Thunder and Lightning

Desert Storm and the Airpower Debates

Edward C. Mann III, Colonel, USAF

Volume two of a two-volume series

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

 April 1995
1. Persian Gulf War, 1991—Aerial operations, American. 2. Airpower United States.

DS79.724.U6M36 1995 95-3971

956.7044′248—dc20 CIP

First Printing January 1995

Second Printing May 1995

Third Printing August 1996

Disclaimer

This publication was produced in the Department of Defense school environment in the interest of 

academic freedom and the advancement of national defense-related concepts. The views

expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position 

of the Department of Defense or the United States government.

This publication has been reviewed by security and policy review authorities and is cleared for

public release.
For the Troops

Those who have, those who would, and, especially,

those who may yet have to.

My confidence in you is total. Our cause is just!

Now you must be the thunder and lightning of

Desert Storm. May God be with you, your loved ones

at home, and our country.

Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf

January 1991
To preach the message, to insist upon proclaiming it (whether the

time is right or not, to convince, reproach, and encourage, as you

teach with all patience. The time will come when people will not

listen to sound doctrine, but will follow their own desires and will

collect for themselves more and more teachers who will tell them

what they are itching to hear. They will turn away from listening

to the truth and give their attention to legends.

 

 2 Tlm. 4:2-
Chapter Page

DISCLAIMER · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · i

DEDICATION · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ii

FOREWORD· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ix

ABOUT THE AUTHOR· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · xii

PREFACE · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · xv

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · xvi

INTRODUCTION: The Airpower Debates · · · · · · · · · 1

 1 Do Concepts Matter · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 9

 2 Instant Thunder: Why an Air Staff Plan · · · · · · · · · · 2

 3 How Does Airpower Work?· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 5

 4 Knockout Blow? Or Decision on Points? · · · · · · · · · 7

 5 The Objective · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 85

 6 Taking It to the Enemy· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 9

 7 Seizing the High Ground: Airpower as

 a Maneuver Element? · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 11

 8 Setup for the Knockout Blow · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 12

 9 The First Information War · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 14

10 Conclusions: What Is Air (and Space) Power? · · · · · 16

EPILOGUE: A View of the Air Force

Today and Tomorrow · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 185

GLOSSARY· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 197

INDEX · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 201

vii
Figure

 1 Five-ring Model of the Modern Nation-State · · · · · · · 3

 2 Planning Phases: Concept to Execution · · · · · · · · · · 9

 3 Effect of Circular Error of Probability (CEP)

on Quantity · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 107

Photos

Escort Fighters · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 13

Powell, Cheney, and Schwarzkopf · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 3

Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 3

F-117 · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 38

Target Sets · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 40

Lt Gen Carl Spaatz · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 52

Schwarzkopf and Horner · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 57

Glosson and Deptula· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 66

Glosson and Planners · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 75

Iraqi Military Leaders · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 81

Coalition Aircraft · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 103

Brlg Gen Billy Mitchell · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 11

Iraqi Aircraft Shelter · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 120

Iraqi PWs · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 124

More Iraqi POWs · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 136

Deptula, Glosson, and Rogers · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 139

Pioneer Remotely Piloted Vehicles · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 150

B-52 and KC-10 · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · 169

viii
At 0200 local time on the morning of 17 January 1991

airmen from all military services and 10 nations became th

“thunder and lightning” of Operation Desert Storm, th

multinational military offensive sanctioned by the Unite

Nations to liberate Kuwait from the domination of Iraqi dictato

Saddam Hussein. What occurred over the next several hours

days, and weeks is a classic in the decisive application o

aerospace power. Literally in minutes, the coalition delivered 

knockout blow to Iraqi air defenses and paved the way fo

thousands of air sorties to pummel Iraqi leadership, the

command and control capabilities, essential services

infrastructure, and military forces. After only 28 days, the Iraq

army in Kuwait and eastern Iraq was so demoralized

disorganized, and degraded that coalition surface operation

envisioned to require weeks took only days. Yet, while the peopl

of Iraq suffered seriously from degraded services an

infrastructure, they remained nearly exempt from direct physica

attack. Precise applications of force almost eliminated collatera

damage.

Such dramatic performance demands much attention. Deser

Storm has spawned and will continue to spawn numerou

histories, anthologies, and analyses. Few, however, will be a

focused and useful to airmen as Thunder and Lightning: Dese

Storm and the Airpower Debates. A small team of militar

analysts, working at Air University’s College of Aerospac

Doctrine, Research, and Education (CADRE), under the initia

oversight of Lt Gen Chuck Boyd and—later—Lt Gen Jay Kelley

spent over three years piecing together the conceptua

development of the Desert Storm air campaign. Their interes

was not speciflcally historical; rather, their motivation stemme

from the inherent curiosity of airmen who aspire to understan

their profession.

This book is the second of two works produced by the CADRE

team—the first being Col Rich Reynolds's Heart of the Storm. Th

Genesis of the Air Campaign against Iraq (Air University Press

1995). In Heart of the Storm, Colonel Reynolds explores “a ho

and often bitter debate” that developed in the early days o

August 1990 between “tactical” and “strategic” schools o

ix
explains that debate in terms of an almost “theological” division

within the Air Force over the proper uses of airpower.

Judiciously incorporating a historical perspective, he asserts

that this debate is not new but is rooted in the earliest

conceptualizations of airpower's utility. We are still engaged, he

argues, in a 75-year-old debate (beginning in World War I) over

issues that our doctrine answered 50 years ago (during World

War II). The debate itself often hinders us from moving on to

more current—and, possibly, more important—issues. Colonel

Mann believes that the brilliant performance of aerospace power 

in Desert Shield/Storm resulted from an internal compromise

which reflected, to a remarkable degree, airpower doctrine of

1943 (specifically, FM 100-20, Command and Employment of

Air Power, July 1943). While much has changed, especially in

our technical ability to execute this doctrine, the internal

divisions and resultant debate proved inefficient as we strove to

apply some of the most basic tenets of aerospace doctrine. In

Thunder and Lightning, Colonel Mann challenges airmen as

well as other strategic thinkers to consider how aerospace

power works best so as to preclude, or at least minimize, these

75-year- old debates when we face the next challenge.

Because we must prepare for the next war—not the last

one—we should push concepts and ideas well out in front of

technologies and capabilities. That responsibility lies primarily

within our institution—specifically, with those of us who are

airmen. What Mitchell, Arnold, and other airpower heroes have

been to us, we must be to a new generation of airmen who face

dramatic changes in technology and in the sociopolitical

environment.

x
Not only must we know how to do aerospace power, we also mus

know how to think it.

RONALD R. FOGLEMAN

General, USAF

Chief of Staff

 

xi
About the

 Author

Col Edward C. Mann III was born in the same year as the

United States Air Force—1947. Most of his life has been

inter viewed in one way or another with the service, first as the

son of a 30-year civilian employee of the Department of the Air

Force and for the last 25 years as a commissioned officer.

Colonel Mann has served as a pilot, instructor pilot, staff officer,

and researcher/educator. He has flown over 5,200 hours in T37, -38, -41; C-130; and KC/EC-135 aircraft, including over

1,000 combat hours in Southeast Asia. He served as an

operations officer on a wing staff and as the deputy chief of the

airborne division at Headquarters Strategic Air Command

(SAC). Since leaving SAC, Colonel Mann has been the Research

Associate (now National Security Fellow) to the Fletcher School

of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University; chief of the Doctrine

Research Division, Airpower Research Institute, College of

Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education (CADRE) at Air

University; and is currently deputy director for Information

Warfare Education at CADRE. Colonel Mann has published in

Air Force Times, Army Times, Navy Times, Airpower Journal and

Military Review.

 

Col Edward C. Mann II

xiii
Preface

I firmly believe that the future is not a product o

determinism. Certainly, controlling forces exist that we all mus

recognize, whether we call them fate or God. But to a great extent

we create the future—in which we and our descendants will liv

through a series of actions both large and small, informed and

uninformed. We live in the present, but we set our course to th

future either by way of navigation aids from the past or by shee

chance. For those of us who are committed to the profession o

arms, the price of steering by chance is too high.In our future

people we love—or would love if we came to know them—will liv

or die, based on the understanding of warfare that we protect int

the future. In order to plan what we will be, we mus

understand—as clearly as possible—what we have been and how

that experience has affected what we are.

 Acquiring such understanding inevitably entails a degree o

pain, since we are human beings and therefore make mistakes

The case at hand—the participation of the US Air Force in

Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm—is no exception

The accomplishments of airpower from August 1990 throug

February 1991 (and well beyond) were incredible, exceeding an

previous demonstration of airpower. Yet, some aspects of thes

operations were not pretty—some were so ugly, in fact, that w

probably would rather not face them. But the measure of 

person—as well as an institution—is the ability to study failur

with the same alacrity as success. Desert Shield/Storm offer

valuable insights into our institution and its doctrina

underpinnings—insights that can help us form a future to b

proud of.

Statements of what things are not are sometimes as useful a

statements of what they are. It is important to say that thi

volume is not a work of history—though it necessarily contain

much of historical significance. Qualified historians are at wor

producing some very good histories of Desert Shield/Storm

Thunder and Lightning, however, is a doctrinal analysis set i

historical context. Although individual data points usually hav

some utility, they are almost invariably most useful when w

place them in the context of related data points. For example, th

xv
useful information than the individual points themselves.

Whereas data points only rarely are successfully projected into

the future, trend lines quite often are so projected. That is the

overarching purpose of this volume: to protect the trend line of

airpower theory into the future.

Developing the trend line of our institution's theoretical

underpinnings requires that we reveal and analyze events

which are likely to prove painfully controversial and

embarrassing to both individuals and institution. But I reveal

and analyze only what I feel is necessary to get at the truth—my

ultimate objec tive. Ernest Hemingway provided the benchmark

in 1942:

A writer's job is to tell the truth. His standard of fidelity to the truth should be so

high that his invention, out of his experience, should produce a truer account than

anything factual can be. For facts can be observed badly; but when a good writer is

creating something, he has time and scope to make it of an absolute truth.*

Though it seems necessary that truth be supported by facts,

it is nonetheless true that facts (at least as we know them) do

not always lead to truth. Sometimes the writer's job, then, is to

find the truth in spite of the facts. I am quite certain that I have

some of the facts wrong and the reader will likely notice these

errors. In every case, however, I have tried to reach the truth in

light of—or in spite of—the facts. The reader must decide what is

right and what is wrong. I have told what I believe to be the

truth. 

EDWARD C. MANN III,

Colonel, USAF

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

15 October 1994

__________

*Men at War: 7he Best War Stories of All Time, ed. Ernest

Hemingway (1942; reprint, New York: Wing Books, 1991), xiv.

 

xvi
g

Although it is common for one person to receive credit for 

great success, it is a rare occasion when only one person i

respon sible for that success. Instead, significan

accomplishments are nearly always team efforts. Without th

Grand Armée for example, Napoléon was just a petty bureaucrat

The same principle applies to this book. If Thunder and Lightnin

is successful, the credit belongs to a large number of people wh

loyally supported the research and writing that produced it; an

shortcomings, of course, belong only to the author. Certainly, 

the quality of the team is the determining factor, then the succes

of this book is assured. All the members of my team deserv

thanks, so bear with me.

First and foremost is the United States Air Force, one of th

greatest institutions on the face of the earth. It has sustained

nurtured, developed, educated, trained, and supported me an

my family for 25 years. Among the many opportunities it ha

given me, perhaps the most rewarding has been the time t

study, research, and think about airpower. If I occasionally seem

hard on the Air Force in this book, it is only because I love it and

care about its future. It has always been good to me, and I hope t

return the favor.

Although many people contributed to this work, only a selec

few actually “made it happen.” One is Gen Charles G. Boyd

former commander of Air University (AU) and the man wh

“commissioned” our study. General Boyd well understands th

need to study the past with an open mind in order to attain 

vision of the future that is grounded firmly in experience. H

chartered me and my research partners to “tell the truth

however painful it may be.” We worked hard to execute tha

charter, and I hope we have succeeded.

I also owe a debt of gratitude to General Boyd's successor a

AU, Lt Gen Jay W. Kelley, who supported our efforts, even to th

extent of reading and commenting upon my early manuscript. A

number of his good ideas have been incorporated in the volume.

A string of commanders of the College of Aerospace Doctrine

Research, and Education (CADRE) “flew top cover,” beginnin

with Col John B. Sams—now a major general—who firs

xvii
attention of senior Air Force leadership. Col (now Brig Gen)

Ervin C. (“Sandy”) Sharpe was next, prodding us intellectually

to refine our research and analysis. He was also most

responsible for providing us with the necessary resources

(including the ever-present “evil” [i.e., money]) to complete our

efforts. Col (now Brlg Gen) Gary Voellger, Col Paul Dordal,

and—most recently—Col Leroy Barnidge all provided support in

the Sams/Sharpe style.

When I tell my grandchildren about the good old days, I will

certainly mention the team that started this whole effort: Dr

David Albright, Col Richard T. Reynolds (author of Thunder and

Lightning’s companion volume, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis

of the Air Campaign against Iraq), and Col Suzanne B.

Gehri—faithful friends all! Dr Albright and Colonel Gehri left the

team to go on to bigger and better things before we could finish

our work, but they were both instrumental in the establishment

and early progress of our research. Colonel Reynolds is . . . well .

. . Richard Reynolds (those who know him will require no further

explanation). There is no finer wingman.

Col Dennis M. Drew, USAF, Retired, former director of the

Airpower Research Institute (ARI), deserves a special vote of

thanks for his philosophical approach to the workplace: “Hire

good people, tell them what you want them to do, and get out of

their way.” This project would not have been possible without

his fatherly support. The same may be said of his two

successors—Col Bryant Shaw and Col Robert M. Johnston.

Colonel Johnston also offered useful steerage in his role of

“gray-haired” (his term, not mine) senior editor.

I also thank all the “pushers” around AU's academic circle

for continually prodding us to make something useful out of all

the data and information we had collected. I especially thank

ARI's “backyard philosophers,” past and present, for their

constant “encouragement.”

Refinements offered by people who agreed to read the

manuscript at various stages vastly improved the final product.

Partic ularly useful inputs came from three esteemed

academics: Maj Gen I. B. Holley, Jr., USAFR, Retired, Duke

University (who really saved my bacon—I will never reveal how,

but thank you, Dr Holley), Dr Grant Hammond of Air War

xviii
Thunder and Lightning as I am to call them colleagues an

friends.

A number of historians and archivists from the Air Forc

his tory program made essential contributions to our research

be ginning with Dr Richard P. Hallion, Air Force Historian. Ver

early in our research, Dr Hallion generously put all the resource

of his office at our disposal. We accepted that offer unashamedly

Two of Dr Hallion's finest historians Dr Richard Davis an

especially Dr Diane Putney, whose research on the Gulf Wa

parallels our own—were extremely helpful in providing factua

support and refining our analysis of events.

Here at Maxwell Air Force Base, the history program'

Historical Research Agency (HRA) provided us both home an

sustenance from the beginning. The former director, Col Elliott V

Converse, made office space available, allowing us to collect an

store classi fied materials. This area also proved to be a quie

place to work—away from the routine demands of ARI. Hi

replacement, Col Richard S. Rauschkolb, continued Colone

Converse's kind indulgences including essentially unlimite

access to HRA's per sonnel and archival resources.

Counted among the people who were not only helpful bu

absolutely essential to our effort are Mrs Juanita Faye Davis an

Maj E. Anne Sumpter. Without Faye, our 4,000-plus pages o

transcribed interviews would still be mostly audio tapes an

virtually useless to researchers. Similarly, Major Sumpte

transformed our chaotic mass of documents into an indexed

researchable collection. Faye and Anne also provide

immeasurable moral support along the way and have becom

good friends. A multitude of other people at HRA provided a

kinds of assistance many thanks to all of you.

No work such as this could be accomplished in one lifetim

without the active support of a good research librarian. I coul

always count on Ms Sue Goodman, AU Library bibliographer fo

Desert Shield/Storm, to drop whatever she was doing and hel

me find anything I needed. Thorough professional that she is, sh

never failed me.

Participants in Desert Shield/Storm were universally helpfu

in providing necessary information. I am indebted to all th

people who agreed to be interviewed (over 40 altogether

xix
notes gave us won derfully detailed, eyewitness accounts of

many key events, and Col David A. Deptula, who provided

interviews, personal notes, and tireless coaching on events and

their meaning. Both men are true “warrior-aviators” who have

much to contribute to the Air Force.

I must not forget my trusty lieutenant, Kurt Konopatzke. I

counted on Kurt, whose flying career is on temporary hold

(wait ing for an airplane to come available somewhere), to take

care of all kinds of tasks, big and small, so I could get on with the

busi ness of writing. Kurt never complains he must executes his

as signed mission and comes back for more. Without him, I

would be in an insane asylum somewhere believing I was a

famous author. Mark my words he will be a general one day.

 Now for the guy who really wrote all the words in this

volume—Dr Marvin Bassett of AU Press. Marvin is undoubtedly

the world's greatest editor. (Sorry, but all the rest of you merely

deal with manuscripts and ordinary people; Marvin, however,

has “handled” Richard Reynolds and Edward Mann—a truly

daunting task!) I would love to complain bitterly about his

“meddling” with my work, but truthfully, it's always better when

he's done. Happily, he was able to retain my thoughts and

analyses while transforming the prose into something readable.

For that accomplishment, readers owe him at least as great a

vote of thanks as I do.

Finally, I thank my wife Sharon. She has (mostly willingly)

shared me for 25 years with a very demanding mistress the

United States Air Force. Without her support and personal

sacrifice, I would not be here, and this book never would have

happened.

xx
Introduction

The Airpower Debates

 Fields are won by those who believe in winning.

—Thomas Higginson 

The group of planners* who met in the basement of the

Pentagon under the direction of Col John Warden, Air Staf

director of war-fighting concepts, during early August 1990 

had one clear purpose in mind: to force Iraq's army out o

Kuwait by applying airpower** in a strategic offensive directed

at the sources of Iraqi national power. Their plan would

employ “new” concepts—inside-out warfare, simultaneity, and

parallel warfare—to apply cataclysmic and unrelenting

pressure on the Iraqi nation and Saddam Hussein's regim

until the latter acquiesced to United Nations (UN) and

coalition demands. Warden and his planners hoped to correc

what they felt were America's previous “mistakes” of applying

airpower in a gradualistic, supporting role (especially in

Vietnam). Airpower would be the “main show” (in some minds

the only show), and the Air Force would demonstrate—once

and for all—the dominant role that the “military-technical 

1

*Of ten re ferred to as Check mate plan ners but mis tak enly so be cause—even at this

early stage—the Check mate di rec tor ate's origi nal cadre of plan ners had been aug 

mented by other peo ple from through out the Air Force for the ex press pur pose o

work ing on the plan they called In stant Thun der. Fur ther, shortly af ter Gen H. Nor 

man Schwarz kopf, com mander in chief (CINC) of US Cen tral Com mand (CENT COM)

re ceived the first In stant Thun der brief ing, rep re sen ta tives of all the other mili tary

serv ices joined the plan ning ef fort (see note 1). As a mat ter of con ven ience, Check mat

con tin ued to be used in ref er ence to the In stant Thun der plan ners.

**The author fre quently uses air power in ter changea bly with air and space powe

and aero space power. Such a prac tice is nec es sary be cause the book cov ers a pe ri od

of time dur ing which the mis sion of air forces evolved from one deal ing strictly with

air- breathing fly ing ma chines to one in clud ing mis siles (which tran sit both air and

space) and space ve hi cles. The author has tried to dif fer en ti ate among these terms

(i.e., us ing air power to ref er to times and events bef ore the ad vent of space us age and

us ing aero space or air and space for later times and events). How ever, us ing air powe

to ref er to all things done by air forces is com mon place in the US Air Force and al most

cer tainly has crept into this work in at least a few places.
revolution

 (MTR)* had made possible for airpower. Indeed

some of the planners hoped to prove that airpower could in

fact win a war “all alone.” At the very least, the US would avoid 

the horrible mistakes of Vietnam (i.e., bomb a little here, a

little there, and see if the enemy is ready to be more

accommodating). They called their plan Instant Thunder in

direct opposition to the Vietnam era's Rolling Thunde

campaign. There would be no gradualism or escalation—n

pauses in the bombing until Hussein gave up or the Iraq

conscript army removed him.

The Instant Thunder plan, though supported by the Ai

Force chief of staff (Gen Michael J. Dugan), the vice-chief ( Gen 

John M. Loh), and even the CINCCENT himself (Genera

Schwarzkopf), ran head-on into heavy opposition from a group

of Air Force general officers with deep roots in the Air Force's

Tactical Air Command (TAC).

2 For example, Gen Robert D

Russ, then the commander of TAC, thought that the plan's all

-out approach was too violent to be acceptable politically

According to Col Richard Bristow,** a planner at Headquarter

TAC, General Russ “felt like the American public would not

support an all-out war. In other words, we couldn't just go in

there and start a massive attack to win.”

3

Russ's idea was to destroy a single, heavily defended target

“to demonstrate to not only Saddam Hussein but to the world

what we can do [and] let the State Department work from then

on, or . . . do all kinds of different things.”

4 Eventually, a

2

*The the ory of the military- technical revo lu tion, first ar ticu lated by So viet Mar sha

N. V. Ogar kov in the early 1980s, as serts that we are cur rently ex pe ri enc ing a sci en 

tific revo lu tion that is at least the mag ni tude of the nineteenth- century in dus tria

revo lu tion. The speed with which new non nu clear weapon sys tems and sup port ing

sys tems, such as in tel li gence and com mand and con trol (C

2

) sys tems, are fielded i

rap idly ac cel er at ing (tech nolo gies, not nec es sar ily plat forms), and mili tar ies that do

not keep pace will be over whelmed in fu ture wars. Some of these tech no logi cal ad 

vances, such as stealth and pre ci sion guided mu ni tions (PGM), played a ma jor role in

Op era tion De sert Storm. See Mary C. Fitzger ald, “The So viet Mili tary and the New

`Tech no logi cal Op era tion' in the Gulf,” Na val War Col lege Re view, Autumn 1991

16–43. This phe nome non is also re ferred to as a revo lu tion in mili tary af fairs (RMA).

**Colo nel Bris tow was part of a group of four TAC colo nels, re cent gradu ates of Air

War Col lege, who had been se lected to as sist in the plan ning ef fort af ter Gen eral Loh

re layed Gen eral Schwarz kopf's re quest of 8 August for Air Staff plan ning as sis tance

(see chap. 2). The other three colo nels in volved in the TAC ef fort were Alex Bet tinger
compromise plan emerged from TAC that included

gradualistic “demonstrative attacks” and “escalating offensiv

operations.”

5 Even some of the TAC planners thought it looked

like “a throwback to the Vietnam era”

6—an interestin

observation because one of the key reasons General Russ

inserted himself into the planning process was “to make sure

that we didn't have someone picking targets in Washington

[sic] like they did in Vietnam.”

7

Actually, the issue of competing plans was already resolved

by the time the TAC plan reached Washington on 11 August

General Schwarzkopf had wholeheartedly embraced the

concept of Instant Thunder the day before.

8 Consequently

TAC's plan went into a safe in that command's Plans and

Programs Directorate for the duration of the war. But the

controversy over Instant Thunder didn't end there. People

within and without the Air Force continued to challenge the

plan (both during and after the war) for a variety of reasons.

Some, including General Russ, maintained that the plan

originated in the wrong place (Washington), while others said

it was no plan at all—only a briefing that was discarded afte

being presented on 20 August to Lt Gen Charles A. Horner,

commander of US Air Forces, Central Command (CENTAF

[i.e., Ninth Air Force]).

9 Still others thought Instant Thunde

was sound—as far as it went—but lacked “tactical sense” 1

insofar as it omitted such details as planned radio

frequencies11 and ignored such tactical realities as the

presence of the Iraqi army in Kuwait.

12 Interestingly enough

nearly all of the early opposition to the plan came from

airmen.** Considerable evidence indicates that this

controversy emanated at least partially from a long-standing

debate within the Air Force over the most efficient applications

of airpower (see chaps. 2 and 10)—specifically, whether

airpower should be used to carry out strategic attack or to

3

*Through out this book, mili tary rank is that at tained by the in di vid ual at the par 

ticu lar time un der dis cus sion.

**Ini tially, both Head quar ters TAC at Lang ley AFB, Va., and Head quar ters CEN TAF

at Ri yadh, Saudi Ara bia, op posed In stant Thun der. Heart of the Storm, chaps. 2–4 (se

note 1).
support surface forces (primarily close air support [CAS] and

interdiction).

This same sort of dialectic had produced debates on

airpower dating back to World War I. At that time, airpowe

advocates such as Col William (“Billy”) Mitchell, Brig Gen

Mason M. Patrick, Maj Gen Hugh Trenchard, Col Henry H

(“Hap”) Arnold, Capt Carl A. (“Tooey”) Spaatz, and a host o

others (even the oft-maligned Giulio Douhet) addressed tough

questions that carried over into the 1920s:

1. What is airpower capable of accomplishing, either alon

or in conjunction with other military forces?

2. Can airpower alone be decisive in warfare?*

3. Does airpower have an independent role in warfare?

4. How is airpower best employed?

5. Do we need an independent Air Force?

Arnold, Spaatz, and others were still struggling with these

questions as the storm clouds of World War II rolled in. By

then, they had been joined by another generation who, lacking

material resources during the austere days of the 1930s, had

honed their minds on the raging debates at the Air Corp

Tactical School (ACTS) at Maxwell Field, Alabama: What kind

of airpower? How much? How should it be organized? Who

should control it?13 When Lt Col Harold L. (“Hal”) George, L

Col Kenneth N. (“Ken”) Walker, Maj Haywood S. Hansell, and

Maj Laurence S. Kuter (all former ACTS instructors) wer

tasked in August 1941 to build a war plan for Europe, they

faced an agonizing dilemma—one eerily similar to that faced

49 years later, almost to the day, by the planners of Instan

Thunder:

[George's] heart—like the hearts of Walker, Kuter, and Hansell—was

strongly in favor of winning the war with airpower. Yet he knew the

Army war planners would demand heavy emphasis on close air

support. Which way should he go? How might he balance those

4

*The an swer to this ques tion turns on the defi ni tion of two key words: de ci sive an

alone. Is air power de ci sive only if it achieves the de sired out come all by it self? Ad vo 

cates of ground power read ily ac cept the “de ci sive ness” of their arm in De sert Storm

even though it was pre ceded, ac com pa nied, and suc ceeded by air op era tions. Yet

they ar gue that air power was not de ci sive be cause air power alone did not drive the

Iraqis out of Ku wait.
concepts when Generals [George C.] Marshall and Arnold were out of

town, and he had only seven more days to finish the plan? He wasn't

about to sell airpower short, but there was little sense in rushing to

prepare an all-airpower plan only to have it disapproved. What balance 

would work best? Which could win the Army's approval of an airpower

plan for winning the war? It was an almost impossible question, and

one that took longer than any other to resolve. 14

What they produced in only nine days was Air War Plan

Division—Plan 1 (AWPD-1),* referred to in the title of a book

written later by Hansell as The Air Plan That Defeated Hitler.

1

Yet, the questions they struggled with remain unresolved over

50 years later. Despite airpower's contribution in Operation

Desert Storm, airmen find themselves embroiled in the same

debates. Clearly, the answers to the persistent questions

about airpower are not as self-evident as the Gulf War initially 

made them appear to be. Although the consequences of our

failure to resolve these debates proved minor during Deser

Storm, they might have been much more severe had we had

less time to prepare the attack.**

Such failure might prove even more serious in the future

due to the rapidly changing nature of international conflic

and warfare. Some people say that these changes are so

dynamic as to constitute a revolution (MTR or RMA), whil

5

*Sev eral very in ter est ing par al lels ex ist be tween AWPD-1 and In stant Thun der. Both

were mainly con cep tual in na ture, al though both nec es sar ily delved into sig nifi cant de tai 

to prove their prac ti cal ity—AWPD-1 de tail ing air craft pro duc tion re quire ments (be cause

this fac tor rep re sented the ma jor po ten tial “show stop per” in August 1941) and In stan

Thun der pro vid ing a two- day, re al is tic—though still no tional—mas ter at tack plan (be 

cause sor tie gen era tion and de con flic tion rep re sented the ma jor po ten tial show stop pers

in August 1990). Both plans were de vel oped on very short sus penses in Wash ing ton

D.C., by Air Staff plan ners, and both faced op po si tion from peo ple who did not be lieve in

the abil ity of stra te gic bom bard ment to achieve sig nifi cant na tional ob jec tives with out 

tactical- level as sault on the ad ver sary's field army.

**Pre war es ti mates of casu al ties for US and coa li tion forces ranged as high as

45,000, 10,000 of which would be fa tali ties. Most es ti mates ranged from 9,000 to

30,000 coa li tion casu al ties for the en tire op era tion. See, for in stance, Fed eral In for 

ma tion Sys tems Cor po ra tion, Fed eral News Serv ice, 14 Janu ary 1991; Mi chael K

Frisby, “US Is n't Set for Casu al ties, Doc tors Say,” The Bos ton Globe, 15 Janu ar

1991, 4; and Reuters North Ameri can Wire, 9 Janu ary 1991. These fig ures were likel

predi cated on the wrong kind of war. If the as sault had kicked off with five or six days

of “bat tle field prepa ra tion,” fol lowed by a sur face at tack—as pos ited by the Army's

doc trine of Air Land Bat tle—casu alty counts proba bly would have ap proached at leas

the lower end of these es ti mates.
others argue that we are experiencing only a rapid evolution in

war-fighting concepts.* This point of debate, however, lies wel

beyond the scope of this book. Whether revolutionary or

evolutionary, airpower theory must keep pace. The people

responsible for organizing, training, equipping, and employing

airpower resources in the interests of the United States mus

not continue to be embroiled in 75-year-old debates.

Although no analysis of Desert Shield/Storm will definitively

answer all of these critical questions, the Gulf War represent

a valuable data point that, when viewed in the context o

history, offers significant insights. Adopting a historica

perspective allows one to search for long-term continuities and

discontinuities in the conceptual development of airpowe

(and military) theory—potentially a more useful exercise than

the mere exploitation of specific “ lessons learned.”** Thi

book, then, examines the promises and accomplishments o

airpower in Desert Shield/Storm in the context of the rich

history of airpower theory and doctrine development with th

hope of contributing to a resolution of the long-standing

airpower debates and an advancement of airpower theory.

This exercise would prove useless if ideas, philosophies

theories, and doctrines have no impact on the outcome o

military operations—if, as some people suggest, we should

6

*Se ri ous de bate is rag ing over the na ture of MTR/RMA (e.g., the iden tity of its con 

stitu ent parts and their in ter ac tion) and its criti cal im pli ca tions for na tional and

in ter na tional se cu rity (if such terms still have mean ing in a world where na tiona

bounda ries are ever- more per me able to pro lif er at ing information- transmittal and

information- management sys tems). Also un cer tain are the ques tions of when (or if

this revo lu tion/evo lu tion be gan and when (or if) it will end. The lat ter is of great con 

se quence to peo ple who must at tempt to map the course of na tions (or cor po ra tions

car tels, tribes, etc.) and their in stru ments of power.

**This is not to im ply that the lessons- learned ap proach has no util ity—only that i

tends to ward an swers that are much nar rower and de pend ent upon cur rent tech nol 

ogy. For ex am ple, it is use ful to know that the fail ure of an AIM-7 mis sile to fire af ter

re lease is re lated to an im proper main te nance pro ce dure, but more use ful to know

that this pro ce dure is com mon at sev eral bases and has re sulted in mul ti ple fail ures

(since one can take steps to solve that prob lem). To know that AIM-7 mis siles are par 

ticu larly sus cep ti ble to this kind of fail ure is even more use ful since this knowl edge

af fects ini tial and con tinua tion train ing of main te nance crews and qual ity con tro

meas ures at all lev els. To know that air- to- air mis siles have al ways been prone to

such a prob lem would be most use ful of all, since this knowl edge would af fect pro 

cure ment, op era tional test ing, and other life- cycle is sues. Thus, plac ing a sin gle data

point in his tori cal con text leads to a higher or der of learn ing.
simply throw them away when the war begins and start from

scratch. Therefore, chapter 1 begins the analysis by

addressing the relationship between people, technology, and

ideas in an attempt to answer the question “Do Concepts

Matter?” Chapters 2 through 4 lay out the development of the

Desert Storm air campaign from its beginnings to execution

and probe the airpower debates that this plannin

reenergized. Chapters 5 through 8 examine how airmen

planned and executed the air campaign in terms of timehonored military principles and how successfully they

employed those principles. The emerging debate ove

“information warfare” and the question of whether or not i

was part of the Desert Storm air campaign are covered in

chapter 9, while chapter 10 draws conclusions abou

airpower, the debates over airpower, and Air Forc

institutional doctrine. Finally, the epilogue speculates abou

the future of the Air Force in the evolving security

environment.

The future appears as darkness to the ignorant, but history

provides a torch that can pierce that darkness, howeve

imperfectly. But that torch must be lit with ideas of wha

might be. The Mitchells, Arnolds, and Georges kept the torch

burning for over 75 years. It is time for our generation o

airpower theorists to light the path of the future.

Notes

1. For a full description of the planning cell and its early activities, see

chapter 2 of Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of the Air Campaign against Iraq

by Col Richard T. Reynolds (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1995).

2. See Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 30 May 1991, 10–11, 23, 66–68, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Col Steve Wilson

Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt

Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 December 1991, 15–17, 20, Deser

Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala.

3. Col Richard Bristow, Langley AFB, Va., transcript of interview with L

Col Richard T. Reynolds and author, 9 November 1992, 10, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

4. Gen Robert D. Russ, Alexandria, Va., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 9 December

7
1991, 14, 11, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

5. See CENTCOM air campaign plan briefing material, 11 August 1990

9–12, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

6. Bristow, 9 November 1992, 6.

7. Russ, 9 December 1991, 20.

8. See Heart of the Storm, chap. 4.

9. “You talk about Instant Thunder as a plan. Not in my mind. It was a

conceptual briefing.” Maj Gen Larry Henry, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 2 June 1992, 31–32, 50, Desert Story Collection, US Air Forc

Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

10. Bristow, 9 November 1992, 20, 26.

11. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 30

May 1991, 111, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, Washington

D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T

Reynolds, and author, 3 June 1992, 1–2, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

12. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2 December

1991, 34–35, 38–40, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

13. See Thomas H. Greer, The Development of Air Doctrine in the Army Ai

Arm, 1917–1941 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1955)

47–67 (especially 56, 59, 61, and 64).

14. James C. Gaston, Planning the American Air War: Four Men and Nin

Days in 1941 (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University Press, 1982)

17.

15. Maj Gen Haywood S. Hansell, Jr., The Air Plan That Defeated Hitle

(Atlanta, Ga.: Higgins--McArthur/Longino & Porter, Inc., 1972).

8
Chap ter 1

Do Concepts Matter?

So the people shouted when the priests blew with the

trumpets: and it came to pass, when the people heard the

sound of the trumpet, and the people shouted with a great

shout, that the wall fell down flat, so that the people went

up into the city, every man straight before him, and they

took the city.

—Josh. 6:20

On the Normandy coast, just a stone's throw behind the

beach, lies the small village of Colleville-sur-Mer. Mos

Americans probably know little, if anything, of Colleville. It is

as unremarkable as any number of similar villages in

Normandy: La Madeleine, les Moulins, Vierville-sur-Mer, Sain

Mère Église, Ouistreham, Arromanches, and so forth. These

villages and others like them share much—style, culture

history, and . . . 6 June 1944, which Field Marshal Erwin

Rommell called “the longest day.”* On that day, thousands o

young Americans came to two beaches—around which most o

these villages are clustered—to break through Adolph Hitler'

vaunted Atlantic Wall and destroy his Festung Europa. For th

invasion, these two beaches were code-named Omaha and

Utah. The Americans came here in deadly earnest—many o

them to stay forever.

Today, what sets Colleville apart from the others is the

nearby American military cemetery. There, in neat rows

stretching hundreds of yards in all directions, stand over

9,000 small, white-marble crosses, intermixed with an

occasional Star of David. Each marks the supreme sacrifice o

one American for a cause he or she held great. Behind the

rows of markers stands a massive, semicircular colonnade—

perhaps 30 feet tall—which houses the “Wall of Missing.” In

1961 the wall bore the inscribed names of over 1,500

9

*Cor ne lius Ryan im mor tal ized this phrase in the ti tle of his book The Long est Day

June 6, 1944 (New York: Si mon and Schus ter, 1959), which re counts the day's events
additional sacrifices—warriors missing in action, presumed

captured or killed, but never found. To a 13-year-old boy, the

sight was awe-inspiring, creating a memory that emerged

occasionally—revived by a newspaper or magazine article or

an old war movie—but that dimmed over time, losing

sharpness and detail and eventually fuzzing out to a vague

general recollection. “The cemetery in Normandy? Why yes

I've been there.”

In 1993 the boy, now grown to manhood, suddenly and

startlingly recalls the scene in vivid detail. The sun shines

brightly, and the cool sea breeze blows across the beach

climbing the cliffs to gently ripple the huge American and

French flags that stand near a bronze statue of a young man

rising from the water, strong and virile, straining with every

carefully sculpted muscle toward his goal. A lock of hair curls

upward in the breeze, like the waves that, years ago, propelled 

him toward the beach and immortality. More than likely, his

name appears on one of the crosses or stars that gleam in the

bright sunlight or perhaps on the marble wall nearby. The

waves crashing on the rock- and litter-strewn beach below the

cliffs maintain a steady, distant murmur.

The suddenness and vividness of the memory cause the hair

on my neck to rise as I comb the pages of a report on the Gul

War of 1991. I suddenly confront pages full of names—a list o

fatalities—that serve the necessary but nonetheless macabre

requirement of identifying those people who have most recently

sacrificed themselves in defense of the Constitution of the

United States.* I run my finger down the list, looking for names

that might be familiar. Suddenly, in my mind's eye, I am once

again standing on a sunny plateau—above the beach, beyond

the cliffs—staring at a much larger list of names etched in

white marble.

Although this list is at least four times as large as the one in

the report, it represents only the soldiers whose remains were

never found—their fate known but to God.

10

*Un like any other mili tary in the world, the armed forces of the US are sworn to de 

fend not a per son or a gov ern ment or even a na tion of peo ple, but a piece o

pa per—the Con sti tu tion. Eve ry thing wor thy of de fend ing is sub sumed within the

words on that docu ment. In ef fect, serv ice mem bers thus pledge their lives to de fend 

ing a con cept.
Beyond the marble wall lie the remains of six times as many 

who were found and left interred in Normandy. Others were

shipped to final resting places chosen by their next of kin.

Just one World War II campaign produced all these deaths

On the first day alone, American casualties numbered ove

2,000; indeed, the number of men in the 82d and 101st

Airborne Divisions who lost their lives on 6 June 1944 nearly

equalled the entire number of American deaths in all o

Operation Desert Shield/Storm. None of these people died in

vain, but the price paid in Normandy was clearly greater than

the one paid in Southwest Asia.

The sunlight fades, the breeze drops, and the carefully

manicured graveyard fades from view. Just as suddenly as he

appeared, the boy of 13 is gone, and I—a middle-aged military

analyst ensconced in a cool, tiny, dimly lit office and

surrounded by lifeless archives—am left alone with my

thoughts. What made the difference? Even discounting the

relative size of contending forces and the duration of the

conflicts, the disparity in the number of casualties i

enormous. Can we attribute the difference to improved tactic

and technologies? Partially, perhaps. But then, what would

explain that long black gash in the Washington Mall, just north

of the Lincoln Memorial—and the painful legacy it represents?

With the exception of the clashes between the British and

Africans in the nineteenth century, it is hard to imagine a

conflict involving a greater disparity in tactics and

technologies than that between the American forces in

Vietnam and their Vietcong and North Vietnames

opponents. Although our adversaries had a few sophisticated

weapons, most of the time American gunships, artillery

century-series fighters, and B--52 bombers went up agains

pajama-suited men wielding AK-47 rifles, crude rockets, and

homemade explosives. In the 1991 Gulf War, we finished off a 

well-equipped, tactically proficient field army in four days o

surface combat yet sustained fewer than 500 comba

casualties coalition-wide.* In Vietnam, although we alway

11

*Of 44 Iraqi army di vi sions en gaged in the Ku waiti thea ter of op era tions (KTO), 4

were con sid ered com bat in ef fec tive bef ore the cease- fire. Col Ar thur H. Blair, At War i

the Gulf: A Chro nol ogy (Col lege Sta tion, Tex.: Texas A&M Uni ver sity Press, 1992), 120
prevailed on the battlefield,* the war dragged on for more than

eight years—and we lost. The price was high: a divided and

disillusioned nation coping with a nightmare that etched over

58,000 names on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Wash

ington, D.C.

Surely, more is involved than better tactics and technologies

What about personalities and individual genius? Perhaps. History

reveals again and again, however, that despite the fact tha

personalities and genius are important and play a role in success

and failure, truly great achievements require personalities o

vision and intellect who exploit sound tactics and technologies t

execute great concepts and theories. All three elements—good

people, technology, and concepts—are necessary.

As we have seen, in 1941 Hal George and company drafted

a plan for “winning the war with airpower.” AWPD-1 relied

primarily on strategic bombardment to bring about the

collapse of one adversary after another.

1 These same men also

authored the more extreme AWPD-4, which clearly reflected

their belief that strategic daylight precision bombardmen

could win the war and save the bloody expense of a grinding

surface campaign.

2

Although George, Walker, Hansell, and Kuter were bright

articulate, and clever men, they did not produce either o

these war plans in some instantaneous flash of brilliance

They all had been to the Air Corps Tactical School, both as

students and faculty members,

3 and were aware of (or had

participated in) the debates between advocates of strategi

bombardment and pursuit aviation.

4 They had read Douhe

(or at least extracts of his writings) and had taken part in

arguments about Billy Mitchell's views on airpower.5 Som

had even testified before Congress in favor of an independen

Air Force.

6 These men could claim personal responsibility for

the particulars of AWPD-1 but not for the concepts and

theories of warfare that underpinned those particulars and

that still survive in air force doctrines.

12

*“ `You know you never de feated us on the bat tle field,' said the Ameri can colo nel.

The North Viet nam ese colo nel pon dered this re mark a mo ment. `That may be so,

he re plied, `but it is also ir rele vant'.” Harry Sum mers, Jr., On Strat egy: A Criti ca

Analy sis of the Viet nam War (No vato, Calif.: Pre sidio Press, 1982), 21.
For instance, Ken Walker had argued (as had many others

beginning with Douhet) that the bombers would always ge

through.

7 On 5 January 1943, Walker—now a brigadie

general—rode the wreckage of his B-17 to the bottom of Rabau

Harbor, winning a Medal of Honor in the process. But the theory

was not discredited; the other bombers had gotten through to

13

Escort Fighters. During World War II, determined bomber crews wer

able to penetrate air defenses and reach their targets, but loss rate

proved too high. Deep raids had to wait until escort fighters such a

these P-51s (below) became available in sufficient numbers.
destroy seven enemy ships and three fighters. Even on the

famous Schweinfurt-Regensburg raids later in that same year

the main bomber force reached its targets. On 17 August

1943, for example, US Army Air Forces (USAAF) bombers

unloaded 724 tons of bombs on their targets, despit

horrendous losses—60 bombers and over 600 crewmen.

Because USAAF leaders and planners learned valuabl

lessons from every setback, the bombers ultimately made a

“decisive” contribution to the outcome of the war.* But the

bombers had to share the limelight with their “little buddies,

the long-range fighters whose protection proved necessary i

the larger aircraft were to survive repeated missions deep into

enemy territory.

The larger aircraft also shared the glory with attack

fighters and light bombers that supported surface ma

neuvers, with transports that delivered supplies and dropped

paratroops, with surveillance and bombardment aircraf

that escorted ship convoys, with fleet carrier forces that

attacked enemy shipping and battle fleets, with escor

carrier forces that supported amphibious invasions, and so

forth. The academic debates over strategic bombardmen

versus pursuit aviation had given way to the pragmatic

melding of strategic bombardment and pursuit—and clos

air support and interdiction and surveillance and

antishipping and resupply—plus a whole lot more. In other

words, the debates yielded to the concept of integrated

airpower that would finally be articulated in Army Field

Manual (FM) 100-20 in July 1943 (see chap. 3).

In the meantime, George and the others—like Walker—had

moved on to other important tasks. After completing work on

plans for the famous Combined Bomber Offensive and being

promoted to brigadier general, Haywood Hansell assumed

command of the First Bombardment Division in England

14

*Many com men ta tors cite the US Stra te gic Bomb ing Sur vey as evi dence that stra 

te gic bomb ing was not de ci sive. How ever, the sur vey's sum mary re port for the

Euro pean war says that “Al lied air power was de ci sive in the war in West ern Europe,

and the sum mary re port for the Pa cific war notes that “the ex pe ri ence of the Pa cific

war sup ports the find ings of the Sur vey in Europe . . . that no na tion can long sur vive

the free ex ploi ta tion of air weap ons over its home land.” The United States Stra te gi

Bomb ing Sur veys, 37, 110 (see note 10).
Larry Kuter, now a major general, had commanded units in

England and Northwest Africa and was back at the Air Staf

working for General Arnold. And Hal George himself, recently

promoted to lieutenant general, was commander of the Ai

Transport Command. All of these men continued to make

significant contributions to the war effort, although none were

so all-encompassing as AWPD-1.

Despite the importance of AWPD-1, that plan alone did

not win the war. Other people (many of whom had been to

ACTS9) contributed ideas and concepts: George Kenney, Ira

Eaker, Tooey Spaatz, Curtis LeMay, Hap Arnold, Jimmy

Doolittle, Claire Chennault, and so forth. Furthermore

Allied aircraft—bombers, fighters, transports, and specialty

planes—all contributed to the victory at the tactical, opera

tional, and strategic levels.* There were no “silver bullets.

15

*The terms tac ti cal, op era tional, and stra te gic can be con fus ing. For years bef or

De sert Storm, stra te gic and tac ti cal were used in ref er ence to par ticu lar sys tems (e.g.

stra te gic bomb ers), weap ons (e.g., tac ti cal nu clear weap ons such as the Pershing mis 

sile), and or gani za tions (e.g., Tac ti cal Air Com mand)—some times even peo ple (e.g.

tac ti cal fighter pi lots). Out of his tori cal ne ces sity, this study per petu ates such us age

to some ex tent, but for the most part it uses these terms to ref er to the ef fect of par 

ticu lar ac tions or op era tions. That is, tactical- level events af fect im me di ate op era tions

such as the bat tle (e.g., shoot ing down an en emy fighter in an air- to- air en gage ment)

Like wise, strategic- level events af fect the en tire war (e.g., de stroy ing home land fighte

air craft pro duc tion fa cili ties in or der to de crease the avail abil ity of those air craft fo 

the du ra tion of the war). In ei ther case, only the in tended or ac tual ef fect de ter mines

whether the event is stra te gic or tac ti cal.

The op era tional level has caused the great est con fu sion be cause the US mili tar

(es pe cially the Air Force) has only re cently be gun to re dis cover it. For our pur poses

operational- level events af fect an en tire thea ter or area of op era tions (e.g., fighte

sweeps de signed to en gage and de stroy en emy air forces in a par ticu lar area of op era 

tions).

Add ing to the con fu sion is the fact that when com bat oc curs in a sin gle area of op 

era tions—as was the case in De sert Storm—the op era tional and stra te gic lev els tend

to merge. To some ob serv ers, fighter sweeps in Ku wait served es sen tially the sam

pur pose as bomb ing vari ous kinds of pro duc tion fa cili ties in Iraq in so far as they af 

fected op era tions in the KTO. Had there been an other area of op era tions, the bomb ing

in Iraq would have af fected both thea ters equally, while fighter sweeps in the KTO

would have had a near- term im pact only in the KTO. Even in De sert Storm, the dif fer 

en tia tion be tween the op era tional level and the stra te gic level was much more dis tinct

than it may seem. Spe cifi cally, the bomb ing of pro duc tion fa cili ties in Iraq was di rectly

re lated to the strategic- level ob jec tive of re duc ing Iraq's over all of fen sive ca pa bil ity fo

the near- to- intermediate fu ture. Any near- term ef fect on the KTO was co in ci den tal.
Instead, the Allies won the war through slogging, treacherous

hard work.

Good men—some of them brilliant—rose to the occasion

employing concepts and theories they had developed during

the interwar years, as well as some they devised quickly in the

heat of battle or even on the brink of defeat. These concepts

and theories, together with their antitheses, included high

altitude daylight precision bombardment/low-level nighttim

saturation bombardment; decentralized control and

execution/centralized control and decentralized execution

close escort of bomber formations/fighter sweeps in front o

bomber formations; offensive counterair/defensive counterair

and strategic bombardment/interdiction and/or close ai

support.

Sometimes planners abandoned one concept in favor o

another. For instance, FM 100-20's vision of centralized

control and decentralized execution replaced decentralized

control and the division of airpower into penny packets, 

practice that had proved disastrous in Northwest Africa

particularly at Kasserine Pass.* Allied air forces then began to

gain ascendancy over Axis air forces—a process that was

nearly complete by 6 June 1944.

At other times, seemingly opposing concepts proved

synergistic. For example, although counterair operations may

compete for resources with other air missions, all operation

are enhanced by counterair's efforts to control the air

According to the Strategic Bombing Survey, “control of the ai

permitted close air support to ground forces . . . effective

interdiction . . . [and] destruction by long--range bombing o

such of [Japan's] industries and cities as we chose to

16

*Al lied (mostly Ameri can) ground forces suf fered heavy casu al ties and equip men

losses dur ing the Axis at tack at Kas ser ine Pass in mid- February 1942, par tially du

to in ef fec tive air/ground co or di na tion and the penny pack et ing of air power un der th

ini tial or gan iza tional scheme for North west Af ri can Air Forces. The re or gani za tion to

place air un der a sin gle air com mander—coe qual with the ground com mander—wa

al ready un der way but had not yet taken full ef fect. Al lied air forces were still en gaged

in fly ing “de fen sive um brel las” over friendly ground troops at this point, thus dis si pat 

ing their strength in un suc cess ful de fen sive op era tions. Shortly af ter the bat tle at

Kas ser ine ended, this waste ful prac tice was halted, and the Al lies were as cen dant in

the air from that point for ward. Rich ard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War i

Europe (Wash ing ton, D.C.: Cen ter for Air Force His tory, 1993), 178–84.
attack.

