superior technology defeated a

larger force from a less-developed country. However, the Argen

tine air force battered the Royal Navy despite the restrictions o

range, old aircraft, old bombs, and lack of ECM. Although the

British air defense imposed heavy losses on the attackers, the

Argentines did get through to severely punish the defenders.

The war in Afghanistan seemed to indicate the superiority o

the defense. This action pitted a modern air force against a

lightly armed guerrilla force in rugged terrain, similar to the

Vietnam War. The Soviet air force did reasonably well until the

guerrillas employed advanced, man-portable SAMs. These in

flicted substantial losses on the airmen, forced them to modify

their tactics to reduce their vulnerability, and by so doing re

duced their effectiveness. As a result, the military advantage

shifted to the insurgents, who eventually drove the Soviets from

the country and the war.

In contrast, the offense scored a quick and decisive victory

over the defense in the 1990–91 war in the Persian Gulf. I

matched a large, well-equipped military—certainly by third world

standards—against an even larger, better equipped and trained

international coalition. The coalition used mass and superio

272
technology to neuter the defenses; especially effective and

noteworthy in the war were precision-guided munitions (PGM

and stealth aircraft. The result was an overwhelming military

triumph obtained with unexpectedly low friendly casualties

Modern technology had won over mass; the offense again domi

nated the defense. The Gulf War spurred hopes that a new kind

of war had arrived and stimulated thoughts of a revolution in

military affairs. 

Air action in the Balkans and Iraq in the 1990s and in

Afghanistan in the early 2000s showed that the offensive had

retained its supremacy. In these ground-based air defenses

there were few casualties inflicted on the attackers. Nevertheless

the defenses were important, as they increased the cost of op

erations and represented an ever-present threat, similar to the

fleet-in-being concept of a potential force. These observations

need to be tempered, however, for in all of these recent cases

there has been an extreme mismatch of forces. 

In contrast to the overall picture of the advantage shifting back

and forth between offense and defense, the ballistic missile de

fense (BMD) story is consistent. It is overwhelmingly one more o

promise and disappointment than of battlefield success. There

has been a long quest for BMD since the first ballistic missile

combat during World War II. Most American interest has centered

on BMD as a strategic defense against nuclear-armed ICBM. Yet

despite great effort over the past half century, developers have

encountered substantial technical difficulties, great costs, and

complicated politics. Throughout, proponents have been imagi

native and optimistic, while the critics have been insistent and

politically sophisticated. BMD achieved political success in the

Gulf War, although its tactical and technical performance was

controversial. Despite almost 60 years of development, BMD is

better known for its cost and controversy than its proven perfor

mance. It remains to be seen if it will be the Edsel or Franken

stein of the 21st century or the key to a more secure future.

Trends (Speculations)

What does all this mean? What are the lessons of the past?

And what do they tell us about the future? Just as in weathe

273
forecasting, it is probably a safe bet to generally expect more

of the same, along with some unpleasant surprises. We can ex

pect to see more capable air defense systems fielded in the fu

ture. The capabilities of SAMs on the drawing boards indicate

that they will become harder to jam, more difficult to evade, and

more effective against many more attackers. The key to ad

vancements in air defense appears to be in the area of elec

tronics. Certainly, stealth technology has broken the impact o

radar on air defense, at least for the moment. Clearly, the de

fenders will seek means to counter this new development

Surely, the devices will become more complex as they become

more capable. Sensors will improve, and the almost total re

liance on radar will end. Different types of sensors will be tied

together and give more data more quickly to the air defenders

All of this will be much more expensive in terms of dollars and

trained manpower.

A second expectation is that effective air defense weapons wil

spread in numbers and geography. We can expect most coun

tries to equip their forces with more and better missiles, and

sometimes we will even see our own weapons used against us

In addition, man-portable SAMs will give antiaircraft protection

to guerrilla groups and become a potent weapon for terrorists.

Future military conflicts may be decided not so much on the

combat performance of weapons—that is, their probability of kill

time of flight, lethal radius, launch envelope, ECM, and elec

tronic counter-countermeasures (ECCM)—but on other factors

These will include nontechnical factors such as numbers o

weapons in the field and in the supply depots; maintainability

and reliability; cost; and human factors, including training

adaptability, and motivation. Most of all, the result will depend

on how well the military puts together this complicated array

What are the big payoff areas in the future? Improved ECM

will be useful but increasingly difficult because of effective

ECCM and the introduction of multisensors on a large scale

Most of all, the Airmen need capable and versatile standof

weapons: the attacker must get away from the defenders. These

weapons offer the promise of increased accuracy (thereby re

quiring fewer sorties) and increased reach (permitting less risk

to the Airmen). The air defenders also need more ECM and

274
ECCM. The big area of opportunity is in the field of multiple

sensors. Both friendly air defenders and their airmen partners

would benefit greatly from the introduction of effective identi

fication equipment. Until the problem of rapidly and accurately

sorting out friends from foes is solved, the effectiveness of both

the offense and defense will be greatly reduced. In short, the

area that needs to be exploited is electronics. Advances in

civilian technology indicate that much can be expected from

electronics—less expensive, smaller, and more capable equip

ment. Therefore, the future seems to belong to those who can

best use—not just field—modern, high-cost high technology in

combat. This will decide the outcome of wars and the balance

between the offense and defense.

Conclusions

Historically, US Air Force assumptions about future conflicts

have proven to be in error. Since 1945, the Air Force has geared

itself for air-to-air combat and a nuclear exchange with a majo

power. Although this certainly was America’s most serious

challenge during the past 60 years, the reality of war since

1945 has proven to be far different. Since World War II, the US

Air Force has fought in three wars against minor powers, used

conventional weapons, and found its chief opposition to be

ground-based air defense weapons. 

These conflicts proved different from their anticipation, bu

again they indicated the power of the defense. The first two

Korea and Vietnam, demonstrated the problems of fighting an

extended campaign against a primitive, determined, and re

sourceful enemy. Vietnam also saw the introduction of the

SAM, which tilted the balance away from the offense toward

the defense. Americans countered these threats using ECM

direct action, and tactics; however, they never found an accept

able solution at a reasonable price. The US military was forced

to relearn old lessons at considerable cost.

It is important to note that since 1945 the United States has

not faced a peer competitor in direct air-to-air combat as it did

over Europe in World War II. With the exception of Korea, where

the United States faced a larger force of equivalent quality air

275
to-air fighters, the US Air Force has had the advantages o

numbers, technology, training, command and control, and spirit

That American effort paid off in the air-to-air battle, but vic

tory tended to obscure another threat to air operations. For a

the same time, the Airmen paid far less attention to the peri

of ground-based defenses in peacetime and, as a result, paid

a high price in wartime.

The Gulf War was primarily a tale of offensive superiority

although it again demonstrated the continuing importance

and cost to Airmen of ground-based defenses. The overwhelm

ing triumph in the Gulf War was due to many factors; however

two of the most important technologies clearly were stealth and

the improvement of standoff PGMs. In the long and continu

ing contest between offense and defense, the Gulf War indi

cated that currently the offense is ascendant. This impact is

magnified by the emergence of the United States as the sole

superpower with overwhelming dominance in the areas of eco

nomics, technology, and military. Nevertheless, actions ove

the Balkans and Iraq reinforce the view that although the of

fensive is dominant, ground-based air defenses are still a force

to be reckoned with and can still impose costs on the Airmen

The situation is far from static. American Airmen should re

alize that increased capabilities of ground-based air defenses

challenge them in two important ways. The first and most ob

vious is to make their job more difficult and dangerous

whether it be in a major conflict with a major foe or in a mino

conflict with a minor foe. The other aspect is the impact of this

air offense/defense balance on friendly powers, who will un

doubtedly request US assistance for their air force problems.

This study indicates the potential pitfalls of air defense sys

tems and possible solutions to counter these systems based on

past and recent experience. Clearly, ground-based air defense

weapons are a vital issue to American Airmen of today and to

morrow. If our Airmen are to be successful, they must pay

more attention to ground-based air defenses than they have in

the past and meet and master the challenge of these systems

The world is not static; the duel between offense and defense

will continue.