10 The effects of dominance in the air were similarly

pervasive in all theaters.*

Occasionally, one concept worked well under one set o

circumstances, while another worked better under othe

circumstances. For example, although high-altitude dayligh

precision bombardment proved effective in Europe, Gen Curti

LeMay found it too costly and ineffective in attacking

Japanese industry, which was much more dispersed and

“softer” than German industry. Instead, he used low-leve

nighttime attacks to negate Japan's air defense systems, as

well as saturation firebombing of Japan's major population

centers to disrupt industrial output.

11

The duration and casualties of World War II could have

been reduced if concepts and technologies had been bette

matched and/or the concepts themselves more fully developed 

and accepted when the war began. But, as is usually the case

concepts and theories—not technologies and tactics (normally

the products of concepts and theories) or brilliant individuals

(normally the products and/or progenitors and/or catalysts o

good concepts and theories)—were principally responsible fo

the Allied victory in World War II.

Likewise, the lack of good concepts and theories helps explain

the black gash in the Washington Mall. We had plenty of good

equipment, tactics, men, and women during the Vietnam War

However, we did not have sound concepts to answer some of the

basic questions: Why are we here? Where are we going? What do

we hope to achieve? What should it look like when we're finished?

If we win an engagement, how will that victory contribute to our

objectives? For that matter, what are our objectives?

Undoubtedly, one of the key problems in Vietnam was ou

failure to articulate clear national objectives or achievabl

military objectives. Body counts were a poor substitute for

17

*In 1946 Gen eral Spaatz summed up the situa tion with some pre scient ob ser va 

tions: “The first and ab so lute re quire ment of stra te gic air power in the war was con tro

of the air in or der to carry out sus tained op era tions with out pro hibi tive losses. . . 

Stra te gic air power could not have won this war alone, with out sur face forces. . . . Ai

power, how ever, was the spark to suc cess. An other war, how ever dis tant in the fu 

ture, would proba bly be de cided by some form of air power bef ore the ma jor sur fac

forces were able to make con tact with the en emy in ma jor bat tles. That is the su preme

mili tary les son of our pe ri od in his tory.” Gen Carl (“Tooey”) Spaatz, “Stra te gic Air

Power; Ful fill ment of a Con cept,” For eign Af fairs, April 1946, 394–96.
sound measures of battlefield success. Though we carefully

measured levels of destruction and duration of effects, we could

not prevail over pajama-clad men and women who held

tenaciously to a single political objective—national self

determination.

Twenty years later, good men and women came to Deser

Shield/Storm with the most impressive collection of sound

tactics and advanced technologies ever seen on any battle

field.* But tactics and technologies do not guarantee success

Although Hussein had little chance of prevailing tactically

against us, his own collection of military capabilities was

impressive, including much modern equipment from the

former Soviet Union, France, and Germany.

12 His troop

employed battle-tested tactics which, though not up to

American standards, had proven grindingly effective agains

Iran's massive military.

13 Indeed, in August 1990 the Iraqi

executed beautifully against Kuwait's tiny force, rolling south

in a multipronged, corps-level attack that effectively decided

the issue in hours.

14 Further, the Iraqi combat engineers

considered among the best in the world, had had five and onehalf months to prepare defensive positions to counter any

coalition assault.

15 Finally, their leader clearly had the will—a

bully's will—to have his way.

Hussein's modern military, tactically proficient in World

War I-style operations, faced a mostly ultramodern force tha

was trained for the latest in high-tempo offensive operations

Considering the array of forces on both sides, Iraq had littl

chance of winning any given battle. But Hussein's apparen

strategy made winning tactical engagements unnecessary. I

his forces could bleed the coalition while grudgingly giving

way in the “Mother of All Battles,” he might still pull off a

strategic victory.** As in Vietnam, tactical- and operational

level military defeats might prove irrelevant to the politica

18

*Al though some peo ple doubted that our ad vanced tech nol ogy would func tion as

well as it did in a des ert en vi ron ment, no one ques tioned whether it was good enough

to win at the tac ti cal level.

**Many com men ta tors ar gue that sim ply by fac ing the “great Sa tan” and ac cept ing

the in evi ta ble tac ti cal- and operational- level de feats, Hussein scored a stra te gic vic 

tory. See, for in stance, Ed ward N. Luttwak, “Ground Nuts: The Army's Fa tal Wa

Strat egy,” New Re pub lic, 25 Feb ru ary 1991, 20–21.
outcome.* Hussein was counting on the possibility (perhaps

even probability) that the coalition, especially the United

States, would not have the stomach to finish the job.

Thus, the most disturbing variable for the US and it

military forces was the cost of victory. According to the best

statistical simulation models, slugging it out with Hussein'

army would produce 17,000 to 30,000 US casualties.

16 N

one wanted that; in fact, the American public probably

wouldn't have tolerated it. There had to be a better way. To

achieve coalition objectives, we had to defeat Hussein

conceptually as well as tactically by finding ways to pit ou

strengths against his weaknesses. Many observers, including

Hussein himself (see chap. 3), thought the coalition's

advantage lay in airpower. But what was the most effective

way to use it? Opinions varied on that issue.

Despite the fact that the Desert Storm air campaign plan

as finally developed, struck some airmen as appropriate to

the task (Gen Merrill A. McPeak, the Air Force chief of staff

called it “a no-brainer, straightforward”

17), it generated

extensive controversy, even among airmen. For example

they questioned the role of the Air Staff in developing the

plan, the appropriateness of the strategic attack phase, and

the balance between deep attack and surface support (se

chaps. 2 and 3).

Outside the community of airmen, the controversy inten-

sified, raising questions about the command (control/

coordination) of resources and the rightful commander of th

air campaign. Certainly, the air plan would have been

significantly different if Warden had not acted as he did, i

Schwarzkopf had not asked for Air Staff assistance, and i

Schwarzkopf had not so adamantly (and correctly) designated

Horner his single commander for air.

18 Building the ai

campaign around the surface scheme of maneuver, as

suggested by FM 100-5,

19 or placing Maj Gen Royal Moore

the Marine Corps air wing commander during Deser

Shield/Storm (who wanted the “first bomb [to] drop after the

19

*This think ing is closely re lated to the Clause witz ian con cept of po liti cal pri macy

cited by the early ad vo cates of In stant Thun der. As pointed out pre vi ously, they rea 

soned that di rect pres sure would cause lead er ship to ac qui esce and thus ne gate th

im pact of the dis po si tion of forces on the bat tle field.
first marine crosses the line

20), in charge of CENTCOM ai

operations, might have fulfilled those predictions of thousands 

of coalition casualties. Instead, the 38 days of air operation

that preceded the surface assault denied Saddam Hussein the

opportunity to inflict such damage.

Hussein's concepts, doctrines, and philosophies proved no

match for ours. After his tactical victory in Kuwait in Augus

1990, he elected to dig in and wait for the world either to

accept his gains or launch the inevitable counteroffensive. Hi

military doctrine (whether articulated as such or not) called for

securing small advances and then regrouping. In eight years

of warfare with the Iranians, he had learned to bleed an

attacker on cleverly designed defensive positions, to seize

small parcels of territory with brigade-sized (or multiple

brigade-sized) attacks, and to dig in again.

21

Hussein's doctrine called for saving his air force for long

range strikes against high-value targets and for direc

support of the surface battle. This policy had served him

well against an adversary who embraced a similar doctrine

and who engaged with him in World War I-style trench

warfare. Accordingly, Hussein used airpower for strategi

strikes (against oil platforms, cities, etc.), strategic ai

defense (against the enemy's strategic strikes), and tactica

support (CAS and interdiction)

2 2—but alway

incrementally.

23 When not in use, his strategic reserve ai

forces were housed in “nuclear-hardened” shelters.

24 In

conjunction with his high-technology integrated air defense

system (IADS), these shelters protected his vital resources

admirably from an enemy whose air strategy resembled his

own. But they proved useless against an adversary who

followed an aggressively offensive doctrine and who

possessed resources to execute a massive, precision ai

assault supported from space.

Hussein's predictions about the outcome of the war varied

in their accuracy. For example, he was right in saying that

America relies heavily on airpower to achieve many politica

and military objectives. But his argument that airpower has

never been the decisive factor in warfare was only partially

correct insofar as it has rarely been as decisive as it was

against him.* Finally, his assumption that America's relianc

20
on airpower would lead to military and political defeat in

Southwest Asia was dead wrong. As General Russ had

concluded, Hussein's misunderstanding of the capabilities o

our air forces was a critical mistake.**

After the first night of the air campaign against Iraq

Hussein had lost his chance to bleed American and coalition

forces. His IADS was defeated and cowed, and his air forc

was virtually grounded. Unbeknownst to him, the crushing

left pincer of our ground assault (if it were needed!) had

already begun rolling west. Even if he had known about this

maneuver, he had no way of countering it withou

succumbing to more highways of death. Both his persona

power and his country's power were under serious assault, yet

the only defense was to hunker down and hope. Indeed

Hussein's only remaining hope was that the coalition stil

might choose to mount an early ground assault on his

prepared defenses while his forces remained relatively fresh

and well supplied.

Such might have been the case if airmen had not resisted

AirLand Battle's subordination of airpower as part of a system

of tightly synchronized supporting fires.

25 Instead, most ai

operations were governed by the broader vision of aerospac

doctrine, which allowed not only for independent air opera

tions when they were appropriate, but also for CAS and othe

closely synchronized operations when they were called for.

2

Although the compromise that allowed these broade

applications was tenuously formed (see chap. 3), it clearly

reflected tenets of air doctrine that have survived since the

days of FM 100-20 (see chaps. 3 and 10). Conceptually, the

initial air assault was designed to leave Saddam Hussein, th

21

*On 30 August 1991, Sad dam Hussein said, “The United States re lies on the A

Force and the Air Force has never been the de ci sive fac tor in the his tory of wars.” Dan

Rather, “Ex cerpts from In ter view with Hussein on Cri sis in Gulf,” New York Times, 3

August 1990, A-10. As al ready pointed out, the US Stra te gic Bomb ing Sur vey con 

cluded that air forces can be de ci sive (in deed, had been de ci sive in World War II).

**“We have a tre men dous ca pa bil ity in air power, and Sad dam Hussein [needed] t

really pay at ten tion to us. I did n't think he really knew how good we really were.” Ge

Rob ert D. Russ, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge 

hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 9 De cem ber 1991, 14, De sert Story

Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
nation of Iraq, and the Iraqi fielded forces blind, deaf, and mute

thus allowing all other coalition operations to proceed with

minimal interference. It seems to have worked.

The entire ground campaign depended upon VII and XVII

Corps' execution of Schwarzkopf's left-hook maneuver, which

in turn depended upon the complete air superiority provided

by 38 days of intense aerial attack.

27 The westward

redeployment of coalition surface forces began on the same

day as the air campaign and was still in progress as the

ground campaign kicked off. Had the air campaign coincided

with the beginning of the ground campaign (as Marine Corp

general Moore insisted), the left-hook maneuver would hav

been forced to start 30 days or more before the air campaign

obviously without the benefit of air cover. In that time, Iraq

might have succeeded in discovering and countering the move

The alternative would have been to execute an entirely

different ground campaign beginning from the two corps

original positions far to the east. In either case, the Iraqi

could have drastically improved their awareness of the

situation by easily updating their information on the coalition

order of battle. Consequently, any engagement with such a

carefully prepared enemy probably would have been costly

Instead, coalition airpower denied such information to the

Iraqis, making it possible to convince them to defend against a 

bogus deployment of coalition forces while the actua

deployment proceeded to flank, envelop, and engage them

before they knew what was happening.28

Additionally, the 38 days of strategic air warfare adversely

affected the Iraqi home front by seriously depleting supplie

of petroleum products, virtually shutting down the gener-

ation of electricity, and giving Hussein himself—who wa

hiding in different bunkers throughout the country—reason

to believe that he was only one bomb away from oblivion

Battlefield preparation by coalition aircraft exacted a simila

toll at the front by seriously degrading Baghdad's ability to

communicate with field commanders, disrupting supply

lines, and cutting off information about the order of battle

Unsurprisingly, when the battle began, many Iraqi troop

appeared eager to surrender. Obviously, the concepts

22
doctrines, and philosophies that underlay the air campaign

plan bore substantial fruit.

We have much to learn from Operations Desert Shield/

Storm. For example, we now know that—under the righ

circumstances—we can penetrate and destroy nuclear

hardened shelters with conventional weapons. Hopefully

people in our defense laboratories, maintenance depots, and

operational squadrons are learning and exploiting thousands

of such lessons from the war. We can also be sure that the

brilliance, decisiveness, and dedication of the people who

planned and executed the Shield and Storm will serve to

motivate generations of American military leaders.

Perhaps most importantly, an examination of the concepts

doctrines, and philosophies employed in the Gulf War in

conjunction with the lessons of the past and the tactics and

technologies of the future could shape the face of warfare for

the next 100 years or more. The resolve that we bring to that

task might very well determine how many names, how many

gleaming crosses, how many marble walls, and how many

bronze statues will cover the landscapes on these and distant

shores.

Certainly, concepts do matter.

Notes

1. Air War Plans Division—Plan 1, Munitions Requirements of the Army

Air Forces, 12 August 1941, 1, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

2. Air War Plans Division—Plan 4, Air Estimate of the Situation and

Recommendations for the Conduct of the War, 15 December 1941, 4, 6–7

9–10, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

3. Robert T. Finney, History of the Air Corps Tactical School, 1920–1940

(Washington, D.C.: Center for Air Force History, 1992), 103–4, 106, 119, 121

124.

4. Ibid., 62–68; and James C. Gaston, Planning the American Air War

Four Men and Nine Days in 1941 (Washington, D.C.: National Defens

University Press, 1982), 72–74.

5. Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: Basic Thinking in th

United States Air Force, vol. 1, 1907–1960 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University 

Press, December 1989), 38–39, 51, 62–65.

6. Gaston, 74–75.

7. Thomas H. Greer, The Development of Air Doctrine in the Army Air Arm

1917–1941 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1955), 55–56

58–59.

23
8. Kit C. Carter and Robert Mueller, The Army Air Forces in World War II

Combat Chronology, 1941–1945 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Forc

History, 1973), 176.

9. Finney, 101, 103, 117, 125, 133.

10. The United States Strategic Bombing Surveys (European War) (Pacifi

War) (30 September 1945, 1 July 1946; reprint, Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Ai

University Press, October 1987), 109.

11. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in

World War II, vol. 5, The Pacific: Matterhorn to Nagasaki, June 1944 to Augus

1945 (1953; new imprint, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983)

609–27.

12. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress , vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 9.

13. Ibid., 10–11.

14. Ibid., 1–3.

15. Stephen C. Pelletiere and Douglas V. Johnson II, Lessons Learned

The Iran--Iraq War (Carlisle Barracks, Pa.: Strategic Studies Institute, 1991)

55–56; and Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 1, 93.

16. Diane T. Putney, “From Instant Thunder to Desert Storm: Developing

the Gulf War Air Campaign's Phases,” Air Power History, Fall 1994, 45.

17. Gen Merrill A. McPeak, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 5

November 1992, 2, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

18. See chaps. 2–4 of this volume; Col Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of th

Storm: The Genesis of the Air Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Ai

University Press, 1995); and Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of th

Persian Gulf War (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1993), 216–28. With significan

justification, Atkinson identifies the American military services' most implacable

foes as “each other.”

19. FM 100-5, Operations, May 1986, 30.

20. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds and author, 10 December 1991, 31, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

21. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 10–11; and Pelletiere and

Johnson, x.

22. Maj Ronald E. Bergquist, The Role of Airpower in the Iran--Iraq Wa

(Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, December 1988), 46–47, 51–53, 59–62

74–75.

23. “Observers never saw more than six aircraft in a single attack." Ibid.

47.

24. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 1, 168–69.

25. FM 100--5, 28–32.

26. Air Force Manual (AFM) 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United

States Air Force, 5 January 1984, 2-11 through 2-15, 3-2 through 3-8.

27. In the words of retired Army colonel and military analyst James F

Dunnigan, “This solution would not have been possible if the Allies had no

had complete control of the air.” James F. Dunnigan and Austin Bay, From

24
Shield to Storm: High--Tech Weapons, Military Strategy, and Coalition

Warfare in the Persian Gulf (New York: William Morrow and Co., 1992), 290.

28. “[The Iraqis] never anticipated an attack from the south. . . . [They

never knew what hit them,” according to retired Army major James

Blackwell, who worked as a military affairs analyst for Cable News Network

during the Gulf War. This statement was probably true of the vast majority

of Iraqi units. James Blackwell, Thunder in the Desert: The Strategy and

Tactics of the Persian Gulf War (New York: Bantam Books, 1991), 195.

25
Chap ter 2

Instant Thunder: Why an Air Staff Plan?

“[I told my planners,] `This is what we are going to call the

plan: it's going to be Instant Thunder'.”

“In your mind, what did that mean?”

“That meant it was not Vietnam. That meant we were going

to do it right this time.”

“It was not Rolling Thunder?”

“It was not Rolling Thunder. . . . [I said,] `This is not your

Rolling Thunder. This is real war, and one of the things we

want to emphasize right from the beginning is that this is

not Vietnam. This is doing it right. This is using airpower'.”

—Interview with Col John A. Warden III, USAF

On 6 August 1990 when Colonel Warden returned to the

Pentagon from his vacation, he instructed his staff to begin

planning an offensive strategic air campaign1 (the early

version was titled simply “ Iraqi Air Campaign”) because h

believed that no such thing existed in the collection o

operations plans (OPLAN) and concept plans (CONPLAN) a

CENTCOM, and that neither the deliberate planning proces

nor the crisis-action planning process was likely to produce

one.

2 A hard look at those CENTCOM plans tends to suppor

his view.

Over a period of more than 40 years, the United States had

settled into a defensive mind-set, the result of being a “peace

loving, democratic nation.” Virtually no one in the Air Force (o

the US military, for that matter) was writing theate

conventional war plans to take the offensive and carry the

fight to the enemy's homeland. On the contrary, most plans

assumed a “worst-case” scenario in which the US would

deploy forces into full-blown regional conflicts. Initially, those

forces would always be outnumbered and falling back.

The notable exception was, of course, the single integrated

operational plan (SIOP) for strategic nuclear options, a plan

designed and maintained by staffs such as the Joint Strategi

27
Target Planning Staff. Although the SIOP was certainly

offensive and directed at the enemy's homeland, it was strictly

nuclear and intended for use only in a global war. In exercises

its execution sometimes followed upon the failure of theate

OPLANs to stop an enemy's conventional assault (escalation

or the overly successful prosecution of a theater contingency

response (counterescalation). But the SIOP never truly

integrated with theater conventional warfare. Rather, i

followed sequentially—and it was always strictly nuclear. Fo

theater contingencies—in which US forces expected to be

outnumbered and falling back—the best our troops would be

able to do at the outset was “ defend, delay, and attrit.”

The briefing that General Horner gave in April 1990 to

General Schwarzkopf on OPLAN 1002* air operations durin

CENTCOM's Internal Look exercise was just such a defensive

worst-case scenario.3 It laid out the campaign strategy in

three phases: (1) deter; (2) defend, delay, and attrit; and (3

begin counteroffensive. Even in phase 3, the emphasis was on

defeating the ground forces of Country Red (a thinly veiled

code for Iraq, considered at the time a potential ally—or a

least a useful counterbalancing power—in the Middle East)

For instance, General Horner's handwritten comment at the

bottom of the briefing slide titled “Mission Flow” is telling

“Build a hose and point it where the ground commander see

that it's needed” (emphasis added). The briefing makes no

mention of strategic attack** or targeting of leadership

industrial infrastructure, or centralized C2 functions. Instead

every reference is to CAS or interdiction targeting.

4

Warden and others in the Pentagon felt that this psychology

of worst-case tactical planning was further exacerbated by

internal fragmentation of the US Air Force according to job

specialty. That is, the loyalty of many airmen to their

particular specialty precluded them from taking a broad view

of airpower.* In the case of the “tactical” specialists, many

28

*OPLAN 1002 was the ma jor re gional con tin gency plan for the de fense of the Ara 

bian Pen in sula.

**Con sid er ing this fact and the tre men dous pres sure on CENT COM and CEN TA

com mand ers and plan ners dur ing early August 1990, it is highly un likely that an o

fen sive stra te gic air cam paign would have sud denly ma te ri al ized at ei ther of these

head quar ters.
(perhaps most) had been 

captured by the Armys AirLand

Battle doctrine, as is evident in General Horner's remark

about “build[ing] a hose.” Not only is the main air effort

directed at interdiction and CAS, but it is also directed where

“the ground commander sees that it's needed.”

5

According to the then-current version of FM 100-5

Operations, airpower is an integrated but subordinat

element of the AirLand team. Throughout the document, ai

operations are depicted as fire support for ground

maneuver. Although planners must coordinate “air and

naval support of ground maneuver” (emphasis added),

ground maneuver never supports air operations. “In a large

scale nuclear conflict, fire support could become the

principal means of destroying enemy forces. The scheme o

maneuver (ground) would then be designed specifically to

exploit the effects of the fire support” (emphasis added).

Even though airpower is the principal means of destruction

in this scenario, it is still characterized as “fire support,”

8 a

view that does not exactly preclude the use of airpower in

independent, decisive ways (strategic attack, for instance

but certainly does not encourage it.

A debate has raged for many years over the degree to which

the Air Force has committed itself to AirLand Battle and ove

that doctrine's depiction of the supporting role of airpower. I

indeed the TAC community largely agreed with the Army view

then in the minds of Warden's group and his senio

supporters, TAC and TAC-trained people would fight any effor

to inject an offensive strategic air campaign plan into the

system. They would prefer to wait to see the Army scheme o

maneuver and then plan to support it. A considerable body o

evidence indicates that such was the case.* In any event, i

theater planners understood tactical employment of airpowe

29

*Much evi dence sup ports this view of spe ciali za tion, in clud ing the ra tion ale for the

re or gani za tion of Stra te gic Air Com mand (SAC) and TAC into Air Com bat Com man

(ACC). See, for in stance, James W. Ca nan, “The End of the Stove pipe,” Air Forc

Maga zine, June 1992, 32; Carl Builder, The Icarus Syn drome: The Role of Air Powe

The ory in the Evo lu tion of the U.S. Air Force (New Bruns wick, N.J.: Trans ac tion Pub

lish ers, 1994), xvi–xviii; and Dr Don ald B. Rice, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script o

in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 11

De cem ber 1991, 32, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency

Max well AFB, Ala.
only in terms of AirLand Battle doctrine, they would not likely

develop a strategic air campaign without outside impetus.

As for Air Force strategic planners (who, at the time

belonged to SAC), they dealt only with the nuclear SIOP

Although they could have put together a strategic ai

campaign against Iraq (in fact, they provided considerable

assistance in the early days

9), they did not have the expertise

in “tactical” systems or conventional munitions delivery and

effectiveness to plan the campaign for execution with

conventional systems.

10

All of these factors convinced Warden that if his little group

didn't build a conventional strategic air campaign plan agains

Iraq, no one would. He had no idea how he would insert such

a plan into the system, but he felt he had to try.

11 Further, th

problem of getting the Air Staff plan recognized and accepted

was exacerbated by the Goldwater-Nichols Department o

Defense Reorganization Act of 1986.

With regard to war fighting, Goldwater-Nichols sought to

“seal off” the theater of operations, thereby giving the theate

CINC total authority. The services and commands are

supposed to provide assistance on request, but they have no

authority to “meddle” in the CINC's affairs. In anticipation o

combat—according to Goldwater-Nichols—the CINC would

become a self-sufficient “warlord.” In reality, this situation is

quite impossible because the CINC has no means o

generating intertheater lift, logistics, space systems utilization

communications, and so forth. Therefore, under very stric

rules, this kind of “meddling” is allowed, as “requested” by the

CINC.

Campaign planning probably also falls into the category o

things one can't do in isolation—theater commanders will al

ways require some outside help. The generic CONPLANs o

30

*Evi dently, Gen eral Hor ner ini tially planned to sup port an Army scheme of ma neu

ver. Lt Gen Char les A. Hor ner, Shaw AFB, S.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Co

Su zanne B. Ge hri and Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, 2 De cem ber 1991, 13, US Air Force

His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala. Gen eral Russ, com mander of TAC a

the time of De sert Shield/Storm, has long be lieved that the Air Force's sole job is t

sup port the Army: “The fact that you don't ever have to use [ground forces] does n

make any dif fer ence. It is sup port.” Gen Rob ert D. Russ, Al ex an dria, Va., tran script o

in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 9 De 

cem ber 1991, 80, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala. 
OPLANs built by theater planning staffs often take months o

years to develop fully. Materials are collected through various

sources, supporting plans are built by the supporting

commands, and annexes are let out for development by

supporting staffs.

At the time Hussein invaded, the basic version of OPLAN

1002-90 had been constructed but was still generic. The

supporting annexes and the all-important time-phased forc

and deployment data (TPFDD) were being developed in the

field. Moreover, a generic force structure had been built for the

1002 contingency but had not been “sourced” (the process o

identifying specific units and equipment to fill the force

structure requirements).12 As long as a contingency is

notional and remains in the (perhaps) distant future, the fact

that the plan is in such a nebulous state is no problem. When

31

Powell, Cheney, and Schwarzkopf. The Goldwater-Nichols Act of 198

strengthened the roles of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staf

(CJCS) and theater commanders in chief (CINC). Seated with Secretar

of Defense Dick Cheney are Gen Colin Powell, CJCS (left), and Gen H

Norman Schwarzkopf, CINC of US Central Command (right), durin

Desert Shield/Storm.
Hussein invaded, however, all the what-ifs suddenly became

very immediate realities, and the campaign plan had to take

shape quickly.

Under such circumstances, it is helpful to know tha

Washington has exclusive, direct, “eyeball-to-eyeball” access

to people and organizations possessing precisely the kind o

information that planners need to quickly build a specific

campaign plan. Sources include myriad national and sup

porting intelligence agencies, as well as other importan

sources of information about foreign nations. The fact tha

Warden's group contacted and developed working relation

ships with many of these sources (e.g., Defense Intelligenc

Agency [DIA], Central Intelligence Agency [CIA], Nationa

Intelligence Council [NIC], etc.) 13 helped make vita

information available to the theater (through the Air Staff

literally days before it arrived through normal channels.

1

Without this kind of access, the process likely would have

taken months to years, as is the case with OPLAN building

Despite the obvious utility of the Air Staff (or at least someone

in the Pentagon) in this process,* Goldwater-Nichols none

theless discourages such involvement.

Like so many other things that happen in war, however

Instant Thunder benefited from a seemingly incredible stroke

of luck. General Schwarzkopf's phone call to Gen John M

(“Mike”) Loh on 8 August 1990 to request a strategic bombin

campaign15 and his effusive acceptance of the plan at the

briefings on 10 and 17 August gave the plan a glow o

jointness (one of the key intended outcomes of Goldwater

Nichols), as well as the imprimatur of the CENTCOM warlord

Without General Schwarzkopf's phone call, the plan probably

never would have left the Pentagon. Even with the CINC'

seemingly bulletproof seal of approval, the battle to gain

acceptance of Instant Thunder was long and arduous.

16

Setting aside personality conflicts (which certainly played a

part), the controversy surrounding Instant Thunder seems to

32

 *For ex am ple, Maj Gen Mi chael E. Ryan, TAC's di rec tor of op era tions, was ini tially

dis tressed by the “in ter ven tion” of the Air Staff but has since changed his mind for th

rea sons cited. Maj Gen Mi chael E. Ryan, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view

with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri and Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, 4 Sep tem ber 1992

17–18, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
stem from disagreements over the extent to which destruction

of the opposing army is central to victory.

Nearly all students of warfare agree that war is waged for

political reasons: one nation (or segment thereof) wants

something from another.

17 Warfare may be used as a first

last, or intermediate resort to achieve the desired end

depending upon several factors (not the least of which is the

general bellicosity of the nation in question). But once war is

decided upon, the practitioners of war generally turn to one o

two schools of thought on the primary objective.

One school maintains that the objective of warfare is defea

of the opposing army and that all the resources of war must

33

Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf. Even with General

Schwarzkopf's effusive approval, the Instant Thunder

strategic air campaign plan seemed to hang by a thread

during mid- and late August 1990.
be directed toward that end.* Understandably, Army peopl

tend to think and write this way. For example, according to

FM 100-5,** “all ground actions above the level of the smalles

engagements will be strongly affected by the supporting ai

operations of one or both combatants”

18 (emphasis added)

Proponents of this viewpoint frequently cite the Prussian

military theorist Carl von Clausewitz: “To sum up: of all the

possible aims in war, the destruction of the enemy's armed

forces always appears as the highest.”

19 If this line of reason

ing prevails, then it makes sense that all airpower application

should be measured against their contribution to destruction

of the enemy army (and, in turn, support of the friendly army). 

Thus, “a main effort is always clearly designated and ground

plans are thoroughly coordinated with plans for air support”

2

(emphasis added). In other words, air campaign plans should

be built around ground schemes of maneuver.

The other school takes its cue from Clausewitz's principle o

political primacy in war: nations do things because nationa

leaders (or their constituents) decide to do them.

21 Although

one may use sheer force to compel the enemy to comply (e.g.

the complete destruction of Germany's resistance at the end o

World War II), more often than not, a political decision

produces the result (e.g., the Japanese surrender in 1945).

In this scheme of things, the best means of achieving the

desired end is to apply calculated pressure at key points (i.e.,

centers of gravity22—another Clausewitzian term). This

stratagem will convince the enemy leadership that resisting is

futile or that the cost of resisting is higher than that of

acquiescing. Clear examples of the latter are difficult to

produce, but Muammar Qadhafi's response to the limited

34

*To a small ex tent, this view also ap plies to de struc tion of the other ele ments o

mili tary power (i.e., navy, air force, etc.) but only in so far as their ef forts af fect the

army (spe cifi cally, ground forces). This view is es sen tially the one that Gen Doug la

Mac Ar thur was cham pi on ing when he said, “There can be no sub sti tute for vic tory.

Gen of the Army Doug las MacAr thur, Remi nis cences (New York: McGraw- Hill Boo

Co., 1964), 404.

**Through out FM 100-5, air power is im por tant to Air Land Bat tle but al ways in 

sup port ing role. The sin gle ex cep tion is ther mo nu clear war, in which air power is th

pri mary means of de struc tion. None the less—as pointed out ear lier—the man ual stil

re fers to it as fire sup port.
strikes against Libya in 1986 provides one case in point. Thus

national leadership becomes the principal target in war, while

military forces merely protect the true centers of gravity

within. If this line of reasoning prevails, then one may be able

to design an air campaign that will be completely independen

of all ground operations and that, by itself, will convince the

enemy leadership to acquiesce. In part, Instant Thunder wa

designed to accomplish this goal—if indeed it were possible.

Using new military technologies that promised to make the

predictions of Douhet, Mitchell, and the AWPD-1 war planner

come true, Warden's staff expected to demonstrate th

decisiveness of modern airpower and fulfill America's politica

objectives, while essentially ignoring the Iraqi army in Kuwait

The combination of technology, doctrine, and strategy pro

posed in Instant Thunder would impose “strategic paralysis”

on Iraq and either convince Saddam Hussein to capitulate o

bring about his removal by the people of Iraq (perhaps even by

his undamaged conscript army after it withdrew from

Kuwait).

23

Warden's planners based their concept of operations on a

unique five-ring model of the modern nation-state, a mode

which they had developed over time. It consisted of five

concentric circles, each circle representing a critical element

of the nation-state (see fig. 1). The center circle or

ring—surrounded, supported, and protected by th

others—represented the national leadership, the most critica

element in terms of the political outcome of warfare. The

second ring was key production (since the war, this ring has

been redesignated organic essentials), including factories and

plants that produce the electricity, petroleum products, and

war materials essential to national power. The nationa

infrastructure—the roads, railroads, and power grids—made

up the third ring, while the fourth ring was the nationa

population. The last and outermost of the five rings was the

35

*War den and his group did not use stra te gic pa raly sis at the time they were build

ing In stant Thun der, but the term has since been ap plied to de note the ef fect they

were hop ing to achieve. They in tended to dis con nect the Iraqi lead er ship (Hussein an

the Baath party) from the Iraqi peo ple, as well as from the fielded mili tary forces, an

cause a sys temic break down of stra te gi cally criti cal func tions (e.g., com mu ni ca tions

elec tric ity, pe tro leum dis tri bu tion, etc.).
nation’s fielded military forces, an element the Instan

Thunder planners thought they could largely bypass. Instead

of attacking these forces, they would use new technologie

(stealth, PGMs, precision navigation, night vision devices, etc.

to directly attack the national leadership in the first ring.

2

They referred to this scheme as “ inside-out warfare.”

25

The planners hoped that use of this five-ring model would

help the US military to fulfill certain national politica

36

Figure 1. Five-ring Model of the Modern Nation-State

COURTESY OF COL JOHN A. WARDEN 
objectives which the planners themselves derived from some

recent speeches of President Bush:

1. Immediate, unconditional and complete withdrawal of all Iraqi

forces from Kuwait.

2. Kuwait's legitimate government must be restored to replace the

puppet regime.

3. Committed to the security and stability of the Persian Gulf.

4. Protect the lives of American citizens abroad. 26

Specifically, Instant Thunder would realize these objective

through a violent but controlled strategic air campaign

directed at the nerve centers of Iraqi national power. Coalition

forces would attack critical elements (e.g., communications

electricity, distribution of petroleum products, etc.) to

convince the Iraqi leadership and/or citizenry that holding

Kuwait was more expensive than releasing it. At the same

time, they would destroy the elements of key production and

national infrastructure (e.g., facilities for nuclear, biological

and chemical [NBC] weapons research and production) tha

supported Iraq's attempt to produce weapons of mas

destruction. The coalition would thereby reduce Iraq's

offensive capability without seriously impeding its ability to

defend against other regional powers after the war. Further

coalition forces would mount psychological operation

(PSYOPS—e.g., leaflet drops, attacks against monuments tha

were part of Hussein's “personality cult,” etc.) to convince the

Iraqi people to remove Saddam Hussein. Perhaps mos

importantly, casualties on both sides (especially among Iraq

civilians) would be kept to a minimum because the plan called

for extensive use of the remarkable precision of modern

airpower.

27

After clarifying the presidential objectives mentioned above

Warden's planners began to identify categories of target

critical to Iraq's centers of gravity.

28 Over the next few days

they identified eight categories of systems whose destruction

they thought would strategically paralyze Iraq: (1) strategic ai

defenses, (2) strategic offensive capability, (3) leadership (th

Hussein regime), (4) civil and military telecommunications

(5) electricity, (6) internal consumption of oil, (7) railroads, and

37
38

F-117. Instant Thunder relied heavily upon modern precision weapon

systems—such as this F-117, which is undergoing aerial refueling—

to reduce casualties on both sides.
(8) NBC research.

29 They had added two more sets ( ports and

military support) by the time Instant Thunder became phase 

of CENTAF's offensive campaign.

30 Further additions and

recombinations would ultimately produce 12 target sets in the 

Desert Storm air campaign plan.* Eventually, Warden's staf

would select specific targets for each of these systems—o

target sets—but for the time being, these generic categories

would suffice.

Perhaps the most critical of these target sets was the Iraq

strategic air defense system, whose neutralization would

render Iraq defenseless against air attack (and to a certain

extent, surface attack as well) and would facilitate all other

coalition operations. Specific targets in this set included early

warning and ground-controlled intercept radar sites; ai

defense C3 facilities; surface-to-air missiles (SAM) and thei

launchers; and air defense interceptors and their operating

airfields.

31 The planners expected to use F-117, F-111, F-15E

F-4G, F-16, and Tornado aircraft against this target set.**

Attacks on two key target sets were designed to reduce

Iraq's short- and long-term offensive capability within the

region. The former included fielded chemical weapons and the

aircraft and surface-to-surface missiles that delivered them

while the latter included Iraq's NBC research and production

facilities. To avoid the inadvertent spreading of NBC agents, F

117s and F-15Es would attack the targets with PGMs.

32

39

*The fi nal 12 sets in cluded (1) lead er ship com mand fa cili ties; (2) elec tric ity pro duc

tion fa cili ties; (3) tele com mu ni ca tions and com mand, con trol, and com mu ni ca tion

(C

3

) nodes; (4) stra te gic IADS; (5) air forces and air fields; (6) NBC re search, pro duc

tion, and stor age fa cili ties; (7) Scud mis siles, launch ers, and pro duc tion and stor ag

fa cili ties; (8) na val and port fa cili ties; (9) oil re fin ing and dis tri bu tion; (10) rail road

and bridges; (11) army units, in clud ing Re pub li can Guards; and (12) mili tary stor ag

and pro duc tion sites. Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War: Fi nal Re port to Con gress , vol. 

(Wash ing ton, D.C.: De part ment of De fense, April 1992), 126–30.

**Ini tially, War den's group planned only for Air Force as sets, not know ing wha

else would be avail able: “We were told to build an air op tion, and we did it from an Air

Force per spec tive be cause of the ex per tise that we had and what our task ing was.” A

the brief ing of 10 August, Schwarz kopf di rected them to “en sure that we planned fo

Army spe cial forces, Army heli cop ter, na val plan ning forces, Ma rine plan ning forces

etc.” Stan fill, 3 June 1991, 45–46 (see note 28). The term plan ning forces re fers t

forces made avail able to CENT COM for a con tin gency re sponse un der the joint stra te

gic ca pa bili ties plan (JSCP).
Strikes against three of the target sets—telecommunications

oil, and railroads—were intended to disconnect the nationa

leadership from both the people of Iraq and the Iraqi army in

Kuwait. Attacks on telecommunications facilities (both civi

and military) and military C3 systems were expected to “freeze

Iraqi ability to act” and to cause the “population to question

Hussein's actions.” Specifically, F-16s, F-117s, and variou

airborne electronic warfare (EW) systems of the USAF would

go against television and radio stations, satellite ground

stations, telephone systems, and military C3 sites.

33

Because of a US commitment “to the security and stability

of the Persian Gulf,” the Instant Thunder planners did no

wish to cripple Iraq's ability to maintain a balance of power in

the region after the war. Thus, instead of destroying the

country's means of producing and exporting crude oil

40

Target Sets. For ease of handling, planners categorized targets in set

that corresponded to military objectives.

COURTESY OF COL DAVE DEPTUL
coalition airpower would target only internal pumping and

storage facilities. This action would affect domestic

distribution and usage but would allow a rehabilitated Iraq

to reestablish exports after it complied with coalition (i.e.

UN) demands.34 The planners hoped that attacks by B-52s

F-16s, and Tornados on petroleum, oil, and lubricants (POL

targets would both demoralize the Iraqi population by

incapacitating commerce and cut off POL to the Iraqi force

in Kuwait.35

Planners targeted railroads in order to interdict the flow o

forces and materiel to the Iraqi army in Kuwait. Toward tha

end, B-52s, F-16s, and F-15Es would hit key railroad bridges

marshaling yards, and junctions.

36

They also quickly designated electricity as a “highly

leveraged target set” because damage to it would likely affec

other target sets. Warden's group believed that attacks on five

key power transfer stations would disrupt electrical service to

almost all of Baghdad and much of the rest of the country

Furthermore, applying the same rationale as they did with the 

oil target set, the planners reasoned that attacking the

transfer stations (transformer yards) would have the same

effect as striking the generator halls (i.e., disruption of the

electrical power grid) but would be much easier to repair after

Iraq complied with UN demands. This approach, combined

with a strategic PSYOPS campaign, would signal the Iraq

people, “Hey, we're ready to help as soon as you help us.” 3

Because of its importance, electricity became an early targe

set for the superprecise and stealthy F-117s.

38

Planners considered the eighth target set—the Hussein

regime itself—the “pivotal center of gravity.” Attacks agains

the palace and other locations where Hussein might be found

were intended to help make the regime's position untenable

and reinforce other messages to the Iraqis that our disput

was with Saddam Hussein and the Baath party, not the Iraq

people. If Hussein died in one of these attacks, so much the

better—but for political reasons, he was not an officia

target.

39 Because of the sensitive nature of this target set

Instant Thunder planners recommended attacking it only with 

F-117s or special operations forces.

40

41
Of course, driving a wedge between Hussein and his people

as well as his military forces, was the coalition's ultimat

objective. Indeed, Colonel Warden and many of the people

working with him thought that once they achieved thei

military objectives (i.e., incapacitation of the key strategic

target sets), the Iraqi forces in Kuwait would realize the futility

of their situation and return home. Surely, either Iraq

civilians or, more likely, the conscript forces—stranded in

Kuwait by the now thoroughly discredited regime—would

overthrow Hussein.

41 Although many people—even some o

the planners—found this expectation a bit extreme,

42 work

continued, and by 10 August the concept was ready* for

General Schwarzkopf.

Although Schwarzkopf received the Instant Thunde

concept briefing** with enthusiasm43 and approved it fo

further development,

44 he was not sure that it alone would

achieve the president's objectives. Rather, he saw the plan

either as a possible retaliatory measure in the event Hussein

did something heinous or as phase 1 of a much large

offensive campaign designed to throw the Iraqis out o

Kuwait.

45 The Air Staff planners did not really care why he

liked Instant Thunder; for them, it was enough that he did.

The next step in fleshing out the plan was selecting

specific targets within each target set and determining

bomber run-in headings, aiming points, types of ordnance

and so forth. However, because Warden's people wer

primarily operations/staff officers, they did not have access

to the type of intelligence they needed to select, study, and

plan discrete targets.

42

*Gen eral Schwarz kopf's auto bi og ra phy con fuses the dates of the brief ings. He

men tions a sin gle brief ing on 16 August, but tes ti mony of sev eral Air Staff and CENT 

COM par tici pants shows that he re ceived the In stant Thun der brief ing twice. On 10

August an Air Staff team headed by War den's boss, Maj Gen Rob ert M. (“Minter”) Al 

ex an der, briefed him on the ba sic con cept, and on 17 August a “joint staff” team

headed by Maj Gen James W. Meier pre sented a more com plete brief ing, in clud ing a

list of some 84 planned tar gets. In both cases, Colo nel War den was the brief ing of fi 

cer. Schwarz kopf with Petre, 319–20 (see note 15).

**Some of the spe cif ics of the plan had changed by the time of the 10 August brie

ing—for in stance, spe cial op era tions forces were no longer tar geted agains

lead er ship—but the ba sic con cepts were still the same. In stant Thun der brief ing (see

note 26).
Consequently, they requested help from Maj Gen Jame

Clapper, Air Force chief of intelligence, who reportedly told

them that CENTCOM already had a “strategic plan” and tha

they were “interfering and trying to tell CENTAF how to

prosecute this war.”46 However, General Loh quickly inter

vened, and Col James Blackburn, Air Force chief of targeting

and 13 of his targeteers were soon working side by side with

the other planners in the Checkmate office area.

47

Although the operators often disagreed with the intel peopl

over what they were doing and why they were doing it, both

parties were able to work together fairly smoothly over the

next few days, preparing for the second meeting with

Schwarzkopf.

48 Later, however, major problems would arise

between intelligence and operations planners, both in the

Pentagon and in Riyadh. For example, throughout the

planning and execution of the Desert Storm air campaign

many operations planners felt that the intel people wer

obstructionist and that their “system” was too cumbersome.

4

The intel people, on the other hand, felt that the operations

planners would not give the intelligence system a fair chanc

to work and therefore created many of their own problems. 5

This division between the two communities appears to have

been extensive and also appears to remain unresolved.

The operations planners were especially concerned abou

whether their counterparts in intelligence understood th

concept of strategic paralysis.

51 After all, an understanding o

how strategic paralysis might be imposed and how that action

might lead to the achievement of national objectives is critica

to grasping how Instant Thunder and its successor—phase 

of Desert Storm—differed from all other air operations plans o

the time.

As mentioned earlier, theater conventional war plans were

based almost entirely upon the Army's AirLand Battle doctrin

and were designed to defeat the enemy army. US forces would

defend, delay, and attrit and then launch a counteroffensive

during which air support would conduct interdiction and CAS

operations. This scheme was so deeply ingrained at CENTAF

that the computer-assisted force management system (CAFMS)

with which the air tasking order (ATO)* was constructed and then 

transmitted to units, had no category for strategic targets—th

43
only force-application targeting categories were interdiction and

CAS. This omission, in and of itself, was not an impediment to

strategic planning because one could input strategic targets to the 

system as interdiction targets. In fact, some people argue tha

the former are really “deep interdiction” targets anyway.*

However, this conceptualization tended to seriously confuse th

intent of the Instant Thunder planners because interdiction is

designed to “divert, disrupt, delay or destroy the enemy's surface

military potential before it can be used effectively against friendly

forces.”

52 Instant Thunder, however, was designed to destroy

temporarily the cohesion of an entire nation, including its fielded

forces (but without necessarily attacking the bulk of those forces

directly).

53

Instant Thunder also differed significantly from the SIOP

even though the latter was a strategic air campaign.**

Specifically, the SIOP called for the destruction of adversary

nations, while Instant Thunder only aimed to create nationa

strategic paralysis, which would allow the quick rehabilitation o

44

*The ATO was the fi nal docu ment pro duced by CEN TAF plan ners to task units wit

spe cific mis sions. When trans mit ted with ad di tional spe cial in struc tions (SPINS) at tached

it pro vided fly ing units with the in for ma tion nec es sary to plan for pack ages of strike and

sup port ing air craft (some times as large as 50–60 sor ties), as well as the in di vid ual strik

mis sions them selves. Dur ing De sert Shield/Storm, every fixed- wing air craft that flew ove

land in the CENT COM area of re spon si bil ity (AOR) was tasked on the ATO, which of te

ran over 300 pages in length. Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War: Fi nal Re port to Con gress 

vol. 1, 139 (see note 34).

**This ar gu ment dem on strates the ex tent to which many Air Force peo ple had been

cap tured by Army doc trinal think ing, which stresses the bat tle and the flow of sol diers and

ma te riel to the bat tle field. If air forces' sole re spon si bil ity is to pro vide fire sup port for Arm

ma neu ver ele ments, then the pur pose of stra te gic at tack does not dif fer from that of in ter

dic tion—it stops or de lays the flow of sol diers and ma te riel to the bat tle field. Such 

con cep tu ali za tion fur ther fu els the idea that stra te gic dif fers from tac ti cal in the use of nu 

clear and ther mo nu clear weap ons.

***How ever, one can ar gue that the origi nal In stant Thun der plan rep re sented a sort o

“think ing man's con ven tional SIOP.” Mod ern pene trat ing mu ni tions, such as the I- 200

and GBU- 27 2,000- pound la ser guided bombs (LGB), make it pos si ble to achieve prob 

abili ties of kill (PK) on many “hard ened” tar gets ap proach ing PKs for the ther mo nu clea

weap ons planned in the SIOP (wit ness the at tacks on Iraqi nuclear- hardened air craft shel 

ters, for in stance). It is pos si ble, then, to plan a “weap ons lay- down” that closely re sem bl e

that planned for the SIOP. On many lev els—tar get se lec tion, for in stance—the plan nin

pro cesses would be quite simi lar. For a dis cus sion of this point with a key De sert Storm 

 plan ner, see Lt Col Dave Dep tula, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view
Iraq after the coalition achieved its objectives. Thus, Instan

Thunder entailed targeting and weaponeering procedures tha

differed significantly from the ones that had developed during 

the cold war. For example, targeteers and weaponeers had

learned to project levels of damage that were characterized by

a measure of physical destruction of a target and by th

duration of the effect produced by that destruction. “Severely

damaged” might mean that three-quarters of a targe

structure was destroyed and that any oper ations it housed

would be disrupted for six months. Lesser levels would receive 

a rating of “moderately” or “slightly” damaged. Intelligenc

planners used complex formulas to determine the type and

number of weapons that would produce the desired level o

damage.

54 But such factors were irrelevant to the people who

planned Instant Thunder/Desert Storm. They wished only to

disrupt the function of a large number of critical facilities and

operations in a short period of time and planned to keep them

dysfunctional by reattacking them until the coalition achieved it

objectives. The idea of temporarily suppressing targets was no

new. Both SIOP and conventional targeteers had experience in

planning to do this rather than destroy the targets outright. But the 

operations planners' idea of using temporary suppression across a

large target set to cause systemic collapse, rather than picking

the set apart target by target, ran contrary to the targeteers

training and experience. Clearly, Instant Thunder represented a

vast departure from conventional air operations planning, which

hoped to induce tactical paralysis by using follow-on forces attack

(FOFA) and the so-called deep battle to disrupt enemy

reinforcements while attriting and stopping the enemy's initia

45

with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 11 De cem ber 199

19–23, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala

But plan ners de signed the SIOP dur ing the cold war for the pur pose of de ter rin

ther mo nu clear war. The USAAF/USAF had ex ited World War II with a com pel lent, co

ven tional air power doc trine (FM 100- 20) but had been side tracked over time. That i

the stra te gic arm was car ried into the neth er world of nu clear de ter rence, while the ta

ti cal arm—strug gling for its very sur vival—was se duced into close al li ance with the U

Army and cap tured, to a great ex tent, by the Army's doc trine. Thus, a think ing man

con ven tional SIOP had no natu ral home in the USAF in 1990. See Carl Builder, T

Icarus Syn drome: The Role of Air Power The ory in the Evo lu tion and Fate of the U.S. A

Force (New Bruns wick, N.J.: Trans ac tion Pub lish ers, 1994), 145–49, 165–89.
assault forces. This approach pretty much left strategic attack

to nuclear planners. The Instant Thunder and Black Hole*

planners, however, sought to induce national paralysis by

launching a massive, unrelenting strategic attack with

conventional systems and weapons and thereby cause either

the surrender or overthrow of the Hussein regime. Like al

things elegant, Instant Thunder—in retrospect—appears

simple and straightforward, and people who read it are

inclined to say, “Of course.”

Of course, any reasonable offensive air campaign plan would

target strategic air defenses, industrial infrastructure, leader

ship, and strategic C3. Yet, the Internal Look “air operations

briefing set makes no mention of such target sets, focusin

instead upon the battlefield and airpower's support of the Army.

Of course, any reasonable air campaign would avoid th

mistakes of Vietnam and exert massive, unrelenting pressure

on the adversary. Yet, the plan developed at TAC in early Augus

1990 proposed “demonstrative attacks” and “escalatin

offensive operations.”55

Of course, any plan designed by Air Force people would have

contained many of the Instant Thunder targets because we al

hold certain truths to be self-evident (e.g., control of the air

enables all other operations).

But attempting to impose strategic paralysis on Ira

through intense, massive, and unrelenting attacks on selective 

target sets while ignoring enemy forces in Kuwait and Iraq was

an unlikely (even unacceptable) proposition to many Air Force

leaders. Nonetheless, over the next several months, a heavily

augmented CENTAF staff would refine Instant Thunder and

make it phase 1 of General Schwarzkopf's four-phase offen

sive, which would commence on 17 January 1991. Meanwhile

the debates raged on, questioning the existence of con

46

*Black Hole was the name of the spe cial plan ning cell es tab lished in late August 1990

at Head quar ters CEN TAF in Ri yadh. Un der the di rec tion of Brig Gen Buster Glos son, the

cell de vel oped In stant Thun der into the stra te gic por tion of the De sert Storm air cam paign 

Ac cord ing to a CEN TAF plan ner, the cell was dubbed the Black Hole “be cause we would

send peo ple in, and they would never come out. We would never see them again be caus

they would just stay there.” Lt Col Sam Bap tiste, Max well AFB, Ala., tran script of in ter 

view with Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds and Dr Di ane Put ney, 24 Sep tem ber 1992, 25

De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
ventional strategic attack and the way it affects the necessity

for and effectiveness of tactical actions against surface force

(if it does so at all).

Notes

1. See Col Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of the Ai

Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1995), for a

detailed description of the work done by Warden's planners and its effect on

CENTCOM's offensive air campaign that began on 17 January 1991.

2. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 30 May

1991, 117, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

3. Briefing, subject: OPLAN 1002 Air Operations, April 1990, file 19, Gul

War Air Power Survey Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information extracted is unclassified.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. FM 100-5, Operations, May 1986, 30.

7. Ibid., 43.

8. Ibid., 22–32.

9. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 78, Desert Story Collection, US

Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Maj Jim

Brogan, Offutt AFB, Nebr., interview with author, 23 August 1991.

10. Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 3 June 1992, 22–25, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

11. Warden, 30 May 1991, 118–19.

12. Maj Gen Walter Kross, US Transportation Command director o

operations and director of strategic plans and policy, interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri and author, 30 April 1991.

13. Warden, 30 May 1991, 104–7; and Warden, 22 October 1991, 81.

14. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 12

December 1991, 101–4, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

15. There is some question about exactly what General Schwarzkop

asked for. General Loh, who was the Air Force vice-chief of staff and acting

chief of staff in the absence of Gen Mike Dugan, received a call from Genera

Schwarzkopf on 8 August 1990. Loh was pretty sure Schwarzkopf asked fo

a strategic air campaign: “I think he did use the term strategic air campaign

but whatever he said, my reaction was, `I know exactly what he is talkin

about. He is talking about a broader campaign, the same thing Maj Gen

Minter Alexander had talked about the day or two days before'.” Gen John

M. Loh, Langley AFB, Va., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B

47
Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 26 September 1991, 3, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

On 5 May 1992 General Schwarzkopf told Dr Diane Putney of the Air

Force Office of History that he had asked for “a retaliation capability” in case 

of something “heinous being done.” In response to the direct question, “Did

you ask the Air Staff for a strategic air campaign?” he responded, “No. 

asked for a plan to meet the need I just talked to you about [i.e., retaliation

capability].” Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf, telephone interview with D

Diane T. Putney, 5 May 1992, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force

Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

In his autobiography, however, General Schwarzkopf says, “The following

morning I called Colin Powell and asked that the Air Force put planners to

work on a strategic bombing campaign aimed at Iraq's military” (emphasi

added). Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf with Peter Petre, General H. Norman

Schwarzkopf, the Autobiography: It Doesn't Take a Hero (New York: Bantam

Books, 1992), 313. Whatever he asked for, he was delighted with Instan

Thunder. See Reynolds, Heart of the Storm, chapters 4 and 6, for a complet

recounting of the briefings on 10 and 17 August 1990.

16. The reception of the plan (and the planners) is described in Reynolds

Heart of the Storm, chapters 4 to 7.

17. “We maintain . . . that war is simply a continuation of politica

intercourse, with the addition of other means.” Carl von Clausewitz, On War

ed. and trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton

University Press, 1976), 605.

18. FM 100-5, 9.

19. Clausewitz, 99.

20. FM 100-5, 23.

21. Clausewitz, 605.

22. Ibid., 595–96.

23. Warden, 22 October 1991, 57, 71.

24. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., interview with Lt Co

Richard T. Reynolds and author, 19 March 1991 (author's personal notes).

25. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 10

December 1991, 38, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

26. Briefing, subject: Instant Thunder: A Strategic Air Campaign

Proposal for CINCCENT, 10 August 1990, file 1, Desert Story Collection, US

Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret

Information extracted is unclassified. These objectives differed slightly ove

time, but after 10 August, they did not change.

27. See Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview 

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 10 December 1991, 93, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and

Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 Decembe

1991, 5, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

48
28. Warden, 22 October 1991, 40–41; and Lt Col Ronnie Stanfill

Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and

author, 3 June 1991, 20, 22–23, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force

Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

29. “General Target List,” 9 August 1990, Deptula file 5, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

30. Briefing set, “Offensive Campaign, Phase 1,” 3 September 1990

Deptula file 4, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

31. “General Target List”; and Deptula, 12 December 1991, 8.

32. “General Target List.”

33. Ibid.

34. Deptula, 11 December 1991, 5; and Conduct of the Persian Gulf War

Final Report to Congress, vol. 1 (Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense

April 1992), 129.

35. “General Target List.”

36. Ibid.

37. Deptula, 11 December 1991, 5.

38. “General Target List.”

39. Schwarzkopf with Petre, 318–19.

40. “General Target List.”

41. Warden, 22 October 1991, 57–58, 71.

42. See, for instance, Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, Washington, D.C.

transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T

Reynolds, and author, 30 May 1991, 34–36, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

43. See Reynolds, Heart of the Storm, chapter 4, for a full account of th

presentation and Schwarzkopf's reaction.

44. Stanfill, 3 June 1991, 40.

45. Schwarzkopf with Petre, 319–20.

46. Alexander, 3 June 1992, 5, 7–8.

47. Col James Blackburn, Bolling AFB, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 21 April 1993, 2, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

48. Ibid., 10–12, 15–17, 29–39.

49. See Deptula, 12 December 1991, 26–32, 64–70; and Stanfill, 3 June

1991, 71–72.

50. See Blackburn, 21 April 1993, 8–9, 27, 31–34, 47–49, 137–43.

51. Deptula, 11 December 1991, 20–27.

52. Joint Publication (Pub) 1-02, Department of Defense Dictionary o

Military and Associated Terms, 1 December 1989, 187; and Joint Pub 1-02

23 March 1994, 193.

53. Warden, 22 October 1991, 58.

54. Blackburn, 21 April 1993, 9–13; and Deptula, 12 December 1991

20–22. For a taste of the complexity involved in this process, see Join

Munitions Effectiveness Manual: Methodology Report, TH 61A1-3-6 (USAF), 

November 1974, 2-1 through 3-9.

49
55. CENTCOM air campaign plan briefing material, 11 August 1990

9–12, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

50
Chap ter 3

How Does Airpower Work?

The inherent flexibility of air power, [sic] is its greatest

asset. This flexibility makes it possible to employ the whole

weight of the available air power against selected areas in

turn; such concentrated use of the air striking force is a

battle winning factor of the first importance.

—FM 100-20, Command and Employment of

Air Power, 21 July 1943 

In 1941 Lt Col Hal George and his handful of subordinates in

the Air War Plans Division struggled with the question of which

approach “could win the Army's approval of an airpower plan for

winning the war.” Their solution was to draft a series of options

the most extreme of which—AWPD-4 (written after the attack on

Pearl Harbor and four months after AWPD-1)—assumed an

“overriding priority” for producing aircraft, as opposed to other

types of armaments. Given this level of resource allocation, Allied

forces were “to wage a decisive air offensive against the Axis

powers in Europe, to engage in a defensive effort in the Far East

and to conduct a land invasion of Europe `when and if it becomes 

necessary'” (emphasis added).

1 In other words, if all went well, a

land invasion might not be necessary at all. This notion o

winning a war with airpower alone ran head-on into the Join

Army-Navy Board opinion that “it should be recognized as an

almost invariable rule that only land armies can finally win

wars.”2 The Anglo-American Combined Chiefs of Staff rejected

AWPD-4's recommendation on aircraft production and accepted a

modified version of AWPD-1 instead. This debate over the role o

airpower in warfare was not new in 1941 and continues even

today.

Can airpower alone be decisive in warfare? If so, how? What

kinds of airpower applications are likely to be decisive and unde

what circumstances? Does airpower have an independent role in 

warfare, or is it properly applied as a dependent function o

surface power (i.e., as fire support)? Such questions hav

troubled the US military since at least the closing days of World

51
War I, when 

the employment of aviation continued to be

planned in terms of the ground mission.” Yet, certain avantgarde advocates of airpower were already declaring that “mass

attacks made at night by long-range Allied bombers agains

industrial targets deep within Germany and Austria definitely

could overwhelm the enemy” (emphasis added).

3

Specific approaches changed over time; for instance, “mass

attacks made at night” were replaced by “daylight precision

bombardment.” But the debate over the proper role of airpowe

continued through the 1920s and 1930s, as more theorist

became convinced that strategic bombardment could b

decisive. This stance was ultimately adopted in the US by the Ai

Service Tactical School—later the Air Corps Tactical School—a

well as certain leaders of the Army Air Corps.

4 Because most o

the people who worked on AWPD-1 were former instructors a

ACTS,5 they knew what they wanted to achieve with the air plan

and also how difficult it would be to sell to the Army.

The acceptance of AWPD-1 and the completion of an

organizational plan for an independent Eighth Air Force (with

emphasis on the strategic role) in Britain under Lt Gen Car

52

Lt Gen Carl Spaatz, first commander of Eighth Air Force

during World War II.
Spaatz suggested that advocates for independent airpower had

carried the day.

6 Yet, while Eighth Air Force continued as a

consolidated, independent command, air forces allotted to the

invasion of North Africa in November 1942 were divided into

two separate elements that operated under separate command 

structures until the disaster at Kasserine Pass in February

1943. Worse yet, in compliance with FM 31-35, Aviation in

Support of Ground Forces, air forces were “specifically

allocated to the support of subordinate ground units.”

7 Thi

“penny packeting” of air forces resulted in inefficiency and the

inability to apply airpower cohesively. The failure of this

approach led to a complete reorganization of command

structure that placed all theater air forces under a single ai

commander.

8 Although this reorganization was something of a

victory for proponents of centralized control of air forces, it did

not signal defeat for advocates of “tactical-support

operations.

The final decision on the use of airpower in Northwest Africa

was codified in FM 100-20, which was released on 21 July

1943 in response to problems encountered prior to and

including the unfortunate debacle at Kasserine. According to

the manual, “control of available airpower must be exercised

through the Air Force commander if [its] inherent flexibility

and ability to deliver a decisive blow are to be fully exploited.”

Instead of giving strategic operations preeminence ove

tactical operations (which would have constituted a complete

victory for the strategic airpower zealots), FM 100-20 lists six

“basic tasks,” the fourth of which (not necessarily in order o

precedence) is “offensive air warfare against the sources o

[enemy] strength, military and economic.” The other basic

tasks are as follows: “destroy hostile air forces; deny

establishment [of] and destroy existing, hostile bases; operate

against hostile land or sea forces . . . operate as a part of the

task forces in the conduct of military operations; and operate

in conjunction with . . . naval forces.”

10

This compromise embraced a much more comprehensiv

view of airpower than that demanded by either of the extreme

positions. According to FM 100-20, airpower had a broad

based mission that included both independent operation

against sources of military and economic power and direc

53
support of engaged forces—but transcended both of these

functions. Further, the manual prescribed an independent ye

powerfully synergistic role for airpower in a joint task force

“air operations almost invariably precede the contact o

surface forces [and] are undertaken in furtherance of the

strategical and tactical plan. . . . Control of available air power 

in the theater must be centralized and command must b

exercised through the air force commander” (emphasi

added).

11 These principles flowed naturally from FM 100-20'

doctrinal premise that “land power and air power are co-equa

and interdependent forces; neither is an auxiliary of the

other.”12 Although some parties continued to grouse over the

“diversion” of airpower from one mission to another (presum

ably less important), this compact (14-page) manifesto of airpower employment basically settled prevailing arguments and

laid the groundwork for the successes of Allied airpower in

World War II.

In principle, the US Air Force never forgot these lessons

indeed, the tenets of FM 100-20 were still apparent—though less

explicit—in the 1984 version of Air Force Manual (AFM) 1-1

Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force (th

version current during Desert Shield/Storm).* Even so, a

Desert Shield began, serious debates raged over the same old

issues: What can airpower do? Can it alone be decisive? What i

the best way to use it? In 1990–91 these debates produced a

compromise between the two “airpower schools” (Army suppor

and strategic attack) remarkably similar to the one established

by FM 100--20 in 1943. Although it didn't take a battlefield

disaster to bring about, one would be incorrect to assume that

this compromise was inevitable—or easily won—just because it

54

*For in stance, “Unity of com mand is im pera tive to em ploy ing all aero space forces e

fec tively. . . . To take full ad van tage of these quali ties, aero space forces are em ployed a

an en tity through the lead er ship of an air com mander. . . . The ca pac ity to ma neu ver freel

in three di men sions al lows our forces to ex ploit the char ac ter is tics of speed, range, an

flexi bil ity. These char ac ter is tics en able forces to ap ply com bat power against all ele men 

of an en emy's struc ture [and] to move quickly from one course of ac tion to an other” (em 

pha sis added). The man ual's list of Air Force mis sions re flects the com pre hen sive ness o

air mis sions: stra te gic aero space of fense, stra te gic aero space de fense, coun terair, air in 

ter dic tion, close air sup port, spe cial op era tions, air lift, aero space sur veil lance an

re con nais sance, and aero space mari time op era tions. AFM 1-1, Ba sic Aero space Doc trin

of the United States Air Force, 5 Janu ary 1984, 2-8, 2-2, 3-2.
essential elements had been published nearly 50 years earlier

in FM 100-20.

As was the case in 1942-43, airpower had to clear two

major hurdles before assuming its proper role in Deser

Shield/Storm. Probably the more critical question

addressed whether airpower would be used for strategi

operations or for CAS and interdiction. Before tackling tha

problem, however, one had to decide whether to use a singl

air commander, coequal with the surface commanders, or to 

divide and subordinate airpower to surface commanders. In

contrast to the explicit guidance of FM 100-20, the join

doctrine of 1991, while specifically allowing for such

arrangements, was deliberately unclear on their implemen

tation (nor is it much clearer today). The vagueness on this

subject resulted from the intent of the Goldwater-Nichol

Act of 1986 to shift war-fighting responsibilities to the

theater CINCs.

Goldwater-Nichols considerably (and deliberately) redis

tributed power in the joint arena, greatly strengthening the

hand of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS—the

sole advisor to the president) and the CINCs (who became

virtual theater warlords).* Joint, service, and componen

staffs can do little but suggest to theater CINCs how to

organize to fight wars. Relevant joint publications

recommended designation of a joint force air componen

commander (JFACC) to control all air resources, as well as

an area air defense commander (AADC) to control the air

defense battle and an airspace control authority (ACA) to

control and deconflict all flight operations in the joint forc

commander's (JFC—in this case, CINCCENT) area o

55

*The CJCS is the “prin ci pal mili tary ad vi sor to the Presi dent, the Na tional Se cu rit

Coun cil, and the Sec re tary of De fense.” He seeks ad vice from the other joint chiefs an

the CINCs “as he con sid ers ap pro pri ate.” If an other mem ber of the joint chiefs dis 

agrees strongly enough with the chair man, he has the right to have his po si tion

pre sented along with the chair man's, but the chair man makes the pres en ta tion un les

the presi dent di rects oth er wise. CINCs have author ity to di rect sub or di nate com 

mands, “in clud ing authori ta tive di rec tion over all as pects of mili tary op era tions, join

train ing, and lo gis tics”; pre scribe the chain of com mand; or gan ize sub or di nate com 

mands and forces; em ploy forces as they feel nec es sary; and as sign “com man

func tions to sub or di nate com mand ers.” US Code, Con gres sional and Ad min is tra tiv

News, 99th Cong., 2d sess., 1986, 100 STAT- 1005, 1014.
responsibility. The JFC not only has the choice o

designating any of these positions but also may specify their

responsibilities and authorities.* Thus, in contrast with the

doctrine of FM 100-20—Army doctrine of 1943—which speci

fied an organization wherein air and ground force command

ers were coequal, joint doctrine of 1990 left General Schwarzkop

free to organize any way he saw fit. Whatever his reasoning

may have been, the organization he decided upon deviated

only slightly from that recommended by FM 100-20.

Schwarzkopf designated the commander of CENTAF

(COMCENTAF), General Horner, to be his JFACC (as well as ACA

and AADC), and the commander of US Naval Forces Centra

Command (COMNAVCENT), Vice Adm Henry Mauz, Jr., to be

his sea component commander. But in deference to “the

Marines' sensibilities, he was unwilling to designate a land

component commander.” Instead, he elected to assume this title

himself.

13

This decision would ultimately cause considerable acrimony

between the air and land components because as CINC

Schwarzkopf would make targeting decisions and relay them to

his air component (through Horner) for execution but not to the

land component because as land component commander

Schwarzkopf obviously knew his own reasoning.

14 Further

subordinates were probably confused about whether they were

talking to the land component commander or the CINC. Genera

Horner had anticipated this problem, explaining that he migh

become “gnarly” with Schwarzkopf at times because as the ai

component commander, he would sometimes “have legitimate

disagreements with what the land component commande

wants to do.”

15 Although Schwarzkopf's organizational schem

was a less-than-perfect compromise, it allowed for a single ai

56

*For in stance, joint doc trine for coun terair op era tions states that “the joint forc

com mander will nor mally des ig nate a joint force air com po nent com mander. The join

force air com po nent com mander's re spon si bili ties will be as signed by the joint force

com mander (nor mally these will in clude, but not be lim ited to, plan ning, co or di na 

tion, al lo ca tion and task ing based on the joint force com mander's ap por tion men

de ci sion). Nor mally the joint force air com po nent com mander will be the Serv ice com 

po nent com mander who has the pre pon der ance of air as sets to be used and the

abil ity to as sume that re spon si bil ity.” Joint Pub li ca tion (Pub) 3-01.2, Joint Doc trine fo

Thea ter Coun terair Op era tions (from Over seas Land Ar eas), 1 April 1986, III-4.
57

Schwarzkopf and Horner. General Schwarzkopf (above) designate

General Horner (below) the JFACC for Desert Shield/Storm. This deci

sion, combined with Horner's judicious use of the ATO as the centra

flight coordination tool for fixed-wing flights over Saudi Arabia

Kuwait, and Iraq, guaranteed centralized control of the main ai

striking force—a central tenet of airpower doctrine for at least the las

50 years.
commander with overall responsibility for all (fixed-wing) ai

operations.

16

General Schwarzkopf's designation of Horner as JFACC, ACA

and AADC17 resolved the overall responsibility for the plannin

and conduct of the air war. However, it did not begin to address

the question of what authority and control the JFACC would hav

over the resources necessary to execute the air campaign—

delicate issue because both the Navy and Marine Corps objected

strenuously to the entire JFACC concept and questioned the role

of the JFACC as a commander.

Both during and after the war, the Marines insisted that the

JFACC was strictly a coordinator. In fact, Lt Gen Royal N

Moore, Jr., commander of the Marine Expeditionary Force'

aviation unit during Desert Shield/Storm, seemed to take grea

delight in circumventing JFACC control of Marine ai

operations.

18 Reportedly, the Marines were so adamant abou

this matter that they addressed messages for COMCENTAF to

the “joint force air coordinator” just to drive home their point.

19

Many Navy people felt that the JFACC staff was not joint a

all (as they argued it should have been) but composed entirely

of Air Force people. In their view, Air Force procedures had

therefore dominated air campaign planning and execution to

the detriment of the Navy.

20 According to Col Brian E. Wages

Air Force liaison officer to COMNAVCENT during Deser

Shield/Storm, Navy and Marine staffers at NAVCENT felt that

the role of a JFACC was not . . . solidly grounded in joint doctrine, nor

his authority and responsibility clearly delineated. . . . Establishment

of a JFACC was perceived as an attempt to rewrite joint doctrine on the

58

*Of course, as we have seen, the po si tion of JFACC is quite clearly grounded in join

doc trine, though it is fair to cri tique it for a lack of clearly de line ated author ity and r

spon si bil ity. But the Air Force per spec tive on the ad van tages of a sin gle air com po ne

com mander, coe qual with the ground com mander, goes back at least as far as Wo

War I, when Billy Mitchell amassed over 1,400 planes of all types for a de ci sive air e

fort that helped sur face forces re duce the Saint Mi hiel sa li ent in Sep tem ber 191

Fu trell, 23–24 (see note 1).

One of the all- time best ex am ples of how cen tral ized con trol of air forces un der 

sin gle air com mander can en hance op era tions is the case of Gen George C. Ken ney 

the South west Pa cific dur ing World War II. Author ized by the JFC, Gen Doug l

MacAr thur, to con cen trate his forces ini tially upon a sin gle air ob jec tive (i.e., con trol 

the air), Ken ney was able to over come de fi cien cies in air craft, crews (quan tity and qua

ity), and tac tics to stem the ad vance of Ja pan and help turn the tide in the Pa cific. H

ac com plished this feat by mass ing his rela tively mea ger forces and tak ing them on th

of fen sive. See Maj Char les M. Wes ten hoff, “Ag gres sive Vi sion,” Air power Jour nal 3, n

3 (Fall 1989): 34–49.
battlefield, subordinate one component commander to another, and

enhance Air Force prestige . . . at [the] Navy's expense.*

In fact, Wages stated that as late as November 1990 “NAVCENT

was still looking for ways to disestablish the JFACC.”21 After th

war, the Navy came solidly on board in favor of the JFACC

concept. The deputy chief of naval operations (CNO) for plans

policy, and operations (OP-06 at the time, now N3/N5) even

contracted a study by the Center for Naval Analyses to “develop

an in-depth understanding of the Navy's experience with the

Desert Storm JFACC and to examine potential Navy participation

with or as a JFACC.

22 Even so, the Navy continued to complain

that the Desert Storm JFACC was not joint.

Although the Army would later join in the Navy's complain

that CENTAF's tilt toward USAF doctrine and procedures

adversely affected Army and Navy inputs to targeting, 23 ther

appears to have been little, if any, opposition by US Army Force

Central Command (ARCENT) to the designation of Horner a

JFACC. ARCENT probably did not object because helicopters

which comprise most of the Army's air assets, were almos

entirely exempt from the ATO—the primary air tasking tool fo

Desert Shield/Storm.

The ATO became a lightning rod for interservice controvers

early in Desert Shield because General Horner used it to gain th

resource control he needed as JFACC. Initially, the ATO was used

as a matter of course to task and control air defense and

surveillance sorties (by F-15s, airborne warning and contro

system [AWACS] aircraft, RC-135s, etc.). As more forces arrived

the necessary training sorties were simply added to the ATO

According to Horner, “the Saudis loved that [because] they wer

terrified that the [US aircrews] would start buzzing the villages

and scattering goat herds. They wanted some control . . . and the

training ATO gave them a way [to get it].” The ATO was also “the

key [to] legitimizing the JFACC [by] making the Navy . . . and the

Marine Corps come on board.” In Horner's words, “Without the

ATO, you don't have the JFACC. With the ATO, you don't have

anything but a JFACC.”

24 Simply stated, if you want to fly, you fly 

in the ATO; if you fly in the ATO, you fly under JFACC control

Although this arrangement amounted to something less than the

centralized control called for in FM 100-20, it gave Horner all the

control he needed, especially since in his role as Ninth Air Forc

59
commander, he possessed operational control of the huge poo

of USAF aircraft that eventually wound up in-theater.

25 Inter

service squabbles would continue, but Horner now had sufficien

control of assets and air operations to do whatever had to be

done. The next question was how best to employ airpower. Would

it support surface maneuver elements or win the war by itself?

Before Colonel Warden and his small briefing staff arrived in 

Saudi Arabia on 19 August 1990, CENTAF was thinking in

terms of the so-called D day defensive plan, which changed

daily to incorporate arrivals of aircraft in-theater during the

buildup of coalition forces. Time and manning constraints

precluded planning for anything other than (1) strictly

defensive operations to slow the progress of an Iraqi invasion

of Saudi Arabia26 and (2) beddown of forces.

27 Even if tim

and resources had been available, any offensive plan

CENTCOM might have built would probably have looked more

like the tactical counteroffensive planned for the July 1990

Internal Look exercise of CENTCOM forces than the strategi

offensive attacks planned for in Instant Thunder.

In General Horner's mind, “the best thing to do was to figh

a ground war of maneuver and use airpower to cut the

sustainment since [the Iraqis] were vulnerable there.”28 Thi

comment is consistent with the emphasis on CAS and

interdiction (to the exclusion of strategic attack) in Horner'

Internal Look briefing to General Schwarzkopf in April 1990

(“build a hose and point it where the ground commander see

that it's needed”).

29 Lacking any evidence to the contrary, one

may conclude that CENTAF would have written a campaign

plan that concentrated almost entirely upon the Iraqi army

and allied maneuver plans, a logical deduction since CENTAF

planners felt they were preparing for an Iraqi invasion of Saud

Arabia—the premise of Internal Look.

30

In contrast, the Instant Thunder planners—especially Warden—

were inclined to ignore the Iraqi army in Kuwait. Although

some of Iraq's fielded forces would be targeted—particularly

the strategic air defense system and the strategic offense

system (primarily chemical weapons)—none of the occupying

forces in Kuwait would be attacked because they just didn't

seem to be “a practical target.” Warden and some of his

planners assumed that six to nine days of relentless strategi

60
attack would likely produce either a coup d

état or surrender

In any event, the Iraqis would be unable to mount any

offensive operation because by then they would be suffering

strategic paralysis.

31 Further, as mentioned in chapter 1, the

conscript army in Kuwait might even overthrow Hussein.

32

Before long, the CENTAF approach and the Instant Thunde

approach began to merge into a single, expanded, and extremely

powerful vision that strongly resembled FM 100-20's six basi

tasks, mentioned earlier in this chapter. Indeed, the Desert Storm

air campaign would ultimately attack every facet of Iraqi war

making capability—including war-production and force

deployment capabilities—as well as Iraqi military forces in Kuwai

(and some in Iraq) and the will of the Iraqi people to support th

war and the oppressive regime of Saddam Hussein.

In accordance with FM 100-20, the campaign would

“employ the whole weight of the available air power agains

selected areas in turn.”33 Airpower would be the principa

weapon in “a coordinated multi-axis air, naval and ground

61

*Since the end of the war, a con sid er able de bate has oc curred con cern ing use of th

term cam paign. In gen eral, Air Force peo ple main tain that it is proper to ref er to the air

land, and sea com po nents of a thea ter cam paign as in di vid ual sub cam paigns (e.g., “th

air cam paign” or “the ground cam paign”). But peo ple from other serv ices main tain tha

there is only one cam paign—the thea ter cam paign—with air, land, and sea ele ments

The de bate be came so ac ri mo ni ous af ter the war that the De part ment of De fense's (DOD

fi nal re port to Con gress in cluded a spe cial side bar that ex plained the con tro versy.

**In his auto bi og ra phy, Schwarz kopf sim ply re fers to phase 1 as In stant Thun der

as does this study (Schwarz kopf with Petre, 320—see note 43). The ex tent to which

phase 1 con sti tuted an ex panded ver sion of In stant Thun der has been the sub ject o

con sid er able de bate since the war. Maj Gen Larry Henry, the ex pert on sup pres sion o

en emy air de fenses (SEAD) whom Gen eral Russ dis patched from Head quar ters TAC t

as sist Gen eral Hor ner's staff with the SEAD cam paign (a com po nent of the thea te

cam paign?), thinks the fi nal CENT COM plan con tained very lit tle of the In stant Thun 

der plan. Maj Gen Larry Henry, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Co

Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 2 June 1992, 120, US Air

Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.

An al ter na tive view is pro vided by Lt Col Dave Dep tula, a key plan ner who helped de 

velop (in Check mate) the In stant Thun der con cept that Gen eral Schwarz kopf ap prove

on 17 August and who wrote (in Ri yadh) the over all at tack por tion of the CENT COM o

fen sive air cam paign plan that was fi nally exe cuted. Ac cord ing to him, In stant Thun de

pro vided the philo sophi cal and con cep tual ba sis for—and much of the con tent of—the fi 

nal plan. He says the ma jor dif fer ence be tween the two was size (the de vel oped tar ge

base grew larger over time). Lt Col Dave Dep tula, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter 

view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 22 May

1991, 36–37, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
attack beginning with Phase I, 

Strategic Air Campaign

against Iraq [Instant Thunder];** Phase II, `Kuwait Ai

Campaign' against Iraqi air forces in Kuwait; Phase III

`Ground Attack Combat Power Attrition' to neutralize the

Republican Guard and isolate the Kuwait battlefield; and

Phase IV, `Ground Attack' to eject Iraqi forces from Kuwait.”

34

It is difficult, if not impossible, to determine who had the

idea of conducting Operation Desert Storm in phases. Genera

Schwarzkopf claims to have thought of it himself immediately

after he was briefed on Instant Thunder; General Horne

believes that the idea emerged from his discussions with

Schwarzkopf* in April 1990;

35 and Colonel Warden thinks i

originated with his Checkmate planning cell** sometim

between 10 and 17 August.

36 Regardless of who thought o

phasing the plan, the important point is that sometime

between 10 and 25 August, Schwarzkopf directed th

CENTCOM strategic plans and policy staff to build a plan that

would “concentrate [first] on destroying Iraq's war-makin

capability . . . [attain] air superiority in Kuwait . . . focus on

the battlefield prep, [and finally move to the] ground offensiv

campaign.”37

Dividing an operation into phases is neither new nor

revolutionary. Army operational doctrine, for instance

prescribes generic phases for all offensive operations.

38 Thus

it is conceivable that the CENTCOM planning staff—very early

in the process—could have laid out a conceptual plan in

62

*The OPLAN 1002 brief ing on air op era tions that Hor ner pre sented to Schwarz kop

in April does in deed con tain phased op era tions, as pre vi ously men tioned: phase 1, de 

ter; phase 2, de fend, de lay, and at trit; and phase 3, be gin coun ter of fen sive. This fact

might ac count for Hor ner's rec ol lec tion of phas ing op era tions, but the three phases

just men tioned are not at all simi lar to the four phases that were fi nally se lected.

**War den re calls ask ing his dep uty, Col Em ery M. Ki raly, to take charge of th

plan ning for phases 2 through 4, while he con cen trated on phase 1. He be lieves tha

the phases were laid out in sup port ing docu ments to the brief ing de liv ered to Gen era

Schwarz kopf on 17 August, but docu men tary evi dence does not sup port War den's

mem ory. None of the docu ments pre pared for the brief ing of 17 August con tain ref er 

ences to phas ing or at tack of Iraqi forces in Ku wait. There is a ref er ence t

“su be le ments” of the cam paign, but the lat ter bear lit tle, if any, re sem blance to the fi 

nal four phases. Brief ing set, “Iraqi Air Cam paign In stant Thun der,” 16 Augus

1990/2100, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max 

well AFB, Ala. (Se cret) In for ma tion ex tracted is un clas si fied.
phases. It is less likely, however, that they envisioned a first

phase consisting primarily of strategic air strikes into Iraq.

In all probability, Gen Colin Powell, CJCS, suggested th

specifics of phases 1 and 3 during the Instant Thunde

briefing on 11 August.

39 When told that the strategi

campaign alone might convince Hussein to withdraw hi

forces from Kuwait (the first presidential objective—see chap

1), Powell responded, “Okay, that may be so, but I don't wan

those guys to go home. I want to destroy those tanks. I want to 

blow them all up.”

40 At the time, no one noted that this

statement had the effect of changing the first objective from

forcing the withdrawal of the Iraqi army in Kuwait to

destroying it, and the objective was never formally changed

(although it did later become a specific theater objective41)

However, Powell's desire to destroy the Iraqi army and the fact

that he agreed to give strategic attack first priority42 assured

that the campaign would have at least two specific phases: a

strategic air campaign and a direct attack on Iraqi forces in

Kuwait (phases 1 and 3, respectively). Almost everyone agrees

that Schwarzkopf himself decreed that phase 2 would be an

effort to gain air superiority over Kuwait,

43 and no one argued

against making the final phase a ground assault into Kuwai

(if needed). Thus, the four phases worked themselves out ove

time.

Regardless of how it came about, CENTCOM's four-phas

offensive plan attacked the Iraqi war-making potential in

depth, from Saddam Hussein in Baghdad to the frontlin

infantryman on the Saudi-Kuwaiti border—and anything tha

might link them together. The plan utilized virtually every

aspect of US military and coalition power, highlighting “ou

strength” (air forces) against “his weaknesses” (air defenses)4

and bringing ever-increasing pressure on Hussein to withdraw 

and comply with all UN resolutions. Further, it offered a

seamless progression to the use of brute force to attain US

and UN objectives if Hussein did not make the “right”

decision. There were no pauses and no decision points. I

Hussein did not remove his forces, we would eject them

bodily. If he didn't comply willingly, we would take away

everything he had: defenses, command and control

generation of industrial power, communications, weapons o

63
mass destruction and associated research and production

facilities, and internal security organizations and military

forces—especially the vaunted Republican Guard. Eventually

by systematically attacking his C2 headquarters, we migh

even have gotten Hussein himself.*

Although the four phases eventually merged, their articu

lation and development helped maintain focus on achieving

military objectives in support of national objectives. FM 100

20's observation that the flexibility of airpower “makes i

possible to employ the whole weight of the available air powe

against selected areas in turn” (mentioned earlier) is actually a 

restatement of the ancient principle of mass: “concentrate the

effects of combat power at the place and time to achieve

decisive results.”

45 In theory as well as practice, one must also

apply the corresponding principle of economy of force: “allo

cate minimum essential combat power to secondary efforts.” 4

Perhaps FM 100-20 would have been more accurate had i

substituted “the necessary preponderance of weight” for “the

whole weight” because application of both principles—mas

and economy of force—creates something of a conundrum. On

cannot completely remove military effort from all areas save

one, because doing so would create unacceptable vulnera

bilities in the vacated areas. Rather, one must strike a balance

between applying mass at the critical place and time and

applying minimum essential combat power at all other places

and times.

For example, General Schwarzkopf requested another US

Army corps (VII Corps from Europe) for his famous “Hai

Mary” left hook to achieve such a balance. He and his staf

convinced the national command authorities (NCA) that

without a second US Army corps, the coalition would not be

able to achieve the necessary mass for the left hook withou

64

*The idea of tar get ing the Iraqi dic ta tor need n't have been so con tro ver sial. Af ter

all, Hussein is quite fond of wear ing his gen eral's uni form and flaunt ing his per sona

con trol of mili tary op era tions. He is the ul ti mate author ity in Iraq and, by his own

dec la ra tion, makes all op era tional de ci sions. In sum, he is the sin gle most lu cra tive

tar get of mili tary sig nifi cance in all of Iraq and, there fore, a per fectly le gal one. To suc 

cess fully tar get the com mand ing gen eral of thea ter forces dur ing criti cal mili tary

op era tions that re quire his per sonal at ten tion is a mas ter stroke—not a crimi nal act

Dur ing the war, Hussein was as le giti mate a tar get as any bat tal ion com mander or

front line in fan try man.
creating exploitable vulnerabilities elsewhere along the

front.47 In other words, allied forces could not create sufficient

mass and still maintain minimum essential combat power on

secondary objectives. In either case, they could not use the

“whole weight,” but with VII Corps, they could achieve a

“necessary preponderance.”

Furthermore, by the time the huge coalition air armada had

assembled in the Middle East, it was neither prudent nor

necessary to apply the whole weight of airpower to strategi

attack. Yet, maintaining sufficient weight to achieve ai

campaign objectives remained extremely important. In the

end, the coalition's vast resources allowed the first three

phases to begin nearly simultaneously on 17 January 1991

But the heavy emphasis was on the strategic attack against

Iraqi leadership, C3, air defenses, and the means of industria

and military production and distribution.48 Coalition F-117s

F-15Es, F-111s, Tomahawk land attack missiles (TLAM), and

B-52 air launched cruise missiles (ALCM)—which were wel

suited to precision attack in the face of moderate to high ai

defense threats—would go against those targets. As th

coalition achieved specific objectives, emphasis would shif

toward attrition of the Iraqi military forces in Kuwait. Genera

Schwarzkopf directed that the ground offensive (phase 4

would begin when air attacks had reduced Iraqi comba

effectiveness in the KTO by 50 percent. Hopefully, this

reduction would allow coalition forces to achieve phase 4's

objectives (removal and destruction of the Iraqi forces in

Kuwait) in a matter of days and thus keep combat casualtie

to a minimum.49

When General Horner was first briefed on the Instan

Thunder concept of operations on 20 August 1990, very little

of the final plan was yet evident. A general idea of a phased

operation that relied heavily on airpower to establish

conditions for success on the ground was beginning to

emerge, but it seems fair to say that no one knew where this

would lead. Schwarzkopf thought he recognized Instan

Thunder as phase 1 of his theater campaign, but it was

General Horner who would have to execute it—so Schwarzkop

sent Warden to see Horner. Although the CENTAF commande

was not pleased with the presentation of Instant Thunder, he

65
kept the three Air Staff planners who had accompanied

Warden to Riyadh and assigned Brig Gen Buster C. Glosson to

direct their activities in a special planning group, which would 

become known as the Black Hole. Exactly what they were to

do in this group was not at all clear, but Glosson didn't mind

because his new assignment got him off the ship he was

otherwise consigned to* and out of “the penalty box,” according to General Horner.50 Glosson, his Black Hole staffers, and

the Instant Thunder plan would eventually prove instrumenta

in the development of all aspects of the Desert Storm ai

campaign and the “airpower compromise” it represented.

66

Glosson and Deptula. Brig Gen Buster Glosson (front), after his reca

from the USS La Salle. He is conferring with Lt Col Dave Deptula, chie

planner for the Black Hole.

*Gen eral Glos son was as signed as the dep uty com mander of Joint Task Forc

(JTF) Mid dle East, which meant that he was quar tered on the JTF flag ship, the US

La Salle, not a par ticu larly pleas ant lo ca tion for a USAF fighter pi lot.

COURTESY OF COL DAVE DEPTUL
Notes

1. Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: Basic Thinking in th

United States Air Force, vol. 1, 1907–1960 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University 

Press, December 1989), 128.

2. Ibid., 112.

3. Ibid., 24.

4. See ibid., 19–114, for a full discussion of these debates and their

outcomes.

5. Ibid., 109.

6. See Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army A

Forces in World War II, vol. 1, Plans and Early Operations, January 1939 t

August 1942 (1948; new imprint, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force

History, 1983), 579–88, for a description of the battle fought by Maj Gen

Hap Arnold to make Eighth Air Force a separate command coequal with the

surface armies.

7. Cited in Futrell, 133.

8. See Craven and Cate, 136–65; and Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaat

and the Air War in Europe (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History

1993), 155–84, for more detailed discussions of the command

arrangements, problems encountered, and corrective reorganization o

Northwest African Air Forces.

9. FM 100--20, Command and Employment of Air Power, 21 July 1943, 2

Several statements, including the one cited, were considered so importan

that they were written in capital letters in the original manual.

10. Ibid., 6.

11. Ibid., 6–8.

12. Ibid., 1.

13. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2 December

1991, 48, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

14. “Tensions between the Air Force and American ground commanders

persisted because the commanders did not understand that many decisions

causing them problems were Schwarzkopf's and not Horner's.” Thomas A

Keaney and Eliot A. Cohen, Gulf War Air Power Survey Summary Repor

(Washington, D.C.: Department of the Air Force, 1993), 155. Gulf War Ai

Power Survey (GWAPS) Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

15. Horner, 2 December 1991, 48–49.

16. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 136.

17. Ibid., 56.

18. “The JFACC process can't do that [fight a fluid battle] if you're talking

about command. . . . If you're talking about coordination . . . then that's

exactly what the process did out there.” Lt Gen Royal N. Moore, Jr., “Marine

Air: There When Needed,” US Naval Institute Proceedings, November 1991

63.

19. Col Brian E. Wages, USAF liaison officer to COMNAVCENT fo

Operations Desert Shield/Storm, End of Tour Report, 5 March 1991, 3, file

67
4, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwel

AFB, Ala.

20. “As the JFACC, CENTAF instituted the Ninth Air Force's procedures

for air operations and, for the JFACC staff, used an Air Force staf

supplemented by liaisons from the other services.” Maureen A. Wigge, “The

Joint Force Air Component Commander: Theory and Practice,” CRM 92-195

(Alexandria, Va.: Center for Naval Analyses, March 1993), 17–18.

21. Wages, 2–3.

22. Wigge, 2; and Gregory M. Swider, “The Navy's Experience with Join

Air Operations: Lessons Learned from Operations Desert Shield and Deser

Storm,” CRM 92-166 (Alexandria, Va.: Center for Naval Analyses, July

1993), 3.

23. See, for instance, Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and

the Gulf War (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992)

206–9; and Swider, 19–20.

24. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview

with Dr Perry Jamieson, Dr Rich Davis, and Dr Barry Barlow, 4 March

1992, 8, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

25. Horner, 2 December 1991, 28, 64–66.

26. Col James Crigger, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2–4 December 1991

14–18, 23–25, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Lt Col Sam Baptiste, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

transcript of interview with Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds and Dr Diane

Putney, 24 September 1992, 21–22, 24–25, 31–33, Desert Story Collection

US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

27. Crigger, 2–4 December 1991, 24.

28. Horner, 2 December 1991, 12–14.

29. Briefing, subject: OPLAN 1002 Air Operations, April 1990, file 19

GWAPS Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala. (Secret) Information extracted is unclassified.

30. Crigger, 2–4 December 1991, 16–17.

31. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 56–59, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

32. Ibid., 71.

33. FM 100-20, 2.

34. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 88.

35. Horner, 2 December 1991, 41.

36. Discussion between Colonel Warden and Dr Diane Putney, Air Force

Office of History, in the author's presence, 13 August 1991.

37. Col James Sutherland, MacDill AFB, Fla., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 22 October 1991, 112, Desert Story Collection

US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

38. Interestingly enough, such Army operations are divided into fou

phases: “preparation, attack, exploitation, pursuit.” FM 100-5, Operations

May 1986, 98–100.

68
39. See Col Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of th

Air Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1995)

chap. 5, for a full discussion of General Powell's reaction to this briefing.

40. Warden, 22 October 1991, 71.

41. “Destroy Republican Guard forces in the KTO.” Conduct of th

Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 97.

42. Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 30 May 1991

31, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

43. Sutherland, 22 October 1991, 112; and Horner, 2 December 1991

41. In his autobiography, General Schwarzkopf gives credit to Warden fo

providing him the idea in response to Schwarzkopf's question, “What would

you have to do if we wanted our airplanes to operate freely over the

battlefield in Kuwait?" Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf with Peter Petre

General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, the Autobiography: It Doesn't Take a Hero

(New York: Bantam Books, 1992), 319–20.

44. Alexander, 30 May 1991, 31.

45. Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations, 9 September 1993

appendix A, A-1.

46. Ibid., A-2.

47. Schwarzkopf with Petre, 356–60.

48. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 133–34, 151–59.

49. Ibid., 135.

50. Horner, 4 March 1992, 15.

69
Chap ter 4

Knockout Blow?

Or Decision on Points?

The United States relies on the Air Force, and the Air Force

has never been the decisive factor in the history of warfare.

—Saddam Hussein, 30 August 1990

Since the advent of airplanes in the early twentieth century, one

very powerful question has consistently bedeviled military thinkers

Can airpower achieve decisive, war-winning results, or is its

primary merit in the tactical support it can lend armies and

navies? The way in which proponents of “independent” airpowe

operations approach this question is captured in the following

simple analogy.

Imagine two boxers circling warily—feeling each other out. They

try small flurries, light taps—mostly off the gloves—and occasiona

body blows that are sharp and stinging but not dangerous. Just

testing one another.

Suddenly, one of the boxers feints with his left and lands a

crushing right to the side of his opponent's head, which snaps

sideways, spraying sweat and blood. Before the crowd even hears

the sound of the glove smashing into flesh and bone, the second

boxer has changed dramatically. Less than a second ago, his eyes

were bright and his movements crisp. He was precise and sure o

himself—reading every move, deflecting every punch, mounting

well-timed flurries of his own, and never dropping his guard. Now

his eyes are dull and his hands and arms heavy, as he stares

vacantly at a swirling scene.

More heavy punches are on the way, but he is defenseless. The

gloves flying toward his face are indistinguishable from the rest o

the blur reeling before him. It doesn't matter much. Even if he

could see the punches coming, he couldn't react in time. His feet

hands, and body respond too slowly to stop the pummeling he is

about to receive. The fighter has lost control of his vision, brain

central nervous system, and body. He isn't down, and he isn't

out—but if the bell doesn't ring soon, he's finished! For all practica

purposes, he is paralyzed. Like the winning boxer, the planners o

71
Instant Thunder and its successor, the CENTCOM strategic ai

campaign (phase 1 of CENTCOM's offensive campaign), clearly hoped

to inflict paralysis—at the strategic level—on their opponent. Toward

this end, the attack on Iraq had to be intense, persistent, and

coordinated (i.e., focused upon creating strategic paralysis).

1 In thei

minds, the level of destruction and the duration of its effect on

individual targets had little importance compared to the impact of a

particular attack sequence on the system and subsystems of the Iraq

nation-state.2

The planners hoped to feint with a right (i.e, convince Hussein

we were building up for a combined amphibious and land assaul

on his forces in Kuwait)

3 and then land a stunning blow to the

head (i.e., Iraq, especially Baghdad) with a left (i.e., airpower, th

very factor that Hussein himself would denigrate on 30 Augus

1990). Warden likened the scheme to the Germans' famous

Schlieffen Plan of the late nineteenth and the early twentieth

centuries,

4 which accepted a deliberately weakened German left

wing in order to concentrate all possible combat power on the

right. (In Warden's conceptualization, the weak left wing was the

coalition ground force, while airpower made up the strong righ

wing.) The German plan sought to deliver an overpowering blow

on the right, which would stun the French and allow the

Germans to envelop and quickly defeat them.*

Stunning an enemy this way requires a different approach

to creating the target list. Admittedly, planners must stil

develop a list of the kinds of “things” that make for lucrative

strategic targets (e.g., major military headquarters; command

control, communications, and intelligence [C3I] nodes; electrica

72

*The stra te gic po si tion of Ger many (Prus sia) in Europe placed that coun try be twee

pow er ful ad ver sar ies on two fronts: the Anglo- French in the west and the Rus sians in the

east. Al fred von Schlief fen, chief of the Ger man Gen eral Staff from 1891 to 1906, felt tha

Rus sian mo bi li za tion would be slow enough to al low his forces to con cen trate ini tially on

the west ern front, but only for a short pe ri od. If they could de feat the Anglo- French

quickly, they would then be able to turn their full strength back to the east and de feat the

Rus sians in turn. To ac com plish this, Schlief fen planned for a weak left wing on the west 

ern front, which would first feign an at tack and then slowly with draw to pre pared po si tions

in the Alsace- Lorraine re gion. The con cen trated Ger man forces on the right (per haps as

much as 90 per cent of the to tal force avail able) would then break out through Hol land and

Bel gium, sweep ing south and east to crush the French army against the for ti fied Ger man

po si tions in Alsace- Lorraine. If all went well, most of the west ern front forces could be dis 

patched to re in force the east ern front bef ore the Rus sians could mount a ma jor of fen sive

See Capt B. H. Lid dell Hart, The Real War: 1914–1918 (Bos ton: Lit tle, Brown and Co
generating and distribution facilities; POL production and

distribution points; war materiel industries; and air defense system

[if they are likely to inhibit other operations]). But one can make

plans for “servicing”* these targets in at least three different ways.

The first option views strategic results as a sum of things

attacked and destroyed. In this view a target is a target. Since

all targets are equal, one should just attack the targets ran

domly until the list is exhausted and be done with it. Planner

need only determine the level of destruction desired for a given 

target, select an acceptable probability for achieving such

destruction, and combine these functions with measure

ments of weapon effectiveness. This process yields the number

and types of weapons appropriate for each target. Thus, i

planners have chosen the right targets, the war should be

favorably decided by the time the last one is destroyed.

The second option is to view strategic results as a product o

weighted values. Obviously, the ability to properly assess tar

get values is essential to this approach. After assigning

priorities to targets, the planners apply the targeting skill

described for the first option to the targets in order, from

highest priority to lowest. Attacking the most valuable targets

early in the campaign will serve to multiply the overall effect of

the attack plan, hastening victory at a relatively low cost

Although no one really subscribes to the first option, the Ai

Force probably favored the second one at the beginning o

Desert Shield/Storm.