276
A-1, 128, 227–28, 232

A-4, 124, 148, 160, 166

A-6, 116, 134, 157–58, 223

A-7, 157–58

A-20, 54–55

AAA (antiaircraft artillery), 2–3

countermeasures, World War II,

42–46

direct attack, 80, 114, 184, 226,

231, 270

accuracy degraded, 41

German Air Force, 10, 24

Battle of Britain, 6

United States Army Air Forces

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122,

169, 184

Leuna, 33

acoustical devices, 3

Adams, Jimmie, 223

AGM-78 (Standard), 125, 134

Air Corps Tactical School, 58, 184

aircraft, 1–4, 6–7, 10–11, 14, 16–17,

21–26, 28, 31–35, 37–39, 41–43,

45–59, 69–70, 72, 74, 76–83, 85,

87–88, 92, 94, 96, 98–102, 104–6,

113–22, 124–35, 137–39, 147–49,

151–74, 202, 218–32, 239, 247,

260, 269–73

France

Mirage, 230

Germany

Ju 88, 22

Me 109, 269

Me 163, 35

Great Britain

Gazelle, 162

Harrier, 160, 164–65, 230

Scout, 162

Spitfire, 23–24, 47, 269

Vulcan, 71–73, 96, 156, 160–61,

164

Israel

Arava transports, 156

Soviet Union

An-12, 159

An-22, 172

Mi-8, 154

MiG-15, 80, 271

MiG-23, 171

MiGs, 117–18, 123, 131–32, 135

137, 139, 154, 158, 228–9,

272

Su-7, 156

United States

A-1, 128

A-4, 124, 148

A-6, 134, 158

A-7, 158

A-20, 54–55

AC-130, 128

B-17, 34, 43, 55, 83, 269

B-24, 31, 34, 42, 55

B-26, 77

B-29, 55–57

B-52, 116, 128–29, 132–33, 135

C-123, 94, 114

C-130, 94, 159, 226, 242

CH-53, 156

EA-6A, 123

EA-6B, 130–31, 225–26

EB-66, 122–23, 128, 133

EC-135, 156

EF-111, 225–26

EKA-3B, 122

F-4, 119, 125, 128, 131, 136

F4U, 76, 78

F9F, 76

F-51, 76–77

F-80, 76, 94

F-105, 116–17, 125, 131

F-111, 135

FB-111, 158–59

P-38, 49

P-47, 24, 49

P-51, 77

RB-57F, 159

RF-4C, 139

T-6, 79

U-2, 91

aircraft losses (United States)

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122,

169, 184

Vietnam War, 115, 117–18, 136,

138, 147, 149, 189, 192, 218,

225–26, 271–72

277

Index
aircraft technology

interwar, 4, 26, 57

air-to-air combat ratio (kills/losses)

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122,

169, 184

Vietnam War, 115, 117–18, 136,

138, 147, 149, 189, 192, 218,

225–26, 271–72

ALE-38, 130

ALQ-51, 125

ALQ-71, 125

An-12, 159

An-22, 172

antiaircraft guns (improvisioned)

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117, 269

Ap Bac, 114

Arab-Israeli War, 173, 272

Arava transports, 156

Argentina

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

ARM (antiradiation missiles), 124, 271

Shrike, 124–26, 153, 226

Standard, 1–5, 19, 23, 26–27, 58,

125, 222–23, 240, 244, 247–48,

269

Wolf, 156

Army AH-64 Apache helicopters, 222

Avranches, 22

B-17, 34, 43, 55, 83, 269

B-24, 31, 34, 42, 55

B-26, 77

B-29, 55–57

B-52, 116, 128–29, 132–33, 135

ECM (electronic countermeasures),

33, 80

Linebacker II, 121, 132, 134–38,

271

Barrel liners (removable), 3

Battle of Britain, 6

Battle of the Bulge, 22

Bell Laboratories, 82, 85

Bloodhound, 90

Blowpipe, 104, 160–62, 164–65

Boeing, 55, 87–89, 103, 156

Boeing 707, 156

Bomarc, 88–90

Breech mechanisms (automatic), 3

British Bomber Command, 49

C123, 94, 114

C-130, 94, 159, 226, 242

CH-53, 156

Cape Gloucester, Bismarck, 49

Archipelago assault, 49

Carpet, 43 

Churchill, Winston (quote), 5

claims

Argentina

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Germany

Leuna, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

Vienna, 33

Great Britain

Battle of Britain, 6

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Malta, 10–11

Tobruk, 10

V-1 campaign, 7, 13–14, 19, 57,

270

Indian-Pakistani Wars, 147

Japan, 54–56, 184, 249

Middle East War, 151

1956, 71, 84–85, 88, 92, 94, 98,

147, 182–83

1967, 100, 115, 117–18, 120–21

125–26, 147–50, 152, 155,

173, 182, 186, 191–93, 272

1973, 118, 147, 149–51, 155–56

173, 272

1982, 155–56, 160, 173, 203,

223, 272

Soviet Union, 69, 91, 106, 173, 188

194, 199, 237, 248, 259, 271

United States Army

3 December 1944, 22

Avranches, 22

Battle of the Bulge, 22

Normandy, 22, 222

Remagen, 24, 57, 270

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117,

269

United States Navy

5-inch, 51, 53, 164

Talos, 88, 136

Terrier, 137

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117, 269

cluster bomb units (CBU), 125

278
Convair, 98

Crotale, 158

D-day, 13, 47

defensive-offensive resource ratio

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117, 269

Dien Bien Phu, 113–14

Donnelly, Charles, 223

Doolittle, James, 49

Douglas, 54, 85, 122

Douhet, Giulio, 6

EA-6A, 123

EA-6B, 130–31, 225–26

EB-66, 122–23, 128, 133

EC-130H Compass Call, 226

ECM (electronic countermeasures), 33,

80

carpet, 43

chaff, 43–44, 58, 80, 130, 133–34,

153, 156, 161, 223, 270

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Middle East War, 151

Pods, 125–26, 148, 153, 156

Vietnam War, 115, 117–18, 136,

138, 147, 149, 189, 192, 218,

225–26, 271–72

EF-111, 225–26

Enzian, 35–37, 39

Exocet, 163

F-4, 119, 125, 128, 131, 136

F4U, 76, 78

F9F, 76

F-14, 221

F-15, 221

F-51, 76–77

F-80, 76, 94

F-105, 116–17, 125, 131

F-111, 135

FB-111, 158–59

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165, 167–68

aircraft losses

Argentina, 160

Great Britain, 3, 8

Argentine Air Force

impact of, 22, 24, 43, 113, 117,

150, 191, 200, 205, 219, 252,

274, 276

claims

Argentina, 160

dud bombs, 163

ECM, 33, 43, 45, 56, 80, 101–2,

117, 122, 125–26, 130, 133–35,

138, 148, 151–53, 156, 158–59,

161, 163–64, 173, 271–72,

274–75

F-117, 220, 223, 231

Foehn, 35–36

France

aircraft

Mirage, 230

Dien Bien Phu, 113–14

SAM (surface-to-air missiles)

Crotale, 158

PARCA, 90

Roland, 160, 162–63, 165

fratricide (identification problem)

Battle of Britain, 6

Cape Gloucester, Bismarck, 49

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122,

169, 184

Middle East War, 151

fuzes

increased effectiveness

Germany, 33

proximity, 15, 17, 34, 39, 45, 52–53

58, 166, 251, 270

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Germany, 1, 24, 26, 28, 30, 33,

40–41, 43, 49, 54–56, 132,

183–84, 248

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122,

169, 184

V-1 campaign, 7, 13–14, 19, 57, 270

fuze setters

continuous, 3, 49

FW 190, 14, 24

Gazelle, 162

General Electric, 71, 88, 182

Germany

aircraft

FW 190, 14, 24

Ju 88, 22

Me 109, 269

Me 163, 35

antiaircraft artillery

Banned, 24

279
claims

Leuna, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

Vienna, 33

fuzes, 3, 11, 17–18, 34, 45, 52–53,

163, 166, 270

Proximity, 15, 17, 34, 39, 45,

52–53, 58, 166, 251, 270

guns

8.8 cm flak, 26

railroad-mounted, 30

mix of

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

number of

1939, 6–7, 27, 50, 75, 149

Hamburg, 33, 43

Leuna, 33

Munich, 6, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

Politz, 33

Vienna, 33

radar

gun-laying, 7, 34, 43

rockets, 9, 34–37, 40, 45, 76, 90,

93, 156, 161, 207, 230

Spanish Civil War, 25

SAM (surface-to-air missiles)

Enzian, 35–37, 39

Foehn, 35–36

Rheintochter, 35–39

Roland, 160, 162–63, 165

Schmetterling, 35, 37, 39

Taifun, 35–36

Wasserfall, 35, 38–40, 91

units

JG 11, 23

V-1, 7, 12–15, 17–22, 57,

181–82, 270

V-2, 13, 20, 38–40, 181, 200,

207

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117, 269

Glosson, Buster C., 222

Goering, Hermann, 35

Great Britain

air attack

Cologne, 28, 43

Leuna, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

aircraft

Gazelle, 162

Harrier, 160, 164–65, 230

Scout, 162

Spitfire, 23–24, 47, 269

Vulcan, 71–73, 96, 156, 160–61,

164

antiaircraft artillery personnel

Home Guard, 8–9

Territorial forces, 7–8

women, 8–9, 40

Battle of Britain, 6

claims

Battle of Britain, 6

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Malta, 10–11

Tobruk, 10

V-1 campaign, 7, 13–14, 19, 57,

270

guns

3-inch, 10

3.7-inch, 4, 7, 10, 17, 20, 26

two-pound, 10, 50

mix of

Battle of Britain, 6

number of

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117,

269

rockets, 9, 34–37, 40, 45, 76, 90,

93, 156, 161, 207, 230

SAM (surface-to-air missiles)