5

The third option, espoused by the Checkmate and Black Hol

planners, exploits the principle of exponential strategic impact

Specifically, one “multiplies” the effect of attacking specific target

by spreading attacks against numerous key nodes of a vita

system (i.e., simultaneity) and then raises the effect “exponen

tially” by launching “parallel” attacks against multiple

systems.** Instead of causing progressive failure of the enemy

73

*Air plan ners' jar gon for plan ning, di rect ing, and exe cut ing an at tack on a tar get o

tar get set.

**Like stra te gic pa raly sis, si mul ta ne ity and par al lel at tack are terms de vel oped af t

the fact to de scribe what plan ners had hoped to achieve. Si mul ta ne ity is es sen tially 

new way of look ing at the fa mil iar mili tary con cept of tempo. Mas sive at tacks against 

sys tem over a very short pe ri od of time are ex pected to have a much greater im pact o

 
nation

s cohesion and capability, this action induces

catastrophic failure. Like the defeated boxer, the enemy's

“eyes” become dull, his “central nervous system” slows

down, and his “feet, hands, and body” react sluggishly. And

he wouldn't be saved by the bell because additiona

stunning blows would follow—hour after hour, day afte

day—until even Hussein would see how hopeless his

situation was. In only a few days (six to nine was the initial

estimate), Iraq would first be stunned and then driven to the 

mat. The only smart thing to do would be to stay down for

the count. Because of the hopelessness of their situation

the Iraqis would be well advised to accede to coalition

demands and live to fight another day. Otherwise, they

might be “killed.” To achieve this effect, coalition force

would have to maintain the strategic focus, but—since this

targeting option was not dominant at the time—the task

would prove arduous.

Maintaining this focus in phase 1 of Desert Storm, while

at the same time expanding the overall attack plan to

incorporate phases 2 through 4 (air superiority in Kuwait

battlefield preparation, and support of the ground assault

respectively), was the mission of General Glosson and his

special planning group (later known as the Black Hole and

finally—after a massive reorganization in January

1991—known as the Iraq/strategic target planning cell o

74

the sys tem than a drawn- out se ries of at tacks that achieve the same physi cal re sult

over a longer pe ri od of time. This takes on par ticu lar sig nifi cance if Na poléo

was cor rect when he de clared that “in war the moral [psy cho logi cal] is to the ma te ria

[physi cal] as three is to one.” Cited in Rob ert D. Heinl, Jr., Dic tion ary of Mili tary an

Na val Quo ta tions (An na po lis, Md.: United States Na val In sti tute Press, 1966), 196.

Ba si cally, par al lel at tack re fers to the ca pa bil ity to at tack mul ti ple nodes of mul ti p

sys tems si mul ta ne ously. This type of at tack was not tech ni cally fea si ble dur ing pre viou 

wars, in which doz ens—even hun dreds—of bomb ers were sent against in di vid ual tar ge

to achieve de sired dam age lev els. Ad vances in bomb ing plat forms, navi ga tion and guid 

ance sys tems, and weap ons made it pos si ble to in flict the same dam age with just a few

plat forms and weap ons. See Lt Col Ed ward Mann, “One Tar get, One Bomb: Is the Prin c

ple of Mass Dead?” Air power Jour nal 7, no. 1 (Spring 1993): 35–43.

At tack ing mul ti ple nodes in in di vid ual sys tems would freeze the en tire sys tem ( sy

temic pa raly sis); at tack ing mul ti ple sys tems si mul ta ne ously ( par al lel at tack) would n

only cause na tional stra te gic pa raly sis but also make re pairs to those sys tems fu tile

since dam age would in crease ex po nen tially com pared to the re pair ef forts.
the GAT [guidance, apportionment, and targeting]).* The

Black Hole, which eventually gained an amazing level o

control over the prosecution of the air war, began as an

upstart, outcast organization with no official power.

Initially consisting almost exclusively of non- CENTAF

personnel, the special planning group/Black Hole continued—

throughout the planning phase and the war itself—to be

75

*In early Janu ary, a sig nifi cant re or gani za tion of most of CEN TAF took place. Firs

all the field forces as signed to CEN TAF were re or gan ized into four air di vi sions (AD

14th AD (fighter air craft), 15th AD (EW and C

2

 air craft), 1610th AD (Mili tary Air li

Com mand [MAC] air craft), and 17th AD (SAC air craft). Con duct of the Per sian Gu

War, vol. 2, K-12 (see note 13).

More per ti nent to this dis cus sion, CEN TAF and aug men tee plan ning staffs (chiefly

Black Hole) were also merged into the Cam paign Plans Di vi sion un der the di rec tion o

Gen eral Glos son. It con sisted of four branches: GAT (both Iraq/stra te gic cell an

KTO/tac ti cal cell); ATO; Air borne Com mand Ele ment; and Serv ice Li ai son. Dep tula

10 De cem ber 1991, 26–27 (see note 11).

Glosson and Planners. General Glosson (center) and some of his Deser

Storm planners watch General Schwarzkopf's televised daily updat

briefing near the end of the war.

COURTESY OF COL DAVE DEPTUL
dominated by augmentees. General Glosson himself was an

augmentee to CENTAF, formally assigned to CENTCOM as the 

deputy commander, JTF Middle East.

6 To CENTAF regulars

members of the special planning group must have seemed like

interlopers meddling in CENTAF's affairs. Over time, however

the informal, unofficial Black Hole assumed so much power in 

the planning process that CENTAF reorganized its plans

function to formalize the role of the Black Hole/GAT in th

Desert Storm air campaign.

Ultimately, the number of people directly involved in planning

the Desert Storm air campaign (counting both Glosson's Cam

paign Plans Division and Checkmate) was probably larger than

the number assigned to the entire CENTAF staff in peacetime.*

Not only that, but some of the interlopers would have more say in

the plan and its execution than would any of the CENTAF

regulars.

7 Although one expects and plans for wartime

augmentation of theater staffs,

8 the growth of CENTAF in

preparation for Operation Desert Storm far exceeded anyone'

expectation.

9 How this dramatic increase came about is fairly

clear. What remains unclear is why it happened the way it did

and what that implies for the future. This uncertainty adds a

number of important, specific questions to those raised in

previous chapters.

For example, was all the reorganization and growth necessary?

If not, was it detrimental to smooth operations? Should we try to

implement procedures to stop it next time? If it were necessary

and served to improve operations, should we assume tha

correctives will occur spontaneously in the future? Or should we

try to implement procedures and correctives to ensure the righ

things will happen next time? Can we and should we try to

formalize some or all of the unusual linkages that occurred? For

instance, should we create (formalize) a central planning function

in Washington (i.e., something similar to the Joint Strategi

Target Planning Staff, developed at Offutt AFB, Nebraska, fo

planning the SIOP) to augment and support theater plannin

staffs? Because potential adversaries now know it isn't wise to

76

*The Black Hole stra te gic air cam paign plan ners alone would even tu ally number a

least 45, of whom, fewer than one- third were from Ninth Air Force. “`Black Hole' Str

te gic Air Cam paign Plan ners,” 1, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori c

Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
allow the US six months to build up forces in-theater, our future

operations will require off-the-shelf answers to these questions.

In light of the remarkable growth and reorganization that oc

curred during Desert Shield, General Horner, General Glosson

and everyone who worked for Glosson both inside and outside

of Campaign Plans had to make an extraordinary effort to

maintain the focus of the air campaign. After all, they were

preparing to do something that had never been done before

To create strategic paralysis and simultaneously prepare th

battlefield for a possible ground assault, they would need t

coordinate and direct not just dozens—or even hundreds—bu

literally thousands of sorties per day, 24 hours per day, seven days

per week, as long as necessary to achieve coalition objectives

Landing a blow that would dull Iraq's senses required early

concentration on the phase 1 strategic attacks, yet in the interes

of cutting off the hands as well,* priorities of the land and sea

components also demanded attention. Once coalition aircraf

induced strategic paralysis and achieved air superiority (o

supremacy), our planners could shift their focus to the more

methodical preparation of the battlefield. But as General Alexande

had cautioned General Powell in August 1990, it was firs

necessary to “concentrate our forces on the strategic campaign.”

10

General Glosson, working closely with his two chief deputies—

Lt Col Dave Deptula for strategic operations and Lt Col Sam

Baptiste for tactical operations—was able to balance these two

approaches to warfare. But the fact that inputs arrived from al

directions often made their task rather difficult. For example, they

had to balance the need to defend Saudi Arabia (CENTAF's sol

purpose in late August and early September) against the need to

conduct offensive operations to achieve national and coalition

goals. Further, Glosson and his staff not only were obliged to heed

the CINC's guidance (relayed through Horner), which was sacro

sanct but not always perfectly understood, but also were bound

to consider and account for the sometimes-divergent interests o

the various services. Finally, they had to weigh the vision o

decisive, independent air operations against that of closely

77

*Dur ing dis cus sion of the In stant Thun der con cept on 11 August 1990, Gen era

Pow ell re ferred to the Iraqi forces in Ku wait (whose com bat ca pa bil ity he wanted de 

stroyed) as “the hands” when he said, “The stra te gic air cam paign cuts out the gut

and heart, but what about the hands?” Al ex an der, 30 May 1991, 36 (see note 10).
integrated fire support for attainment of surface maneuve

objectives.

Many Instant Thunder/Black Hole planners felt that CENTAF'

fixation on the D day plan (see chap. 2) to the exclusion of any

sort of offensive thinking interfered with planning for the offensiv

air campaign for quite some time.11 CENTAF's plan sought t

attrit enemy fielded forces by attacking Iraq's forward suppor

infrastructure, which was notoriously weak.

12 But this approach

amounted to little more than counterpunching to score points for

a decision instead of landing a stunning blow to set up a

knockout. Although a serious lack of resources made the D da

plan the only reasonable game in town for the first few days, the

rapid flow of airpower into the theater made possible the

contemplation of more ambitious goals.13

Furthermore, confusion over the CINC's intent sometime

exacerbated the schism between informal and formal planning

staffs. In light of the Goldwater-Nichols Act, it should have been

easy to follow CINC guidance: “just do it!” But communication

problems are inevitable. Purple* as they may be, Army and Ai

Force officers do not speak quite the same dialect, just as

Britons and Americans are said to be “two peoples divided by a

common language.” Although we usually understand one

another, misinterpretations can sometimes be spectacular

(Imagine, for instance, the virile young American male's reaction

to the [perfectly harmless] request of a nubile and charming

young British lady to “knock me up in the morning.”**)

The same kind of problem sometimes occurs between a CINC

and his service commanders. For instance, during air campaign

planning, Schwarzkopf asked Horner and his staff to “put more

[effort] on the Republican Guards.” Consequently, they “put som

B-52s on the Republican Guards in the opening moments.

Schwarzkopf apparently thought that Horner's staff understood

they were to “annihilate the Republican Guards.” Just before the

air campaign commenced, Schwarzkopf “became incensed tha

[in fact they] weren't [planning on] annihilating the Republican

Guards.”14 The air planners, who understood that destroying the

78

*Pur ple is used through out DOD to con note joint ness (i.e., joint of fi cers don't wea

green, blue, or dark blue—they wear pur ple).

**Of course, she is sim ply re quest ing that he wake her up by knock ing on her door
Guard would take a huge effort (assuming it was at al

possible), thought they had been executing Schwarzkopf'

guidance religiously by planning to keep constant pressure on the

Guard. But the CINC, who apparently never spoke explicitly o

annihilation, felt he had been misled.

One may attribute such a misunderstanding—at least in

part—to disparate viewpoints concerning the military ob

jectives of warfare (see chap. 1). On the one hand, if th

military objective is destruction of the opposing army and i

the Republican Guard is the Iraqi army's center of gravity

then the coalition should have sent everything available

against the Guard (within the constraints of the principle o

economy of force). According to General Horner, as early a

April 1990 Schwarzkopf had in fact identified the Republican

Guard as “the center of . . . gravity [of the Iraqi army].” 15 On

the other hand, air campaign planners in the Black Hol

concentrated on centers of gravity they felt were more

directly linked to Iraqi political leadership and its control o

the country and the military forces.

16 In their estimation

there would be plenty of time to deal with the Republican

Guard later—if it were necessary. If, as Schwarzkopf feared

the Guard attempted to withdraw after the air war began, so

much the better—it would simply find itself on another

“highway of death.”17 The planners managed to resolve this

problem by increasing the level of effort against Repub

lican Guard units while simultaneously maintaining their

focus on the powerful “left cross” they had prepared for

Baghdad.

18

Other problems that detracted from the strategic ai

campaign took the form of varying perspectives among the

services on warfare and the application of airpower. The Nav

and Marine Corps, for instance, placed a high priority on

servicing targets that would lend credence to the amphibiou

deception plan or that posed a potential threat to flee

operations,

19 while Army corps commanders wanted

allotments of aircraft to help them attain their objectives. 2

Moreover, the Marines would have preferred to operate

autonomously within their own AOR (much like the “rout

pack” system implemented during the Vietnam War).21

79
Attempting to deal with all of these issues piecemeal would

have made it impossible to focus on the principal objective o

creating strategic paralysis across an entire nation. Indeed, the

interservice problems described above might have been

debilitating (or at least required a clearer resolution of authority

had it not been for the vast resources available to the coalition ai

forces. Horner accurately assessed these issues as irritants rather

than real problems because of the airpower available to him.

22

Finally, with the approval of Horner and Schwarzkopf

General Glosson and his staff resolved the problem of usin

airpower independently or in support of ground operations

After reviewing all plans available at CENTAF headquarters in

Riyadh, Glosson saw that CENTAF had prepared defensiv

plans for support of surface maneuver elements (AirLand

Battle) but no offensive plans. He also saw that the Air Staf

had prepared an offensive plan to create strategic paralysis bu

had not yet prepared anything to follow up with if the strategi

strikes didn't force a surrender or coup d'état.

23 In Glosson'

mind, Warden's plan was Douhetian in that it visualized driving 

an umbrella shaft through the enemy's heart. Glosson himsel

leaned more toward (his interpretation of) Billy Mitchell'

technique of driving the shaft deep through the heart but

spreading the umbrella as well, to smother the beast.24 Afte

all, even though a stunned fighter should logically throw in the

towel, his condition might make him unpredictable. If he tried

to get up, what would we do next? Glosson concluded that w

should plan to create strategic paralysis but also be prepared to

exploit the condition if it alone did not decide the issue.

Over the next five months, Glosson and his key

subordinates worked to maintain this dual focus by planning

first to deliver a stunning right cross and then apply a flurry o

blows to finish the job.

25 When the air campaign opened on

17 January 1991 and for several days thereafter, strategic

attacks made up the preponderance of the air effort. Later

emphasis would shift to preparation (some would even say

destruction) of the battlefield. First, the sweat and blood

would fly, the eyes would dim, and the muscles would go

flaccid. Then coalition forces would pummel a defenseless

stunned Iraq from all directions. At the war's end, 42 days

later, the Iraqi leadership was so disoriented it had to rely on

80
coalition reports for the status and location of its own

forces.*

Notes

1. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 52, 56–58, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; L

Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 12 Decembe

81

Iraqi Military Leaders. During the war-termination talks at Safwan, Iraq

Iraqi military leaders evidently had no clear understanding of the military

disaster that had befallen them. Coalition forces had so totally dominate

the struggle for information that the Iraqis didn't even know th

disposition of their own troops three days after cessation of hostilities.

*Al though the talks be tween coa li tion and Iraqi mili tary lead ers at Saf wan, Iraq, oc 

curred three days af ter the cease- fire, the Iraqi lead ers ob vi ously still had no clear pic tur

of the thrash ing their forces had taken. The number of Iraqi pris on ers in coa li tion hand

(over 58,000 by count at the time of the talks—even tu ally 86,000 to tal) and the ex tent o

the coa li tion ad vance on the ground stunned the Iraqi ne go tia tors. The Iraqi vice- chief o

staff turned to his III Corps com mander as each of these facts was an nounced to ask if i

were true. Each time the com mander re plied that he did not know, but it was pos si ble

Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War: In terim Re port to Con gress (Wash ing ton, D.C.: De part 

ment of De fense, July 1991), 4–10.
1991, 20–25, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Lt Gen Buster C. Glosson, Washington

D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T

Reynolds, and author, 4 June 1992, 14, 54–55, 110, 115–16, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

2. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 Decembe

1991, 15–21, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

3. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 102.

4. Warden, 22 October 1991, 97.

5. Deptula, 11 December 1991, 20–25.

6. Maj Gen Buster C. Glosson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 29

May 1991, 22, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

7. See, for instance, Glosson, 4 June 1992, 92; and Lt Col Dave Deptula

Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, L

Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 22–23 May 1991, 65, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

8. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2 December 1991

69–70, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

9. Brig Gen Patrick M. Caruana, Offutt AFB, Nebr., transcript o

interview with author, 19 August 1991, 2–3, Desert Story Collection, US Air

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

10. Lt Gen Robert M. Alexander, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 30 May 1991, 30, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

11. Col Steve Wilson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 December 

1991, 20–22, 24–26, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington

D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T

Reynolds, and author, 23 May 1991, 14–15, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Lt Col Dave Deptula

Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds

and author, 10 December 1991, 129–30, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and notes, Lt Col Ben

Harvey, 22 August 1990, 136, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force

Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information

extracted is unclassified.

12. “The best thing to do was to fight a ground war of maneuver and use

air power to cut the sustainment since they were vulnerable there.” Horner

2 December 1991, 12–14.

82
13. Warden and his planning group initially (by 12 August, when they

briefed the CJCS) felt that Instant Thunder could be executed as early as

the end of August, “if you change[d] your flow [of aircraft into the theater

around a little bit and really push[ed] things.” With no changes to the flow

they thought it could be done around 7 or 8 September 1990. Col John A

Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B

Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 30 May 1991, 102, Deser

Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala.

The fact that air combat power arrived rapidly seems to support thei

assumption. According to DOD's report to Congress, over 200 USAF comba

aircraft were in-theater by 14 August, as well as two aircraft carrier groups

on station (not counting the aircraft of our coalition partners). Conduct o

the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.

Department of Defense, April 1992), E-23 through E-24.

14. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview

with Dr Perry Jamieson, Dr Rich Davis, and Dr Barry Barlow, 4 March

1992, 82–83, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. See also Warden, 30 May 1991, 75–76; and

Horner, 2 December 1991, 32–33, for discussions of similar instances o

miscommunication.

15. Horner, 4 March 1992, 82.

16. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 12

December 1991, 15–16, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

17. Alexander, 30 May 1991, 24.

18. Horner, 4 March 1992, 82–83.

19. See Glosson, 4 June 1992, 11; and Maj Gen Larry Henry

Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, L

Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 2 June 1992, 102–5, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

20. Horner, 4 March 1992, 11; Deptula, 10 December 1991, 36; and

Deptula, 12 December 1991, 128–30.

21. “I knew the Marine Corps would come in and try and carve out their

own AOR; and the Navy would want to resist being in the ATO; and the

Army would want to divide air power up and assign it according to

individual units.” Horner, 4 March 1992, 10–11.

22. Ibid., 25.

23. Glosson, 4 June 1992, 5–6.

24. Ibid., 29 May 1991, 2–3.

25. Ibid., 4 June 1992, 14.

83
Chap ter 5

The Objective

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to walk from

here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,”

said the Cat.

“I don't much care where,” said Alice.

“Then it doesn't matter which way you walk,” said the Cat.

—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Wherever a traveler goes, he or she usually has more than

one way to get there, and some of these modes of transportation are costlier than others. Indeed, until the traveler

has decided on a destination (objective), any consideration o

alternative routes (ways and means) is nearly always wasteful

Although some people allow themselves to be as frivolous as

Alice, most of us (as well as organizations and nations) cannot 

afford the high cost of wandering aimlessly. Not knowing our

objectives in Vietnam, for instance, cost 58,000 lives without a

reasonable return. The agony of that waste continues to

plague US efforts in foreign policy to this day. Clearly defined

objectives do not guarantee success, but they are absolutely

crucial if one is to have any reasonable hope of achieving it.

According to Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations,

“the purpose of the objective is to direct every military

operation toward a clearly defined, decisive, and attainable

objective.”

1 Clearly, the bureaucrats who wrote this

convoluted statement did not include simplicity as one of their 

objectives. Although the Joint Staff defines the principle

satisfactorily, Sun Tzu's definition (written almost 2,500 years

ago) is much simpler: “He whose ranks are united in purpose

will be victorious.”2 Sun Tzu understood that goal-directed

85

*Al though Joint Pub 3-0 did n't ap pear un til well af ter the Gulf War, the defi ni tio

cited here is con sis tent with oth ers in cluded in doc trinal writ ings avail able at the tim

of the war. An authori ta tive source, Joint Pub 3-0 ap plies to all US mili tary serv ices.
activity is almost always more productive and, ultimately

more satisfying than random activity.

The bigger and more important the activity, the more clearly 

this principle applies. When the lifeblood and treasure o

nations are involved, the level of importance rises to the nth

degree, as do the need for and impact of clearly defined, decisive, and attainable objectives. One must clearly define

national objectives before bringing to bear the right mix o

instruments of national power: economic, diplomatic, and

military (i.e., deciding how much of what goes where and does

what). Further, the objectives must be capable of rendering a

decision favorable to our interests, so that the selected

economic, diplomatic, and military actions produce the

desired result (often referred to as the desired “ end state”*)

Finally, objectives must be attainable to avoid squandering

blood and treasure while trying “to reach the unreachable

star.” A nation should never contemplate using force withou

carefully and deliberately considering its political objectives as

well as the subsidiary objectives that support them.

This principle suggests the need for a systematic approach

to defining (1) the policy objective(s); (2) the supporting

economic, diplomatic, and military objectives; (3) the plans

manpower, equipment, supplies, and sustainment capabilities

required; and (4) the means of measuring success (i.e., a way

of knowing when the policy [and underlying subordinate

objectives are met). (The fourth point highlights the need for a

clear definition of the end state that the nation [or its

policymakers] hopes will result from the achievement of policy

objectives.) Without such an approach, objectives tend to

create themselves and then wander over time, as circum

stances change.

Planning military operations without a clearly defined

objective is a very frustrating and horribly expensive business

What force mix should we deploy: heavy armor, light infantry

86

*The term is some thing of a mis no mer, since po liti cal sci en tists (and most sen si ble

hu man be ings) re al ize that noth ing is ever fi nal in re la tions be tween states in the in 

ter na tional sys tem. Rather, the term sug gests some change in or main te nance of the

status quo with re gard to the be liefs, ac tions, and/or re source or gani za tion (e.g., bel li 

cose at ti tude, eco nomic pol icy, ter ri tory, type of gov ern ment, and so forth) of a sec ond

state. 
or a mix of ground forces? (For that matter, what kind of mix?)

How much artillery and Army aviation is necessary? Will we

need carrier task forces? (If so, how many?) Does the

operation require air defense fighters, surface-attack fighters

bombers, tankers, or airlifters? (Which ones and how many?

What weapons mix is most appropriate: dumb bombs, smar

bombs, or standoff munitions? Do we use the Army, Navy, Ai

Force, Marine Corps, or some combination? In this day o

artificial jointness, the answer seems to be, “Send some o

each.” But what goes first: heavy armor, light infantry, or a

mix? No one can answer these questions without a systematic

clear definition of objectives.

The Desert Storm air campaigners did themselves a favor by

carefully and systematically defining their objectives and

scrupulously following them throughout planning and

execution. The fact that their efforts were spectacularly

successful suggests that we would do well to study their

procedures closely. For instance, instead of waiting an

indeterminate time for politicians or DOD officials to give them 

a formal list of political objectives, these planners developed

their own list from public statements of the president,3 floated 

it up the chain of command through a series of briefings, and

eventually submitted it to the secretary of defense and the

president himself for revision and approval. Although the

planners did not get the list completely right the first time

they needed only a couple of days to formulate four nationa

objectives pertinent to the operations at hand.

4 As thing

turned out, their approach proved functional and effective.

War planning without such specific political and military

objectives tends to devolve to the creation of elaborate

deployment* lists (e.g., the now somewhat infamous time

phased force and deployment list [TPFDL]). For instance, the

military objectives that underlay OPLAN 1002-90 were not

specific but quite broad and supported general US policy in

the Middle East.5 This plan, designed to stop an armored

invasion of Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, was clearly defensive in

nature and focused on battlefield employment in Kuwait and

87

*Force de ploy ment is—in and of it self—very im por tant, but de ploy ing the righ

kinds of forces is even more im por tant.
northern Saudi Arabia.6 Although such generic planning i

absolutely necessary and always forms the basis of our initia

actions (if we are thinking correctly), it is subject to change

once the real action begins.

After Iraq's lightning invasion of Kuwait, Hussein's decision

to have his forces hunker down and await the world's next

move

7 meant that, although the deterrence phase of OPLAN

1002-90 might still prove appropriate, the portion dealing with 

the defense of Saudi Arabia and the counteroffensive int

Kuwait no longer applied. If diplomatic efforts and economi

pressure on Iraq did not work, then the coalition would hav

to initiate a military offensive for which it had no contingency

plan. Now that the initiative lay with the coalition rather than

Iraq, we had to choose the best response from a number o

options that 1002-90 had not anticipated. This choice

however, depended upon a redefinition of objectives.

Prussian strategist Helmuth von Moltke (the elder) spoke to

this kind of revision, wryly noting that “you will usually find

the enemy has three courses open to him, and of these he will

adopt the fourth.”

8 Once the adversary has staked his course

the redefinition of objectives—from national to tactical—

provides a point of departure for strategic-, operational-, and

tactical-level planning and replanning (which, in turn

prompts a periodic reevaluation of objectives during extended

operations to ensure that they remain appropriate).

Further, these objectives must be decisive in the sense that

they should give us hope of deciding the issue on favorable

terms, an outcome requiring the deliberate linkage o

objectives from top to bottom, bottom to top. For example

tactical-level objectives that do not contribute to operational

and strategic-level objectives are inappropriate. Alice's travels

seemed to take her into ever deeper trouble because she fel

the need to walk but “[didn't] much care” where she went. The

same is true of tactical events that are not linked to

operational and strategic objectives: they waste time, diver

attention, and squander resources. The resultant physical and

psychological exhaustion and wastage lead to strategic defeat

as in Vietnam.

Before we can clearly define appropriately decisive sub

ordinate objectives, we must first define our principal objec

88
tive. For instance, President George Bush

s bold statemen

that “this will not stand”

9 made clear his intention to reverse

Hussein's aggression but did not specify the means (political

economic, and/or military) for doing so. Actually, the state

ment was so general that it could have encompassed almos

any action, including the destruction of Iraq. In other words

the desired political objective—not to mention a fully

developed conceptualization of the desired end state—had no

yet been completely defined.

The subsequent formulation of four national policy objectives—

(1) removal of Iraqi forces from Kuwait, (2) restoration o

Kuwait's sovereignty, (3) establishment of regional security

and stability, and (4) protection of American lives—added

specificity to the president's general statement. Even so, a

number of economic, diplomatic, and military options stil

remained.

The US, as well as the rest of the world community, selected 

several of these options in an effort to fulfill the first of the four 

above-mentioned objectives, which called for the immediate

unconditional, and complete withdrawal of all Iraqi forces

from Kuwait. For example, other nations joined the US in

issuing diplomatic condemnations and calls for withdrawal.

1

Arab nations made an unsuccessful attempt to settle the issue 

diplomatically in a meeting of Arab states in Cairo on 10

August 1990, after which they began to join the military

coalition against Hussein.

11 The Soviets' efforts to negotiate a

diplomatic solution extended well into the execution of the ai

campaign—just before the ground war began—but produced

no results.

12 Further, the United Nations imposed “tough eco

nomic sanctions—mandatory for all U.N. members.” Even the

Arab League supported this action and endorsed Arab

participation in the US-led coalition. Other options put into

effect included freezing Kuwaiti assets to keep them out o

Hussein's hands13 and imposing an embargo on Iraqi oi

exports.14

A number of military options also lay at our disposal. The

fact that the coalition had deployed a powerful military force

sent the unmistakable signal that most of the world was

serious about our policy objective that called for the ejection o

Iraq from Kuwait. If this demonstration of forceful resolve

89
combined with the political and economic efforts mentioned

above, did not convince Hussein to withdraw, the military had

other options to consider.

One of these was military enforcement of the oil embargo—

an option that put few lives at risk but required an indeter

minate length of time to be effective. Although we

implemented this option, we chose not to wait it out. Anothe

course of action was a strategic bombardment campaign

which—like the military embargo—proved controversia

because of questions about the amount of time necessary to

produce results. Indeed, some people argued that such a

campaign would never convince Iraq to leave Kuwait

Specifically, Lt Gen Tom Kelly, Joint Staff director o

operations (J-3), declared that “air power has never worked in

the past by itself; never worked in the past by itself. . . . Air

power can't be decisive.”15

Other military options included a direct attack, a demon

stration strike, or an interdiction campaign. The appeal of a

direct attack on Iraqi field positions, which would either push

the Iraqis back to their border or destroy them in place, was

that it would directly fulfill the objective (assuming a coalition

victory). The major drawback, of course, was the risk to

coalition lives. This liability would be lessened considerably

(part of our policy objectives) in a successful strategic bom

bardment campaign. A demonstration strike, favored by

General Russ, would show Hussein what we could do if he

didn't acquiesce, while an interdiction campaign would

possibly force out the Iraqis through isolation and starvation.

In the end, any or all of these options might fail. After all

embargoes rarely work, yet politicians continue to try them—

probably because the cost is relatively low. Why should

strategic attack as a potential policy tool be thought of any

differently? Under the right circumstances, it promises a high

political payoff at low cost—the main risk being pretty much

the same as that for embargoes (i.e., failure to achiev

objectives). Of course, strategic attack carries a higher risk o

loss of lives and military equipment than do most embargoes

(because of the need to penetrate the adversary's airspace)

but the potential payoff is usually higher as well. Because no

tool works every time, it is best to have as many tools as

90
possible. National objectives and the adversary

s capabilities

should determine which of these tools will be employed.

During Colonel Warden's briefing to General Powell on 1

August 1990, the CJCS further delimited the military options

At the time, Instant Thunder called for a strategic offensiv

that would force a political decision by Hussein to withdraw

his forces (see chap. 2). But Powell's desire to destroy the Iraq

army in Kuwait (a sentiment presumably shared up and down

the chain of command) changed all that and had a substantia

effect on the CENTCOM mission statement and the list o

theater (operational-level) military objectives. Two key phrases

in the mission statement are directly relevant to the first

national policy objective, mentioned earlier: (1) eject Iraq

armed forces from Kuwait and (2) destroy the Republican

Guard. These statements, in turn, translate into three key

military objectives: (1) sever Iraqi supply lines, (2) destroy

Republican Guard forces in the KTO, and (3) liberate Kuwai

City.16 Such objectives are much more direct and limiting, in

terms of potential employment options, than the nationa

policy objective's call for “unconditional withdrawal.” The

military objectives clearly require a direct attack on Iraq

forces in Kuwait and on the Republican Guard in Iraq. Simpl

withdrawal would no longer be an option.

The operational-level objectives (in addition to those men

tioned above) included attacks on Iraqi political-military

leadership and C2; attainment and maintenance of air supe

riority; and destruction of Iraqi nuclear, biological, and chem

ical capabilities.

17 These objectives were both a logical out

growth of the four national policy objectives and an effective

means of attacking the CENTCOM-defined Iraqi centers o

gravity: (1) command, control, and leadership of Saddam

Hussein's regime, (2) Iraqi NBC capabilities, and (3) the

Republican Guard. Disconnecting Hussein from his military

forces and/or the people of Iraq might compel him, for pure

survival reasons, to comply with coalition demands (policy

objectives one and two). Destroying his NBC capability would

reduce Iraq's threat to other states in the region (policy

objective three). Eliminating the Republican Guard would

reduce Iraq's capability to defend Kuwait and its ability to

threaten other states (policy objectives three and four).

1

91
Thus, the military objectives served the national policy

objectives.

With strategic-level and operational-level objectives in

synch, only the development of appropriate tactical-leve

objectives remained. The four-phase campaign plan and the

12 target sets (see chap. 2) provided the necessary framework

for designing a systematic process that accomplished this task

(see fig. 2). Whether or not this particular scheme represents

the definitive process for translating national policy objectives

into military force applications, planners should implement a

systematic process of some description.

The system designed for Desert Storm used nationa

objectives, military factors such as friendly and enemy center

of gravity, desired effects, and available resources to arrive at

a concept of operations. In this case, the concept entailed

utilizing our strength—airpower—in the opening round to

inflict strategic paralysis through carefully orchestrated

attacks against Iraqi vulnerabilities (i.e., the eight strategic

target sets). It then called for exploiting that paralysis to throw

Iraqi forces out of Kuwait while simultaneously reducing Iraq's 

offensive capability (essentially the four remaining target sets

although there is some overlap). Thus, the concept o

operations is essentially an “artist's conception” that lays ou

the general idea for the campaign.

Prior to the construction of a building, an architect must

convert the artist's conception into drawings that show the

structure's main features (e.g., rooms, walls, doorways

windows, etc.) and finally into a blueprint that specifies the

placement of individual structural and aesthetic components

In Desert Storm, the master attack plan depicted the

“architectural drawings” by matching targets with attack

systems and by sequencing sorties to produce the desired

concentration, intensity, and tempo of the overall effort. The

daily air tasking order, or “blueprint,” specified detailed

instructions for every sortie (or at least every mission). In such

a system, planners must recognize the necessity of each leve

of detail and must link each of these levels to the hierarchica

array of objectives in order to fulfill the national politica

objectives.

92
93
Since 

no plan survives contact with the enemy,

19 planner

must also install feedback loops at each level. In other words

they must be prepared for changes. In Desert Storm, fo

example, the worst weather in 14 years interfered with

operations, causing aircraft to seek out secondary targets o

abort without releasing their weapons.

20 Even when aircraf

hit their targets, inaccuracy, miscalculation, weapon or

systems malfunctions, or other problems sometimes compro

mised the mission.

21 Although the Desert Storm planner

never had to contend with changes in objectives or the

concept of operations—typically the result of politica

activities, changes in friendly and enemy capabilities, and so

forth—their plan had to allow for such changes.* To do

otherwise is to risk having the campaign wander around like

Alice, lost and seeking the way without knowing the

destination.

Feedback—including the possibility of having to chang

objectives—is vital. Unlike the operator, who cares only

whether the bomb went where it was supposed to, the planne

must know not only that fact, but also whether the bomb went

off, whether it produced the desired damage, whether

it—combined with effects of other weapons—had a systemic

effect, and whether that effect contributed to fulfilling the

objective. For the planner, each bomb, bullet, and missile

must relate to clearly defined, decisive, and attainable

objectives—or it is probably wasted.

This systematic approach to planning was as critically

linked to the success of Operations Desert Shield/Storm as

the lack of such an approach was to the failure of Operation

Rolling Thunder, almost 30 years earlier in Vietnam. Som

94

*De sert Storm was quick and de ci sive, at least in terms of achiev ing de clared ob 

jec tives. Be cause lit tle time ex isted for ma jor changes in the po liti cal en vi ron ment and

the de vel op ing out come seemed fa vor able to coa li tion de mands, shifts in goals an

ob jec tives were un likely. Shifts of this kind are more likely to oc cur dur ing pro longed

op era tions, such as the Vietnam- era Roll ing Thun der cam paign (or, for that mat ter

the “peacekeep ing” op era tion in So ma lia). In deed, by tak ing a cata clys mic ap proach to

the air cam paign, the In stant Thun der plan ners hoped to leave lit tle or no time fo

such changes. When such shifts do oc cur, how ever, mili tary op era tions will not sup

port the chang ing po liti cal ob jec tives un less the shifts in these ob jec tives ar

rec og nized and mili tary op era tions are re vised to sup port the new ob jec tives. This pro 

cess re quires con stant feed back and re view.
people may feel that the coalition

s failure to remove Saddam

Hussein and his regime from power tainted the victory. If tha

is true, it represents a policy failure—not a military one—

because Desert Storm arguably achieved every stated politica

objective, including the establishment of greater stability in

the region. The coalition achieved President Bush's desired

end state of removing Iraq's forces from Kuwait, restorin

Kuwait's government, and enhancing regional stability, at th

cost of as few American lives as possible. If that end state

proves to be less than desirable, one cannot blame the

military. In terms of fulfilling the stated political objectives

the Desert Storm planners produced the most successful ai

campaign in history.

Notes

1. Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations, 9 September 1993, A-1.

2. Sun Tzu, The Art of War, ed. Samuel B. Griffith (London: Oxford

University Press, 1963), 83.

3. Lt Col Ronnie Stanfill, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and author, 3 June 1991, 20, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

4. The planners included four national objectives in a briefing to Genera

Loh on 8 August 1990. What they presented that day differed somewha

from the final four objectives (see chap. 2), particularly in that the third

objective was originally to “secure [the] free flow of oil.” This was quickly

changed to “[ensure] security and stability of the Persian Gulf [region],” a

change that appeared in the first briefing to General Schwarzkopf just two

days later. Briefing, subject: Iraqi Air Campaign, 8 August 1990, Deser

Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala. (Secret) Information extracted is unclassified; and briefing, subject

Instant Thunder: A Strategic Air Campaign Proposal for CINCCENT, 10

August 1990, file 1, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information extracted i

unclassified.

Although the wording of the four objectives changed slightly in late

versions, its intent remained constant for the duration of the war. Conduc

of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 1 (Washington, D.C

Department of Defense, April 1992), 38.

5. OPLAN 1002-90, Defense of Saudi Arabia, 18 July 1990, 5. (Secret

Information extracted is unclassified.

6. Briefing, subject: OPLAN 1002 Air Operations, April 1990, file 19, Gul

War Air Power Survey Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information extracted is unclassified.

7. Some analysts speculated that the Iraqi forces had reached the end o

their logistics tether at this point and were, at least temporarily, incapable o

95
coherent large-scale operations much beyond the Kuwaiti border. Othe

analysts expected the Iraqis to continue after a short pause.

8. Quoted in Lt Col Charles M. Westenhoff, Military Air Power: Th

CADRE Digest of Air Power Opinions and Thoughts (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Ai

University Press, October 1990), 78.

9. Gerald F. Seib and John J. Fialka, “Americans Will Feel Pain o

Boycott; Military Role Poses Even More Dangers,” Wall Street Journal, 

August 1990, 1.

10. Steven B. Michael, The Persian Gulf War: An Air Staff Chronology o

Desert Shield/Desert Storm (Washington, D.C.: Center for Air Force History

1992), 11. (Secret) Information extracted is unclassified.

11. John Kifner, “Boost for U.S. Stand—Iraq's Leader Issues Call for Holy

War,” New York Times, 11 August 1990, 1, 6.

12. Bill Gentile, “The Gulf War: The Gulf War's Final Curtain,” U.S. New

& World Report, 4 March 1991, 24–34.

13. Lisa Beyer, “The World Closes In,” Time Magazine, 20 August 1990

26–29.

14. Bruce W. Nelan, “Can the U.S. Turn Off Iraq's Oil?” Time Magazine

13 August 1990, 21–22.

15. Gen John M. Loh, Langley AFB, Va., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 19 September 1991

20, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

16. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 96–97.

17. Ibid., 96.

18. Ibid., 94.

19. This quote is commonly attributed to Helmuth von Moltke (the elder)

See Robert D. Heinl, Jr., Dictionary of Military and Naval Quotation

(Annapolis, Md.: United States Naval Institute Press, 1966), 239.

20. Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf Wa

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institute Press, 1992), 176–77; and

Conduct of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 1, 227–29.

21. See Barton Gellman, “Gulf Weapons' Accuracy Downgraded,

Washington Post, 10 April 1992, 1.

96
Chap ter 6

Taking It to the Enemy

Invincibility lies in the defence; the possibility of victory in

the attack.

—Sun Tzu, The Art of War

According to an old adage, “the best defense is a good offense.

In the world of sports, this saying translates to “let'em score; we'l

score more!” Of course, no matter how offensively oriented any

team is, it never leaves the field when the opponent has the ball

The adage really means that (1) “if our offense is good enough, we

will score so many points that our opponents will never score

enough to match us,” (2) “if we hit them fast enough, hard enough

and early enough, they will be disoriented by the onslaught,” and

(3) “if we keep the pressure on—they will never recover.”

On the other hand, anyone familiar with “classic matchups” o

the great offense versus the great defense knows that the great

offense is not always the victor. Sometimes the strong defensive

team shuts down the strong offensive team and hangs on to win

by a small margin, usually in a low-scoring game. Even great

defensive teams, though, must be able to generate some offens

in order to win. Such teams aren't all defense—it is simply thei

dominant characteristic.

This need for offense also applies to warfare, especially if one

wants a “cheap” win (i.e., with low casualties)—as seems to b

true of the American public. Wars dominated by defense are

usually long, bloody affairs, like the American Civil War and

World War I. The offensive phases of those wars were

straightforward, blunt, and sequential, producing bloody

stalemates and massive casualties on both sides. Unable to

achieve their objectives expeditiously, the adversaries tried to

wear each other down with continual pressure. In terms of our

metaphor from the sports world, they tried to outscore each other 

but failed to induce shock by going on the offense fast, hard, and

early, and by keeping the pressure on.

By contrast—from its earliest iteration as Instant Thunder t

the waning hours of the ground campaign—Operation Deser

97
Storm used modern technology and unique American

advantages in airpower and space power to apply intense and

unremitting pressure on Iraq through a coordinated, compre

hensive strategic air campaign. Executing this campaign

according to the coalition's timetable—not Hussein's*—coalition

forces took the offensive against the Iraqi dictator and his sources 

of power, as well as his army.1 They employed inside-out warfare

simultaneity, and parallel attack (see chaps. 1, 3, and 3

respectively) to inflict national strategic paralysis and allowed n

chance for recovery by pressing home the attack, seeking to

diminish Hussein's power until he acquiesced or succumbed to a

coup d'état or revolution.

As we have seen, Colonel Warden's concept of inside-ou

warfare called for early attacks on Iraqi leadership and key

essential targets instead of the Iraqi army. Such a strategy

was unimaginable to Clausewitz, who wrote that “th

destruction of the enemy's armed forces always appears as th

highest [of all the possible aims in war]” (emphasis added).

During Clausewitz's day, there was little chance of attacking a

nation's leadership or capital without first encountering its

army and/or navy. Defeating these forces laid the capital at

the feet of the victor, an event that usually proved decisive

because the monarch would sue for terms of peace.**

98

*The clear est in di ca tion of CEN TAF's de ter mi na tion to exe cute on its own time ta ble

came dur ing dis cus sions that fol lowed the Iraqi test- firing of two Scud mis siles on 29 No

vem ber 1990. In a brief ing to Lt Gen Cal Wal ler on the ques tion of what to do if Hussei

be gan lob bing Scuds at the coa li tion, Gen eral Hor ner stated that “any type of at tack on

any of our forces should be an swered with phase 1 [i.e., stra te gic at tack]. [Any other re 

sponse would be] ex tremely in ef fi cient use of air.” A for mali za tion of this po si tion was t h

Re flex Plan, which al lowed smooth flow into phase 1 with as lit tle as two hours' no tice

Maj Mark B. Rogers, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B

Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 3–4 June 1991, 157–60, De sert Story

Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.

**Like most “rules” of war fare, this is a gen eral one. Cap tur ing the capi tal did not al 

ways achieve the po liti cal ob jec tive, even in Clause witz's time—wit ness the oc cu pa tion o

Mos cow by the French in 1812, fol low ing the in de ci sive Bat tle of Borod ino. What proba

bly made the dif fer ence in that case, how ever, was the fact that the Rus sian army was

not de ci sively de feated bef ore the oc cu pa tion. Czar Al ex an der I and his army with drew

from the city, leav ing it to the oc cu pier. In time, un der the threat of a largely in tact Rus 

sian army and for un known rea sons (per haps ex haus tion), Na poléon aban done

Mos cow and with drew, los ing most of his army to the Rus sian win ter.
Clausewitz did recognize, however, that capitulation re

sulted not so much from the physical defeat of the army as

from its perception of hopelessness: “One might say that the

physical [factors] seem little more than the wooden hilt, while

the moral [i.e., psychological] factors are the precious metal

the real weapon, the finely-honed blade.”

3 In other words—

cases of annihilation excluded—defeat normally occurs more

in the mind than the body, a principle that inside-out warfar

seeks to exploit.

Although General Schwarzkopf did not care for the analogy

Colonel Warden had a point when he likened Instant Thunde

to the Schlieffen Plan (see chap. 3).

4 Just as that plan refused

engagement of most of the fielded French army, so did Instant

Thunder—and, later, the strategic attack phase of Deser

Storm—refuse engagement of Iraqi army divisions deployed in

Kuwait and southeastern Iraq. Instead, von Schlieffen pre

ferred to flank the French army by attacking through the Low

Countries and then wheeling left to envelop it. Severely dislocated by this unexpected maneuver, the French would

immediately collapse, allowing the Prussians to turn quickly

to deal with the Russians. Similarly, Instant Thunder was

designed to “flank” the Iraqi fielded forces (by flying over and

around them) and then to “envelop” Iraq by attacking key

strategic nodes.

Inflicting systemic paralysis on a nation-state is not a new

concept (it was part of AWPD-1 in 1941, for example

5), bu

using it efficiently is possible only through the skillfu

exploitation of the most modern technologies. A combination

of precision navigation and weapons guidance, electroni

warfare and counterwarfare capabilities, near-real-time C

capabilities, stealth, and other recent technological improve

ments is necessary to inflict rapid systemic collapse through

aerial bombardment. But planners who adhere to old plannin

philosophies such as the sequential (or even simultaneous

engagement of enemy forces at and beyond the forward edge o

the battle area (FEBA) could squander these capabilities

Instead, they should try to envision the potential of concept

such as inside-out warfare for fully exploiting such capabilities, especially when joined to other concepts such as

simultaneity and parallel attack.

99
Now that it is possible to simultaneously attack many key

nodes within a system, one can make total systemic stres

greater than the sum of the stresses placed on individua

nodes. For example, disrupting four key nodes at a critica

juncture is likely to cause more than four times the systemic

dislocation caused by completely destroying one of the four

nodes at precisely the same moment. By multiplying this

impact manyfold (i.e., exponentially), as in Desert Storm, on

can temporarily (sometimes permanently) paralyze the system

This principle underlay the operations planners' decision to

depart from common targeteering practice and use only two

bombs against individual sector operations centers (SOC

instead of the eight recommended by targeteers.6 Although th

use of fewer bombs would reduce the physical damage at each

site, it promised to increase both the physical and psycho

logical disruption of the entire system. More than half of the

sites bombed were likely to go off the air, either for physical or

psychological reasons (people tend to be distracted by 2,000

pound bombs exploding around them*). The sheer number o

sites going off the air in just minutes would likely increase the

already considerable apprehension of Iraqi air defense forces,

further interfering with air defense operations. 8 Some analyst

have described this effect as “death by a thousand cuts.”

For both physical and psychological reasons, the thousand

cuts should occur quickly—simultaneously if possible

Physically, it is important to overcome the system's capability

to (1) withstand and compensate for losses (often described in

military parlance as robustness) and (2) recover lost capabil

ities through repair. Military systems are designed to be as

robust as possible, but all of them are susceptible to breakdown at some point. Because work-arounds require time to

implement, disrupting a large number of nodes in a shor

amount of time increases the probability of exceeding the

system's robustness. Likewise, damage to many sites will tax

repair capabilities more severely than will damage to fewer

100

*Chief plan ner Lt Col Dave Dep tula, origi na tor of the con cept dur ing De sert Shield

phrased it this way: “You know a 2,000- pound bomb can go off down the hall. . . . I

will make a heck of a lot of noise, and we won't be dead, but I can guar an tee you we

[won't] con tinue to sit here and drink cof fee.” Dep tula, 11 De cem ber 1991, 18 (se

note 13).
sites (even though the cumulative amount of damage may be

the same) because repair personnel, equipment, and supplies

must be spread over a larger number of locations.

Studies of the psychological dimension of warfare have

demonstrated a direct relationship between the intensity o

operations and their psychological effect on troops. Although

these studies apply specifically to battle fatigue in trained

combat forces, their findings suggest that widespread damage

in a short period of time is likely to be more dislocating than

the same damage over a longer period of time. 9 If thi

phenomenon is true of trained troops, it is likely to be true of

civilian leaders as well.

When the simultaneous attack of multiple nodes is

combined with the parallel attack of multiple systems, the

effect on a modern nation-state may become exponential (see

chap. 4) if the nation-state is a system of highly integrated

subsystems. For example, air defense systems and thei

components require electrical power, usually supplied through 

integrated power grids. Since attacks on these grids would

disrupt the air defense system, most such systems have

disbursed, oil-fired, backup generators, usually located at the

sites themselves. Long-term usage of these generators

depletes on-site fuel stocks, which must be replenished from

fuel-storage and refinement facilities. This requirement places

increased demands upon transportation systems, which also

require fuel from the same stocks. Conceptually, paralle

attack calls for the individual and collective disruption of all o

these systems and supporting subsystems by massive and

continuous aerial attacks. The mutual reinforcement of al

these disruptions, combined with those of other key

subsystems such as C2, is likely to bring the entire nationa

infrastructure to a screeching halt—thus inducing strategi

paralysis.

Reeling defenselessly, the nation-state under attack has

only two options—stay on the mat or take a beating to end al

beatings. It seems as though any rational leader would admit

defeat and sue for peace. But Hussein and the Baath

party—rational or not—did not appear to understand wha

was going to happen next and did not embrace the

hopelessness that their situation warranted. Otherwise, they

101
could have saved many lives, a considerable amount o

military equipment, and the national infrastructure simply by

announcing (and executing) unconditional compliance with

UN demands any time in late January or early February 1991.