Bloodhound, 90

Blowpipe, 104, 160–62, 164–65

Rapier, 160, 165–66, 169

Seacat, 160, 167–68

Sea Dart, 160, 162, 166

Seaslug, 90–91, 160, 166

Seawolf, 160, 164, 167

Thunderbird, 90

Tigercat, 169

units

British Bomber Command, 49

T Battery, 166

V-1, 7, 12–15, 17–22, 57,

181–82, 270

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117,

269

Grenada invasion, 169–70

helicopter losses, 127–28

ZSU-23, 151, 169, 218

grooved projectiles, 34

ground-to-air pilotless aircraft (GAPA),

87

280
Gulf of Tonkin incident, 115

guns

Germany

8.8 cm flak, 26

railroad-mounted, 30

Great Britain

3-inch, 10

3.7-inch, 4, 7, 10, 17, 20, 26

two-pound, 10, 50

Soviet Union

ZSU-23, 151, 169, 218

ZSU-23-4, 73, 150–51

United States

.50-caliber, 24, 44, 50, 70,

74–75, 92, 114

1.1-inch, 50

3-inch, 10

5-inch/38-caliber, 51, 53

Vulcan, 71–73, 96, 156, 160–61,

164

Hamburg, 33, 43

defenses of, 13, 17, 19, 158, 160,

224, 276

Harrier, 160, 164–65, 230

Hawk, 74, 82, 92–96, 148, 169, 183,

202, 218, 240–41

helicopter losses, 127–28

Grenada, 169–70

Mayaguez incident, 169

Middle East War, 151

Vietnam War, 115, 117–18, 136,

138, 147, 149, 189, 192, 218,

225–26, 271–72

Hill, Roderic, 13

Hitler, Adolph, 13

Horner, Charles A. “Chuck,” 218

HMS Coventry, 166–67

HMS Fearless, 165

HMS Intrepid, 165

HMS Sheffield, 168

IFF (identification, friend or foe), 48

Instant Thunder, 221

Iran-Iraq War, 169, 207, 219, 221

aircraft losses, 31, 41, 56, 76,

78–79, 120, 126–27, 131–32,

138, 154, 172, 222, 227–28, 272

Iron Hand, 124–25, 130

Israel (Middle East wars)