There may be something of a “global” learning curve

associated with the concept of strategic paralysis. Some things 

are learned only through experience, whether our own or

others'. It may well be, for instance, that the first general who

lost control of his line(s) of communications (LOC) and re

supply did not understand the danger he was in. He may have

pressed on, not comprehending that he could be strangled

and then slaughtered since he could neither resupply himsel

nor retreat without facing the enemy on the enemy's terms. In

fact, in the days before armies needed to replenish thei

shotshell, powder, guns, and—more recently—petroleum, oil

and lubricants (as well as other expendables of modern war)

it made little difference when LOCs were cut. The armies could

subsist off the land and resupply the necessities of war by

plundering the adversary. It probably took some time for

commanders to become as concerned as they are today about

secure LOCs. But now it is understood that if communication

cannot be maintained, all is probably lost. Commanders who

cannot secure their LOCs begin to negotiate terms o

surrender or prepare for a final stand. Perhaps, in the same

way, nation--states will one day begin to understand the

significance of a successful strategic air attack—at least bette

than Saddam Hussein did.

In Desert Storm, coalition air forces demonstrated how a

properly sequenced and massed air attack can dismantle

extensive air defenses in a stroke, leaving the nation-state and

its fielded forces defenseless against aggressive exploitation. In

the opening hour of the war, strikes by TLAMs and F-117

against air defense, C3, electrical, and leadership targets in

Baghdad activated the Iraqi IADS, also known as Kari (Ira

spelled backwards in French*). The coalition then launched

drones into the Baghdad area to simulate a second attack

102

*Com posed of a mix ture of former So viet and West ern equip ment, Kari was linked

and co or di nated by a French- built, com put er ized C

2

 sys tem—hence the in verte

French name.
103

Coalition Aircraft. A carefully coordinated and massed assault can very

quickly dismantle ground-based air defenses. Shown here (top to bottom) 

are an E-3A AWACS aircraft, two EF-111 electronic monitoring and

jamming aircraft, and a flight of F-4G Wild Weasels loaded with HARMs.
force in order to keep Kari active. At that point, a large force of

coalition EW aircraft attacked Kari, jamming radar and

communications emitters and shooting over 200 high-speed

antiradiation missiles (HARM) at fire-control radar sites. Othe

coalition aircraft waged a similar effort against air defens

ground control facilities and airborne Iraqi fighter aircraft

This massed offensive against Kari and other air defense

resources allowed coalition air forces to exploit Iraqi airspac

for the remainder of the war while sustaining negligible

losses.

10

Because all Iraqi leadership and C3 nodes were now

vulnerable and virtually indefensible, coalition air attack

were sudden, unexpected, and deadly. Even hardened

bunkers no longer could be counted on for protection

Actually, given the selectivity of coalition targeting, the safes

place for leadership to hide was probably a home in a

residential district. But any place that radiated the volume o

communications necessary to run a nation and an army at

war would be quickly detected by coalition electroni

monitoring and targeted for attack. Certainly, there was no

way to escape monitoring and detection because the coalition

controlled the air. For the same reason, the Iraqis were unabl

to gather information on coalition activities.

The inability of the Iraqi leadership to understand that an

aggressive adversary now held the initiative at all levels—

tactical, operational, and strategic—proved disastrous. Having

observed what happened to Iraq, perhaps future leaders in a

similar situation will know when to sue for terms of peace. In

any event, the fact that one leader's powers of perception were

faulty does not prove that other leaders will be equally blind.

Proving the value of inside-out warfare in Desert Storm i

impossible because analysts lack the tools to collect and

analyze essential data. For that reason, some people wil

continue to argue that the only meaningful event in the

operation was the defeat of the Iraqi army in Kuwait and tha

strategic attack on leadership and other key nodes had no

effect on the outcome of the war. Somehow it seems

implausible to argue, however, that a running, hiding

leadership out of normal contact with its citizenry and army

could effectively direct a nation-state for long. Hopefully, some

104
future despot whose air defenses and communications hav

been destroyed by strategic attack will remember the kind o

devastation that can follow (as in Iraq and Kuwait) and choose 

wiser course of action than did Hussein. Just as nations and

alliances frequently turn to embargoes and quarantines—even

though their efficacy cannot be proven—military theorists should

continue to develop the concept of inside-out warfare as a usefu

military option in pursuit of national political objectives.

However effective the concept of death by a thousand cuts

may eventually prove to be, it calls into question certain

beliefs long held by students of war (especially airpowe

thinkers). Superficially at least, the concept seems to argue for

dispersion of effort (spreading sorties and weapons over a

large target base rather than concentrating on a few). This

flies in the face of both the old military principle of mass—th

concentration of combat power to achieve decisive

results11—and the airpower tenet of centralized control

1

articulated by FM 100-20 in July 1943* (see chap. 3). Indeed

since air forces can now accomplish so much more with smal

numbers of air assets, perhaps it is necessary to reconsider

arguments in favor of penny packeting. Further, the new

technologies may now allow control to be decentralized to

field-command levels (e.g., corps and below). But the truth is

that when the concept is viewed at the proper levels o

abstraction, death by a thousand cuts demands even greate

allegiance to the time-honored principle of mass and the tene

of centralized control. In this case, sights must be raised

above the tactical level of warfare because the new

technologies in conjunction with concepts both new and old

(e.g., simultaneity, parallel attack, inside-out warfare, and

strategic paralysis) permit the conduct of warfare more

directly at the operational and strategic levels.

Massing of attack forces against single targets is no longe

necessary—at least not in the traditional sense. In previous

conflicts, destruction of “strategic” targets often required

hundreds of attacks with thousands of bombs, and “servicing” 

105

*“Con trol must be cen tral ized and com mand must be ex er cised through the ai

force com mander.” FM 100- 20, Com mand and Em ploy ment of Air Power, 21 Ju

1943, 2.
just a handful of targets could take days—even though the

enemy could begin repairs immediately. Now, however, the

fact that a single bomb delivered by a single weapon system

(see fig. 3) may be sufficient means hundreds of targets can be 

attacked in one day and reattacks can outpace repairs.

Again, the attack against Iraqi SOCs provides a usefu

example. The decision by Desert Storm planners to neutralize

Kari was logical and doctrinally correct because it would help

enable all other air and surface operations.* The SOCs, therefore, became high-priority targets on the master attack plan

(i.e., if necessary, they would be serviced at the cost o

delaying attack on other targets).

At the time, the standard targeteer's approach to planning

target servicing relied heavily on “engineering solutions.

Using probability-of-kill charts and duration-of-effect tables

targeteers calculated the number of weapons necessary to

achieve the desired probability of destroying the target. The

trouble with this approach is that it becomes simply a

number-crunching exercise that completely ignores wha

Clausewitz and others posited about the dominance of the

psychological over the physical dimension in war. As Deser

Storm planners discovered, the approach also eats up

enormous quantities of resources very quickly: “You can only

hit a few targets. It limits your ability to hit a whole lot o

targets.”

13

Instead, the operations planners proposed that success be

measured not by the amount of damage inflicted but by the

effect produced (e.g., is the SOC operating or not?). SOCs stil

operating after the first attack or returning to operation later

could be reattacked as necessary.

14 This proposal entailed an

important conceptual shift from “destruction-based” to

“effects-based” planning. Furthermore, using two bombs

instead of the eight recommended by targeteers (note tha

both numbers apply to precision weapons delivered by a

106

*“Air forces must be em ployed pri mar ily against the en emy's air forces un til air su 

pe ri or ity is ob tained. In this way only can . . . the in her ent mo bil ity of mod ern land

and air forces be ex ploited to the full est.” FM 100- 20, Com mand and Em ploy ment o

Air Power, 21 July 1943, 1.

“Aero space con trol per mits aero space and sur face forces to op er ate more ef fec tively

and de nies these ad van tages to the en emy.” AFM 1-1, vol. 1, 10 (see note 12).
precise, stealthy platform) freed six bombs for other targets

and reflected a second conceptual shift: one should apply

economy of force and mass at the operational level as opposed

to the tactical, because of the additional leverage gained

through simultaneous, parallel attack (see chap. 3).

To comprehend this second conceptual breakthrough, on

must understand that individual targets become les

significant when the rapid infliction of strategic paralysis is

intended. Taking down a specific SOC, for instance, migh

allow easier ingress to other targets and a reduction in

attrition to friendly forces in proximity to that SOC. But if one

is to effect rapid systemic collapse, it is more important that a

large number of SOCs, spread widely across the entire system

be quickly disabled. Thus, individual targets become, in effect

“secondary efforts” (i.e., failure against one target does no

negate the entire effort because the cumulative effect is more

important).

As articulated in US joint doctrine, economy of forc

demands that “minimum essential combat power [be

allocated] to secondary efforts.”

15 In accordance with thi

107

Figure 3. Effect of Circular Error of Probability (CEP) on Quantit

(2,000-pound bomb, 90 percent probability of hit)
precept, two bombs constituted the minimum essentia

combat power to achieve the desired effect on individual SOCs

(i.e., secondary efforts), since this number virtually

guaranteed some damage to each one. Chief planner Deptula

also expected (rightly or wrongly) the attendant psychologica

impact to halt operations at least temporarily, even if the

physical damage did not.

16 According to Deptula, coalition

aircraft never used more than four bombs (including

reattacks) against any SOC. The results of the air campaign

(especially the exceptionally low loss rates for coalition forces

suggest that his calculations were correct.

Applying economy of force in this way to individual target

made possible a revised application of the principle of mass to

the “main effort” (i.e., inducing rapid collapse of entire

systems). Instead of massing at the tactical level (lots o

bombs on one target), coalition aircraft applied mass at the

operational level (lots of targets successfully attacked). This

change does not mean that the principle of mass can be

casually discarded at the tactical level. Rather, with modern

technology, one or two weapons sometimes provide sufficien

mass (surely an understatement had one bomb killed Saddam

Hussein). The reconceptualization of this principle at the

operational level, however, allows for a considerable increase

in the leverage available through specific modern

technologies.

17

Of course, it is important to apply the principle of mass in

such a way as “to achieve decisive results.”

18 Therefore

cohesion, timing, and tempo of the entire campaign (i.e.

which targets, when, and how?) became critica

considerations. Even though planners had at their disposa

literally thousands of sorties per day (a goodly number o

which were dedicated to strategic targets), many targets

remained unserviced or required reattack at the end of 44

days of air campaigning. Because random attack of such a

large target base is not likely to achieve desired results, one

must impose order of some kind—certainly, order of a very

high level if one intends to inflict strategic paralysis.

If, as we have posited, a modern nation-state is a system o

highly integrated, robust, and repairable subsystems, then an

attack designed to paralyze that nation-state and demoralize

108
its people must be integrated, pervasive, persistent, and

properly sequenced, a task that demands highly centralized

control at the operational level (see chap. 3). As Napoléon

wrote concerning unity of command, “One bad general would

be better than two good ones.”

19

Now that individual and small groups of assets using

modern technologies can accomplish even more than large

groups using older technologies, it is more important than

ever to centralize planning and control of these highly

leveraged assets to achieve operational-level objective

quickly. We can achieve the leverage available through the

application of modern technologies such as precision guided

weapons and stealth only when we apply the “stick” o

technology upon the “fulcrum” of concepts. The ancien

principles of the offensive, mass, and economy of force are no

outdated, but some of our thinking about them may be. If we

cannot learn to think in new ways, the power of our awesome

technologies will eventually be forfeited to more flexible

adversaries.

Notes

1. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 72–73, Desert Story Collection

US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

2. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. Michael Howard and Pete

Paret (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976), 99.

3. Ibid., 185.

4. During the second briefing to Schwarzkopf on 17 August 1990

Warden said Instant Thunder was “like the Schlieffen Plan.” Schwarzkop

replied, “Don't call it the Schlieffen Plan.” “But it is the Schlieffen Plan

rotated into the third dimension,” Warden responded. Notes, Lt Col Ben

Harvey, 17 August 1990, 92, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information extracted is

unclassified.

5. For instance, the following discussion of the inland waterway and rai

transportation systems in AWPD-1 has an eerily familiar ring:

The transportation system of Germany is indispensable to the

functioning of her military organization and national structure. The

disintegration and failure of this system can be brought about by the

neutralization of the inland waterway system and by simultaneous

attack upon certain selected points in the railway system. . . . It is

estimated that the existing inland waterway establishment can be

paralyzed by the destruction of 9 locks, 3 ship elevators and inland

harbor facilities at Mannheim and Diusburg. . . . It is estimated that

109
the destruction of about 15 marshalling yards and about 15 other

sensitive points within the rail net, in conjunction with the attacks on

the inland waterways, will cause the disintegration and failure of the

transportation system of Germany. (Emphasis added)

Air War Plans Division—Plan 1, Munitions Requirements of the Army Ai

Forces, 12 August 1941, tab 2, 2–3, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

6. Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf Wa

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 153.

7. Col S. D. Ramsperger, cited in Alan D. Campen, “Iraqi Command and

Control: The Information Differential,” in Alan D. Campen, ed., The Firs

Information War: The Story of Communications, Computers and Intelligenc

Systems in the Persian Gulf War (Fairfax, Va.: AFCEA International Press

1992), 173.

8. Hallion, 173.

9. Anthony Kellet, “The Soldier in Battle: Motivational and Behaviora

Aspects of Combat Experience,” in Betty Glad, ed., Psychological Dimension

of War (London: Sage Publications, 1990), 209, 230–31; and Capt Robert W

VanGorder, Qualitative Analysis of Combat Stress (Wright-Patterson AFB

Ohio: Air Force Institute of Technology, 1980), 56–57.

10. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

(Washington, D. C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 151–60.

11. See Joint Publication (Pub) 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations, 1993

A--1.

12. See AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force

vol. 1, March 1992, 8.

13. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds and author, 11 December 1991, 18–20, Deser

Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala.

14. Ibid., 19.

15. Joint Pub 3-0, A-2.

16. Deptula, 11 December 1991, 18–20.

17. See Lt Col Edward Mann, “One Target, One Bomb: Is the Principle o

Mass Dead?” Airpower Journal 7, no. 1 (Spring 1993): 35–43, for an

expanded discussion of the impact of this conceptual shift.

18. Joint Pub 3-0, A-1.

19. Quoted in Peter Paret, ed., Makers of Modern Strategy from

Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age (Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press

1986), 130.

110
Chap ter 7

Seizing the High Ground:

Airpower as a Maneuver Element?

The end for which a soldier is recruited, clothed, armed,

and trained, the whole object of his sleeping, eating,

drinking, and marching is simply that he should fight

at the right place and the right time. (Emphasis in

original)

—Carl von Clausewitz, On War

As we have seen (chaps. 4 and 6), Alfred von Schlieffen'

plan of 1905 relied on the principles of economy of force and

mass to bring about the rapid defeat of France. The rea

subtlety of the plan, however, lay in its use of maneuver to

gain positional advantage (i.e., drawing forward the French

right wing [on the German left] while wheeling around as if in

a “revolving door”

1 to crush it from behind). Reportedly, von

Schlieffen's dying words were, “It must come to a fight. Only

make the right wing strong.”2 But von Schlieffen's successor

Helmuth von Moltke (the younger), failed to understand the

use of maneuver “to place the enemy in a position o

disadvantage through the flexible application of comba

power,”

3 and his modifications to the plan contributed to the

stalemate that the Western Front settled into in 1914—a

stalemate that would eventually consume millions of lives.

4

According to Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations

(1993), “effective maneuver keeps the enemy off balance and

thus also protects the friendly force. It contributes materially

in exploiting successes, preserving freedom of action, and

reducing vulnerability by continually posing new problems for

the enemy.” The focus of maneuver is “to render opponents

incapable of resisting by shattering their morale and physica

cohesion (their ability to fight as an effective coordinate whole

rather than to destroy them physically through attrition.

What von Moltke failed to grasp about von Schlieffen's plan

was that the efficacy of the revolving door depended more

111
upon 

movement . . . to secure . . . positional advantage than

upon physical destruction.

5

The Instant Thunder plan, as explained by Colonel Warden

to General Schwarzkopf in early August 1990 and to Genera

Horner later in the month, relied upon maneuver in the air t

“render [the Iraqis] incapable of resisting by shattering thei

morale and physical cohesion” and to “protect the friendly

force” by “keep[ing] the enemy force off balance.” When

someone raised the possibility of Iraqi ground operations in

response to the proposed air campaign in the briefing to

Schwarzkopf, Warden himself likened Instant Thunder to the

Schlieffen Plan: “A useful way to think about this is as the

Schlieffen Plan, but now think about your air arm as being a

third-dimensional maneuver [element] which you will use to

smash the Iraqis while you are refusing your left flank, which

is the ground flank.”6 Warden was confident that Instan

Thunder's proposed strategic attack would so dislocate the

Iraqi leadership and C3 that an offensive ground campaign

launched out of Kuwait would be beyond the Iraqis

capability.7 Thus, coalition forces could “refuse the left flank

(ground operations) while pressing home the attack on the

“right flank” (rotated into the third dimension).

Although the concept of third-dimensional maneuver may

seem new to some people, the basic idea actually extends at

least as far back as 1921, when Italian airpower theoris

Giulio Douhet wrote, “Now it is possible to go far behind the

fortified lines of defense without first breaking through them

It is air power which makes this possible.”8 Other theorists, as

well, hoped to use airpower to break the deadlock at the front

(after the experience of World War I, most military analysts

expected such a stalemate). In 1923 Brig Gen Billy Mitchel

wrote, “Against an enemy not in possession of an adequate air

force, offensive aviation, if employed effectively, can force a

decision before the ground troops or sea force could [sic] join

in battle.”

9 In September 1928 Maj Gen James E. Fechet, then

chief of the Army Air Corps, said,

If the true objective can be reached without the necessity of defeating

or brushing aside the enemy force on the ground or water . . . the

object of war can be obtained with less destruction and lasting after

112
effects than has heretofore been the case. At present the Air Force

provides the only means for such an accomplishment. 10

On the eve of World War II, the Army Air Corps plans for war

in Europe, articulated as AWPD-1, reflected the belief that one

could use airpower to break a stalemate on the ground (see

introduction and chap. 3).

Prior to the outbreak of World War II, many airpowe

theorists thought that armed bomber forces would prove

invincible against defensive counterair operations (i.e., the use

of antiaircraft artillery [AAA] and what was then called pursui

aviation). Due to the state of technological development in the

113

Brig Gen Billy Mitchell believed that “offensive aviation” could force a military decision without a

surface battle.
late 1930s, multiengined bombers were nearly as fast as

pursuit aircraft and could carry heavier armament due to

their larger size and carrying capacity. Since the bomber

could also normally choose the place and time of engagement

(i.e., by choosing ingress routes and attack timing) and since

sophisticated detection and tracking technologies such a

radar had yet to be developed, aviation experts assumed that

bombers would be difficult both to find and to destroy.

11

In 1934, for instance, Col Hap Arnold (who would command

the Army Air Forces in World War II) “concluded that the speeds

of bombers and fighters were so evenly matched that `pursuit o

fighter airplanes operating from front line airdromes will rarely

intercept modern bombers except accidentally'.”12 Douhe

believed that, even if pursuit aircraft were able to engage them

exchange ratios would favor the more heavily armed bombers (or

“battleplanes,” as he called them).

13

Thus, the offensive force would strike when and where it

wanted, “destroying the hostile air force in the air, on its

airdromes, and in the enemy's depots and factories.”14 Th

bombers could then attack whatever target set was of mos

immediate interest. In other words, these aircraft would have

gained positional advantage and would now be able to

“deliver—or threaten delivery of—the direct and indirect fires o

the maneuvering force.”

15 Although the initial results of surfac

maneuver in World War II would be quite different from those in

World War I, both sides would eventually attempt to apply this

theory to break a stalemate of surface forces.

In marked contrast to the Germans' failure of 1914, a

quick and powerful maneuver force of a mere 10 armored

divisions, one parachute division, and one air-portable

division16 achieved for Germany in 1940 what von Moltke'

modified Schlieffen Plan and over 60 divisions had failed to

acquire—positional advantage. The panzers penetrated the

weak Allied defensive lines in the Ardennes Forest (thought

by the Allies to be impassable for heavy armor), crossed the

Meuse River and other water obstacles on bridges secured by

air-delivered light-infantry detachments, outflanked th

now infamous Maginot Line, and enveloped the British

Expeditionary Force and Belgian army in northern France

and the Low Countries. This time the door revolved so

114
easily that German leaders repeatedly checked the advance

because they feared a trap.* The German success resulted in

the heroic but ignominious evacuation of British force

(intermingled with some French and Belgian forces) from

Dunkirk. France fell less than a month later, and for 12 tense

but illustrious months, Britain stood alone.17 Germany'

powerful airland force, though dominant on the Continent, was

held at bay by British sea power operating under the protection

of the Royal Air Force (RAF). To break the stalemate, the

Luftwaffe would have to sweep the RAF from the skies. Thus, the

stage was set for Britain's “finest hour.”

18 The outcome of th

Battle of Britain would bring into question the prewar

assumptions that offensive action would always be decisive in

air warfare.

The Germans hoped to gain positional advantage onc

again—this time through the third dimension—by defeatin

the RAF “in the air, on its airdromes, and [in the British

depots and factories.” They came excruciatingly close before

their own loss of hope brought on a dispersion of effort that

offered the rapidly dwindling RAF a modicum of relief.** Had

115

*The Ger man High Com mand stopped the ad vance at least three times. First, im 

me di ate ly af ter the cross ing of the Meuse, Pan zer Group Head quar ters or dered the

ad vance halted and the bridge head built up. Fear ing that this halt would for feit the

ele ment of sur prise, Gen Heinz Gud erian, pan zer corps com mander, asked that he b

al lowed to con tinue the ad vance and re ceived per mis sion to do so for 24 hours (dur ing

which time the halt or der was re scinded). Sec ond, the ad vance stopped three days

later at the Oise River on or ders from Hit ler, who feared a French coun ter at tac

against the Ger mans' south ern flank. Gud erian again ob tained per mis sion to con duc

“strong re con nais sance,” which he in ter preted as the con tinu ance of of fen sive op era 

tions. Soon af ter, the Ger man com mand al lowed him to be gin his race to the coast o

the Eng lish Chan nel. Af ter the panzers reached the coast, Hit ler or dered an other

halt—this time for three days. This hia tus may have cost the Ger mans the war be 

cause dur ing this time the Brit ish Ex pe di tion ary Force oc cu pied Dun kirk and be ga

its fa mous evacua tion. Lid dell Hart, His tory of the Sec ond World War, 72, 74–75 (se

note 16).

**Dur ing August 1941, the RAF lost 338 first- line fighter air craft with an ad di tiona

104 badly dam aged, while the Ger mans lost only 177 such air craft with 24 badly

dam aged. Fur ther, Brit ish in dus try pro duced fewer fight ers than were lost from 24

August to 6 Sep tem ber (265 pro duced ver sus 295 lost and 171 badly dam aged)

Clearly, the Ger mans should have pressed home the ad van tage by con tinu ing thei

at tacks on Brit ish fight ers, bases, and fac to ries. In stead, they switched in early Sep 

tem ber to a day light bomb ing of fen sive against Lon don, a de ci sion that proba bly

saved the RAF Fighter Com mand from de struc tion. Lid dell Hart, His tory of the Sec on

World War, 103–4 (see note 16).
the Germans maintained their pressure on British fighter

resources, they might have achieved their objective o

“defeat[ing] the RAF and [then] . . . neutraliz[ing] the Roya

Navy.”

19 Indeed, the German invasion force for Operation Sea

Lion was ready and waiting to exploit such an advantage.

2

Fortunately, although the British were repeatedly decimated

these beleaguered few to whom so much is owed* did not fold

Consequently, the stalemate of surface forces—prolonged by

the inability of either side to cross the English Channel in the

face of opposing airpower—remained unaltered.

Next, the Anglo-American Allies would have their turn a

testing the still-evolving airpower theories. After much debate

the British and Americans agreed to conduct a Combined

Bomber Offensive, sending American daylight precision bomber

against German industry, while British nighttime carpet

bombing targeted the will of German workers. The intermediate

goal of the Allies was command of the air ( air supremacy), jus

as it was for the Germans during the Battle of Britain. According

to Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, “it had been a

postulate in all Allied planning—from AWPD-1 of Septembe

1941 to the final draft of the NEPTUNE plan**—that the succes

of an invasion of the European continent would depend upon

the establishment of supremacy in the air.”

21

Although this effort took more than a year and although

objectives changed over time—as occurred during the German

effort in the Battle of Britain—the Allies ultimately experienced

phenomenal success. On D day only 25 German aircraft attempted

attacks on the invasion convoy, inflicting no significant damage

The Allies' heavy bombers alone flew a total of 1,083 successfu

sorties against the beachhead areas, dropping 2,994 tons o

bombs, and Allied air forces flew a total of more than 8,000 sorties

that day.

22 The stalemate was over, and Hitler was doomed.

116

*Speak ing of the RAF in the Bat tle of Brit ain, Win ston Chur chill de clared, “Neve

in the field of hu man con flict was so much owed by so many to so few.” Quoted in

Heinl, 6 (see note 28).

**Nep tune was the code name for the Ini tial Joint Plan for the in va sion of Europe

It in cluded the first phases of the in va sion and sei zure of the Nor mandy beach head

The plan for Op era tion Over lord, how ever, en com passed the en tire in va sion, in clud ing

pre-in va sion op era tions and the break out from the beach head (code- named Co bra).
If, as stated in Joint Pub 3-0, maneuver is indeed 

th

movement of forces in relation to the enemy to secure or retain

positional advantage, usually in order to deliver—or threaten

delivery of—the direct and indirect fires of the maneuvering force

(emphasis added),

23 then air forces possessing command of the

air (i.e., air superiority or air supremacy) constitute a maneuve

force par excellence. They not only have the advantage of approaching the enemy from any direction on the face of the earth

but they also possess the positional advantage of the third

dimension—altitude. Used properly, sole possession of the third

dimension allows air forces to disregard terrain and enemy

opposition. It also allows the compression of events, due to the

ability of modern jet aircraft and missiles to move very rapidly

over the battle area. In addition, it offers a greater probability o

achieving surprise, particularly at the operational and tactica

levels, since (with current technology) aircraft operating a

medium to high altitudes are rarely detected without specia

equipment such as radar (which can be negated by a properly

equipped air force in command of the air).

When Task Force Normandy* fired the first shots of the

coalition offensive at 0238 on 17 January 1991 (22 minutes

prior to H hour), the lead elements of the Desert Storm phase

1 enveloping force were already around (i.e., over) the flank

rapidly approaching targets in downtown Baghdad. Ten F

117s, followed by TLAMs, opened the attack on Baghdad a

0300, and in their wake the planned ambush of Kari helped

secure the way for less stealthy attacks throughout Iraq.

2

Iraqi fielded forces in Kuwait did not even know what was

going on, let alone possess any power to intervene. They were

dug in deeply—and utterly helpless.

In a matter of minutes and from many positions of advan

tage, coalition aircraft brought tremendous firepower to bear on

Iraq and its war-making capabilities. B-52s released ALCM

from well beyond radar-detection, let alone visual, range. Secure

fleets in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea launched volleys o

TLAMs. F-117s made their presence known only by the thunder

117

*Code name for the Air Force/Army team of MH- 53 Pave Low and AH- 64 Apach

heli cop ters that de stroyed the two SOCs along the Iraqi bor der, open ing the way fo

the less stealthy ele ments of the at tack ing force. See, for in stance, Hal lion, 166 (not

24).
and lightning of their 2,000-pound bombs. EF-111s, EA-6s, EC

135s, and other EW aircraft jammed enemy radar and

communications from secure positions at standoff range. F-4G

Wild Weasels, EA-6s, and F/A-18s fired Shrikes and HARMs a

Iraqi radar sites that were tracking and shooting at unarmed

remotely piloted vehicles. As Kari disintegrated, coalition aircraf

attacked hundreds of targets in a matter of minutes. Thei

positional advantage was so complete that, with a single

exception,* these thousands of aircraft and crews all came home

By dawn on 17 January 1991, Iraq had been crippled by a massive

air assault from which it would not recover in time. 25 Ultimately

airpower ensured that the coalition would achieve all of its

objectives and, because of the positional advantage secured by

Desert Storm's “air-Schlieffen Plan,” actually made the defeat o

Iraq look easy at all levels.

During the war, complete positional advantage in the air mad

a lot of things look easy. Before Desert Storm, most of the

coalition air forces followed the standard practice of planning

attack operations at low level—usually 50 to 200 feet above the

surface. This tactic made target acquisition more difficult for the

attacking aircraft, due to the extremely short time a given point

in the flight path would be in view (usually just a few seconds)

but it increased their chances for survival. As an integrated ai

defense system, Kari depended upon an overlay of guidance and

weapon systems to force these attackers into difficult choices—

stay high and risk radar intercepts by air defense fighters and

SAMs, or stay low to negate the radar-guided threats and risk

flying into the “golden BB,” an unguided shot by air defens

artillery (or even a stray small-arms round).

118

*An F/A-18 from the USS Sara toga was shot down the first night by an Iraqi MiG- 25

kill ing the pi lot, Lt Comdr Scott Spei cher. Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War, vol. 1, 160 (se

note 31); and At kin son, 47 (see note 25).

**A site goes autono mous when it be comes dis con nected from the in te grated sys tem o

which it is a part. While the sys tem is in te grated, en gage ments are cen trally con trolled and

co or di nated to avoid mul ti ple en gage ments and frat ri cide. One- on- one en gage ments o

autono mous sites are much eas ier to deal with from the air than en gage ments with a site

still op er at ing in the in te grated sys tem. The strength of the in te grated sys tem is the pres 

en ta tion of mul ti ple, co or di nated threats, while the autono mous site rep re sents only a

sin gle threat.
Once the system starts to break down, however, the attacker

s

problem is simplified. As radar sites and intercept contro

centers are destroyed or forced to autonomous mode,** much

more attractive options become available to the attacker. During

Desert Storm, coalition aircraft were able to move to the middle

and high altitudes once the air-to-air and SAM threats were

under control (from the second day forward). Bombing accuracy

suffered to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the specific

systems in question, but loss rates were extremely low, and an

additional element of surprise was added to the attacks.

With nearly all the coalition aircraft operating at medium to

high altitude, destruction often seemed to come from out of the

blue. Tanks exploded in the middle of the night with no warning

as F-111s and A-10s—working together and using imagin

infrared (IIR) Maverick missiles and 500-pound LGBs—learned

to target the infrared images of armored vehicles, which cooled

more slowly than the surrounding sand. Apparently, this threa

affected the sleep (and, consequently, the morale) of those Iraq

tankers who survived the attacks.*

Taking shelter in “hardened” C3 bunkers and SOCs could

not have been much more comforting because these facilities

also developed a nasty habit of suddenly disintegrating. The

carnage inside the Al Firdos bunker, viewed internationally via 

satellite transmission, gave the world a small taste of the

shock and devastation of these attacks. Rick Atkinson

captures the scene vividly in his book Crusade: The Untold

Story of the Persian Gulf War:

The lucky ones died instantly. Screams ripped through the darkness,

muffled by tons of shattered concrete and the roaring inferno that

enveloped the shelter's upper floor. Sheets of fire melted triple-decker

bunk beds, light fixtures, eyeballs. One survivor, Omar Adnan . . .

described the conflagration: “I was sleeping and suddenly I felt heat

and the blanket was burning. Moments later, I felt I was suffocating. I

turned to try and touch my mother who was next to me, but grabbed

nothing but a piece of flesh.” 26

119

*“Dur ing the Iran War, my tank was my friend. . . . I could sleep in it. . . . Dur ing

this war my tank be came my en emy. . . . None of my troops would get near a tank at

night be cause they just kept blow ing up.” Re marks made by a cap tured Iraqi of fi cer

dur ing in ter ro ga tion. Hal lion, 202-3 (see note 24).
Two 2,000-pound bombs dropped by undetected F-117s killed

204 people in the bunker.

27 This incident was both unfortunate

and unnecessary, for these civilians should not have been

allowed in a C3 facility (a violation of Geneva Convention

protocols). Even so, the incident is instructive because it gives

us an idea of what Iraqi military personnel must have expe

rienced in hundreds of other hardened sites across Iraq.

Regardless of personal or national sensitivities, the side tha

has attained positional advantage must either exploit or forfei

that advantage. All good military officers know the value o

holding high ground in the enemy's flank and rear, a position

that offers huge—usually insurmountable—advantages. The

ultimate objective of maneuver is to achieve these advantages

120

Iraqi Aircraft Shelter. Even “nuclear hardened” facilities such as thi

Iraqi aircraft shelter were not safe from the coalition's conventiona

precision, penetrating weapons.

COURTESY OF COL DAVE DEPTUL
If a force holds such a position, is nearly invulnerable from

attack, and can deliver heavy firepower on the enemy at will

the final outcome of the fight is assured. Such a force can pick 

the enemy apart, while conserving its own resources—

especially precious human lives. If enemy leaders understand

the position that a maneuver force has placed them in, they can

save both sides a great deal of trauma. (As the Duke o

Wellington said, “Next to a battle lost, the greatest misery is a

battle gained.”

28) With a huge coalition air maneuver force

operating nearly unopposed everywhere along the front and in

his rear areas, “a humane leader would have sued for peace,” as

Richard P. Hallion put it.29 Unfortunately, as nearly everyone

would agree, the Iraqi dictator is anything but humane.

Hussein's failure to see what would inevitably occur in the

following days seems implausible. In one night and one day

airpower achieved and demonstrated complete maneuve

dominance for the US-led coalition. From a position of virtua

invulnerability (above 10,000 feet and almost always beyond

useful detection), coalition airpower delivered ton after ton o

firepower on tactical, operational, and strategic targets, day

after day for over 40 days. Hundreds of targets caugh

thousands of bombs daily, communications and

infrastructure remained under constant pressure, and fielded

forces were pinned in place with little hope.

Even the occasional moment of laxness on the part of the

coalition served only to further reinforce the message. Part of a 

three-brigade Iraqi force (i.e., division level—though the enemy

offensive was not really properly coordinated as a division

attack) managed to enter and temporarily occupy Al Khafji, a

relatively unimportant village on the Saudi-Kuwaiti border

During the Iraqi buildup for the attack on Al Khafji, two

American A-10s and a single AC-130 gunship, cued by an E

8A joint surveillance target attack radar system (JSTARS

aircraft, destroyed 58 of 71 vehicles in a support convoy. As

the battle raged, at least 60 more vehicles were destroyed from

the air,30 and Iraqi armor columns attempting to reinforce the

attack were crushed by airpower of every description.

3

Although the Iraqis managed to down one AC-130 during th

melee, they were generally unable to respond to the death

raining down from on high.

3 2 Even running proved

121
dangerous—witness the fate of the Iraqis who tried to

scramble home from Kuwait City on the now-famous “highway 

of death.”33 The ability to maneuver freely and unobserved

over the battlefield and beyond is a powerful advantage. Even

if airpower can't be everywhere all the time, the positiona

advantage pertains because the adversary cannot know when

it is there—and it can be there whenever it needs to be.

When the coalition ground attack finally came, 38 days o

carefully exploited positional advantage had a telling impac

on the outcome. The ground operation, expected to last three

weeks, actually took only four days and achieved all stated

political objectives.* Perhaps more Iraqi heavy equipmen

escaped than we would have liked, but a very large amount

was destroyed. The Iraqis offered no organized resistance

above regimental level. Those who did resist were destroyed by

firepower massed from the surface and above. In the main

coalition forces knew where the Iraqis were, but the Iraqis had

little or no idea of the location or movement of coalition

forces.** The westward movement of two powerful American

122

*Com men ta tors have ar gued that the coa li tion's ob jec tives were not met for vari ous

rea sons (e.g., Hussein is still alive and in power; the Re pub li can Guard was not com

pletely de stroyed; NBC fa cili ties were not en tirely de stroyed; and so forth). Al though i

is true that some sub sidi ary ob jec tives were not met, the four po liti cal ob jec tives men

tioned in chap ter 2 were the meas ure of suc cess for the peo ple who wielded the

in stru ments of na tional power. That is, ful fill ment of the po liti cal ob jec tives ar ticu 

lated by na tional lead ers pro vides the meas ure of suc cess of the mili tar

in stru ment—not the ful fill ment of sub sidi ary mili tary ob jec tives. Mili tary ob jec tive

are merely those that are ex pected to lead to at tain ment of the na tional po liti cal ob jec 

tives. If one can ful fill the po liti cal ob jec tives short of full re ali za tion of the mili ta r

ob jec tives, so much the bet ter. In the case of De sert Storm, the coa li tion achieved a

stated po liti cal ob jec tives. Spe cifi cally,

1. there are no Iraqi forces re main ing in Ku wait;

2. Ku wait's pre vious gov ern ment is re stored;

3. se cu rity and sta bil ity in the re gion are im proved ( im proved—not per fect, if in

fact per fect se cu rity and sta bil ity ex ist); and

4. Ameri can lives were pro tected be yond any pre vious meas ure in war.

Short falls, if any, were pres ent only in the stated po liti cal ob jec tives—not in the

achieve ment. An analy sis of this is sue, how ever, is be yond the scope of this work.

**For ex am ple, one Iraqi bri gade com mander re ported hav ing “no idea we [coa li tio

forces] were com ing, even though the unit right ad ja cent to him had been at tacked

two hours bef ore.” Col S. D. Ram sperger, cited in Alan D. Campen, “Iraqi Com mand

and Con trol: The In for ma tion Dif fer en tial,” in Alan D. Campen, ed., The First In for ma

tion War: The Story of Com mu ni ca tions, Com put ers and In tel li gence Sys tems in the

Per sian Gulf War (Fair fax, Va.: AFCEA In ter na tional Press, 1992), 174.
Army corps had gone undetected, allowing them to attack

Iraqi forces that were often oriented in the wrong direction.

34

If Col John Boyd's OODA loop model is accurate (i.e., victory

goes to the one who observes, orients, decides, and acts mos

rapidly), then coalition forces could hardly lose because they were 

usually deciding and acting while Iraqi forces were still straining

to observe.

35 Satellites, JSTARS, advanced synthetic aperture

radar systems (ASARS) mounted on TR-1 tactical reconnaissanc

aircraft, U-2 camera systems, RC-135s, and other reconnaissanc

systems maintained constant surveillance for coalition forces

while the Iraqis relied on binoculars. Thanks to night vision

goggles, forward looking infrared (FLIR), low-altitude navigation

and targeting infrared for night ( LANTIRN), and othe

technomarvels (even the lowly Maverick missile, which A-10

were able to use as a poor man's FLIR), the coalition owned th

night, operating nearly as efficiently in darkness as in daylight.*

With all these advantages, victory was relatively wel

assured. But the real value of positional advantage resides in

the fact that it saved coalition lives. Tens of thousands o

Iraqis were captured, wounded, or killed,** but total coalition

casualties numbered only 1,358 (including 390 Americans

killed).36 Twenty-one Americans were captured by the Iraqis bu

were quickly released after the cease-fire.37 Certainly, ou

123

*In fact, one could ar gue that coa li tion air forces, led by the Ameri can F- 117s, F- 15Es

and F- 111Fs (in par ticu lar), were more ef fi cient at night than in day time. For in stance

the F- 117 was proba bly the sin gle most ef fec tive ve hi cle used for stra te gic at tack (as we

as the only manned sys tem al lowed to go into down town Bagh dad be cause of the heav

air de fenses and the de sire to re duce losses)—and it op er ated only at night. For vari ous

rea sons, Iraqi air de fenses eve ry where (par ticu larly manned in ter cep tors) were less ef fi 

cient at night. The coa li tion ex ploited this weak ness by plan ning the most de mand ing

sor ties for night time and by us ing the vari ous in fra red (IR)-equipped sys tems avail able t

their forces. The 117s in down town Bagh dad and the “shelter- busting” cam paign are tw

ex am ples. Some other at tacks could be car ried out only at night for tech ni cal rea sons

For in stance, F- 111Fs, A- 6Es, and F- 15Es used their IR sys tems to find and tar ge

tanks, which cooled slowly af ter sun set and there fore were eas ily dis tin guished from the

ter rain, even though they were bur ied in sand. In the day time, how ever, these tar gets

were nearly in visi ble. See Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War: Fi nal Re port to Con gress , vo

1, 155–56, 168–70, and 184–85 (see note 31).

**The ques tion of ex actly how many Iraqis were killed has been much de bated

with es ti mates rang ing from a few hun dred to 100,000. The lat est—and pre suma bly

most re li able—fig ures place an “ab so lute” up per limit of 8,000 on the number killed

and 32,000 on to tal casu al ties. The re port ac knowl edges that the to tal number killed

may have been as low as 1,500. “Re port Puts Iraqi Dead at 1500,” 5 (see note 38).
positional advantage met the president's objective o

protecting the lives of American citizens abroad.

In view of the tens of thousands of casualties predicted in

prewar estimates (see introduction), such a low figure is

remarkable.38 It seems more than fair to claim that a measure

of credit for this phenomenal success belongs to coalition ai

forces operating in the Iraqi rear and striking from out of the

blue. To reiterate the terminology of Joint Pub 3-0, these forces

provided the coalition with “positional advantage” that they

exploited

to deliver—or threaten delivery of—the direct and indirect fires of the

maneuvering force . . . keep[ing] the enemy force off balance [to]

protect the friendly force . . . [and] contribut[ing] materially in

exploiting successes, preserving freedom of action, and reducing

vulnerability by continually posing new problems for the enemy. 39

Operating as one of the most successful maneuver forces of al

time (and fulfilling every aspect of the joint definition o

maneuver), coalition air forces kept airpower's long-standin

124

Iraqi POWs. Tens of thousands of Iraqi soldiers surrendered, man

without a fight.
promise to help avert a bloody, attritional slugfest on the

ground.

Notes

1. Capt B. H. Liddell Hart, The Real War: 1914–1918 (Boston: Little

Brown and Co., 1930), 47.

2. Ibid.

3. Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations, 9 September 1993, A-2.

4. Liddell Hart, 47–49; R. Ernest Dupuy and Trevor N. Dupuy, Th

Encyclopedia of Military History from 3500 B.C. to the Present, 2d rev. ed

(New York: Harper & Row, 1986), 939–40, 990; and B. H. Liddell Hart, A

History of the World War: 1914–1918 (London: Faber & Faber Ltd., 1934)

89.

5. Joint Pub 3-0, A-2.

6. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 57–58, 97, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

7. “If you succeed in taking away the enemy's strategically importan

things, you can just plain prevent him from having the ability to do

subsequent things, especially offensive things.” Ibid., 57–58.

8. Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, trans. Dino Ferrari (1942

reprint, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 9.

9. Quoted in Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: Basi

Thinking in the United States Air Force, vol. 1, 1907–1960 (Maxwell AFB

Ala.: Air University Press, December 1989), 42.

10. Ibid., 63.

11. Ibid., 68–69.

12. Ibid., 80.

13. Douhet, 381–89.

14. Futrell, 65.

15. Joint Pub 3-0, A-2.

16. B. H. Liddell Hart, History of the Second World War (New York: G. P

Putnam's Sons, 1970), 66.

17. Ibid., 66–75; Dupuy and Dupuy, 1060–77; and Edgar McInnis, Th

War: First Year (London: Oxford University Press, 1940), 186–97.

18. Dupuy and Dupuy, 1064–66.

19. Ibid., 1065.

20. Liddell Hart, History of the Second World War, 87–108.

21. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, The Army Air Forces in

World War II, vol. 3, Europe: Argument to V-E Day, January 1944 to May

1945 (1951; reprint, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983)

186.

22. Ibid., 185, 190.

23. Joint Pub 3-0, A-2.

24. Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf Wa

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 165–69.

25. For a more detailed account, see ibid., 166–76; Bruce Watson et al.

Military Lessons of the Gulf War (London: Greenhill Books, 1991), 64–78

125
and Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf Wa

(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1993), 13–49.

26. Atkinson, 285.

27. Ibid., 285–86.

28. Quoted in Robert Debs Heinl, Jr., Dictionary of Military and Nava

Quotations (Annapolis, Md.: United States Naval Institute Press, 1966), 26.

29. Hallion, 175.

30. Ibid., 219–23.

31. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 1

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 120; and Hallion

220–21.

32. Atkinson, 209–10.

33. Hallion, 234–35.

34. Ibid., 231–40.

35. Col John R. Boyd, “A Discourse on Winning and Losing,” 1987

Unpublished set of briefing slides available at Air University Library

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

36. Atkinson, 492.

37. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), A-13.

38. “Report Puts Iraqi Dead at 1500,” Jane's Defence Weekly 19 (1

March 1993): 5.

39. Joint Pub 3-0, A-2.

126
Chap ter 8

Setup for the Knockout Blow

We have inflicted a complete surprise on the enemy. All our

columns are inserted in the enemy's guts.

—Maj Gen Charles Orde Wingate

11 March 1944 

 

Cleverly employed airpower can be used to ensure the

security of friendly forces and operations, while inducing

shock and surprise among the adversaries' leadership

populace, and troops. At the same time, the speed, range

and flexibility of air forces allow relatively simple plans to

serve complex operations. These attributes of airpower

were deliberately exploited by the Desert Storm ai

campaign planners, as demonstrated in the following

scene.

0200/16 January 1991/Somewhere

over Northern Saudi Arabia

Nearly overcome by exhaustion, the pilot of the F-15C

Eagle was relieved to drop away from the boom of the KC

135 Stratotanker and slip smoothly and safely into tactica

formation with his wingman. Together they turned north

heading back toward the Saudi/Iraqi border and another

hour or so of sheer boredom. He wished they would hurry

and get this show on the road. Even if the way home were

through Iraq, he was ready to go. The Eagle driver wasn't

sure how much longer he and his buddies could maintain

this routine, night after night, especially now that many o

them had resorted to taking pills—both to stay awake and

then to sleep. All of them were near the limits of their

endurance.1 In their current physical condition, boredom

was dangerous. Falling asleep on patrol could mean death.

The constant vigil had become well-established routine

three E-3 AWACS aircraft—each guarded by a flight o

127
Eagles—flew along the northern Saudi border, monitoring

Iraqi air activity.2 The primary purpose of these aircraft was

to provide security—a barrier against surprise attack by a

formidable enemy air force. Their secondary purpose, one

that they shared with other aircraft, was to lull the Iraqi

into accepting a routine that would mask the coming

onslaught until it was too late for a cohesive response. To

that end, reconnaissance aircraft of various types occa

sionally made runs along the border to monitor Iraqi activity

and get a clear picture of enemy field deployments

Periodically, a simulated attack package of coalition aircraf

would feint at the border to elicit a reaction from the Iraq

air defense system. Accompanying EW aircraft would

monitor the Iraqi reaction in an attempt to clarify the

adversary's electronic order of battle. After a while, these

feints became so commonplace that the Iraqis qui

responding, apparently tiring of the game of cat and

mouse.

3 Of course, this response was exactly what the

coalition had hoped for because it would set up the Iraqi

for a surprise attack. With any luck, many of them would

sleep right through their rapidly approaching apocalypse.

The ploy was elegant in its simplicity—painting and

repainting the same benign scene over and over, until the

enemy accepted it, and then altering it just in time to

quickly thrust home the knife. Simple though it may seem

such a ruse can be immensely effective, especially when one 

includes the clandestine performance of key tasks prior to

changing the deluding picture (or even during the change

while the enemy is still confused). In Operation Deser

Storm, for example, stealth (both technological—as with F

117s and TLAMs attacking Baghdad at H hour—and

operational—as with the Pave Low/Apache attacks on Iraq

SOCs at H minus 22 minutes) provided the capability to put

the Iraqi leadership, C3I, and strategic air defenses unde

siege at the same time the scene viewed by the Iraq

defenders was rapidly changing. Although technologica

capabilities heightened the impact, the simplicity of the ruse

assured its success.

Dismantling a nation's key centers of gravity from the ai

is a complex undertaking, but the plans for doing so need

128
not be equally complex. Indeed, the Desert Storm ai

campaign planners managed to keep their plan simple

enough “to ensure thorough understanding”

4 by the people

who executed it.* Thus, the planners resolutely honored these

three key principles—security, surprise, and simplicity—

throughout the war.

According to Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations

“the purpose of security is to never permit the enemy to

acquire unexpected advantage.” Recognizing that “risk is

inherent in military operations,” this publication defines

security in terms of “prudent risk management, not undue

caution.” It further states that “security enhances freedom o

action by reducing friendly vulnerability to hostile acts

influence, or surprise.”

5 Nearly 2,500 years ago, Sun Tzu said

that “skilful warriors first made themselves invincible and

awaited the enemy's moment of vulnerability. Invincibility

depends on one's self; the enemy's vulnerability on him.” 

Almost from the moment General Horner arrived in Riyadh on

7 August 1990, the nascent coalition struggled to achieve

invulnerability. But there are many approaches to providing

force security, and several of them would come into conflict in

the ensuing weeks.

Initially, the most prominent (and, to many participants

most distressing) threat to the coalition buildup was the Iraq

ground forces massing on the Kuwaiti/Saudi border. Not only

were Iraqi intentions unclear, but there wasn't much of a

coalition army available to oppose them if they chose to

advance into Saudi Arabia (assuming they were logistically

capable of such a move). General Horner (the acting

CENTCOM commander in-theater at the time) was consumed

by the spectre of 27 Iraqi divisions oriented on Saudi Arabia,

and his staff was obsessed with building defensive plans to

stop the Iraqis in the event they did launch an assault.

7

129

*Even the Ma rine Corps air com mander, Gen Royal Moore, who—as we hav

seen—was criti cal of the JFACC and ATO, re luc tantly ad mit ted that the pro ces

worked: “That we had no blue- on- blue air en gage ments and no mid air col li sions at tes

[sic] to the co or di na tion as pect of the pro cess.” Lt Gen Royal N. Moore, Jr., “Ma rine

Air: There When Needed,” US Na val In sti tute Pro ceed ings, No vem ber 1991, 63–64

Surely such re sults would have been highly im prob able if the peo ple exe cut ing th

plan had not had a clear un der stand ing of what their mis sion in volved and what wa

ex pected of them.
The key disagreement between General Horner and Colone

Warden during the Instant Thunder briefing on 20 Augus

1990 was over the significance of ground forces (both Iraq

and coalition) to the defense of Saudi Arabia.

8 While Horne

was concerned that launching Instant Thunder prematurely

might provoke an Iraqi ground attack which coalition force

would find difficult—if not impossible—to repulse, 9 Warden

thought that the impact of the planned strategic attack on

Iraqi leadership and C3I would actually preclude such an

invasion. Thus, Warden considered the presence of Iraq

forces and the buildup of coalition ground forces irrelevant to

the outcome. First, if Instant Thunder were executed, rapidly

deteriorating conditions on the Iraqi home front would rule

out an Iraqi reaction against Saudi Arabia (Warden: “People

[nations] just don't do that”);

10 second, if Iraqi ground force

did try to move into Saudi Arabia, they could be repulsed by

coalition airpower (Warden: “I don't believe they can move

under [coalition] air superiority”).

11 Horner and Warden did

agree upon the value of air superiority, which the coalition

was likely to enjoy if it employed its assets wisely.

12

In the final analysis, the security of Saudi Arabia and of the

coalition fielded forces—from the beginning of Desert Shield to

the end of Desert Storm (and beyond)—hinged upon a clea

superiority in the air. The Saudis themselves maintained a

formidable counterair and air defense capability that featured

an integrated air defense net incorporating a squadron (five

aircraft) of US-made E-3A AWACS aircraft, three squadron

(42 aircraft) of F-15Cs equipped with the latest and mos

capable export variant of the Sidewinder and Sparrow air-to

air missiles, and 33 late-model SAM batteries (US-mad

130

*Ac tu ally, an Iraqi force of this size was not in place un til mid- October, when Gen 

eral Schwarz kopf—his forces bol stered by mas sive de ploy ments of air, sea, and lan

power—al ready felt as sured of a suc cess ful de fense of Saudi Ara bia. How ever, the ini 

tial Iraqi de ploy ment of 11 di vi sions, in clud ing the Tawal kana mecha nized in fan tr

di vi sion and the Med ina and Ham mu rabi ar mored di vi sions of the Re pub li can Guar

(which had led the as sault into Ku wait), was clearly more than a match for the ligh

ground forces de ployed by the coa li tion in the first few months. If the Iraqi force

could not be stopped by air power, they sim ply could not be stopped. Al though Hor ne

was con fi dent that air power could make the Iraqis pay for an at tack, he was not at al

sure it could stop them. Con duct of the Per sian Gulf War: Fi nal Re port to Con gress 

vol. 1, 3, 46–51 (see note 3); Har vey, 5–6 (see note 11); and Wil son, 25–26 (see note 9).
Improved Hawks and French-made Crotales).

13 The very firs

US deployments further augmented this capability: 24 F-15Cs

from Langley AFB, Virginia, and five E-3As from Tinker AFB

Oklahoma, arrived on 8 August, just 34 hours after receiving

the deployment order.14 This buildup of counterair capability

quickly provided the resources for the 24-hour defensive

combat air patrol (CAP) coverage described at the beginning o

this chapter.

Such a defensive barrier might not have proven imper

meable to Iraq's airpower resources, but it didn't allow the

Iraqis much room for maneuver against the coalition. With th

border protected against enemy intrusion, air surveillance o

the adversary force could begin augmenting data from space

based sensors, while coalition rear areas enjoyed protection

from both surveillance and attack by the enemy. As the

buildup began in earnest, military vehicles could be parked

row upon row, aircraft parked wingtip to wingtip, and supplies

stacked pallet beside pallet—without loss to enemy action.

Theater buildup and deployment of coalition forces proceeded

beneath this unchallenged umbrella of airpower. When i

came time to launch offensive operations against Iraq

skillfully employed modern technology and offensive counter

air operations provided security of near-equal effectiveness to

air forces that were thus able to proceed boldly into the lion's

den.

131

*Gen eral Schwarz kopf was keenly aware of the prob lem posed by the Iraqis, as we

as the de gree of re li ance on de fen sive coun terair to pro tect the buildup. Of Ri yadh air 

port, he said, “Every time I flew into or out of that air port I'd think, `If one en emy

air craft were to get through and hit this place. . . .' The sec on dary ex plo sions alone

would have de stroyed the en tire fleet. I would call Chuck Hor ner and say, `Guar an te

me that not one air plane is go ing to get through your air de fense net.'

“`Not one air plane will get through,' he'd say. `You don't have to worry about that'.

Schwarz kopf, 351 (see note 15).

Iraqi Scuds were re spon si ble for the only dam age in flicted in side coa li tion lines

from the air. Al though these mis siles proved mili tar ily ir ri tat ing and po liti cally sig nif 

cant, they caused only slight physi cal dam age. The loss of 22 Ameri can troops to a

Scud that leaked through the Pa triot de fense (af ter the air war had been in prog res

for 41 days) was tragic but hardly de bili tat ing to the war ef fort. This is not to im ply

that we should have dis counted the Scud threat or should dis count it in the fu ture

More ef fec tive use of even such in her ently in ac cu rate weap ons could still in flict sig 

nifi cant dam age on mili tary in stal la tions or troop con cen tra tions, es pe cially if they

can be salvo- launched and/or mated to weap ons of mass de struc tion.
There was no clear resolution of the Horner/Warden

disagreement over ground forces because, instead o

attacking, the Iraqi forces dug in and waited for the coalition

to take the initiative. Further, the coalition launched its ai

attack only after sufficient ground forces were in place fo

General Schwarzkopf to “guarantee” the defense of Saud

Arabia.

15 As if to validate Horner's concerns, however, the

Iraqi attack on Al Khafji occurred 12 days into the air war

while the strategic attack was still in progress (although

somewhat reduced in intensity to allow concentration on the

objectives of phases 2 and 3).

16 But the attack on Al Khafj

was neither well organized nor well executed (perhaps

reflective of deteriorating conditions on the home front); once

coalition forces were fully alerted to the threat, Iraqi armor did

find it impossible—as Warden had predicted—to move unde

the coalition's air superiority. Al Khafji was liberated by a

single Saudi armored brigade and a smattering of othe

surface forces, while the Iraqis lost an entire mechanized

infantry division and major elements of three other

armored/mechanized divisions that fled in

disarray—repulsed, for the most part, by coalition airpower.17

Even though the Iraqis demonstrated at Al Khafji that the

coalition security net was not impregnable, the inciden

proved (by exception) the rule that domination of the high

ground (i.e., the ability to observe, maneuver, and attack from

a sanctuary above and beyond the reach of surface forces

offers enormous advantages. Securing friendly resources from

enemy attack, which Sun Tzu called “invincibility,” is just one

such advantage. As we have seen, Sun Tzu believed that the

enemy created his own vulnerability. But it is possible to

nudge him in that direction through deception, thereby

creating an environment for surprise, the purpose of which is

to “strike the enemy at a time or place or in a manner for

which it is unprepared.”

18 Against considerable odds, the

coalition managed to do just that.

Given the prevalence of modern technology, one would

assume that surprise has become ever more difficult to attain

especially at the higher levels of warfare (i.e., operational and

strategic). For example, it proved impossible to mask the flow

of coalition forces into Saudi Arabia; even the transition from

132
a 

strictly defensive* force to one that allowed offensive

options was international news.

19 Anyone with a television

set, a major daily US newspaper, or access to a public library

could have told Hussein by early November 1990 the precise

size and general composition of coalition forces in place and

en route. Further, the monetary cost of sustaining such a

large deployment constrained the coalition's ability to wait fo

Iraq to get the message. Although the world might expect the

UN, the US, and the other coalition members to exhibit the

“virtue” of diplomatic patience, there was—of necessity—an

upper limit to this endurance. Such a boundary was loosely

established when the UN Security Council passed Resolution

678 authorizing “Member States co-operating with the

Government of Kuwait . . . to use all necessary means . . . to

restore international peace and security in the area

(emphasis added) if Iraq did not comply with all pursuant UN

resolutions by 15 January 1991.

20 Few people doubted tha

“all necessary means” equated to armed force. All of these

factors, then, made it difficult to hide the fact that a coalition

offensive would come—sooner or later. Achieving surpris

under these circumstances would not be easy, to say the least

Yet, when the air attack finally came, it seemed to catch the

Iraqis completely off guard. For instance, at H hour, the lights

were on in Baghdad (and did not go out for at least an hour);

2

in fact, ingressing F-117 pilots could see the city's glow from 100

miles away.22 Although tracer rounds did go up from the city

about 30 minutes before H hour, as Iraqi AAA probed for an

unseen enemy, this action clearly was more a “nervous twitch

than a response to the presence of the F-117s.

23 No evidenc

indicates that the Iraqis actually detected the approach of the

“cockroaches,”* either in this initial attack or at any other time

during the war. Perhaps this twitch was occasioned by the death

133

*Of course, the force struc ture in place in Saudi Ara bia by 8 No vem ber 1990 (when 

the in crease was an nounced) was not “strictly de fen sive” to peo ple who be lieved that

the ap pli ca tion of air power alone could con vince Iraq to with draw. To them, an of fen 

sive op tion had been avail able since at least the mid dle of Sep tem ber—maybe

ear lier—in the form of the In stant Thun der/CEN TAF of fen sive air cam paign plan. Co

John A. War den III, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B

Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 30 May 1991, 102, De sert Story Col 

lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
rattle of the two Iraqi radar sites far to the south, which were hi

by Task Force Normandy aircraft at almost precisely the momen

the Baghdad AAA opened up.

24 But the Iraqis obviously had no

clear sense of what was coming. According to the Gulf War Ai

Power Survey: Summary Report, “stealth . . . restored a measure

of surprise to air warfare [and] provided air forces some freedom

of action that otherwise would not have been attainable.” 2

Surprise, however, entailed much more than the application o

a single technological marvel.

The defensive air picture described at the beginning of this

chapter was only a small part of the coalition's overall deception

plan, which was actually quite elaborate and extensive. As

coalition forces built up and prepared for offensive operations

planners drafted a scheme to misdirect the Iraqis at all thre

levels of warfare. Stealth alone (i.e., F-117s and TLAMs) migh

have provided surprise at the tactical level, but achieving

surprise at the operational and strategic levels required much

more. The deception plan was designed to convince the Iraqis

that the coalition offensive—if executed—would go straigh

ahead into Kuwait, supported by an amphibious assault.

26

If the Iraqis had studied US Army doctrine or listened to

General Moore, they probably would have expected the straight

ahead charge to be preceded by a short (one or two days to a

week, at most) artillery barrage, including air-delivered fires. The

Iraqis' own doctrine, as well as their recent wartime experience

with Iran, would have led to the same general conclusion (see

chap. 1). They might have anticipated demonstration strikes

against their capital and other cities (as in the “ war of the cities

during the Iran-Iraq War), but they had no reason to expect either 

the strategic onslaught that actually came or the precision with

which it was executed. Although the concepts for such an

offensive had been around for a long time, the actual event was

unprecedented in warfare. The capability to take down literally

hundreds of critical assets in just a few hours yet cause only

minor collateral damage simply had not existed previously (see

chap. 1).

134

*An un of fi cial moni ker given to F- 117s by crew mem bers be cause of their roach-

 like pro file and the fact that they ap peared only at night.
The coalition achieved tactical surprise in both the timing and

locus of its attacks. No one foresaw such an action immediately

after expiration of the withdrawal deadline, and most of the Iraq

defense system was caught napping.27 Instead of a “rollback

campaign, beginning against fielded forces in Kuwait and

supported by an amphibious landing on its eastern shores, the

main attack came from the air and focused well to the rear of the

Iraqi armies in Kuwait. Early on, these forces in Kuwait were

attacked, but only in a harassing manner. Later, however, the

attacks became serious, as coalition airpower attempted to mee

General Schwarzkopf's goal of attriting Iraqi strength by 50

percent before launching the ground campaign. In the

meantime, coalition attacks isolated the field armies in Kuwai

and left them helpless to intervene on their nation's behalf.

As described in chapter 7, the fact that coalition aircraft could

operate at medium to high altitudes (because they had achieved

a high degree of air superiority) served to enhance the element o

tactical surprise. Once the coalition offensive began in earnest

the Iraqis could never be sure when the next attack would

come—only that it would. If they tried to move—as they did at A

Khafji and Kuwait City—coalition airpower disrupted, disabled

and destroyed them quickly and decisively. If they stayed in

place, allied aircraft destroyed them piecemeal—slowly and

methodically. The coalition had no intention of bloodying itsel

on the carefully engineered Iraqi defensive positions in Kuwait

Thus, the long-delayed ground offensive would seem more like

liberation than battle to many Iraqi frontline troops.28

Although tactical surprise resulted from almost equal parts

technology and planning, operational surprise resulted primarily

from planning—especially the deception planning that had indeed

reinforced the Iraqis' preconceived notions of warfare and thu

made them vulnerable. According to the Gulf War Air Powe

Survey: Summary Report, “many captured Iraqis stated they

thought the air campaign would last several days to a week a

most.”

29 Instead of using preparatory fires followed by an

onslaught into the Iraqis' defensive positions, the coalition began

an air war that first bypassed the front line, isolating it from

leadership and resupply, and then later—when Iraq remained

obdurate—methodically attrited enemy forces throughout th

theater.

30 Simultaneously, airpower covered the movement o

135
coalition surface forces into positions from which they would

conduct operational maneuvers undetected by the Iraqis. When

coalition ground forces finally engaged, instead of passing

cooperatively through the Iraqi killing zones, they turned the flank

and attacked from the rear. Completely surprised, many Iraq

soldiers died bravely but needlessly. At the operational level, then

the decision had already gone to the coalition.

Like tactical surprise, strategic surprise resulted from a

substantially equal mix of technology and planning. Never did th

Iraqis expect (nor did most of the coalition, for that matter) the

nearly simultaneous destruction of so many critical targets

Saddam Hussein's strategy of waiting to inflict casualties in his

now much-disparaged “Mother of All Battles” simply did no

stand up to the coalition's offensive plan. His strategy implicitly

relied upon “graceful degradation” of his fielded defensive forces

but coalition plans and technological capabilities combined to

cause catastrophic failures instead. Coalition airpower preserved

itself from massive attrition by immediately negating Kari through

lethal and nonlethal SEAD and the careful exploitation of stealth

technologies (see chap. 7); similarly, airpower helped prevent 

136

More Iraqi POWs. Coalition forces “liberate” Iraqi soldiers.
substantial loss of coalition ground forces by isolating and

dislocating the Iraqi army in Kuwait and eastern Iraq before G

day. “Hunkering down”—a useful Iraqi strategy during the Iran

Iraq War—didn't work this time, as coalition 2,000-pound bomb

fried “nuclear hardened” bunkers and aircraft shelters; Maverick

missiles and GBU-12 bombs obliterated buried tanks; and

coalition airpower first halted and then annihilated relief columns 

and escape convoys alike.

Thus, thanks to the mutually reinforcing elements of secu

rity and surprise, the war was over, except for the destruction

and collection (as prisoners of war) of the Iraqi army in Kuwai

(referred to by one author as the “desert roundup”). 31 Thi

phase proved relatively easy in terms of time and cost to the

coalition in casualties. Surely the finale must have come as a

great strategic surprise to the man who, only six months

earlier, said that airpower had “never been decisive in the

history of warfare.”

32

At first blush, the plan that defeated Iraq seems extremely

complex, juggling simultaneity, parallel attack, and inside-ou

warfare against multiple requirements to seize control of the

air, create strategic paralysis, attrit Iraqi fielded forces, and

support a surface scheme of maneuver. The initial concept o

operations for the strategic air campaign alone filled two large

loose-leaf binders,

33 and the daily ATO ran to several hundred

pages.

34 Yet, in accordance with guidance calling for “clear

uncomplicated plans and concise orders to ensure thorough

understanding,”

35 planners sought to keep things simple

enough that everyone up and down the chain of command

knew exactly what had to be done.

This effort at simplification dated all the way back to the

beginning—to the first week of August 1990, when Colone

Warden imposed strict discipline on Instant Thunde

planning. His insistence on first recording the president'

stated national objectives clearly and succinctly and then

using the five-ring model to identify centers of gravity and

target sets whose destruction would fulfill those objectives

tended to encourage a disciplined way of thinking through

the air campaign. Further, laying out the entire planning

process on a flowchart (see chap. 5, fig. 2) encouraged clear

organized thinking from start to finish. By establishing explici

137
relationships between national objectives and target sets, th

planners assured that each level of planning—tactical to

strategic—connected to a higher level: target to target set, to

one or more military objectives, to national objectives.

This process ultimately produced 12 target sets (see chap

2), all of them derived from the five-ring model and related to

specific military and national objectives. Categorizing the

targets into sets made handling them much easier, since

planners assigned to various tasks now had a much smaller

database to deal with (specific target sets instead of the entire

intelligence database).* This proved useful in at least two

important ways. First, planners could become more familia

with the specific information they needed and used regularly

and could concentrate on their tasking without spending too

much time searching through databases (e.g., planners tasked

to plan and monitor the attack of strategic air defenses could

find their data in one place, not interspersed among all the

other target data).

Second, this system of organization helped ease the daily—

even hourly—shift in targeting that occurred during Deser

Storm. For instance, on the first day of the war, targeting

emphasized Iraqi C2 and strategic air defenses in order to

isolate the national leadership and provide the necessary ai

superiority for follow--on attacks. Also in support of these

goals, the production and transmission of electricity (se

chap. 2) came under attack on the first day. Finally, Scud

missiles—which could target Israel—were a first-night/-day

priority for political reasons (though the success of this effor

138

*The in tel li gence com mu nity uses a rather cum ber some tech nique to com mu ni cate

tar get in for ma tion among its mem bers. Each tar get in the world wide da ta base is as 

signed a ba sic en cy clo pe dic number (BEN) con sist ing of 10 al pha nu mer ics as signed

se quen tially as the tar get en ters the da ta base. Thus, to the un ini ti ated, these thou 

sands of num bers cor re spond ing to thou sands of tar gets all over the world ap pear t

have been as signed in a to tally ran dom man ner. The logic for sub di vid ing a large

number of tar gets into man age able sets that plan ners can be come fa mil iar with

seems com pel ling, yet the in tel li gence com mu nity con tin ues to in sist that this would

be a per ver sion of the sys tem. Dep tula, 19, 23 (see note 16); and Col James Black 

burn, Bol ling AFB, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B

Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 21 April 1993, 137–54, De sert Story

Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
has been seriously challenged36). As priorities shifted over time

first within the strategic categories and then to more tactica

considerations, planners found it easier to retrieve information

from discrete sets of target data rather than from a general field

of information.

To help units understand their designated missions, Genera

Glosson and his planners visited individual field units severa

times during the buildup to brief them on their roles in the ai

campaign.37 The effort to simplify didn't stop with preplanning

however. A notable example is the designation of “kill boxes” and

“killer scouts,” which simplified the problem of utilizing aircraf

with limited loiter capability against buried, mobile, or otherwise

hard-to-find targets.* The results speak for themselves, espe

cially the figures on fratricide and overall casualties, which

139

Deptula, Glosson, and Rogers. Black Hole planners worked hard a

making the air campaign plan comprehensible to the people who woul

have to execute it. They did this by involving key personnel from all unit

and by going to the field to brief units involved in the execution of Deser

Storm. Pictured here (left to right) are Lt Col Dave Deptula, Brig Ge

Buster Glosson, and Maj Buck Rogers.
speak loudest of all. Was there confusion in spite of everyone

s

best efforts? Of course, but Joint Pub 3-0 never expected th

proper application of the principle of simplicity to eliminate

confusion—only to minimize it.38

0200/17 January 1991/Somewhere

over Northern Saudi Arabia

This time, when the Eagle drivers turned north, they had

enough adrenaline coursing through their veins to wake the dead

It was show time, and they were leading an air armada the like

of which the world had never seen. Their first job was stil

security—sweeping the skies of interceptors that might otherwise

prey on the “shooters”** and their support packages. The plan

was very simple: assume that anything in front of them was Iraq

and destroy it.*** The Eagles and their friends had already

accomplished their secondary task by catching the Iraqis flat

footed. Although a single Iraqi interceptor managed to slip

through the net and down an unlucky coalition flyer on the first

140

*CEN TAF plan ners di vided the Iraqi army’s de ploy ment area (Ku wait and east 

Iraq) into kill boxes, de fined by lati tude and lon gi tude co or di nates. OA- 10 for ward 

con trol ler (FAC) air craft or F- 16C/D kil ler scouts were then as signed to the boxes to f

and des ig nate tar gets of in ter est to strike air craft (“kil ler bees”). Of ten, the strike air c

were also A- 10s or F- 16s, but the scout would al ready have tar gets sighted when 

strike air craft ar rived, thus maxi miz ing the lat ter’s time in the box. This pro ce dure k

strike air craft from run ning out of fuel bef ore find ing tar gets and ex pend ing their we

ons. Hal lion, 155 (see note 2); and Col James Crig ger, Shaw AFB, S.C., tran scrip

in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri and Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, 2-4 De cem 

1991, 42, 81- 83, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, M

well AFB, Ala.

**Plan ners used this term to ref er gen eri cally to ac tual at tack air craft of all types, 

cause none of the stan dard terms ap plied uni ver sally. That is, not all at tack air cr

dropped bombs: some shot mis siles, rock ets, guns, or vari ous com bi na tions of all f

types of weap ons.

***Ac tu ally, some coa li tion air as sets were in deed in front of them, but 

Eagles—for all their air- to- air prowess—were no more likely to see the F- 117s a

TLAMs that were al ready ap proach ing or at tack ing Bagh dad than were the Iraqis.
day (see chap. 7), the air armada was otherwise untouched by

Iraqi air forces. Coalition aircraft loss rates (to all causes) for the

entire war were an astoundingly low 0.035 percent (0.022

percent for USAF aircraft).

39 These figures, combined with the

casualty statistics presented in chapter 7, indicate startlingly

effective security for coalition forces. By the end of this

day—thanks to careful application of the principles of surprise

security, and simplicity—the coalition had firmly cemented its

dominance in the air and space.

Notes

1. Rick Atkinson, Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf Wa

(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1993), 42–43; and the author's persona

discussion with crew members.

2. Richard P. Hallion, Storm over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf Wa

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 166; and Conduc

of the Persian Gulf Conflict: An Interim Report to Congress (Washington, D.C

Department of Defense, 1991), 4-15 through 4-17.

3. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress , vol. 1 (Wash

ington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 141; Richard Jupa and James 

Dingeman, Gulf Wars: How Iraq Won the First and Lost the Second; Will There Be

a Third? (Cambria, Calif.: 3W Publications, 1991), 35; and Bruce W. Watson e

al., Military Lessons of the Gulf War (London: Greenhill Books, 1991), 64.

4. Joint Publication (Pub) 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations, 1993, A-3.

5. Ibid.

6. Sun Tzu, The Art of War, ed. Samuel B. Griffith (London: Oxford

University Press, 1963), 85.

7. For example, on 19 August 1991 at the first briefing of Instant Thunder

to the CENTAF staff, Maj Gen Thomas R. Olsen, vice-commander and acting

commander of CENTAF, said, “[Instant Thunder] is what we would have liked

to have done as well, but we ran out of time. . . . When [we] get done with

support of the ground war, then we can do some thinking about the deep war.

Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 22–23 May 1991

11–12, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

8. See Col Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of the Ai

Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1995)

chapter 7.

9. Col Steve Wilson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 Decembe

1991, 25–26, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

10. Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D. C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 73, Desert Story Collection

US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

141
11. Notes, Lt Col Ben Harvey, 20 August 1990, 9–10, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret

Information extracted is unclassified.

12. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2 December

1991, 41, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

13. International Strategic Studies Institute, The Military Balance

1989–1990 (London: Brassey's, 1989), 112.

14. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress , vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), E-23.

15. Gen H. Norman Schwarzkopf with Peter Petre, General H. Norma

Schwarzkopf, the Autobiography: It Doesn't Take a Hero (New York: Bantam

Books, 1992), 348–50. According to General Schwarzkopf, he made this

guarantee on 15 September 1990.

16. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 12

December 1991, 8, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

17. Schwarzkopf, 424–27; and Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Fina

Report to Congress, vol. 1, 174–76.

18. Joint Pub 3-0, A-3.

19. See, for instance, Eric Schmitt, “U.S. to Add at Least 100,000 to Its Gul

Force by Late December,” New York Times International, 8 November 1990, A

15.

20. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress , vol. 2, B-19.

21. Eric Malnic and Thomas B. Rosentiel, “World Hears War Begin Live

from Baghdad,” Los Angeles Times, 17 January 1991, A-1.

22. Atkinson, 35.

23. Peter Arnett, Live from the Battlefield: From Vietnam to Baghdad, 35

Years in the World's War Zones (New York: Simon & Shuster, 1992), 365–66

24. Atkinson, 33.

25. Thomas A. Keaney and Eliot A. Cohen, Gulf War Air Power Survey

Summary Report (Washington, D. C.: Department of the Air Force, 1993), 224.

26. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 1, 102

141.

27. “Conventional wisdom said that President Bush would wait a few

days before he ordered the bombers in.” Arnett, 365.

28. Keaney and Cohen, 107–8.

29. Ibid., 108.

30. Ibid., 102–8.

31. Hallion, 231–32.

32. Dan Rather, “Excerpts from Interview with Hussein on Crisis in

Gulf,” New York Times, 31 August 1990, A--10.

33. Col Richard D. Bristow, Langley AFB, Va., transcript of interview with L

Col Richard T. Reynolds and author, 9 November 1992, 27–28, Desert Story

Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

34. Keaney and Cohen, 149.

35. Joint Pub 3-0, A-3.

142
36. Keaney and Cohen, 89–90.

37. Lt Gen Buster C. Glosson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 4 June 1992

41, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwe

AFB, Ala.

38. Joint Pub 3-0, A-3.

39. Bill Sweetman and Anthony Robinson, “The Mechanics of Interdiction

and Airfield Attack,” International Defense Review 24, no. 5 (1991): 472.

143
Chap ter 9

The First Information War?

Know the enemy and know yourself: in a hundred battles

you will never be in peril.

—Sun Tzu

Into the silence there dropped the notes of the dove: the grasshoppers

were still now. Into the silence there dropped the thunder of cannon

and the sharp clear sounds of rifles. . . .

Moved by a spirit that was outside ourselves and our captains, we

went forward on to the plain. . . . [The leader] kept the pace midway

between walk and run. There was a rhythm to the firing of the cannon:

as the enemy jumped clear there came a puff of smoke and then the

great wind of the bullet. Our leader sent fifty runners to tell the men

that they must drop to the ground when they saw the puff of smoke,

then the big bullet would go over their heads. The men having caught

his words fitted themselves into our enemies' rhythm, and so there

were less killed than was expected.

Still, great numbers were left behind on the plain. . . . On and on

through the tall green grass, their plumes touched by the wind of

death . . . their death-screams were heard above the roaring of the

guns. . . . Indeed people were falling so fast that they made a sort of

fence behind which the living hid while they fired. . . .

The war cry of Zulu filled the sky and the tread of Zulu shook the

earth.1

The words are fiction, but the scene is real and vividly illustrates the fate of preindustrial warriors opposing industrial

age firepower. Such warriors, though they sometimes win the

field, pay a horrible price in blood. Indeed, the industrial-age

force would have to be incredibly stupid to lose such a battle

For instance, Lord Frederic A. Chelmsford lost the battle o

Isandhlwana in 1879 (the battle described above) because he

declined “local advice concerning the adversary and terrain

before him on the grounds that `the broad principles of tactics 

hold good in Africa equally as well as in Europe'.”

2 The British

army paid heavily for Chelmsford's failure to obtain knowledg

concerning the enemy and his deployments. Though

Chelmsford's main column slaughtered Zulus by the

hundreds, only 355 of 2,800 in the British force survived the

145
battle. Just one day later, however, at Rorke

s Drift, a British

force of 85 drove off thousands of Zulus, killing 400–500 while 

losing only 17 men themselves.

3 The major difference was tha

the smaller force knew the Zulu attack was coming and had

prepared for it. Chelmsford might have known, but he chos

not to.

Perhaps Operation Desert Storm was, as some people

claim,

4 the first information war,* but it wasn't—by a long

shot—the first time an armed force perished for lack o

knowledge. Sun Tzu recorded the principle for us nearly 25

centuries ago. The struggle to dominate the enemy in terms o

information and knowledge is not new, but it has recently

taken on dramatically increased relevance in war fighting. It is

possible—perhaps even likely—that “information warfare

represents a true revolution in war fighting** and will require

new understandings of military force and force application

(see epilogue). If so, the overwhelming defeat of Iraq by the US

led coalition in 1991 may be attributable in large measure to

the fact that Hussein's industrial-era armed forces ran up

against a postindustrial military whirlwind. This chapte

examines how air and space power contributed to coalition

dominance in the collection, dissemination, and application o

information and knowledge, and how this process affected the

outcome of Desert Storm.

Rapidly gaining and exploiting information dominance wa

a goal of both the Instant Thunder plan and the more fully

developed Desert Storm air campaign plan. The first Iraq

targets attacked were air defense, leadership (including C3I)

and electrical grids,

5 all of which had the highest priorit

because of their impact on the flow of information. Kar

146

*Alan D. Campen makes this claim in The First In for ma tion War (see note 4). He de 

clares (among other things) that the Gulf War “dif fered fun da men tally from an

pre vious con flict” in that “the out come turned as much on su pe rior man age ment o

knowl edge as . . . upon per form ances of peo ple or weap ons” (page vii—em pha sis in

origi nal). De spite his use of the term in for ma tion war fare, Campen tac itly avers th

truth—sug gested by Sun Tzu 2,500 years ago—that the ul ti mate goal of the strug gl

is to domi nate the en emy in knowl edge—not in for ma tion. Col lec tion and analy sis o

in for ma tion is, of course, a part—but not the whole—of the is sue.

**Or per haps this is sim ply an im por tant part of a larger revo lu tion in mili tary af 

fairs (see in tro duc tion). A third pos si bil ity is that in for ma tion war fare and MTR/RM

are sim ply dif fer ent names for the same phe nome non.
provided tracking and targeting information for Iraqi fighte

and SAM engagements of coalition aircraft. Breaking down

this flow of information would fragment the enemy's air

defense effort, forcing his SAMs into autonomous mode and

leaving his interceptors virtually helpless. This situation

allowed coalition aircraft to exploit Iraqi airspace at will

Leadership C3I targets provided linkages between the highly

centralized decision-making elements (principally Hussein

and both the Iraqi population and the fielded military forces

Disrupting these systems would upset and discredit the

regime, while simultaneously reducing its capability to contro

military forces.6 Without electrical power, communication

would be reduced to verbal and handwritten messages

conveyed by courier. Thus, a successful attack against the

Iraqi power grids would disrupt nearly every kind of infor

mation flow within the nation.

7 Plans called for maintaining

pressure on Iraqi ”information nodes" throughout the war (see

chaps. 4 and 6) to help create an exploitable “ information

differential.”*

To build and maintain this pressure, the US brought a

tremendous array of EW systems to the fight. (Other coalition

partners contributed a few systems, such as the British

Tornado GR1As, but the US provided the vast majority.

Before and during the war, satellites and airborne systems

collected electronic intelligence, finding and fixing C3I nodes o

all types for later attention from less benign systems such as

the USAF's 61 F-4Gs and 12 specially configured F-16 Wild

Weasels, highly sophisticated systems capable of detecting

and destroying electronic radiation sources (especially rada

emissions) with HARM and Shrike antiradiation missiles. Th

Navy and Marines contributed less sophisticated—yet very

capable—F/A-18, EA-6B, and A-7 HARM and Shrike shooters

(These aircraft could detect and shoot at radiation sources

but, lacking some of the information available to the Weasels

147

*Like sev eral other con cepts util ized in De sert Storm (e.g., par al lel at tack and s

mul ta ne ity), in for ma tion dif fer en tial ac quired its name af ter the war. See Joint Pub 1

Joint War fare of the US Armed Forces , 11 No vem ber 1991, 57. It is worth not ing tha

this con cept is spe cifi cally tied to “ad vanced US tech nolo gies,” a re la tion ship tha

makes it a per ish able ad van tage, de pend ent upon con tin ued US su pe ri or ity in tech

nol ogy de vel op ment.
could never be sure they had released their missiles within

range of the target.) Many strike aircraft carried their own

electronic jamming equipment to counter Iraqi attempts to

track and shoot them with radar-guided systems; additionally

EF-111s, EC-130s, and/or EA-6Bs accompanied most strik

packages, employing even more sophisticated (and powerful

jamming equipment.

8 The apparent Iraqi fears that radiating

was both futile and dangerous were certainly well founded, i

not totally accurate.

9 The enemy's ability to collect and use

information was severely disrupted, but creating that deficit

represents only half the battle.

According to Col John Boyd's OODA theory (see chap. 7)

this kind of offensive effort can “enmesh [the] adversary in a

world of uncertainty, doubt, mistrust, confusion, disorder

fear, panic, chaos . . . and/or fold [him] back inside himself so

that he cannot cope with events/efforts as they unfold.”

10 Thi

factor probably contributed greatly to the mass desertions and

surrenders of Iraqi troops and almost certainly to their genera

ineffectiveness as a cohesive fighting force. Of course, as Boyd

also states, this disruption of the adversary's flow of informa

tion represents only one side of the equation. The rea

objective is to complete one's own OODA cycles faster than the

adversary completes his; thus, while “stretch[ing]-out [the

adversary['s cycle] time,” one must also “compress [his

own.”11 Although caught somewhat flat-footed in Augus

1990, the coalition immediately began working this part of the

equation and continued with a vengeance until the air wa

began in January 1991.

According to Colonel Boyd, “the O-O-D-A loop can be

thought of as being the C&C [command and control] loop.”1

Surely, Boyd is actually referring to all aspects of what we cal

C3I—command, control, communications, and intelligence (o

what many people now call C4I—the fourth C standing fo

“computers”). Logically, then, (1) intelligence* provide

observation (in accordance with command elements

requirements); (2) working together, intelligence and

148

*For the sake of sim plic ity, in tel li gence is used here to sub sume all in for ma tion

sources. The author rec og nizes that much of a com mander's or staff's vi tal in for ma 

tion is not pro vided by the in tel li gence sys tem.
command elements provide orientation (i.e., they determine

what to observe, which observed information is of greates

value, and how it is to be used in making decisions); (3

command elements make necessary decisions and direct the

actions required to execute those decisions; and (4) field units

and their discrete elements (aircraft, tanks, people, etc.

execute the directed actions (and contribute to observation

through postaction reports, at which point the cycle begins

again). All these elements are interconnected through the

communications element of C3I (and computers of C4I). Th

whole can be only as strong as the weakest link. Even though

at least one of its links was very weak indeed (i.e., orientation,

discussed below), the coalition—after weathering a slow

start—would eventually dominate in every element of this

cycle.

The slow start resulted in part from the orientation of US

operations planning—and, therefore, intelligence collection—

for the Middle East prior to early 1989. Before that time

planners concentrated on a potential Soviet threat in the

region. That orientation, combined with the “aggressive

security and counterintelligence policies of the Iraqi regime,

meant that the US (therefore, the coalition, since the US

owned the vast majority of intelligence assets which could be

brought to bear) did not have a full complement of information 

on Iraq.

13 Much of the available data was old, of poor quality

and/or incomplete.14 The US had satellites in place that could

and did monitor military activity, but little was known about

the regime's intentions.

15 Consequently, there was no

consensus on the probability of the Iraqi invasion before i

actually occurred.16 Neither was there a consensus on

Saddam Hussein's intentions beyond the occupation o

Kuwait. Some people thought that he would continue the

attack into Saudi Arabia in early August, while others though

he had already overextended himself and would now only dig

in and try to hold.

17 The coalition immediately began the

scramble to improve the flow of information.

As mentioned in chapter 8, the first deployments to theate

included US AWACS aircraft to enhance the development of an

“air picture” for coalition military leadership and forces. Thi

knowledge not only was critical to the defense of Saudi Arabia

149
against air threats, but also helped monitor Iraqi training

activity and improve coalition understanding of the Iraqi ai

force's readiness levels and sortie-generation capability. Be

hind the initial air defense force deployments came a plethora

of reconnaissance and surveillance aircraft to monitor Iraq

activities and define orders of battle. These included RF-4s

RC-135s, TR-1s, P-3s, E-2s, RF-5s, and specially configured

F-14s and Tornado GR1As—a total of more than 100 such

aircraft. Additionally, Pioneer unmanned aerial vehicles flew

nearly 300 reconnaissance sorties.18 Two experimental E-8

JSTARS contributed their own brand of near-real-time battle

field reconnaissance. Though using them was a risky gambit

(because of their developmental status), these aircraf

provided tracking of both friendly and enemy ground forces

thus reducing fratricide and making possible som

spectacular—usually one-sided—air-to-ground engagement

such as the one that produced the now-famous “highway o

death.”

19 On top of all that, a significant array of military and

civilian space systems augmented air-breathing

150

Pioneer remotely piloted vehicles picked up some of the slack i

tactical reconnaissance by flying over 300 missions during Deser

Shield/Storm.
reconnaissance and surveillance systems, providing

meteorological information and imagery of various types.

2

Even this massive reconnaissance and surveillance capability

couldn't satisfy the coalition's insatiable appetite fo

information on Iraq and its army's field deployments, so

several other types of fighter aircraft “flew reconnaissance

missions in an attempt to overcome the shortage.”

21

But coalition military leaders still couldn't seem to ge

sufficient information quickly enough. Throughout the war

theater planners had to contend with an unacceptable lag in

information flowing to them through normal intelligenc

channels. Furthermore, the people who assigned priorities fo

imagery collection were often not involved with target plannin

(and, therefore, not in touch with the decision makers

priorities). Because required information, once collected

frequently arrived too late to be useful, planners had to use

out-of-channel work-arounds to assess bombing result

within the 72-hour planning cycle.

22

Some vital information—such as the location of mobile Scud 

missile launchers—proved to be just too difficult to obtain

Highly effective Iraqi deception efforts and employmen

procedures made targeting the Scuds very difficult; confirming

successful attacks was almost impossible.

23 The only

indication of success against the Scuds was the gradua

reduction in the number of missiles fired, although a

resurgence in firings during the last week of the war tended to

cloud this assessment. (Nonetheless, the last week's firings

were still less than half those of the first week.) 24

Though far from mobile, Iraqi nuclear research facilitie

proved nearly as difficult a problem. Coalition intelligenc

uncovered only eight known or suspected nuclear facilities

before or during the war, yet postwar inspections by the

International Atomic Energy Administration turned up at leas

an additional 18. The fact that 16 of the 26 were considered

“main facilities”25 means that at least eight major nuclear

facilities escaped detection until after the war.

Although these intelligence “failures” were significan

(especially the timing lag for national systems, which was

never really fixed), the coalition totally dominated the Iraqis in

terms of information collection (i.e., observation). Hussein'

151
forces had nothing to rival the coalition

s collection capability

and no means of countering it other than tactical deception

(which, though used effectively by Iraq, clearly has limits). The

gap in information collection—huge at the outset o

hostilities—grew rapidly over time. This was especially true

after the opening of the air war, when the coalition expanded

its collection efforts while quickly altering force deployment

and carefully denying useful information to Iraq. With regard

to observation, the coalition held all the cards.

Orientation gets nowhere near the attention from US

military forces that observation does, yet it is probably the

most critical element in the entire OODA loop. Colonel Boyd

notes that “the second O, orientation—as the repository of our

genetic heritage, cultural tradition, and previous

experiences—is the most important part of the O-O-D-A loop

since it shapes the way we observe, the way we decide, the

way we act” (emphasis in original).26 In effect, orientation i

the real starting point of the OODA loop, even affecting wha

we decide to observe (and then, what we decide to do). Lord

Chelmsford, for instance, decided not to observe anything

about the Zulus he would face or about the terrain on which

he would face them. Saddam Hussein made a similar decision

(though less overtly) and therefore had no resources with

which to observe coalition activities beyond his own front lines

(other than international sources such as radio and television

which were considerable but nowhere near sufficient).27 Fo

this lapse, both Chelmsford and Hussein paid an enormous

price. Orientation is the critical link between information—

which is nice to have—and knowledge, which (when properly

considered and acted upon) saves one from peril.

The difference between information and knowledge may

seem very subtle at first, but in warfare it is truly critical. On

the one hand, information is passive and always exists (at

least in the abstract) whether anyone pays attention to it or

not. Among other things, it can be collected, collated

analyzed, “fused,” packaged, disseminated, and even

managed. Of particular relevance to the Gulf War, it can b

stored, protected, and concealed or suppressed, sometimes even

from one's own decision makers. It can also be jammed up in a

system of data flow that will eventually deliver it to decision

152
makers but perhaps not in time to be useful to them

Knowledge, on the other hand, is active and must be

possessed if it is to exist—let alone be useful. Somewhere

someone must process the collected raw

material—information—into something recognizable and usefu

for decision making. For example, the location of a tank i

information, whether anyone knows it or not; it becomes

knowledge only when someone has seen and taken note of it

Such knowledge becomes useful when it is fitted into a scheme

of operations (are tanks to be destroyed or left alone to support a

potential coup d'état?) to make informed decisions. One need no

do this perfectly—only better and faster than the adversary.

Knowledge processing, then, requires the ability to orient on

the right information (e.g., using surveillance systems to

collect data about Iraq instead of the Soviet Union) and then

on discrete elements of information necessary to the decision

at hand (e.g., examining a particular set of pictures or

documents such as those that reveal Iraqi nuclear facilities)

Thus, the true purpose of information dominance (which

requires proper orientation on information collection and

dissemination) is to provide an exploitable knowledg

dominance.

The ability to discriminate between useful information and

background “noise” (i.e., orientation) may have been the

weakest link in the US-designed C3I system used by the

coalition in the Gulf.* In fact, US national intelligence appears

to be biased toward forcing all available information through

channels and shows little regard for shifting priorities in the

field. Often, discrete elements of information needed by com

manders and planners were already collected and available

but engulfed in a much larger stream of data that was working

153

*If so, the prob lem is noth ing new. Rob erta Wohl stet ter, for ex am ple, points to th

US fail ure to an tici pate the Japa nese at tack on Pearl Har bor in 1941. “To dis crimi nate

sig nifi cant sounds against this back ground of noise, one has to be lis ten ing for some 

thing or for one of sev eral things. In short, one needs not only an ear, but a va ri ety o

hy pothe ses that guide ob ser va tion” (em pha sis added). In other words, if one is to de 

ter mine which spe cific ele ments of in for ma tion are im por tant to the is sue at hand and

then turn that in for ma tion into use ful knowl edge, one must have spe cific ori en ta tio

on key ques tions—not sim ply in dis crimi nate col lec tion and dis semi na tion. Pearl Ha

bor: Warn ing and De ci sion (Stan ford, Calif.: Stan ford Uni ver sity Press, 1962), 55–56. 
its way through the system.* However, if planners requested

these elements from key individuals within the system, they

could be extracted and forwarded hours-to-days faster than

normal. Dave Deptula, one of the Black Hole planners, cites

an example of “normal time delays involved in getting

information [through the formal system]”:

We wanted a photo of a particular target. . . . Glosson picks up the

phone, calls [Joint Staff deputy chief of staff for intelligence (J-2) Mike]

McConnell, and we get the photo in about 4 hours. . . . Twenty-four

hours later, about, he gets a photo from CENTCOM or CENTAF/IN

[Intelligence]. About 24 hours after that, 48 hours later, we get the

same photo from CENTCOM/J-2.28

Data from the Gulf War Air Power Survey confirm such

scenarios.

29 Obviously, this was not an observation problem

since the required information was available in the system

and eventually would have reached the planners—whethe

they needed it or not!

Nor can the delays be blamed on lack of communication

(although they often are, especially by apologists for the

national intelligence system)

30 because once the specific

need had been identified to the “right” people in the system

(i.e., once proper orientation was provided), delivery was

nearly immediate. Of course, communications problem

existed, especially during the early deployment phase. The

CENTCOM area of responsibility was an immature theater

and communications suffered from the common initia

deployment problem of Desert Shield: incomplete OPLAN

1002-90 time-phased force and deployment data.

31 The US

did not have much in the way of communications capability

in-theater when Iraq invaded Kuwait, and Saudi tele

communications systems were of limited use for a larg

military operation such as Desert Shield/Storm. Bu

communications systems began moving right alongside the

combat forces on 8 August 1990.

32 In fact, by war's end

154

*Maj Gen James R. Clap per, Jr., as sis tant chief of staff of Air Force In tel li genc

dur ing De sert Shield/Storm, says that the flow of US in tel li gence op er ates on 

“push” rather than a “pull” sys tem. That is, field units re ceive mostly what ana lyst

deign to give them rather than what they need. Ac cord ing to Gen eral Clap per, the in 

tel li gence com mu nity is fix ing this par ticu lar prob lem. James R. Clap per, “De sert

War: Cru ci ble for In tel li gence Sys tems,” in Campen, 81–85 (see note 4).
CENTCOM had greater electronic communications

connectivity than US European Command, according to L

Gen James S. Cassity, the Joint Staff director of th

Command, Control and Communications System Directorate

(J-6) during Desert Shield/Storm.

33 At its peak, the system

could handle over 700,000 telephone calls and 152,000

messages per day. In addition, communicators managed and

monitored over 35,000 frequencies to ensure interference-free

radio connectivity for the theater.34

Much of the system that communicators ultimately cobbled

together was vulnerable to interference, yet—for whatever

reason—it was never successfully attacked by the adversary

Hussein's forces probably could have seriously stressed

coalition capabilities with a moderate investment of time and

effort. In particular, they apparently could have interfered

with tactical satellite communication

(TACSATCOM—ultrahigh frequency [UHF] and superhigh

frequency [SHF] radio communications) but either never tried

or were unsuccessful.

35 Since the overall theate

communications architecture, as it evolved, depended heavily

upon TACSATCOM, successful jamming would have severely

degraded coalition communications capability.

36 Iraq's almos

total lack of opposition in the electromagnetic spectrum

allowed the coalition to very quickly build and maintain a

system capable of delivering required information.* The fac

that Glosson could get a call through to McConnell at all—no

to mention receiving a photograph from him within four

hours—indicates that sufficient communications wer

available to deliver what planners needed. Faster data transfe

will always be desirable, but it is not the root of the

intelligence problem in Desert Shield/Storm. Nor does th

solution lie in increasing the flow of data.

The problem lies in a systemic orientation that favors data

flow over user need. This at least partially explains the debat

155

*This ca pa bil ity is a lux ury the US should not take for granted be cause it cre ates 

dis tinct vul ner abil ity that an ag gres sive ad ver sary can read ily ex ploit. In fact, chil dr e

with the lat est gizmo from Ra dio Shack could proba bly wreak havoc on many of our

in for ma tion sys tems. Pro fes sion als with leading- edge tech nol ogy sys tems are a rea

threat, and this ca pa bil ity proba bly would not cost a great deal to day or in the near

fu ture. (See dis cus sions of in for ma tion war fare in the epi logue.)
between intelligence and operations over the intelligence

system's Desert Shield/Storm performance. That is, intel

ligence delivered “tons” of information as fast as possible (IN's

self-imposed measure of merit), while operations wanted

“pounds” of it delivered much more quickly than the system

was capable of. Operations planners, unable to get a satis

factory resolution within the intelligence system, resorted to

unofficial work-arounds and informal arrangements outside

the system.

37

Examples of these external sources include Genera

Glosson's special relationship with Admiral McConnell and th

Black Hole connection to Checkmate for targeting information

mentioned previously. Planners also used unofficial, informa

arrangements to get battle damage assessment (BDA) and

measurements of battlefield attrition levels (a subcategory o

BDA that became very contentious during the war) tha

intelligence was not providing.

38

Fortunately, Hussein did not experience a similar problem

with information sorting. Indeed, coalition efforts to deny him

useful information were so successful that once the war

started, he couldn't even follow the positions of his own

forces—let alone those of the coalition.

39 Hussein'

intelligence was oriented on internal, not external, issues.

4

He possessed no space-based observation capability of his

own and failed to arrange access even to commercially

available products such as the French SPOT. Of course, since

France was a member of the coalition, it was not likely to sel

information to Hussein, but he could have availed himself o

more surreptitious means of obtaining such products. These

sources certainly would have exposed the movement of tw

reinforced US Army corps 150 miles to the west. That single

piece of information, received and properly processed, would

have revealed the hopelessness of his force deployment in

terms even he could understand and thus might have altered

his subsequent actions.

Like other two-dimensional thinkers, Hussein failed to se

the implications of Warden's “air-Schlieffen” plan, but even he

could not have failed to understand the seriousness of a

powerful two-corps surface force deploying beyond his righ

flank, with nothing standing between it and Basra (o

156
Baghdad, for that matter). But, then, that was the majo

implication of air-Schlieffen: because Hussein and his forces

could not observe, they could not orient and therefore could

not decide sensibly and therefore would act stupidly or not at

all. The only sensible action open to Hussein—acceding to

coalition demands—escaped him at this point. When the

moment came, many of his forces would try to fight, but their

situation was hopeless. To reiterate Colonel Boyd's assess

ment, they were enmeshed “in a world of uncertainty, doubt

mistrust, confusion, disorder, fear, panic, chaos” and folded

“back inside [themselves] so [they could not] cope with

events/efforts as they unfold[ed].” The coalition had un

questionably met Boyd's requirement of operating inside the

Iraqis' observation-orientation-decision-action loop

sometimes by a matter of days.

With observation platforms such as the TR-1 and JSTARS

linked directly (or through AWACS) to both command

elements and fighting units, coalition forces could spot, target

attack, and destroy Iraqi armor and supply columns, literally

in minutes. This sequence of events occurred at Al Khafji, on

the highway of death outside Kuwait City, and—somewha

less dramatically—elsewhere in Kuwait and southeastern Iraq

Even information from national systems (satellites) could

sometimes affect events in near--real time. A phone call from

Checkmate or Admiral McConnell, for instance, could pu

bombs on the “building with the Mercedes parked out front”

within minutes.