aircraft

Arava transports, 156

Japan

kills/sorties

antiaircraft artillery, 2–4, 7, 22,

53, 228

guns

number of, 11, 13, 40, 149

Johnson, Lyndon B., 127, 192

Ju 88, 22

Kissinger, Henry, 131, 248

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122, 169,

184

air tactics, 138, 227

United States Air Force, 80

air tactics, 138, 227

United States Marine Corps

aircraft losses, 31, 41, 56, 76,

78–79, 120, 126–27, 131–32,

138, 154, 172, 222, 227–28,

272

air tactics, 138, 227

Lam Son 719, 127

Lebanon strike, 1983

air tactics, 138, 227

Leuna, 33

Libya strike

air tactics, 138, 227

antiradiation missiles, 124, 126,

131, 153, 159, 161, 224,

227–28, 271

ECM, 33, 43, 45, 56, 80, 101–2,

117, 122, 125–26, 130,

133–35, 138, 148, 151–53,

156, 158–59, 161, 163–64,

173, 271–72, 274–75

Linebacker I, 127, 129–30

Linebacker II, 121, 132, 134–38, 271

LORAN (long-range aid to navigation),

130

low-level operations, 57, 270

Malta, 10–11

Market-Garden, 44–45

Mayaguez incident, 169

McNamara, Robert, 100, 119, 186

McPeak, Merrill M., 222

281
Me 109, 269

Me 163, 35

MEADS (medium extended air defense

system), 240

Meyer, John, 24

Mi-8, 154

Middle East War, 1973, 151

air tactics, 138, 227

Israel, 148–49, 152, 201, 205,

207, 219, 237

ECM, 33, 43, 45, 56, 80, 101–2,

117, 122, 125–26, 130, 133–35,

138, 148, 151–53, 156, 158–59,

161, 163–64, 173, 271–72,

274–75

fratricide, 22, 46–49

guns

ZSU-23-4, 73, 150–51

helicopter losses, 127–28

SA-6, 150–53, 230

Middle East War, 1982

air tactics, 138, 227

claims, 6, 51, 135, 153, 159–60,

162, 167, 170, 182, 205–6,

239

ECM, 33, 43, 45, 56, 80, 101–2,

117, 122, 125–26, 130,

133–35, 138, 148, 151–53,

156, 158–59, 161, 163–64,

173, 271–72, 274–75

guns

Vulcan, 71–73, 96, 156,

160–61, 164

SAM, 34, 74, 81–82, 84, 87,

90–92, 94, 96, 119–25,

133–36, 138, 148–49, 152–54,

156, 160–61, 165–70, 183,

202, 218, 224, 230, 232, 241,

271, 275

MiG, 115, 119, 126, 136–37

MiG-15, 80, 271

MiG-23, 171

Mirage, 230

Mitchell, William “Billy,” 6

Navy A-6s, 116

Navy BQM-74, 223

NEGAT, 78

night kills, 7

Battle of Britain, 6

Nike Ajax, 84, 91–92

Nike Hercules, 8586, 93

Nixon, Richard M., 127, 194

Northern Watch, 229

North Korea (Korean War)