41

This was possible not only because of the rapid observation

and orientation cycles (relative to those of Iraq), but also because 

Generals Schwarzkopf and Horner delegated decision making to

the lowest possible level consistent with centralized control o

airpower. Before execution—and for most of the 42 days of the

air war—decisions about targeting were made in the planning

cell (first in the Black Hole and tactical air control center [TACC

and later in the two GAT planning cells—see chap. 4). Only afte

the Al Firdos bunker incident did high--level decision maker

(probably Schwarzkopf, Powell, or both) intrude themselves by

withholding most Baghdad* targets.

42 Other than that, decisions

did not require specific approval at multiple command levels and

therefore could be made quickly.

157
The division of targets into categories (see chap. 2)—com

bined with careful explanations of the categories and asso

ciated objectives, as briefed to senior officials—helped desen

sitize leaders such as Schwarzkopf and Powell (perhaps even

Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney and President Bush) to

specific target selections. When a target clearly fitted one o

the categories, everyone assumed that it served a legitimate

military purpose (and ultimately, therefore, the political ob

jectives)—an assumption that seems vindicated by results

Glosson and his planners had free rein to make adjustments

as they saw fit. Schwarzkopf and Horner gave support and

general guidance—as well they should—but specific targetin

decisions were made in the GAT.43

General Glosson's delegated decision-making authority

extended downward to the flying units by virtue of Genera

Horner's position as JFACC. By selecting Glosson for the

position of chief air campaign planner with the concomitan

authority to control the ATO (upon which all overland flights

had to appear—see chap. 3), Horner delegated him authority

over flying units' wartime taskings. The reorganization o

CENTAF in December 1990 further enhanced Glosson's

authority by making him commander of 14th Air Division

comprised of the USAF fighter and fighter-bomber wings (see

chap. 4). At the same time, Glosson was named CENTAF

director of campaign plans, a position that expanded his role

from directing strategic offensive planning in the Black Hole to

controlling all CENTAF planning functions in the newly

formed Campaign Plans Division. Thus, Glosson had both

functional authority (as the JFACC's campaign plans director

and service authority (as commander of 14th AD) over al

USAF fighter units. There was no confusion whatsoever

concerning his direction of their activities.

44

158

*Even in this case, how ever, the GAT plan ners re tained a great deal of lati tude

since they were left to de fine the lim its of Bagh dad for them selves. They ap pear t

have cho sen a rela tively nar row defi ni tion that al lowed them to con tinue at tack ing the 

out skirts of Bagh dad and sur round ing ar eas with out spe cific ap proval. Lt Col Dave

Dep tula, Wash ing ton, D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt

Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and author, 23 May 1991, 64–67, De sert Story Col lec tion

US Air Force His tori cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.
Just as Glosson

s authority and the role of the Black Hole

planners evolved from strictly informal to ever more formalized 

modes, so did their ability to provide the orientation necessary

to the collection and dissemination of intelligence. Increasin

at much the same rate was their ability to impose decisions on

the rest of the CENTAF plans division and the flying units tha

would execute the plan. Following the December reorgani

zation, Glosson and his planners were powerful enough and

sufficiently “connected” to control the OODA loop for the

entire air campaign. Their innovative, informal approaches

eventually overwhelmed and, in some cases, swallowed up the 

formal system—witness the December reorganization o

CENTAF's plans division under Glosson's direction and the

key roles played by Black Hole planners in the new

organization. They also formed their own BDA cell, which—by

using gun-camera video and other information obtained

outside intelligence channels—bypassed the formal system

almost entirely. In other words, they “drove” their own OODA

loop from the Black Hole/GAT and made it respond to thei

72-hour planning priorities. Indeed, they made it responsive

enough to handle immediate priorities as well. They then

aggressively and continuously attacked and further degraded

Iraq's capability to OODA. A decision cycle similar to one tha

moved from observation to action in minutes or hours for

Horner's men probably took days for Hussein—if it could be

completed at all.

45 As Col John Boyd would say, the outcome

was all but inevitable. Victory was assured over 30 days before 

coalition ground forces moved to contact.

A new chapter in warfare was written on 17 January 1991

With the advent of postindustrial warfare, information

warfare, or knowledge warfare—whatever one might choose to

call it—a window opened, giving discerning people an

opportunity to gaze into the future. Although the view remains

blurred and imperfect, warriors who make the most of it

increase their chances for victory in the next round.

Notes

1. Daphne Rooke, Wizards' Country (Cambridge, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin

Co., 1957), 253–54.

2. Andrew Duminy and Charles Ballard, eds., The Anglo-Zulu War: New

Perspectives (Pietermaritzburg, Natal: University of Natal Press, 1981), 65.

159
3. John Young, They Fell like Stones: Battles and Casualties of the Zulu

War, 1879 (London: Greenhill Books, 1991), 52–69, 88–89; and R. Ernes

Dupuy and Trevor N. Dupuy, The Encyclopedia of Military History from 3500

B.C. to the Present (New York: Harper & Row, 1986), 851.

4. See, for instance, Alan D. Campen, ed., The First Information War: Th

Story of Communications, Computers and Intelligence Systems in the Persian

Gulf War (Fairfax, Va.: AFCEA International Press, 1992).

5. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), 156.

6. Ibid., 126–27; and Thomas A. Keaney and Eliot A. Cohen, Gulf War Ai

Power Survey Summary Report (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Ai

Force, 1993), 36–37.

7. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 1, 127.

8. Keaney and Cohen, 195–97.

9. Col S. D. Ramsperger, cited in Alan D. Campen, “Iraqi Command and

Control: The Information Differential,” in Campen, 173.

10. Col John R. Boyd, “A Discourse on Winning and Losing,” 1987, 177

Unpublished set of briefing slides available at Air University Library

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid., 222.

13. Keaney and Cohen, 122.

14. Col James Blackburn, Bolling AFB, Washington, D.C., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and

author, 21 April 1993, 102–4, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force

Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

15. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War: Final Report to Congress, vol. 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, April 1992), C-2.

16. See, for example, Bruce W. Watson et al., eds., Military Lessons of th

Gulf War (London: Greenhill Books, 1991), 146; and H. Norman

Schwarzkopf with Peter Petre, General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, th

Autobiography: It Doesn't Take a Hero (New York: Bantam Books, 1992)

293–94.

17. Schwarzkopf, 310, 313–14; Col Steve Wilson, Washington, D.C.

transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T

Reynolds, and author, 11 December 1991, 17, Desert Story Collection, US

Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Triump

without Victory: The Unreported History of the Persian Gulf War (New York

Random House, 1992), 97–98.

18. Keaney and Cohen, 184, 195.

19. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 2, T-84 to T-87.

20. Keaney and Cohen, 194.

21. Ibid., 195.

22. Ibid., 140–41.

23. Ibid., 83.

24. Ibid., 83–84.

25. Ibid., 123.

26. Boyd, 222.

27. Campen, “Iraqi Command and Control,” in Campen, 172.

160
28. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 12

December 1991, 103–4, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

29. Keaney and Cohen, 131–32.

30. See James R. Clapper, Jr., “Desert War: Crucible for Intelligenc

Systems,” in Campen, 82.

31. Larry K. Wentz, “Communications Support for the High Technology

Battlefield,” in Campen, 8.

32. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 2, K-27 to K-28.

33. “The services put more electronic communications connectivity into

the Gulf in 90 days than we put in Europe in 40 years.” Quoted in Conduc

of the Persian Gulf War, vol. 2, K-26.

34. Ibid., K-26 to K-27.

35. Alan D. Campen, “Information Systems and Air Warfare,” in Campen

27; and idem, “Iraqi Command and Control,” in Campen, 175.

36. Wentz, in Campen, 10–13.

37. Keaney and Cohen, 129–30.

38. Ibid., 138–39; and Deptula, 12 December 1991, 25–27, 54–64

89–92, 101–3.

39. Conduct of the Persian Gulf War , vol. 1, 215.

40. Ibid., 94; Campen, “Iraqi Command and Control,” in Campen, 174

and James F. Dunnigan and Austin Bay, From Shield to Storm: High-Tec

Weapons, Military Strategy, and Coalition Warfare in the Persian Gulf (New

York: William Morrow and Co., 1992), 348–49.

41. Deptula, 12 December 1991, 32–34.

42. Maj Gen Buster C. Glosson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 29

May 1991, 81–88, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; and Keaney and Cohen, 68–69.

43. Glosson, 29 May 1991, 81–84.

44. Lt Col Dave Deptula, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11

December 1991, 28, 30–31, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

45. Campen, “Iraqi Command and Control,” in Campen, 171–73.

161
Chap ter 10

Conclusions:

What Is Air (and Space) Power?

The pertinent question is not which argument is

right—several may have truth—but what are the implications if they were right?

—Carl Builder, The Icarus Syndrome

In August 1990 the United States Air Force was adrift from

its historical moorings, lacking an understanding of its past

and present. Consequently, those of us who serve in the Air

Force also lacked a common vision of our future. We were a

conglomerate of specialists with greater loyalty to machines

and sleeve patches than to any single unifying theme or to the

Air Force itself. We held no common perception of mission

except perhaps “to fly and fight,” a calling that left most of us

on the outside looking in. Individually and collectively, we

were experts in our trades—acknowledgedly the best in the

world, whether pilot, mechanic, logistician, or missileer. But

we did not value the profession of arms enough to study it.

Over the years, we in the Air Force had cloistered ourselves

in occupational monasteries, efficiently performing the rites o

our orders with no sense of the church's mission. Fighte

pilots flew jets, maintenance people readied the jets for ontime takeoffs, supply people had 30 minutes to get parts to the

jets, and cooks fed fighter pilots.* There were other monastic

orders—those dealing with bombers, tankers, missiles

logistics, intelligence, and so forth. Dr Donald B. Rice, forme

secretary of the Air Force, stated the problem most tellingly in

December 1991: “I felt when I came into this role that that was

163

*Note the iso la tion of spe cial ists by their per ceived mis sion. For ex am ple, this

writer can tes tify from per sonal ex pe ri ence that sup ply peo ple al ways knew how much 

of their 30 min utes was left. The part might be in a truck at Bur ger King, for all they

knew, but it did n't mat ter, so long as the part or der had reached their desk less than

30 min utes ear lier. This is no in dict ment of sup ply peo ple but merely an in di ca tion

that we (nearly all of us in the Air Force) viewed our mis sion s in terms of our pro fes

sional spe cial ties—not in terms of the in sti tu tion or its con stitu ency.
the single biggest problem in the Air Force as an institution

that when you poke a person in a light blue suit, they talked

[sic] about their airplane or their command. They don't talk

about air power.”1 If we didn't talk about airpower (or think

about it), what were all the jets for? Flying and fighting, o

course—and don't you ever forget it!

Indeed, while we all tinkered away in our trades and professed

our loyalty to them, we secretly looked up to the people from

whose ranks came the institutional power brokers—once

bomber pilots but most recently fighter pilots. In our Air Force

the thing to be—or emulate—was a fighter pilot.

2 The genera

blue-suit apathy toward intellectual development that Dr Ric

had “felt” was reflected and reinforced by the fighter pilot

community. Intellectualism came to be viewed as somewha

“unmanly” and perhaps even detrimental to one's career.

For example, Gen Robert D. Russ, commander of TAC at th

time of Desert Shield/Storm, described himself in an interview

as a “professional fighter pilot” for whom “getting a PhD is a nice

thing to do, but it has nothing to do with flying and fighting

airplanes, and I have chosen to do that.” Getting a PhD would

have been all right, he said, “as long as no one knew about it.”

There is nothing wrong with being a fighter pilot or with flying

and fighting when necessary. But Russ's statement hints at the

disdain held generally by professional fighter pilots (and the

people who would emulate them [i.e., most of the rest of us]) for

intellectual endeavors. Particularly telling is his description o

himself as a fighter pilot—not as an Air Force officer or a

professional at arms. Further, his “profession” entailed flying

and fighting airplanes—not some larger mission like defending

his country. Certainly, he would agree to the alternatives just

mentioned, but he did not instinctively describe himself in those

terms. General Russ's response is not unique, nor are these

comments meant to fault him personally. Rather, his response is

symptomatic of our institutional malady, and the problem is not

confined to fighter pilots. Most of us would respond similarly.

Part and parcel of this syndrome was the short shrift many Air

Force officers (even some very powerful general officers) gave Ai

Force basic doctrine as another non-fly-and-fight intellectua

exercise. It was “dull, boring, and useless” or “important but [not 

read by warriors]” or just plain “bull_ _ _ _.” 4 Boring or nnot

164
when the popes (chiefs of staff), cardinals (four-star generals)

and archbishops (three-star generals) disdain doctrine, the

faithful will follow suit. When the faithful no longer know their

doctrinal precepts, the institution is in serious trouble. Doctrine

provides the unifying theme that Secretary Rice (and others)

found missing among blue suiters. We had no institutiona

raison d'être—in our case, no airpower (or aerospace power

theory. Without such a unifying theme sufficiently powerful to

bind its people together, any large institution is doomed to

fragmentation, and its people gravitate to lesser visions tha

promise personal fulfillment—as a matter of survival.

Such was the state of the Air Force when Saddam Hussein'

forces invaded Kuwait. Although the service was fragmented into

many occupationally oriented groupings—such as thos

mentioned above—when it came to war fighting and issues of war 

fighting, two major orders dominated: strategic and tactical, each

based on a distinct subtheory of airpower (see chap. 2). By thi

time, strategic and tactical no longer bore much relationship to

their original meanings (see chaps. 1 and 3). On the one hand

strategic had come to mean global thermonuclear war, to b

waged by Strategic Air Command (with some help from the Navy'

nuclear “boomers,” of course) with strategic bombers and

missiles. Interestingly enough, SAC's mission was to deter this

type of war by being supremely well prepared to wage it. On the

other hand, tactical now denoted conventional theater war (th

kind likely to occur under unwritten rules of the cold war

precisely because thermonuclear war had been deterred), to be

165

*At this point, we would do well to clar ify the dis tinc tion be tween SAC and TAC with re 

gard to war fight ing. As a speci fied com mand, SAC was the Air Force “stra te gi

com mu nity.” Uni fied and speci fied com mands have war- fighting re spon si bili ties, ei ther fo

a thea ter of op era tions or a spe cial ized type of op era tion. At the time of De sert Storm, SA

was a speci fied com mand with di rect re spon si bil ity for exe cut ing the SIOP and with col lat

eral re spon si bil ity to sup ply forces for con ven tional thea ter con flicts (these forces re t urne

to SAC at war's end). TAC, though, was an Air Force ma jor com mand re spon si ble for train 

ing and sup ply ing air forces for thea ter op era tions. Thus, TAC had no war- fightin

re spon si bili ties, and—for pur poses of war fight ing—the “tac ti cal com mu nity” was rep re 

sented by tac ti cal air forces (such as CEN TAF) that re ported to uni fied com mands (such a

CENT COM). In peace time, the num bered air forces re ported to TAC for ad min is tra tive pur 

poses, but—when con sti tuted—they be longed to the CINCs. In an in ter est ing twist, dur in

De sert Shield/Storm, TAC be came “CEN TAF Rear” (self- designated by of fi cial mes sage

thus sub or di nat ing it self to its own peace time sub or di nate.
fought by tactical air forces (TAF)* with tactical fighters and

fighter-bombers.

6

The wars in Korea and Vietnam led TAC to perceive it

mission (and that of the tactical air forces it supplied for

theater commanders) as inextricably linked with that of the

US Army. In fact, a direct linkage for doctrine developmen

was established between the Army's Training and Doctrin

Command (TRADOC) and TAC, through the biservice Air Land

Force Application Agency. This linkage was unequal, however

since TRADOC speaks authoritatively for the entire Army on

doctrinal issues, while TAC legitimately speaks only for itself

This arrogation of authority by one powerful constituent wen

unchallenged—perhaps because it served the purposes of one

of the two most powerful commands without infringing on the

other's. To TAC, this action probably didn't seem an

arrogation at all, since it saw itself as the Air Force's agent fo

support of the Army—and since no one else seemed interested

in this mission.*

This unequal linkage led to an interesting outcome

however. The precepts under which TAF's perceived mission

would be executed were dominated by AirLand Battle—the

Army's doctrine for corps--level war fighting. This lesse

vision of airpower proved functional in coordinating air and

land forces at and below corps level, but above that

point—where some of air forces' most powerful applications

lie—AirLand Battle offered no answers. According to Arm

doctrine, only in the event of thermonuclear war did

airpower have a larger, independent role. If the conflict were 

conventional, however, airpower served as “ fire support

(see chap. 2).

As a result of this unholy alliance between TAF and th

Army, when the US began to respond to Iraq's invasion o

Kuwait, CENTAF planners delimited their thinking to

166

*The gen eral who com manded TAC in August 1990 be lieves that “tac ti cal air 

power's pri mary role is to sup port the Army. . . . We are charged to sup port the Army

Now, what is the first thing the Army wants you to do? It is to gain air su pe ri or ity. 

you are off gain ing that air su pe ri or ity, that is sup port ing the Army! It really is be 

cause they can't be em ployed un til you have that. Now the fact that you don't ever

have to use [Army forces] does n't make any dif fer ence. It is sup port.” Russ, 9 De cem 

ber 1991, 23, 80 (see note 3).
subtheater operations. They fixed their attention upon the

enemy's massed ground forces in Kuwait and prepared

defensive operations in support of almost nonexistent friendly

surface forces.* Knowing that they could not destroy al

elements of an advancing Iraqi force—at least in the early days 

of the deployment—CENTAF planned to concentrate on

attacking frontline logistics support—a known weakness in

Iraqi field operations.

7 If CENTCOM were successful in

stopping such an attack, it presumably would have mounted a

counteroffensive, as practiced in the Internal Look exercise

Airpower would have coordinated itself with Army schemes o

maneuver and concentrated on close air support and

interdiction throughout the Kuwaiti theater of operations bu

would have omitted strikes against strategic targets in Iraq

Retaliatory strikes against strategic targets would occur only i

Hussein did something “heinous.”** The CENTAF com

mander's proposal to “build a hose and point it where the

ground commander sees it's needed” (see chap. 2) is precisely

how a US Army corps commander, trained in AirLand Battle

would want the air commander to envision his mission. In

August 1990 the CENTAF staff was prepared to fulfill the

ground commander's wish, but other Air Force people had

different ideas.

Logically, one would expect strategic bombing zealots to

come from SAC, but that command limited its involvement in

theater planning to providing support-staff augmentees and

resources, as requested by CENTAF/CENTCOM (and the Ai

Staff—see chap. 2). Although some people in SAC still believed 

that strategic bombardment theory was central to the Ai

Force mission (as had Hap Arnold, Hal George, and Curti

167

*Gen eral Hor ner: “The best thing to do was to fight a ground war of ma neu ver an

use air power to cut the sus tain ment since they were vul ner able there. Q: Did any one

ask you if air could have done it with out the ground forces? A: No. You see, there i

go ing to be ground in place be cause the Saudis are go ing to have some Army up

there.” Hor ner, 2 De cem ber 1991, 13 (see note 7).

**In this case, Gen eral Hor ner en vi sioned noth ing like the stra te gic at tack pro 

posed in In stant Thun der but some thing more akin to a “re serve pun ish ment” plan fo

use if Hussein re sorted to chemi cal or bio logi cal weap ons. Hor ner later re gret ted us 

ing the term stra te gic, be liev ing that he had planted the seed in Gen era

Schwarz kopf's mind for the stra te gic air cam paign the CINC re quested from Gen era

Loh on 8 August 1990. Hor ner, 2 De cem ber 1991, 5 (see note 7).
LeMay), deterrence theory had largely displaced airpowe

theory. Strategic (read nuclear)* bombardment was the “cour

of last resort” for national survival—so horrible to contemplate

that it would be used only in extremis. Strategic nuclear force

would stand by, on alert, in case the conventional war got ou

of hand and went nuclear. If that happened, the war would

belong to SAC,

8 which already had the plan for that war—the

SIOP.

But Vietnam had also taught us that we could use strategi

weapon systems for conventional warfare. We had even

modified some of the bombardment fleet and identified tha

portion for use in theater conventional warfare. These aircraf

routinely practiced conventional bombing in case they wer

called off nuclear alert to assist in a theater conventional war

Part of the SAC tanker fleet was identified for the same

purpose. Thus, any theater engaged in a conventional war

could expect reinforcements from SAC—but only reinforce

ments. Gen Jack Chain, commander of SAC when the Gul

War started and the man most responsible for SAC's conven

tional preparation, had no intention of running the theate

commander's war for him—that was not his business.** With

tactical people wedded to supporting Army maneuver scheme

and with strategic people committed to thermonuclea

deterrence, the true believers in strategic bombardment theory

found themselves without a natural home.

The fact that the old-school strategic bombardment zealot

presumed to plan an air campaign from Washington was a

heretical to many people in the tactical community as the plan

they proposed. Theater planning should not—nay, could

not—be done in Washington. Surely, everyone had learned the 

168

*Ac cord ing to Col Steve (“Foose”) Wil son, who first briefed Gen eral Hor ner on th

In stant Thun der con cept, Hor ner al luded to this stra te gic/nu clear con nec tion in ref 

er ence to stra te gic tar get ing. “Stra te gic tar get ing, by the way—he re minded

me—meant nu clear, and we were n't go ing nu clear.” Col Steve Wil son, Wash ing ton

D.C., tran script of in ter view with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds

and author, 11 De cem ber 1991, 17–18, De sert Story Col lec tion, US Air Force His tori 

cal Re search Agency, Max well AFB, Ala.

**“The best role that I think SAC could do, or any other com mand could do, is al 

low the thea ter com mander to make his plans and then exe cute his plans while we

sup ported them.” Chain, 12 August 1991, 5 (see note 8).
chief lesson of Vietnam—that theater war planning must be

done in-theater, by war fighters. From TAF's perspective, even

TAC's participation in this arena was unwelcome.

9 Incensed

by the Air Staff's involvement in the form of Instant Thunder

the generals at TAC responded with their own proposal. Bu

Schwarzkopf had already approved Warden's initial briefin

(see chap. 2). Beaten to the punch, the TAC staff put thei

plan in a safe drawer, extricated their people from the Air Staff

planning effort, and contented themselves with the more

comfortable role of running “CENTAF Rear.”10

By then, the zealots in Checkmate were rolling and appar

ently had enthralled Schwarzkopf with a plan radically

different from anything CENTAF had done or was doing. In

fact, to some people in the tactical community, Instant Thun

der looked a lot like a throwback to Douhet and Mitchell—o

at least matched their perceptions of these early theorists

“pie-in-the-sky” claims for airpower as a solo war winner. In

their view, the plan was another overpromise for strategi

169

B-52 and KC-10. Although designed to deliver nuclear weapons, long

range bombers can add significant punch to theater conventiona

operations. Here, a B-52 bomber refuels from a KC-10 tanker.
bombardment and might even endanger the existence of the

Air Force as an institution.* The TAC people thought i

unrealistic that six to nine days of bombing in downtown

Baghdad and other areas of Iraq (all the while ignoring the Iraq

army poised on the border of Saudi Arabia) would cause

Saddam Hussein to withdraw or be overthrown.** Nonetheless

that appeared to be what Warden and company were promising

to Schwarzkopf and Powell.

11 More importantly (or perhaps

more dangerously, from some perspectives), the plan seemed to

be what Schwarzkopf thought he wanted. General Powell had

approved it as well—though less enthusiastically. In fact, Powel

had already briefed the president on Instant Thunder.

12

Who was right? Who was wrong? Everyone. And no one. We

were all so busy defending the rites of our orders that we had

lost track of the church's mission. We thought that we

ascribed to the true faith and that aerospace power belonged

especially to our cloister. But we had lost sight of the

overarching lessons of our experience in several wars—

especially those of World War II—that FM 100-20 had so

carefully recorded for us. Most of the Army Air Forces' funda

mental beliefs—forged in the fires of combat—were faithfully

preserved in Air Force basic doctrine, but the latter, as we

have seen, was “dull and boring” and “[not read by warriors].

Lacking a common understanding of our past, we found

ourselves debating the same old questions:

1. What is airpower capable of accomplishing, either alon

or in conjunction with other military forces?

2. Can airpower alone be decisive in warfare?

170

*Ac cord ing to Gen Larry Welch, former Air Force chief of staff, Gen er als Hor ner

Russ, and Glos son had mas ter fully hid den the dan ger posed by In stant Thun

der—which the CINC had ill- advisedly ap proved—within the con text of a much large

air cam paign that dealt with the “real” threat: all those Iraqi ground forces in Ku wai

In short, he felt that sup port of sur face ma neu ver ele ments was the real war- winne

af ter all. Gen Larry Welch, USAF, Re tired, In sti tute for De fense Analy sis, Wash ing ton

D.C., dis cus sion with Lt Col Su zanne B. Ge hri, Lt Col Rich ard T. Rey nolds, and

author, May 1991.

**“Well, I guess it sort of re minded me of, `Let's send all the bomb ers to the ball

 bearing fac tory.' It re minded me of 8th Air Force. `You do this 6- day at tack plan—the

Iraqis will fold.' The Ger mans did n't fold and nei ther would the Iraqis.” Henry, 2 June

1992, 37 (see note 11).
3. Does airpower have an independent role in warfare?

4. How is airpower best employed?

5. Do we need an independent Air Force?

The questions raised prior to, during, and after the Gulf Wa

were merely variants of these long-standing issues. Could an

“independent” strategic air campaign waged against Iraq bring

Saddam Hussein and his regime to their knees? Could airpowe

alone stop an attack by Iraqi armor? Could airpower effectivel

attack in the absence of powerful, friendly ground forces, or was

it best to wait for the ground scheme of maneuver? What would

achieve the best results in the shortest time: strategic attack

against leadership and key targets or direct attacks on Iraq'

fielded forces? Since Air Force people could not agree on answers

to these questions, the other services understandably challenged 

our beliefs and doctrine. We were at war with ourselves—

however unnecessarily.

The disputants could have found answers to these

questions had they merely turned to AFM 1-1, Basi

Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force (1984), and

its supporting series of subordinate doctrine manuals, which

were designed “to impart to all Air Force personnel a basis fo

understanding the use of aerospace forces, in peace and

war.”13 Although some of the answers in AFM 1-1 were not as

well developed as they should have been and some were not so

good at all, most of them were sound and easily accessible to

anyone who bothered to read our basic doctrine. For example

the following passages from AFM 1-1 address the persisten

questions mentioned above:

1. What is airpower capable of accomplishing, either alon

or in conjunction with other military forces?

[It can] win the aerospace battle . . . gain and/or maintain control of

the aerospace environment and . . . take decisive actions immediately

and directly against an enemy's warfighting capacity. . . . 14

engage or support land, sea, and other aerospace forces. . . . [and]

apply combat power against all elements of an enemy's structure. . . .15

[It permits] direct application of force or the movement, resupply, or

support of deployed aerospace and surface forces. . . .

171
[It can] react quickly. . . .

project combat power worldwide. . . .

deploy quickly and sustain . . . for extended periods. . . . 16

provide unparalleled observation of the Earth's surface and the

aerospace environment. . . .17

act rather than react. . . .

[protect] friendly military operations from [attack and observation]. . . . 18

maneuver [to mass] combat power and [disengage] forces. . . .19

dominate the action, remain unpredictable, and create uncertainty. . . .20 [and]

attack [the enemy's] potential in depth through strategic and tactical

aerospace actions.21

These statements are impressive but still don't reflect every

thing aerospace power can accomplish, according to AFM 1

1.* In 1990–91, some of us didn't believe that all these things

were really possible or important; nonetheless, they were

officially sanctioned beliefs of our institution at the time.

2. Can airpower alone be decisive in warfare?

As a critical element of the interdependent land-naval-aerospace team, 

aerospace power can be the decisive force in warfare. . . . 22

Considering the nature of modern war, airpower can dominate not only

the air but the land and sea as well. . . . 23

Aerospace superiority . . . is prerequisite to the success of land and

naval forces in battle. . . . 24

Close air support enhances surface force operations by providing the

capability to deliver a wide range of weapons and massed firepower at

decisive points.25

Although these excerpts suggest that aerospace power can be

decisive in a number of ways, it does not act alone but as a

“critical element of [an] interdependent . . . team.” True or not

this was an officially sanctioned belief of the Air Force in

1990–91.

172

*No tice that not all of these items are di rectly re lated to put ting ord nance on tar 

get. Some non com bat ca pa bili ties of aero space forces are criti cal to achiev ing na tiona

ob jec tives.
3. Does airpower have an independent role in warfare?

An air commander may conduct these [strategic and tactical] actions

unilaterally or with other component forces. . . . 26

Although an air interdiction campaign can be an independent air

effort, an air commander normally coordinates an interdiction

campaign with a surface force commander. . . .27

Airpower can exploit speed, range, and flexibility, [sic] better than land

and sea forces, and therefore, it must be allowed to operate

independently of these forces.28

Although the 1984 version of AFM 1-1 does not specifically

address the independence of a strategic offensive, it stands to

reason that if an air interdiction campaign could be

independent, then a strategic offensive would almost certainly be 

so. The offensive counterair portion of a counterair campaign

would also seem to meet all the criteria for independence

Perhaps this point does not arise with regard to these missions

because their independence is so obvious. The main sections o

the manual seem carefully to skirt this issue, stressing instead

the interdependence of air, land, and sea forces. The appendix

however, describes the independent operation of airpower as one

of several “fundamental beliefs” that have “remained imbedded

in Air Force doctrine” since 1943.

29

4. How is airpower best employed?

The basic objective of aerospace forces is to win the aerospace

battle. . . .30

[The attributes] of speed, range, and flexibility . . . [allow aerospace]

forces to apply combat power against all elements of an enemy's

structure. . . .31

The shock effect inherent in aerospace power is the product of an

unequaled capacity to concentrate combat power in time and

space. . . .32

An air commander has the capability to [conduct simultaneous]

strategic and tactical . . . actions. . . . 33

[An air commander can attack] an enemy's warfighting potential. . . .

in depth. . . .

[and] relentlessly. . . .34

173
[An air commander can] mass aerospace firepower at decisive points. 35

5. Do we need an independent Air Force?

Aerospace doctrine provides all airmen with a basic reference for why

we have an Air Force. . . . 36

A military force exerts [the fundamental] effects [of neutralization,

destruction, and capture] to gain or maintain control of its operating

medium. . . .37

[The USAF has] primary responsibility for providing this country with

the airpower needed to defend it at home and meet its commitments

abroad. . . .38

For airpower to be employed for the greatest good of the combined

forces in a theater of war, there must be a command structure to

control the assigned airpower coherently and consistently and to

ensure that the airpower is not frittered away by dividing it among

army and navy commands. . . . 39

Airpower . . . must be allowed to operate independently of [land and

sea] forces.40

The need to control airpower separately from land and sea

power is another “fundamental belief imbedded” since 1943

at which time the newly published Army Field Manual 100-20

noted that “land power and air power are co-equal and

interdependent forces; neither is an auxiliary of the other.”

4

The logical conclusion, then and now, is that the US doe

indeed need a separate Air Force.

Although our basic aerospace doctrine saw nine revisions

between 1943 and 1990,* there were striking continuities in

the fundamental and enduring beliefs about the centra

principles of airpower (or aerospace power) application. Unless

these principles were horribly wrong, there was no need for

any of the debates that occurred during or after Deser

174

*In 1990 AFM 1-1 was al ready be ing re vised at Air Uni ver sity's Cen ter for Aero

space Doc trine, Re search, and Edu ca tion (CADRE). Part of the ef fort was a de lib er ate

at tempt to make the in flu ence of FM 100- 20's vi sion of air power more ex plicit in ou

for mal doc trine than it was in the 1984 ver sion. Many peo ple seem to think that AFM

1-1 of 1992 was a re sponse to De sert Storm ex pe ri ences. In fact, the lat est ver sion

was al ready in fi nal draft at the time of the Gulf War and re flected noth ing spe cifi

from De sert Shield/Storm. The com mon thread be tween the new AFM 1-1 and De ser

Storm op era tions is not the in flu ence of the Gulf War on Air Force doc trine but th

par al lel in flu ence of FM 100- 20 and simi lar writ ings on think ing air men.
Shield/Storm, because an abundance of doctrinal and

historical examples addressed every point of contention.

The results of the compromise that melded the two initia

approaches to air campaigning in the Gulf War (see chap. 4

validated Air Force doctrine on almost every point. From the

opening moment, CENTAF forces struck fast, hard, and

relentlessly to induce shock and strategic paralysis. Early

concentration on offensive counterair operations, SEAD, and

leadership targeting decided the outcome of the aerospace

battle within minutes, assuring the success of land and nava

operations. Aerospace forces maneuvered to mass firepower a

decisive points. Strategic-, operational-,* and tactical-leve

aerospace operations applied combat power against al

elements of the enemy's structure by attacking them

simultaneously and in depth. Aerospace forces of all types

provided movement, resupply, and support of deployed

aerospace and surface forces, including unparalleled

observation of the earth's surface and the aerospace

environment. They also engaged the enemy both unilaterally

and in coordination with other component forces.

Finally, air planners defined the military conflict without

reference to surface operations plans** but did so in such a

way that the air campaign plan would eventually meld

perfectly with schemes of surface maneuver to be developed

later. This feat required a theaterwide view (not the corps-leve

perspective of AirLand Battle) characteristic of people who

knew how to gain leverage from the power of combat systems

that can range the entire battlefield and beyond. Thes

planners were airpower people, steeped in the broad, strategic

views of an independent Air Force and independent of and

175

*Par tially be cause of the in sti tu tional schism be tween the tac ti cal and stra te gi

com mu ni ties, AFM 1-1 of 1984 did not ad dress the op era tional level of war (see chap

4). (In cir cu lar fash ion, this omis sion also ex ac er bated the schism.) The 1992 edi tion

of AFM 1-1 cor rected this over sight (see es pe cially, vol. 1, para graph 1-4).

**Of fen sive air cam paign plan ning be gan on 6 August 1990 with the Check mate ef for

and con tin ued stead ily there af ter. The CENT COM thea ter cam paign was briefed to Pres

dent Bush on 11 Oc to ber 1990, at which time he ap proved the air cam paign por tion bu

not the ground cam paign. Sub se quent plan ning for the ground cam paign al tered dra 

mati cally, chang ing from a broad- front, straight- ahead plan to the mas sive flank in

ma neu ver fi nally exe cuted in Feb ru ary 1991. The air cam paign plan un der went no dra 

matic al tera tion in re sponse. Hor ner, 2 De cem ber 1991, 42–46 (see note 7).
coequal with colleagues who worked from a two-dimensiona

perspective. If airpower “zealots” had not inserted themselves

into the planning process, the offensive air campaign plan

likely would have developed in concert with the plans for

ground operations during November 1990. It is also likely we

would have suffered the 17,000–30,000 coalition casualtie

predicted by analytic simulations developed for AirLand Battl

scenarios.

This is not to suggest that AirLand Battle is bad doctrine. I

is effective when applied as intended (i.e., for describing

interactive combined-arms operations at and below the corps

level). But to read it as joint doctrine for theater-level and

strategic operations is a serious mistake. Army people wrot

AirLand Battle from a two-dimensional perspective and

defined aerospace operations only in terms of support fo

surface maneuver elements. When this doctrine is extended to 

theaterwide or global application, it still suitably describes

coordinated air and surface operations but falls far short o

describing the full range of aerospace operations. But since

AirLand Battle is Army doctrine, written for Army operations

we should not expect such a description. Soldiers and airmen

view war in very different ways, primarily because armies are

restricted in many ways that aerospace forces are not.

42

For instance, enemy surface forces can position themselves

to form a barrier to prevent friendly forces from reaching their

objectives, as Iraq tried to do along the Kuwaiti/Saudi borde

in August and September 1990. Friendly surface forces have

only two alternatives in this case: (1) attack into the defensive

barrier or (2) go around the barrier to find an exposed flank or

seam. The former approach usually results in heavy loss o

equipment and lives. The second approach usually takes a

long time, and while the forces maneuver laterally to th

enemy's flank, their own flank is exposed and vulnerable. In

the Gulf War, coalition ground-force planners considered both

options, finally electing to flank the Iraqi positions—a

maneuver that took over 30 days to complete. While they were

moving into position, coalition aerospace forces protected thei

flank (see chaps. 7 and 8).

Other restrictions to surface maneuver also affect the

soldier's view of warfare more profoundly than the airman's

176
The natural boundaries and obstacles of the earth

s surface

(e.g., coastlines, mountains, valleys, ridgelines, lakes, and

rivers), the conditions of the surface itself (e.g., soil texture

moisture, rocks, and ocean depths), the relatively ponderous

nature of surface movement, and other limiting factors

channel soldiers' thinking into essentially rectangula

patterns—areas of responsibility, areas of operations, areas o

interest, and so forth. Soldiers tend to fight primarily within

the corps area of operations and, to a lesser extent, the corps

area of interest. Multicorps operations require extensive

boundaries to deconflict and coordinate what are essentially

independent operations of separate corps.*

Aerospace forces are not significantly bound by mos

impediments to surface maneuver, nor are they most efficien

when operating within imposed boundaries. Their relatively

high speeds and rapid maneuver capability allow them to

attack from any direction and altitude of their choosing

(within the operational capability of the specific system, o

course). Interposing any kind of physical barrier (especially a

ring of combatant forces) between such systems and thei

objectives is practically impossible,** unless one possesses

overwhelming air superiority. Thus, coalition aircraft and

missiles were able to flank the Iraqi surface forces after only

minutes of ma-- neuvering from their original deployed

positions (hours for some elements but certainly not even a

whole day for any of them). From that time forward, these

aerospace forces were able to bring decisive firepower to bear

on critical Iraqi elements throughout the theater of operation

177

*They are not in de pend ent in the sense of not re lat ing to other op era tions of the

past, pres ent, and fu ture, but in the sense that corps com mand ers have vir tua

auton omy—within their sec tors—to achieve their spe cifi cally as signed mili tary ob jec

tives as they see fit. Of course, tell ing sub or di nate com mand ers what to do—but not

how to do it—is a well- established tenet of suc cess ful mili tary op era tions. What is sig 

nifi cant in this case is the ex tent to which auton omy is tied to a roughly rec tan gu lar

piece of turf. See, for ex am ple, FM 100-5, Op era tions, May 1986, 101, 102–5, 107

113. The Army has tried to move away from this lin ear per spec tive (see FM 100-5

June 1993), but mul ti corps op era tions on the cur rent US Army model will al ways re 

quire ex ten sive co or di na tion bounda ries.

**Hard ened con crete bun kers are prac ti cal bar ri ers, but only for rela tively smal

point- targets; fur ther, as dem on strated in the Gulf War, they are vul ner able to pene 

trat ing, pre ci sion weap ons.
from (relatively) secure positions of advantage. Aerospace

forces care little whose corps area they are in (or even whether

they are in anyone's corps area) and are free to roam across

most surface boundaries at will.* This freedom from mos

physical constraints to surface operations also causes

airmen's thinking about warfare to differ considerably from

that of soldiers and sailors.

Massing a surface maneuver force sufficiently powerful to

undertake major objectives can take days to weeks. Once the

attacking force is assembled, shifting the main effort from the

original objective to one significantly removed from it is

extremely difficult. For example, once the two American corp

had begun their maneuver to starting positions for the lef

hook, shifting the main effort from the left to the right flank

would have been quite arduous—if not impossible. Given the

configuration of coalition forces at that point, assembling the

maneuver and firepower capability of VII Corps (with its M1A

tanks and Bradley armored fighting vehicles) on the righ

flank would have been impossible without completely

realigning the coalition order of battle, a task that certainly

would have taken weeks—maybe months.

In contrast, the flexibility that Generals Horner and

Glosson had built into both their operations/planning staf

and the Desert Storm air campaign plan would have allowed

them to shift the main air effort from Baghdad (well beyond

the extreme left of coalition surface force positions) to

Kuwait City (to the extreme right of coalition ground forces

in a matter of hours. In fact, they could have diverted the

first strikes with just minutes' notice. They demonstrated

this ability time and again (e.g., at Al Khafji and the highway 

of death). Shifting the main effort across multiple corps

boundaries is a major undertaking for surface forces; fo

aerospace forces, it takes only a radio call. As AFM 1-1 pu

it, “the speed, range, and flexibility of aerospace forces allow

commanders to move quickly from one course of action to

another and to influence military operations with extensive

fundamental combat capabilities.”

43 But if one is to exploit

178

*In fact, air men are in clined to view en emy op era tional bounda ries as seams fo

them to ex ploit and are thus skep ti cal of all bounda ries.
the speed, range, and flexibility* of modern aerospace forces

the structure that commands and controls them mus

remain independent from and coequal with the structure for

land and sea forces.**

Modern aerospace forces must not be tied directly to the

ponderous movement of surface forces or to the vision of a

surface commander whose AOR is 120 x 300 kilometers or

so. Rather, they must be controlled by someone who is

looking beyond corps boundaries—all the way to Baghdad, so

to speak. This is the sense in which airmen seek to be

independent—not from national or theater objectives

commander's intent, or joint/combined operations, but from

a surface commander whose vision is naturally and

correctly focused on a corps-sized (or division- or brigade

sized, etc.) “rectangle.”

It is only natural that corps commanders—empowered as

they are to conduct their own independent operations—cove

as much control as possible over the fundamental comba

capabilities of modern aerospace systems. This desire was and

remains the root cause of targeting controversies between th

Army and Air Force during and after Desert Storm. Army

corps commanders reportedly considered the targetin

process “fundamentally flawed” because they had insufficien

control over the “effects and timing” of interdiction efforts in

front of their corps areas.

44 According to Brig Gen Robert H

Scales, in the Army-sponsored report Certain Victory: The U.S

Army in the Gulf War, “the Army recognized competin

priorities such as air-to-air and air interdiction* of deep

theater targets.”

45 Perhaps, but the complaint implies that the

179

*Some mod ern theo rists have sug gested add ing such at trib utes as pre ci sion, le 

thal ity, pene tra tion, or stealth to this short list of key at trib utes of aero space power

See, for in stance, The Air Force and U.S. Na tional Se cu rity: Global Reach—Globa

Power (Wash ing ton, D.C.: De part ment of the Air Force, 1990), 5; and Col John War 

den, “Em ploy ing Air Power in the Twenty- first Cen tury,” in Rich ard H. Shultz, Jr., and 

Rob ert L. Pfaltzgraff, Jr., eds., The Fu ture of Air Power in the Af ter math of the Gulf Wa

(Max well AFB, Ala.: Air Uni ver sity Press, July 1992), 78–81. But these char ac ter is tics

do not seem to dis tin guish aero space power from land and sea power as clearly and

con sis tently as do speed, range, and flexi bil ity. Sur face sys tems are far more likely to

match aero space sys tems in terms of the pro posed ad di tional char ac ter is tics than

they are the origi nal three. 

**The ex act pro posal of FM 100- 20 (1943).
Army component considered itself better able to establish

proper priorities than the CINC, who established them for the

JFACC to execute.46 In fact, early in the air campaign, it is

apparent that General Schwarzkopf deliberately withheld

some of the Army corps commanders' “battlefield preparation

to avoid tipping his hand on the left hook.47

The wisdom of viewing the air war from a theater rathe

than a corps perspective is apparent in the outcome of the

Desert Storm ground campaign: “only 140” soldiers killed “in

direct combat” during the “largest single land battle in Ameri

can history won in the shortest time.”

48 Flexible airpower

able to range the battlefield in minutes, made possible the

impressive surface advance of 24–28 February 1991. But the

role of aerospace power in the defeat of Iraq was much large

than merely shaping the battlefield, which was the chie

concern of Army corps commanders.

Such debates over the proper role of airpower all too often

devolve to arguing about which aerospace operation is mos

valuable—strategic strikes, counterair, CAS, interdiction

Worse, the divisions on this issue are often greater among

airmen than between airmen and their surface-bound

brethren. But the truth is, none of airpower's capabilities i

most important. The combination of all three-dimensiona

capabilities puts the power in aerospace power. Yes, coalition

aerospace forces did destroy some enemy surface units and

decimate others during Desert Storm. But they also gained

and maintained control of the “new high ground” (the

aerospace), “blinded and battered” Iraqi leadership elements

helped to create and maintain an “unblinking eye,” and

constructed and maintained the air portion of a “global air and 

sea bridge.”

49 Even all these feats don't do justice to the

accomplishments of air forces in the Gulf War. Yet, airmen

shouldn't be surprised; after all, we understood and articu

lated the concept over 50 years ago:

180

*Ac cord ing to Gen eral Scales, “less than half of [the] . . . tar gets [re quested b

corps] made it to the ATO.” Scales, 180 (see note 44). The un der ly ing is sue in this de 

bate is the ex tent to which corps com mand ers—in stead of the JFACC—ex er cis

con trol over in ter dic tion and CAS sor ties.
The inherent flexibility of air power, [sic] is its greatest asset. This

flexibility makes it possible to employ the whole weight of the available

air power against selected areas in turn; such concentrated use of the

air striking force is a battle winning factor of the first importance.

Control of available air power must be centralized and command must

be exercised through the air force commander if this inherent flexibility 

and ability to deliver a decisive blow are to be fully exploited.

Therefore, the command of air and ground forces in a theater of

operations will be vested in the superior commander charged with the

actual conduct of operations in the theater, who will exercise

command of air forces through the air force commander and command 

of ground forces through the ground commander.50

Truly, when aerospace forces engage all their capabilities in

appropriate sequence, “aerospace power can be the decisive

force in warfare.”

51

War remains a human enterprise, just as it was in the time

of Clausewitz.

52 We have no reason to believe it will be

otherwise, because war is a political act designed to convince

or compel a nation (or other political entity) to change its

behavior or allegiance. As such, war is subject to all the

vagaries of the human mind, spirit, and will. So long as this is

true, ideas, concepts, philosophies, and doctrines will always

matter. People who ignore this truth “are certain in every

battle to be in peril,”

53 but people who best apply concept

carefully gleaned from experience and history will own the

future.

Notes

1. Dr Donald B. Rice, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 Decembe

1991, 32, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

2. Carl H. Builder, The Icarus Syndrome: The Role of Air Power Theory in

the Evolution and Fate of the U.S. Air Force (New Brunswick, N.J.

Transaction Publishers, 1994), 180–88.

3. Gen Robert D. Russ, Alexandria, Va., transcript of interview with L

Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 9 December

1991, 76, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

4. See, for instance, Gen John M. Loh, Langley AFB, Va., transcript o

interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 16

October 1991, 87–88, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historica

Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB

S.C., transcript of interview with Dr Perry Jamieson, Dr Rich Davis, and D

Barry Barlow, 4 March 1992, 61, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force

181
Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Gen Charles A. Horner

Peterson AFB, Colo., transcript of interview with Dr Diane Putney, 26 Apri

1994, 87, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala. (Secret) Information cited is unclassified; and Russ, 9

December 1991, 27–28, 74–76.

5. See Builder, xiii, xvii–xviii. Builder hypothesizes that “air power theory

was a crucial element in the evolution and success of the Air Force . . . but

the subsequent abandonment of air power theory in the face of competitive

means (missiles and space) and ends (deterrence theory) cast the Air Force

adrift from precisely those commitments that had propelled it to its

institutional apogee in the 1950s” (page xiii).

6. See Builder.

7. Lt Gen Charles A. Horner, Shaw AFB, S.C., transcript of interview with 

Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 2 December 1991

13, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

8. According to Gen Jack Chain, commander of SAC,

the concept was to give the theater planner assets when the war started.

Nuclear—different ball game. That was our theater. As far as conventional

operations, the different theater commanders needed to have and plan for those

assets.

Gen Jack Chain, Fort Worth, Tex., transcript of interview with author, 12

August 1991, 5–6, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

9. See, for instance, Horner, 2 December 1991, 30, 37, 66–67; and Maj

Gen Michael Ryan, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, 4 September 1992

13–14, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

10. See Col Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of the

Air Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, 1995)

chap. 6.

11. See Col John A. Warden III, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, 22 October 1991, 57, Desert Story Collection

US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Brig Gen Larry

Henry, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B

Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 2 June 1992, 37, Deser

Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB

Ala.; and Maj Gen Buster Glosson, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview

with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 29

May 1991, 47–48, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research

Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.

12. See Reynolds, Heart of the Storm, chap. 6.

13. AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force 

1984, iii.

14. Ibid., 1-3.

15. Ibid., 2-2.

16. Ibid., 2-3.

17. Ibid., 2-4.

182
18. Ibid., 2-6.

19. Ibid., 2-7.

20. Ibid., 2-8.

21. Ibid., 2-11.

22. Ibid., 1-3.

23. Ibid., 1-4.

24. Ibid., 2-12.

25. Ibid., 3-4.

26. Ibid., 2-11.

27. Ibid., 3-3.

28. Ibid., A-6.

29. Ibid.

30. Ibid., 1-3.

31. Ibid., 2-2.

32. Ibid., 2-4.

33. Ibid., 2-11.

34. Ibid., 2-13.

35. Ibid., 2-15.

36. Ibid., vii.

37. Ibid., 1-3.

38. Ibid., 1-4.

39. Ibid., 4-2.

40. Ibid., A-6.

41. FM 100-20, Command and Employment of Air Power, 21 July 1943, 1.

42. See Col Dennis M. Drew, “Joint Operations: The World Looks

Different from 10,000 Feet,” Airpower Journal 2, no. 3 (Fall 1988): 4–16.

43. AFM 1-1, 1984, 2--2.

44. Brig Gen Robert H. Scales, Jr., Certain Victory: The U.S. Army in th

Gulf War (Washington, D.C.: Pocket Books, 1993), 181.

45. Ibid., 175.

46. Horner, 2 December 1991, 62–64, 66–67.

47. Ibid., 56.

48. Scales, 174–75, 181, 383.

49. Ibid., 368, 190, 164–74, 376.

50. FM 100-20, 2.

51. AFM 1-1, 1984, 1-3.

52. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. Michael Howard and

Peter Paret (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976), 148–50

184–85; and AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Ai

Force, March 1992, vol. 1, 1.