guns

number of, 1, 3, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15,

17, 25, 34–35, 40–42, 47,

51–53, 56–57, 70, 72, 77,

80–82, 93, 102, 104, 114,

121, 128, 130, 132, 138, 149,

154–55, 160, 163, 167, 170,

182, 190, 192, 194, 196–97,

201–2, 218–19, 221, 224, 239

253–54, 256–57, 271

rockets, 9, 34–37, 40, 45, 76, 90

93, 156, 161, 207, 230

North Vietnam (Vietnam War), 116

Oil Campaign 1944, 57

Operations

Bolo, 117

Deliberate Force, 230

Desert Fox, 230

P-38, 49

P-47, 24, 49

P-51, 77

PARCA, 90

Patton, George, 49

Pearl Harbor, 50

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

Politz, 33

predictors, electric, 11

propellants, flashless, 11

Prowler, 131, 226

radar

Falkland War, 147, 161, 165,

167–68

Germany, 1, 24, 26, 28, 30, 33,

40–41, 43, 49, 54–56, 132,

183–84, 248

Libya, 158, 237, 256

Middle East War, 151

radar homing and warning, 123

Rapier, 160, 165–66, 169

Raytheon, 92, 188, 203

RB-57F, 159

Redeye, 82, 98–102, 104–5, 165,

170–71

Regulus II, 89

282
Remagen, 24, 57, 270

RF-4C, 139

Rheintochter, 35–39

rockets

Germany, 1, 24, 26, 28, 30, 33,

40–41, 43, 49, 54–56, 132,

183–84, 248

North Korea, 237, 249–51, 256

Rogers, Mark “Buck”, 223

Roland, 160, 162–63, 165

Rolling Thunder, 115

RSD 58, 91

rules of engagement, 14

sabot devices, 34

SA-9, 156–58, 230

SAC (Strategic Air Command), 117, 205

SAM

countermeasures

air tactics, 138, 227

antiradiation missiles, 124, 126,

131, 153, 159, 161, 224,

227–28, 271

France

Crotale, 158

MATRA R422-B, 91

PARCA, 90

Roland, 160, 162–63, 165

Germany

Foehn, 35–36

Rheintochter, 35–39

Roland, 160, 162–63, 165

Schmetterling, 35, 37, 39

Taifun, 35–36

Wasserfall, 35, 38–40, 91

Great Britain

Bloodhound, 90

Blowpipe, 104, 160–62, 164–65

Rapier, 160, 165–66, 169

Seacat, 160, 167–68

Sea Dart, 160, 162, 166

Seaslug, 90–91, 160, 166

Seawolf, 160, 164, 167

Thunderbird, 90

Tigercat, 169

Soviet Union

SA-1, 91

SA-2, 91–92, 119–22, 125, 148,

150–51, 159–60, 189, 230

SA-3, 148, 150–51, 230–31

SA-5, 158, 191

SA6, 15053, 230

SA-7, 104–5, 128, 150–52, 154,

157–58, 165, 170–171, 230

SA-8, 152, 158

SA-9, 156–58, 230

Switzerland

RSD 58, 91

United States

Bomarc, 88–90

GAPA (ground-to-air pilotless aircraft), 87

Hawk, 74, 82, 92–96, 148, 169,

183, 202, 218, 240–41

Nike Ajax, 84, 91–92

Nike Hercules, 85–86, 93

Redeye, 82, 98–102, 104–5, 165,

170–71

Stinger, 70, 100–105, 160, 165,

170–72, 241

Talos, 88, 136

Terrier, 137

Thumper, 88, 182

Wizard, 88, 182

Schmetterling, 35, 37, 39

Scout, 162

Seacat, 160, 167–68

Sea Dart, 160, 162, 166

Seaslug, 90–91, 160, 166

Seawolf, 160, 164, 167

Shelton, Hugh, 249

Sicily, 10, 28, 47, 59

smart bombs, 130

Soviet Union

aircraft

An-12, 159

An-22, 172

MiG-15, 80, 271

MiG-23, 171

Su-7, 156

guns

ZSU-23, 151, 169, 218

ZSU-23-4, 73, 150–51

Spaatz, Carl, 49

Spanish Civil War, 25

Spitfire, 23–24, 47, 269

Stinger, 70, 100–105, 160, 165,

170–72, 241

Strait of Messina, 28

Su-7, 156

SUPPRESS (plan), 79

283
Switzerland

SAMs, 71, 82, 87, 90–91, 104–6,

118–24, 126, 128–33, 135–39,

148, 150, 153–54, 156, 158–60,

164–66, 169–70, 172–74, 205,

218, 224, 226–32, 271–72, 274

RSD, 91

T-6, 79

TAC (Tactical Air Command), 46

Taifun, 35–36

Talos, 88, 136

Terrier, 137

Tet offensive, 127

Thanh Hoa Bridge, 130

Thumper, 88, 182

Thunderbird, 90

Tigercat, 169

Tobruk, 10

Tokyo, 53, 56–57

Trenchard, Hugh, 6

Turnhout, 44

U-2, 91

United States Air Force, 80

units

Fifth Air Force, 76–79

SAC, 117, 133–34, 205

TAC, 46, 117

United States Army

Air Corps Tactical School, 58, 184

antiaircraft artillery, 2–4, 7, 22, 53,

228

claims

3 December 1944, 22

Avranches, 22

Battle of the Bulge, 22

Normandy, 22, 222

Remagen, 24, 57, 270

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117,

269

guns

.50-caliber, 24, 44, 50, 70,

74–75, 92, 114

3-inch, 10

Vulcan, 71–73, 96, 156, 160–61,

164

Ordnance Corps, 70, 85

SAM, 34, 74, 81–82, 84, 87, 90–92,

94, 96, 119–25, 133–36, 138,

148–49, 152–54, 156, 160–61,

16570, 183, 202, 218, 224, 230

232, 241, 271, 275

Hawk, 74, 82, 92–96, 148, 169,

183, 202, 218, 240–41

Nike Ajax, 185

Nike Hercules, 183, 185, 202

Redeye, 82, 98–102, 104–5, 165,

170–71

Stinger, 70, 100–105, 160, 165,

170–72, 241

Thumper, 88, 182

Wizard, 88, 182

units

62d Coast Artillery, 4

82d Airborne Division, 47

Eighth Army, 79

First Army, 22, 24, 94, 103, 203

IX Corps, 79

United States Army Air Forces

air attack

Leuna, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

Vienna, 33

air tactics, 138, 227

Leuna, 33

Ploesti, 30–32, 57

units

8th Fighter Command, 49

9th Tactical Air Command, 46,

49

Fifteenth Air Force, 33, 45

Twentieth Air Force, 57

56th Fighter Group, 44

352d Fighter Group, 24

United States Marine Corps

aircraft losses

Japan, 54–56, 184, 249

Korean War, 74–76, 80, 106, 122

169, 184

United States Navy

aircraft losses

Japan, 54–56, 184, 249

Korea, 75, 80–81, 117, 135, 138,

217, 237, 249–51, 256, 271,

275

guns

.50-caliber, 24, 44, 50, 70,

74–75, 92, 114

1.1–inch, 50

5-inch/38-caliber, 51, 53

284
SAM, 34, 74, 81

82, 84, 87, 9092,

94, 96, 119–25, 133–36, 138,

148–49, 152–54, 156, 160–61,

165–70, 183, 202, 218, 224, 230,

232, 241, 271, 275

Talos, 88, 136

Terrier, 137

University of Michigan, 88, 182

USS Galveston, 136

USS Helena, 53

USS McCormick, 137

V-1, 7, 12–15, 17–22, 57, 181–82, 270

bomber-launched, 90

difficult target, 200

long-range version, 19

V-1 campaign, 7, 13–14, 19, 57, 270

Antwerp, 20–22, 49

casualties, 20, 22, 46, 56, 58,

120, 158, 182, 201, 207, 273

defenses of, 13, 17, 19, 158, 160,

224, 276

guns

number of, 1, 3, 7, 9, 11, 13,

15, 17, 25, 34–35, 40–42,

47, 51–53, 56–57, 70, 72,

77, 80–82, 93, 102, 104,

114, 121, 128, 130, 132,

138, 149, 154–55, 160,

163, 167, 170, 182, 190,

192, 194, 196–97, 201–2,

218–19, 221, 224, 239,

253–54, 256–57, 271

Great Britain

balloons, 1, 20–21

casualties, 20, 22, 46, 56, 58,

120, 158, 182, 201, 207,

273

defenses, 2, 6–7, 13, 15,

17–19, 28, 30, 33, 56–57,

59, 69, 75, 81, 115,

117–18, 122, 125, 130,

135, 137–38, 148–50,

153–56, 158–60, 166–67,

169, 171, 173–74, 183,

207, 217–19, 222–24,

226–32, 269–73, 276

fighters, 6–7, 10, 14–15,

19–23, 31–32, 41–42,

45–46, 49, 54–57, 59, 75,

83, 92, 106, 113, 116–17,

121, 125, 171, 218, 221,

232, 269–70, 276

guns

move, 103, 123, 150, 256

Pile mattress, 7, 16

rules of engagement, 14

V-2, 13, 20, 38–40, 181, 200, 207

Versailles peace treaty, 24

Vietminh, 113–14

antiaircraft artillery impact on 

Dien Bien Phu, 113–14

Vietnam War, 115, 117–18, 136, 138,

147, 149, 189, 192, 218, 225–26,

271–72

aircraft losses

Linebacker I, 127, 129–30

Linebacker II, 121, 132, 134–38,

271

air tactics, 138, 227

anti-SAM, 121, 130

changed, 43, 57, 88, 90, 119–21,

127, 129–30, 132, 134, 151,

172–73, 194, 199, 202, 220,

232, 237–38, 244

air-to-air combat, 23, 117, 147, 159

232, 269, 275

antiaircraft artillery, 2–4, 7, 22, 53,

228

direct attack, 80, 114, 184, 226,

231, 270

major obstacles, 196

underestimated, 92, 117, 155

antiradiation missiles, 124, 126,

131, 153, 159, 161, 224, 227–28

271

Strike, 28, 78–80, 115, 152, 154

156–58, 202, 222, 227, 237

Standard, 1–5, 19, 23, 26–27, 58

125, 222–23, 240, 244,

247–48, 269

claims, 6, 51, 135, 153, 159–60,

162, 167, 170, 182, 205–6, 239

Dien Bien Phu, 113–14

dumb munitions, 117

ECM, 33, 43, 45, 56, 80, 101–2,

117, 122, 125–26, 130, 133–35,

138, 148, 151–53, 156, 158–59,

161, 163–64, 173, 271–72,

274–75

B-52, 116, 128–29, 132–33, 135

pods, 125–26, 148, 153, 156

285
Iron Hand, 124

25, 130

Lam Son, 127

Linebacker I, 127, 129–30

ratio of support aircraft, 131

totals, 75

Linebacker II, 121, 132, 134–38,

271

LORAN (long-range aid to navigation), 130

MiGs nullified, 135

North Vietnam, 115–18, 123, 127,

129, 131–132, 136

SAM, 34, 74, 81–82, 84, 87,

90–92, 94, 96, 119–25,

133–36, 138, 148–49, 152–54,

156, 160–61, 165–70, 183,

202, 218, 224, 230, 232, 241,

271, 275

Operation Bolo, 117

Rolling Thunder, 115

objectives, 47, 88, 115, 189, 271

SA-2, 91–92, 119–22, 125, 148,

150–51, 159–60, 189, 230

SA7, 1045, 128, 15052, 154,

157–58, 165, 170–71, 230

Smart bombs, 130

firings, 9, 121

Tet offensive, 127

weather, 14–15, 22, 33, 43, 58, 130

134–35, 163, 219, 227, 273

Wild Weasel, 123, 125–26, 130

Warden, John A., III, 222

Wasserfall, 35, 38–40, 91

Wesel, 45

Western Electric, 85, 184

White, Thomas D., 81

Wizard, 88, 182

Wolf, 156

World War I, 1–3, 26, 46, 117, 269

World War II lessons, 57

ZSU-23, 151, 169, 218

ZSU-23-4, 73, 150–51

286
Archie to SAM

A Short Operational History of Ground-Based Air Defense

Air University Press Team

Chief Editor

Dr. Richard Bailey

Copy Editor

Carolyn J. McCormack

Book Design and Cover Art

Daniel Armstrong

Illustrations

Steve Garst

Daniel Armstrong

Composition and

Prepress Production

Ann Bailey

Quality Review

Mary J. Moore

Print Preparation

Joan Hickey

Distribution

Diane Clark