53. Sun Tzu, The Art of War, ed. Samuel B. Griffith (London: Oxford

University Press, 1963), 84.

183
Epilogue

A View of the Air Force Today

and Tomorrow

The general who understands war is the Minister of the

people's fate and arbiter of the nation's destiny.

—Sun Tzu

Although the “airpower compromise”* of 1990–91 validated

nearly every major tenet of Air Force basic doctrine, th

internal debates that sparked this compromise seemed to

reinforce a sense of institutional uneasiness that had been

growing for some time. An increasing number of airmen, some

in lofty positions, were beginning to believe we had “lost the

bubble” on the nature and meaning of our profession. In 1989

some Air Staff officers wrote (though never published) a white

paper entitled “A View of the Air Force Today” and circulated i

in the Pentagon. The paper expressed “growing concern and

frustration by many who serve [the USAF]” and a vague

uneasiness about “institutional problems that needed

attention.”

1 According to Carl Builder, senior analyst at the

Rand Corporation, these problems concerned “careerism . . 

stovepiping . . . [and] loss of professionalism at arms”

2 (se

chap. 10). In the wake of “probably the most effective ai

campaign [in history],”

3 Air Force senior leadership thus se

about rebuilding the institution—almost from the ground up.

The nature of the problem that former secretary of the Air

Force Donald Rice had sensed about the service (see chap. 10

is supported by Builder's detailed analysis, which concludes

that the Air Force suffered from intellectual and professiona

hollowness rooted in a lack of institutional vision. Senior Air

Force officers decried a perceived lack of professionalism

185

*This term re fers to com bin ing the “ stra te gic air cam paign” (as rep re sented by In 

stant Thun der) with tac ti cally ori ented plan ning (as rep re sented by In ter nal Look an

the D Day Plan) to pro duce a com pre hen sive air cam paign that at tacked tac ti cal, op 

era tional, and stra te gic tar gets.
among junior officers who they felt were consumed by

obsessive careerism. But the real problem lay with the senior

officers themselves, who failed to comprehend and articulate a

unifying vision of airpower and the profession of arms (i.e.

airpower theory).

4 Worst of all, according to Builder, we hadn'

lost this conceptual framework—we had abandoned it.

5

The pope, cardinals, archbishops, and we parishioners had

struck a devil's bargain with our civilian masters and sister

services. We denied the concepts upon which we had so

painfully forged our independence, in order to retain what we

really loved: the air-breathing flying machines that set us free

from the bounds of earth. The concept of conducting the

profession of arms in a new medium and potentially decisive

manner gave way to the profession of “flying and fighting.”*

Builder says that

once the concept of air power no longer served as the altar for common 

worship by aviators and groundlings alike, the unifying sense of

mission, purpose, and cause within the institution began to evaporate.

People found themselves in an institution because that was the place

to do what they wanted to do—to fly airplanes, to work on rockets, to

develop missiles, to learn an interesting or promising trade, etc. The

institution fractured; and a hundred mischiefs were turned loose to

bedevil the Air Force. (Emphasis added)6

The demons who bedeviled us were the numerous

fragmented visions of our raison d'être. Gen Merrill McPeak

Air Force chief of staff, observed that, “absent a clear

understanding of overarching purposes, some people give

their loyalty to the next best thing—their particular job or

their equipment.”

7 Later in his remarks, General McPeak

included an official mission statement for the Air Force—on

momentous occurrence in a series of events designed to

reshape our institution and correct the problems Dr Rice had

detected on his arrival at the Pentagon in 1989.

“We are doing everything we know how to try to move this

institution away from its stovepipe mentality and its focus on

instruments of warfare onto the objectives of warfare

(emphasis added), Dr Rice said in December 1991.

“Everything we know how” apparently began with placing

186

*Builder de vel ops this the sis elo quently in The Icarus Syn drome, 179–89 (see note 1).
intellectually inclined general officers in positions of high

responsibility. The chief of staff, the commander of Ai

University, and the commanders of other major air commands 

selected during Dr Rice's tenure were “handpicked” for their

“greater understanding of air power and its role.”

9 This step

was a logical one. If senior leadership could once again provide

the institution with a unifying vision of airpower theory, the

focus of junior officers (and everyone else in the Air Force

should rise above personal career concerns. But placement o

senior leadership was only one of a number of initiatives

designed to heal the institutional malady.

The first initiative was “Global Reach—Global Power,” a white

paper of June 1990 designed to “set the Air Force on a path

toward an integrated view of itself and airpower.”10 This pape

highlighted the “inherent strengths” of airpower—speed, range

flexibility, precision, and lethality—and the truly global impact o

“the world's foremost aerospace power.”

11 It has since been

circulated to a wide audience inside and outside the Air Force

The second initiative called for the Air Force to implemen

modern business principles, including a vision for the futur

and a complete organizational restructuring.

12 The vision

statement and reorganization plan were released in Decembe

1991, both stressing unifying elements. The vision statemen

involved a team effort: “Air Force people [all of us, not just fighte

pilots] building the world's most respected air and space force . 

. global power and reach for America.”

13 As for reorganization

Dr Rice emphasized that this part of the initiative was just a

important as the concept of global reach—global power in terms

of its desired impact on the Air Force.

14

Much of the reorganization dealt with economy and the

efficient use of resources. However, according to “Reshaping

for the Future,” an Air Force white paper of February 1992

the combat command restructure was specifically designed to

eliminate the “old, artificial distinction between tactical and

strategic weapons and organizations.” Strategic Air Command

Tactical Air Command, and Military Airlift Command were

dismantled and their constituent elements reassembled as Ai

Combat Command and Air Mobility Command (AMC). This

change reflected an “integrated vision [whereby] airpowe

should be treated as a unified whole in order to bring its ful

187
capability to bear.

 The white paper went on to say that

thanks to the reorganization, “[combatant] commanders . . 

will now control all the assets they need to make airpower a

unified whole.”

15

One major goal of reorganization was to achieve greater

unity within basic fighting elements. The motto One Base, On

Wing, One Boss exemplified this goal, and the basic

operational wing structure (the “objective” wing) sough

unified control of all assets and resources required for mission 

accomplishment. Additionally, the reorganization eliminated

“autonomous `stovepipe' support organizations, such as those

for maintenance, weather forecasting, and communications.”

1

That is, since everyone on base now answered to one senior

commander (normally a brigadier general), who could focus on

mission accomplishment, occupational stovepiping becam

less attractive or tolerated. The thinking was that such

changes would encourage all Air Force people to embrace the

profession of arms once again and adopt the broader vision o

everyone working together to build the world's most respected

air and space force.

Just as reorganization was taking hold, General McPeak

issued an official Air Force mission statement, which wa

arguably the linchpin of the entire effort to revitalize ou

institution. After asking the question “How can you

reorganize, restructure . . . build a Quality Air Force if you

cannot say, in clear, simple language, what the purposes o

our organization are?” the chief proclaimed that the mission o

the United States Air Force is to “defend the United State

through control and exploitation of air and space.”

1

Deceptively simple, the statement captures the comprehensive 

nature of an Air Force approach to airpower: “Our attitud

about the whole mission . . . our approach to control and

exploitation of air and space . . . and the requirement for

comprehensive air and space capabilities . . . make us unique

provide the essential rationale for a separate Air Force

(emphasis in original).

18 Like Secretary Rice, McPeak seemed

to articulate what Carl Builder would later conclude in Th

Icarus Syndrome—that the rationale for a separate Air Force

springs from a comprehensive airpower theory. Perhaps we

were on the right track.

188
The first test of the initiatives commenced in March 1992

with the release of a new manual of Air Force basic doctrine

grounded in “what history has taught us works in war.”

19 Bu

would Air Force warriors read it? Certainly, the structure o

the manual encouraged them to do so. Volume 1—the “bare

bones” of Air Force doctrine—consisted of fewer than 20

pages, designed for leisurely scanning, and included

numerous cross-references to the essays in volume 2, a

system which made for easy access to the supporting

documentation. In the foreword, the chief of staff wrote that he

expected “every airman and . . . every noncommissioned and

commissioned officer to read, study, and understand volume 

and to become fully conversant with volume II.”

20

Further, a multimedia advertising campaign informed Ai

Force people about the new manual and prepared them for its

release. News stories and op-ed articles appeared in the Ai

Force Times and other publications. The chief of staff narrated

a videotape for mandatory viewing throughout the Air Force

declaring doctrine the “heart and soul” of the institution and

therefore even more compelling than the global reach—globa

power/reorganization initiative. Every Air Force unit and every 

officer and senior NCO in both active and reserve components

would receive a copy, as would officer and senior NCO

accessions for several years to come.

Despite all this effort to encourage higher-level thinking via

white papers and statements of vision and mission, the Ai

Force appears to have failed in its first post– Desert Storm tes

of commitment to the profession of arms. Witness, fo

example, the following scene, as related by a young studentpilot:

March 1993, one year after the AFM 1-1 publication date, in “Nacho”

Flight of the 87th Flying Training Squadron “Red Bulls,” 47th Flying

Training Wing, Laughlin AFB, Texas. A box of plastic-wrapped AFM 1-

1s is passed among a dozen to 15 students and a handful of

instructors milling about, preparing for the day's flight-training

activities. Each pilot and student pilot takes one, individually setting it

aside or turning it in hand, not sure what to do with it.

Someone—probably the flight commander or assistant flight

commander—says, “According to the foreword, the chief expects each

of us to `read, study and understand' this.” Laughter ripples through

the room, and spontaneously a trash can is passed. In turn, each

member of the flight delightedly drops his still-wrapped copy of 1-1 in

189
the can. Now they are ready to get back to the business at hand—flying

and fighting.21

Rumor has it that similar incidents occurred all over the Ai

Force.* Apparently, some of us remain apathetic toward the

“heart and soul” of our service. If so, it hardly seems likely

that we have expanded our commitment to the larger

profession of arms. Further evidence—though much more

subtle—suggests that this is indeed the case.

Before the ink could dry on the reorganization plans, som

Air Force people began to use the new structure to splinter the

“integrated view of [the Air Force] and airpower” promoted by

the concept of global reach—global power. In much the same

way that SAC and TAC divided us into strategic warriors

tactical warriors, and everybody else, so ACC and AMC

seemed to divide us into “power” warriors, “reach” warriors

and everybody else (once again leaving most of us on the

outside looking in). If, as many senior Air Force leaders have

declared, ACC provides the power and AMC the reach in globa

reach—global power,22 what do the other six Air Force majo

commands do (not to mention the field operating agencies and 

direct reporting units)? If we are not part of global reach—

global power, where will our loyalties ultimately settle?

Perhaps with our particular jobs or equipment? Dividing

ourselves over reach and power seems no more functiona

than the old strategic/tactical shibboleth. Given the ever

rising emphasis on military operations other than wa

(MOOTW), the arbitrary lines drawn between reach and powe

are likely to become as blurred over time and as detrimental to

institutional cohesion as those between strategic and tactical.

In the international community, power is the ability to

obtain one's will through persuasion, coercion, or com

pellence. The destructive capacity of the military represents

power only insofar as it accomplishes or assists in accomplishing these goals. But nondestructive military capabilities

190

*Shortly af ter the 1992 ver sion of AFM 1-1 ap peared, the author heard about 

simi lar in ci dent. A young lieu ten ant—a fighter pi lot—at Eg lin AFB, Flor ida, wa

stand ing in the op era tions room, hold ing his new doc trine man ual—still wrapped in

plas tic. “What is this?” he asked a cap tain who had wan dered in. “Oh, it's that doc 

trine _ _ _ _. I threw mine away.” Pre dicta bly, the lieu ten ant promptly dropped his

copy—still in its wrap per—into the waste bas ket.
also represent power. The Berlin airlift achieved majo

national political objectives in the face of opposition from an

implacable foe without the firing of a single shot. Is that reach

or power? In Operation Desert Storm, bombers that had flown

over 7,000 miles nonstop from the US launched critica

opening salvos. Is that reach or power? Neither of these events

could have taken place without supporting systems for

procurement, training, education, intelligence, materiel

supply, transportation, and so forth. Are the people who do al

these things outsiders looking in?

All of these points raise two key questions: (1) is it possible

to exert global power without global reach? and (2) is there

any value in global reach if it does not produce global power

The answers seem obvious and lead us, once again, to

embrace the comprehensive view of aerospace power.

The versatility of that power makes it a national treasure—

not just one or two things we do, but all the myriad options we

offer national decision makers in defense of the United State

through our control and exploitation of air and space. The

ability to deliver precision firepower anywhere in the world

overnight (demonstrated [once again] during Desert Storm) i

part of the powerful presence the United States casts across

the international community. But an equally important part o

that presence (and one that will probably grow in the future) is

the ability to rapidly organize, transport, and construct vast

infrastructures over thousands of miles (demonstrated during

Desert Shield and Desert Storm). Indeed, Carl Builder believes 

that during the Gulf War “it was not our combat aircraft tha

set us so apart from our allies or enemy in capabilities; it was

our projection of essential infrastructures for modern

precision warfare.”

23 Airlift provides not only reach bu

national power. Nor do bombs on target equate directly to

global power. Without global range, our fighters and bombers

could exert nothing beyond local or regional power. Neither

airlift nor combat aircraft represent anything at all without the 

help of many other functions.

As the future of global affairs begins to take shape, this

comprehensive view of aerospace power's contributions and

potential contributions to national security becomes even

more vital. The future security environment shows signs o

191
being even more complex than the extremely complex one o

the recent past and present. Nongovernmental organizations

(NGO)—such as transnational corporations, drug cartels

international crime organizations, and ethnic tribes—seem

destined to play an ever-enlarging role in what were formerly

international affairs. Integration and disintegration o

nationalistic ethnic and religious groupings are already

placing severe pressure on the old international system.

24 A

information technologies proliferate throughout the world

information control becomes an increasing problem fo

national governments, as well as for individuals and

businesses.

25 Kurds in Turkey will correspond freely—and in

real time—with Kurds in Iraq and Iran, and none of th

governments in those countries will be able to exert significant

control over what they say to one another. “Hackers” wil

penetrate government and nongovernment electronic systems

collecting and disseminating “protected” information and

perhaps attacking these systems with extreme subtlety. Not

nearly so subtle is the growing threat of weapons of mas

destruction in the hands of malevolent governments and

NGOs.*

Warfare is changing, and revolutionary application o

knowledge and information technologies seems to be the key

to success in the new environment. NGOs and individuals are

gaining access to information sources and knowledge net

nearly equivalent to those available to national governments

“Gangs” and paramilitary organizations may soon emerge al

over the globe and connect with each other, primarily through

electronic networks. The tribal warlord will be able to “reach

out and touch someone” almost anywhere in the world

perhaps in ways so subtle that finding the perpetrator wil

prove impossible or nearly so. Consequently, nationa

governments may lose much of their power.26 Ensurin

192

*Ex am ples of both these in cipi ent threats ap peared re cently in the New Yor

Times. Hack ers have al ready man aged to pene trate a number of non clas si fied bu

sen si tive De fense De part ment com puter nets, and some 264 pounds of weapons

 grade plu to nium were ap par ently avail able on the Euro pean black mar ket to the high 

est bid der. See Pe ter H. Lewis, “Hack ers on Inter net Pos ing Se cu rity Risks, Ex perts

Say,” and Ferdi nand Protz man, “Ger many Re af firms Ori gin of Seized Plu to nium in

Rus sia,” New York Times, 21 July 1994, A1, A11, and A6.
national security in the future will require extreme flexibility

versatility, and agility—attributes that have always defined

aerospace power.

In the postindustrial world, “wars” may be conducted on

electronic networks, with the losers finding their information

systems ransacked, their internal and external communica

tions curtailed, and their control over even simple civic

functions such as electrical power and telecommunication

gone. Open warfare—even the old, industrial variety—will see

the struggle for information and knowledge dominance rise

dramatically in importance. Control and exploitation o

information and knowledge will be crucial to victory, as was

the case in Desert Storm.* In the future, tremendous flexibility 

and agility will become hallmarks of all military operations in

the new global security environment.

Surely the “world's foremost aerospace power” ought to b

better prepared than any other military organization in the

world for the security environment described here. US Ai

Force doctrine and theory provide a comprehensive, globa

view of the application of military power—especially aerospace

power—in support of national objectives. Of necessity, the Ai

Force is more technologically oriented than its sister services

and is heavily invested in information technologies. Th

inherent speed, range, flexibility, and versatility of aerospac

forces naturally foster a “big-picture” (i.e., operational- o

strategic-level) mind-set, characterized by agile thinking and

planning. In nearly every way, the United States Air Force i

better prepared to face the future than any other military

organization in the world. If we should lose this birthright, it

will be because we failed to commit ourselves faithfully to the

profession of arms and failed to understand and develop our

own history, experience, and theory.

Our bias against intellectualism in our ranks has put us

behind the power curve. It is already past time to begin

193

*In the con text of this dis cus sion, the an swer to the query about whether the Per 

sian Gulf War of 1990–91 rep re sents the last of the old or the first of the new ap pears

to be “both.” Ar gua bly, the op po nents were pri mar ily industrial- age mili tary forces

(last of the old), but the vic tor (pos ses sor of the field at the end) pre vailed on the

strength of post in dus trial ca pa bili ties— in for ma tion and knowl edge domi nance (first o

the new).
preparing ourselves for a rapidly emerging and very complex

future, but we are still lost in debates that our predecessors

thought they had resolved in the 1930s and 40s. We do not

understand our heritage because, in our fly-and-fight culture

it is “unmanly” to develop one's intellect. Yet, without a

thorough understanding of what our past is and how we came

to be the way we are, we cannot hope to divine what we ought

to be or how we can become that way. Many years ago, Billy

Mitchell, Hap Arnold, Hal George, Ken Walker, and thei

colleagues stretched airpower thinking so far that not unti

Operation Desert Storm did available technology match thei

theories closely enough to finally put them to the test. Even

so, in 1990–91 we had to relearn in five months much of what

they already knew by 1943. The future may not give us that

much time again. Nor may it be so amenable to 50-year-old

solutions. We must push aerospace power thinking into th

future now—as far ahead of current technologies as it was in

1930. Like it or not, that means that many of us will have to

undertake certain unmanly pursuits.

Notes

1. Carl H. Builder, The Icarus Syndrome: The Role of Air Power Theory in

the Evolution and Fate of the U.S. Air Force (New Brunswick, N.J.

Transaction Publishers, 1994), 3–4.

2. Ibid., xvi.

3. Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney, Associated Press release, 17

February 1991.

4. Builder, xv–xviii.

5. Ibid., 29.

6. Ibid., 35–36.

7. Gen Merrill A. McPeak, “Does the Air Force Have a Mission?” text o

speech delivered at a dining--in, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 19 June 1992, 3.

8. Donald B. Rice, Washington, D.C., transcript of interview with Lt Co

Suzanne B. Gehri, Lt Col Richard T. Reynolds, and author, 11 December

1991, 31, Desert Story Collection, US Air Force Historical Research Agency

Maxwell AFB, Ala.

9. Ibid., 31, 33.

10. Toward the Future: Global Reach—Global Power, U.S. Air Force White

Papers, 1989–1992 (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Air Force, 1993)

3.

11. Ibid., 3, 17.

12. Ibid., 36.

13. Ibid., 61.

14. Rice, 31.

194
15. Toward the Future, 44–45.

16. James W. Canan, “The End of the Stovepipe,” Air Force Magazine

June 1992, 32, 34, 36.

17. McPeak, 1, 5.

18. Ibid., 9.

19. AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force

March 1992, vol. 1, v.

20. Ibid.

21. The young officer who provided this account wishes to remain

anonymous.

22. See Barbara Opall, “U.S. Air Force Planning Shifts with Commands,

Defense News 7, no. 23 (8–14 June 1992): 34; Gen John M. Loh, Langley

AFB, Va., transcript of interview with Lt Col Suzanne B. Gehri and Lt Co

Richard T. Reynolds, 16 October 1991, 89, Desert Story Collection, US Ai

Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Ala.; Gen Ronald R

Fogleman, “Air Mobility: A Key to Success in Joint Warfare,” Vital Speeche

of the Day 59, no. 14 (1 May 1993): 418–19, 421; and Julie Bird, “Restruc

turing: Leaders Confident New Shape Matches Changed Environment,” A

Force Times, 18 May 1992, 13.

23. Builder, 264.

24. Alvin and Heidi Toffler, War and Anti-War: Survival at the Dawn of th

21st Century (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1993), 242–45.

25. Builder, 239–40; and Walter B. Wriston, The Twilight of Sovereignty

(New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1992), 33–54.

26. For a succinct discussion of the socioeconomic impacts of the

revolution in information technologies and their implications for the new

security environment, see Builder, 240–57. The most basic implication is

the new permeability of states and the devolution of socioeconomic power to

individuals and NGOs. According to Builder, “the source of wealth and

power is increasingly from information and human mental creativity, with

physical resources and production declining in relative value” (pages

242–43).

195
Glossary

A

AAA antiaircraft artillery

AADC area air defense commander

ACA airspace control authority

ACC Air Combat Command

ACTS Air Corps Tactical School

AD air division

AFM Air Force manual

ALCM air launched cruise missile

AMC Air Mobility Command

AOR area of responsibility

ARCENT US Army Forces Central Command

ASARS advanced synthetic aperture radar system

ATO air tasking order

AWACS airborne warning and control system

AWPD-1 Air War Plans Division—Plan 1

B

BDA battle damage assessment

BEN basic encyclopedic number

C

C2 command and control

C3 command, control, and communications

C3I command, control, communications, and

 intelligence

C4I command, control, communications,

 computers, and intelligence

CAFMS computer-assisted force management

system

CAP combat air patrol

CAS close air support

CENTAF US Air Forces, Central Command

CENTCOM US Central Command

CEP circular error of probability

CIA Central Intelligence Agency

197
CINC commander in chief

CINCCENT commander in chief, Central Command

CJCS chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

CNO chief of naval operations

COMCENTAF commander, US Air Forces Central

Command

COMNAVCENT commander, US Naval Forces Central

 Command

CONPLAN contingency plan

D

DIA Defense Intelligence Agency

DOD Department of Defense

E

EW electronic warfare

F

FAC forward air controller

FEBA forward edge of battle area

FLIR forward looking infrared

FM field manual

FOFA follow-on forces attack

G

GAT guidance, apportionment, and targeting

H

HARM high-speed antiradiation missile

I

IADS integrated air defense system

IIR imaging infrared

IN intelligence

IR infrared

198
J

J-2 Intelligence Directorate

J-3 Operations Directorate

J-6 Command, Control and Communications

 System Directorate

JFACC joint force air component commander

JFC joint force commander

JSCP joint strategic capabilities plan

JSTARS joint surveillance target attack radar system

JTF joint task force

K

Kari Iraqi integrated air defense system

KTO Kuwaiti theater of operations

L

LANTIRN low-altitude navigation and targeting

infrared

 for night

LGB laser guided bomb

LOC lines of communications

M

MAC Military Airlift Command

MOOTW military operations other than war

MTR military-technical revolution

N

NAVCENT US Naval Forces Central Command

NBC nuclear, biological, and chemical

NCA national command authorities

NGO nongovernmental organization

NIC National Intelligence Council

O

OODA observe, orient, decide, act

OPLAN operations plan

199
P

PGM precision guided munition

PK probability of kill

POL petroleum, oil, and lubricants

PSYOPS psychological operations

Pub publication

R

RAF Royal Air Force

RMA revolution in military affairs

S

SAC Strategic Air Command

SAM surface-to-air missile

SEAD suppression of enemy air defenses

SHF superhigh frequency

SIOP single integrated operational plan

SOC sector operations center

SPINS special instructions

T

TAC Tactical Air Command

TACC tactical air control center

TACSATCOM tactical satellite communications

TAF tactical air force

TLAM Tomahawk land attack missile

TPFDD time-phased force and deployment data

TPFDL time-phased force and deployment list

TRADOC Training and Doctrine Command (US Army)

U

UHF ultrahigh frequency

UN United Nations

USAAF US Army Air Forces

200
Index

Advanced synthetic aperture radar system (ASARS): 123

Aerospace

forces: 54, 177–78, 181, 193

operations: 176

power: 1, 170, 172, 180, 191, 193

superiority: 172

thinking: 194

Air

armada: 140

Army: 87

attack: 21–22, 39, 65, 102, 104, 118, 132–33, 171

campaign: 7, 19, 21–22, 35, 43, 46, 58, 61, 66, 72, 76–80, 89, 94–95,

108, 112, 135, 137, 139, 159, 168, 170, 175, 180, 185

component commander: 19, 54, 56, 173

defense: 13, 17, 39, 59, 63, 65, 73, 101–5, 118, 123, 130–31, 146, 150

divisions (AD): 75, 158

Marine: 58

missions: 16

operations: 4, 20–21, 28–29, 54, 56, 60, 62

superiority/supremacy: 22, 62–63, 74, 77, 91, 106, 116–17, 130, 132,

135, 138, 166, 177

tasking order (ATO): 44, 57, 59, 75, 92–93, 129, 137, 158, 180

war: 53

Airborne Command Element: 75

Airborne warning and control system (AWACS): 59, 103, 128, 130, 149, 157

Air Combat Command (ACC): 29, 187, 190

Air Corps Tactical School (ACTS): 4, 12, 15, 52

Aircraft

A-6E: 123

A-7: 147

A-10: 119, 121, 123, 140

AC-130: 121

AH-64 Apache: 117, 128

allocation of: 56

apportionment of: 56

attack: 140

B-17: 13, 107

B-52: 11, 41, 65, 78, 117, 169

bombers: 13–15, 74, 113–14, 116, 165, 169, 191

E-2: 150

E-3: 128

E-3A: 103, 130

E-8: 150

EA-6: 117

201
EA-6B: 147–48

EC-130: 148

EC-135: 118

EF-111: 103, 117, 148

EW: 75, 103–4, 118, 128

F-4G Wild Weasels: 39, 103, 118, 147

F-14: 150

F-15: 59

F-15C: 127, 131

F-15E: 39–41, 65, 123

F-16: 39–41, 107, 140

F-16C/D: 140

F-16 Wild Weasels: 147

F-84: 107

F-105: 107

F-111: 39, 65, 119

F-111F: 123

F-117: 38–42, 65, 102, 107, 117, 119, 123, 128, 133–34, 140

F/A-18: 118, 147

fighter-bombers: 165

fighters: 13–15, 39, 114, 118, 151, 165, 191

helicopters: 39, 59

KC-10: 169

KC-135: 127

MH-53 Pave Low: 117, 128

MiG-25: 118

OA-10: 140

P-3: 150

P-51: 13

production of: 5

pursuit: 114

RC-135: 59, 123, 150

reconnaissance: 128, 150

RF-4: 150

RF-5: 150

shooters: 140

strike: 148

Tornado GR1A: 39, 41, 147, 150

TR-1: 123, 150, 157

transports: 15

U-2: 123

USAF: 59, 141, 159

Airfields: 39

AirLand Battle: 5, 21, 29–30, 34, 43, 80, 166–67, 175–76

Air Land Force Application Agency: 166

Airlift: 30, 54, 191

Air Mobility Command (AMC): 187, 190

202
Air Plan That Defeated Hitler, The: 5

Airpower: 1–6, 12, 14, 16–17, 19–21, 27, 29, 34, 37, 46, 51–54, 60–61,

64–65, 72, 78–80, 90, 92, 98, 105, 112–13, 116, 118, 121–22, 124,

130–31, 136–37, 146, 157, 164–67, 170–71, 173–75, 180–81, 186–88,

190

advocates: 4

as solo war winner: 2, 4, 51, 54, 60, 133, 169–72

as fire support: 21, 29, 34, 44, 46, 51, 54, 78, 166, 168, 176

attributes of: 51, 53–54, 64, 173, 178–79, 180–81, 187, 191, 193

centralized control of: 16, 53–54, 57–59, 105, 109, 157, 181

co-equal with ground power: 54, 174

comprehensive view of: 53, 191

compromise: 53–54, 56, 66, 175, 185

concepts/theories/philosophies: 12, 14–17, 19, 22–23, 92, 99, 107, 109,

134, 181

debates: 3–7, 12, 14, 29, 46, 51, 54, 61, 156, 170, 174, 180, 185, 194

decisiveness of: 4, 20–21, 29, 35, 51–54, 71

division of: 16, 53–54, 105

independence of: 4, 21, 29, 35, 51–53, 78, 80, 173–74, 179, 186

integrated: 187

subordination of: 16, 21, 29

taskings: 56

theorists/theory: 6–7, 12, 52, 113, 116, 165, 167, 179, 186, 188, 194

thinkers/thinking: 105, 189, 194

unifying view of: 186–88

zealots: 176

Air-Schlieffen Plan: 112, 118, 157

Air Service Tactical School: 52

Airspace control authority (ACA): 55–56

Air Staff: 1, 5, 15, 19, 32, 42, 80, 167, 169, 185

Air Transport Command: 15

Air University: 174, 187

Air War College: 2

Air War Plans Division: 51

Air War Plans Division—Plan 1 (AWPD-1): 5, 12, 15, 51–52, 99, 113, 116

Air War Plans Division—Plan 4 (AWPD-4): 12, 51

Alexander, Robert M. (“Minter”): 42, 77

Al Firdos bunker: 119, 158

Al Khafji: 121, 132, 135, 157, 178

American public: 19, 97

Amphibious assault: 134–35

Arab League: 89

Arab nations: 89

Area air defense commander (AADC): 55–56

Area of operations: 15

Area of responsibility (AOR): 44, 55, 79, 154, 177, 179

Armored vehicles: 119

203
Army corps: 22, 122, 156–57, 178

VII Corps: 22, 64–65, 178

XVIII Corps: 22

Army special forces: 39

Arnold, Henry H. (“Hap”): 4–5, 7, 15, 114, 167, 194

Atkinson, Rick: 119

Attrition: 45, 65, 78, 107, 111, 135–37, 156

Autonomous mode: 118, 147

Baath party: 35, 41, 101

Baghdad, Iraq: 22, 41, 63, 72, 79, 102, 117, 123, 128, 133, 140, 157–58,

170, 178–79

Balance of power: 40

Baptiste, Sam: 77

Basic encyclopedic number (BEN): 138

Basra, Iraq: 157

Battle damage assessment (BDA): 156, 159

Battlefield: 12, 18–19, 44, 46, 54, 58, 87, 121, 175, 180

in Kuwait: 62

preparation: 5, 22, 62, 74, 77, 80, 180

Battles

Borodino: 98

Britain: 115–16

Isandhlwana: 145

Beddown: 60

Berlin airlift: 191

Bettinger, Alex: 2

Bigelow, Richard: 2

Blackburn, James: 43

Black Hole: 46, 66, 74–76, 78–79, 139, 156–59

Bombing: 2, 14–17, 52, 119, 151, 170

Boyd, John: 123, 148, 152, 157, 159

Bradley armored fighting vehicle: 178

Briefings: 3, 28, 32, 42, 62, 75, 87, 91, 98, 169

Instant Thunder: 1, 42, 63, 112, 130

Internal Look: 60

OPLAN 1002-90: 62

Bristow, Richard: 2

Builder, Carl: 163, 185–86, 188, 191

Bush, George: 37, 89, 95, 158, 175

Business principles: 187

Cairo, Egypt: 89

Campaign Plans Division: 75–77, 158

Campen, Alan D.: 146

Careerism: 185–87

Cassity, James S.: 155

204
Casualties: 10–11, 16, 37, 65, 97, 137, 140–41

avoiding: 38, 90, 102, 121, 176

coalition: 5, 20, 90, 123, 176

US: 5, 19, 89, 95, 122

Cease-fire: 81, 123

CENTAF Rear: 165, 169

Center for Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education (CADRE): 174

Center for Naval Analyses: 59

Centers of gravity: 35, 37, 41, 79, 91–93, 129, 137

Central Intelligence Agency (CIA): 32

Certain Victory: The U.S. Army in the Gulf War: 179

Chain, Jack: 168

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS): 31, 55, 63, 91

Checkmate: 1, 43, 61–62, 73, 76, 156–57, 169, 175

Chelmsford, Frederic A.: 145, 152

Chemical/biological weapons: 39, 167

Cheney, Dick: 31, 158

Chennault, Claire: 15

Chief of naval operations (CNO): 59

Churchill, Winston: 116

Circular error of probability (CEP): 107

Civil War: 97

Clapper, James R., Jr.: 43, 154

Clausewitz, Carl von: 34–35, 98, 106, 111, 181

Close air support (CAS): 4, 14, 16, 20–21, 28–29, 43–44, 54–55, 60, 167,

172, 180

Coalition: 1, 11, 18–19, 21, 37, 41–42, 45, 63–65, 74, 79, 81, 88–89, 94–95,

98, 102, 104, 118, 121, 123–24, 128–37, 141, 146–53, 155–57, 178

aircraft: 22, 77, 80, 102, 104, 108, 117–19, 121, 123–24, 128, 135,

140–41, 147, 177

airpower: 22, 41, 65, 121, 130, 132, 135–37, 176, 180

army: 129–30

assault: 18

buildup: 60, 129–31, 139

demands: 91

forces: 21, 37, 65, 74, 80–81, 98, 112, 122–23, 130, 132–34, 136, 141

ground forces: 22, 72, 136–37, 159, 167, 171, 178

offensive: 117, 122, 133–35

operations: 22, 39

order of battle: 22, 178

security net: 132

Cold war: 45, 165

Collateral damage: 135

Combat air patrol (CAP): 131

Combined Bomber Offensive: 14, 116

Command and control (C

2

): 2, 28, 63–64, 75, 91, 99, 101–2, 148, 179

205
Command, control, and communications (C 

): 39–40, 46, 65, 102, 104, 112

119

Command, control, communications, and intelligence (C

3

I): 72, 128, 130,

146–49, 153

Command, control, communications, computers, and intelligence (C

4

I):

148–49

Command, Control and Communications System Directorate: 155

Commander in chief (CINC): 1, 30–32, 55–56, 77–79, 165, 167, 170, 180

Commander in chief, US Central Command (CINCCENT): 2, 55

Commander of CENTAF (COMCENTAF): 56, 58

Commander of US Naval Forces Central Command (COMNAVCENT): 56, 58

Communications: 30, 35, 37, 63, 104–5, 118, 121, 147, 154–55, 188, 193

Computer-assisted force management system (CAFMS): 43

Computer nets: 192

Concept of operations: 35, 65, 92–94, 137

Concept plan (CONPLAN): 27, 31

Congress: 12, 61

Contingency plan: 28, 88

Conventional

munitions delivery: 30, 168

strategic attack: 28, 46

systems: 46

warfare: 168

weapons: 23

Corps area of operations: 177

Counterair: 16, 54, 56, 130–31, 180

defensive: 16, 113, 131

offensive: 16, 131, 173, 175

Counterescalation: 28

Counteroffensive: 20, 28, 43, 88, 167

Coup d’état: 60, 80, 98, 153

Crusade: The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf War: 119

Death by a thousand cuts: 100, 105

Decentralized execution: 16

Decision makers/making: 153, 157–58, 191

Deconfliction: 5

Deep attack/battle: 19, 45

Defend, delay, and attrit: 28, 43

Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA): 32

Demonstrative attacks: 3, 46, 90

Department of Defense (DOD): 61, 78, 87, 192

Deployment: 87, 130, 133, 149, 152, 154, 156, 167

Iraqi: 128, 130

US: 131

Deptula, Dave: 61, 66, 77, 100, 108, 139, 154

Deterrence theory: 167

206
Diplomacy: 88–90

Direct attack: 63, 90–91

Dispersion of effort: 105

Doctrine: 6, 29, 35, 171, 176, 189

aerospace: 21, 174

Air Force: 7, 12, 59, 164, 170, 173–75, 185, 189, 193

airpower: 21, 45, 57, 85

Army: 44–45, 56, 62, 134, 166, 176

development: 6, 166

Iraqi: 134

issues: 166

joint: 55–56, 58, 176

military: 20

offensive: 20

precepts: 165

Doolittle, Jimmy: 15

Douhet, Giulio: 4, 12–13, 35, 80, 112, 114, 169

Dugan, Michael J.: 2

Dunkirk: 115

Eaker, Ira C.: 15, 52

Economic sanctions: 88–90

Eighth Air Force: 52

Electronic monitoring: 104, 147

Electronic networks: 192–93

Electronic warfare (EW): 40, 75, 99, 118, 147–48, 155

Embargo: 89–90, 105

End state: 86, 89, 95

England: 15, 115

Escalating offensive operations: 1–3, 28, 46

Europe: 4, 17, 51, 64, 72, 113, 116, 145

European war: 14

Fechet, James E.: 112

Feedback: 94

Fighter pilots: 15, 66, 163–64, 187, 190

Fighter sweeps: 16

First Information War, The: 146

Five-ring model: 35–37, 137–38

Fleet operations: 79

Follow-on forces attack (FOFA): 45

Force mix: 86

Forward air controller (FAC): 140

Forward edge of the battle area (FEBA): 99

Forward looking infrared (FLIR): 123

Four-phase offensive: 39, 42–43, 46, 61–65, 72, 74, 77, 92, 98, 117, 132

France: 18, 115

207
Fratricide: 118, 140, 150

G day: 137

Geneva Convention: 119

George, Harold L. (“Hal”): 4, 7, 12, 14–15, 51, 167, 194

Germany: 18, 52, 115

Global reach—global power: 187, 189–91

Glosson, Buster: 66, 74–77, 80, 139, 154–56, 158–59, 170, 178

Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorganization Act: 30–32, 55, 78

Ground

attack: 5, 20–21, 34, 39, 63, 74, 77

campaign: 11–12, 22, 61–62, 89, 97, 112–13, 135, 175, 180

component commander: 16, 28–29, 55–56, 58, 60, 167, 173, 177, 179

forces: 4, 16–17, 28, 30, 34, 47, 54, 58, 114, 116, 130, 132, 150, 167,

175–76, 178–79, 181

maneuver: 14, 19, 29, 34, 60, 78, 80, 114, 137, 167, 170–71, 177–78

offensive: 65, 135

operations: 35, 80, 172, 175–76, 178

power: 4, 51, 174, 179

support: 19

Guderian, Heinz: 115

Guidance, apportionment, and targeting (GAT): 74–76, 157–59

Gulf War: 5–6, 10–11, 23, 85, 146, 153, 168, 171, 174–77, 180, 191, 193

Gulf War Air Power Survey: Summary Report: 134–35, 154

Hammurabi armored division: 130

Hansell, Haywood S.: 4, 12, 14

Hawkins, Doug: 2

Henry, Larry: 61

H hour: 117, 128, 133

Highway of death: 21, 79, 121, 151, 157, 178

Hitler, Adolph: 9, 115–16

Horner, Charles A.: 3, 19, 28–30, 56–57, 59–62, 65–66, 77–80, 98, 112,

129–32, 157–59, 167–68, 170, 178

Hussein, Saddam: 1–2, 18–22, 35, 37, 40–42, 46, 61, 63–64, 71–72, 74,

88–91, 95, 98, 101–2, 105, 108, 121–22, 133, 136, 146–47, 149, 152,

155–57, 159, 165, 167, 170–71

Icarus Syndrome, The: 163, 186, 188

Imagery: 151

Imaging infrared (IIR): 119

Information: 146, 148–49, 151–57, 159, 192

collection: 152–53

control: 192

differential: 147

dominance: 81, 146, 153, 193

flow: 147–49

208
management: 6

sources: 192

systems: 155, 193

technologies: 192–93

warfare: 7, 146, 159

Infrared (IR) systems: 123

Initial Joint Plan: 116

Inside-out warfare: 1, 36, 98–99, 104–5, 137

Instant Thunder: 1–3, 5, 19, 27, 32–33, 35, 37–39, 42–46, 60–61, 77–78,

91, 97, 99, 112, 130, 133, 167–70, 185

Integrated air defense system (IADS): 20–21, 39, 102

Integrated vision: 187

Intellectualism: 164, 187, 194

Intelligence: 2, 43, 138, 148–49, 151–54, 156, 159, 191

Intercept control center: 118

Interdiction: 4, 14, 16, 20, 28–29, 41, 43–44, 54–55, 60, 90, 167, 173,

179–80

Internal Look: 28, 46, 60, 167, 185

International Atomic Energy Administration: 151

Interservice controversy: 19, 59, 80

Iran/Iranians: 18, 20, 134, 192

Iran-Iraq War: 119, 134, 137

Iraq/Iraqis: 1, 4, 15, 18, 21–22, 28, 30, 35, 37, 39–41, 45–46, 57, 60–62,

64, 72, 74–75, 77–78, 80–81, 88–91, 98–99, 104–5, 112, 117–18, 120–23

127–28, 130–36, 137, 140, 146, 149, 151–53, 155, 157, 159, 167,

170–71, 176, 180, 192

Iraqi

Air Campaign: 27

aircraft: 104, 147

air force: 20–21, 141, 150

airpower: 131

airspace: 104, 147

antiaircraft artillery (AAA): 113, 133

armor: 121, 132, 157, 171

army: 1–3, 5, 18–19, 22, 35, 40–42, 60–61, 63, 65, 78–79, 91, 98–99,

104, 117, 129–30, 135–37, 140, 166, 170, 177, 180

army divisions: 11

buildup: 121

C

2

: 138

civilians: 35, 37, 40–41, 61, 91, 147

combat engineers: 18

concepts/doctrines/philosophies: 20

deception: 151

defense system: 100, 128, 135

defensive positions: 90, 135, 137

divisions: 130

forces: 37, 41–42, 62, 77, 89, 91–92, 95, 122–23, 130, 132

209
ground operations: 112, 130

information nodes: 147

intelligence: 156

invasion of Kuwait: 31–32, 87–88, 149, 154, 166

invasion of Saudi Arabia: 60

killing zones: 136

leadership: 35, 37, 65, 79, 81, 98, 104, 112, 128, 130, 180

military personnel: 22, 120, 148

nuclear facilities: 151, 153

order of battle: 128

prepared defenses: 21

prisoners: 81, 124, 135–37

strategic air defense: 39

surrenders/desertions: 22, 60, 80, 102, 124, 148

tanks: 63, 119, 123, 137, 149, 153

Israel: 139

J-2: 154

J-3: 90

J-6: 155

Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS): 55

Joint/combined operations: 179

Joint force air component commander (JFACC): 55–59, 129, 158, 180

Joint force air coordinator: 58

Joint force commander (JFC): 55–56, 58

Jointness: 32, 58, 78, 87

Joint Publication (Pub) 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations: 85, 111, 116, 124,

140

Joint Staff: 85, 90, 154–55

Joint strategic capabilities plan (JSCP): 39

Joint Strategic Target Planning Staff: 27, 76

Joint surveillance target attack radar system (JSTARS): 121, 123, 150, 157

Joint task force: 54

Joint Task Force (JTF) Middle East: 66, 76

Kari: 102, 106, 117–18, 136, 147

Kasserine Pass: 16, 53

Kelly, Tom: 90

Kenney, George C.: 15, 58

Kill boxes: 139–40

Killer bees: 140

Killer scouts: 139–40

Kiraly, Emery M.: 62

Knowledge: 6, 145–46, 150, 152–53

dominance: 146, 153, 193

management: 146

nets: 192

210
processing: 153

Korea: 107, 166

Kuter, Laurence S.: 4, 12, 15

Kuwait: 1, 3–4, 15, 18, 20, 35, 37, 40–42, 46, 57, 60–63, 65, 72, 74, 77,

87–92, 95, 99, 104–5, 112, 117, 130, 133–35, 137, 140, 149, 157,

165–66, 170

Kuwait City: 91, 121, 135, 157, 178

Kuwaiti/Saudi border: 176

Kuwaiti theater of operations (KTO): 11, 15, 65, 75, 91, 167

Langley AFB, Virginia: 3, 131

Leadership: 19, 28, 37, 39, 42, 46, 91, 98, 104, 135, 146–47, 171

Left-hook maneuver: 21–22, 64, 99, 122, 175–76, 178, 180

LeMay, Curtis: 15, 17, 167

Lessons learned: 6

Levels of damage: 45

Levels of warfare

operational: 15, 18, 104–5, 107–9, 117, 133, 136, 175, 193

strategic: 15, 104–5, 133–34, 193

tactical: 15, 18, 104–5, 108, 117, 134

Libya: 35

Line(s) of communications (LOC): 102

Logistics: 30, 55, 167

Loh, John M. (“Mike”): 2, 32, 43, 167

Loss rates: 108, 119

Low-altitude navigation and targeting infrared for night (LANTIRN): 123

M1A1 tanks: 178

MacArthur, Douglas: 34, 58

Maneuver warfare: 29–30, 44, 111–12, 114, 116–17, 120–21, 124, 132, 167,

172, 175–76

Manuals

AFM 1-1, Basic Aerospace Doctrine of the United States Air Force: 54,

171–75, 178, 189–90

FM 31-35, Aviation in Support of Ground Forces: 53

FM 100-5, Operations: 19, 29, 34, 177

FM 100-20, Command and Employment of Air Power: 14, 16, 21, 45, 51,

53–54, 56, 59, 61, 64, 105, 170, 174, 179

Marine Expeditionary Force: 58

Marshall, George C.: 5

Master attack plan: 5, 92–93, 106

Mauz, Henry, Jr.: 56

Maxwell Field, Alabama: 4

McConnell, Mike: 154–57

McPeak, Merrill A.: 19, 186, 188

Medina armored division: 130

Meier, James W.: 42

211
Middle East: 28, 65, 87, 149

Military

operations: 7, 64, 86, 94

operations other than war (MOOTW): 190

options: 89–91, 105

principles: 7

theorists: 105

Military Airlift Command (MAC): 75, 187

Military-technical revolution (MTR): 1–2, 5–6, 146

Missiles: 1, 165

AIM-7: 6

air launched cruise (ALCM): 65, 117

air-to-air: 6, 131

Crotale: 131

high-speed antiradiation (HARM): 103–4, 118, 147

Improved Hawk: 131

Maverick: 119, 123, 137

Patriot: 131

Scud: 39, 98, 131, 138, 151

Shrike: 118, 147

Sidewinder: 131

Sparrow: 131

surface-to-air (SAM): 39, 118, 131, 147

surface-to-surface: 39

Tomahawk land attack (TLAM): 65, 102, 117, 128, 134, 140

Mitchell, William (“Billy”): 4, 7, 12, 35, 58, 80, 112–13, 169, 194

Moltke, Helmuth von (the elder): 88

Moltke, Helmuth von (the younger): 111, 114

Moore, Royal N., Jr.: 19, 22, 58, 129, 134

Mother of All Battles: 18, 136

Napoléon: 74, 98, 109

National command authorities (NCA): 64

National Intelligence Council (NIC): 32

National Security Council: 55

Naval operations: 175

NEPTUNE plan: 116

Night vision goggles: 123

Ninth Air Force: 3, 59, 76

Nongovernmental organizations (NGO): 192

Nonnuclear weapon systems: 2

Normandy: 9–11, 116

North Africa: 53

North Vietnamese: 11–12

Northwest Africa: 15–16, 63

Northwest African Air Forces: 16

Nuclear

212
deterrence: 45, 168

war: 29, 34, 165–66

weapons: 44, 169

Nuclear, biological, and chemical (NBC): 37, 39, 91, 122

Nuclear-hardened shelters: 20, 23, 44, 104, 119–20, 137, 183

Objectives: 17–18, 34, 37, 45, 65, 85, 88, 90, 92–94, 97, 116, 118, 176

air campaign: 65

coalition: 19, 77

diplomatic: 86, 89

economic: 86, 89

military: 18, 20, 40, 42, 64, 79, 86–87, 89, 91–92, 122, 138, 177

national: 5, 17, 43, 63–64, 86–87, 91, 138, 172, 179, 193

operational: 88, 91–92, 105

policy: 86–87, 89, 90–91

political: 20, 35, 37, 86–87, 89, 92, 94–95, 98, 105, 122, 158, 191

presidential: 37, 42, 63, 124, 137

strategic: 15, 88, 92

subordinate: 86, 88, 122

tactical: 88, 92

theater: 63, 179

UN: 63

Observe, orient, decide, act (OODA): 123, 148–49, 152–54, 156–57, 159

Occupational specialties: 28, 163, 165, 190

Offensive

campaign: 39, 42, 72

operations: 62, 77, 131

Offutt AFB, Nebraska: 76

Ogarkov, N. V.: 2

One Base, One Wing, One Boss: 188

Operational control: 59

Operations

Desert Shield/Storm: 2, 4–6, 11, 15, 18–19, 23, 30–31, 43–44, 54–55,

57–59, 61–62, 66, 73–74, 76–77, 92, 94–95, 97, 99–100, 102, 104,

107, 117–19, 122, 128, 130, 138–39, 146–47, 150, 154–56, 164–65,

174, 178–80, 189, 191, 193–94

Overlord: 116

Rolling Thunder: 2, 27, 94

Sea Lion: 116

Operations plan (OPLAN): 27–28, 31–32

Operators: 94

OPLAN 1002-90: 28, 31, 88, 154

Order of battle: 22, 150

Ordnance: 107, 191

GBU-12: 137

GBU-27: 44

I-2000: 44, 100, 107, 117, 119, 137

213
laser guided bomb (LGB): 44, 119

penetrating munitions: 44, 120, 177

precision guided munitions (PGM): 2, 36, 40, 106, 109, 177

Parallel attack: 1, 73–74, 98–99, 101, 105, 107, 137, 147

Patrick, Mason M.: 4

Pentagon: 1, 27–28, 32, 43, 185–86

Persian Gulf: 37, 40, 117, 153

Petroleum, oil, and lubricants (POL): 41, 72, 102

Pioneer unmanned aerial vehicle: 150

Planners/planning/plans: 1–3, 7, 14, 16, 27, 29, 31–32, 39, 40–41, 43–46,

56, 60, 66, 72–73, 75–79, 87–88, 92, 94, 99, 108, 129, 134–39, 149,

154–56, 158, 175, 178, 193

air campaign: 19, 23, 31–34, 39, 46, 52, 58, 60–61, 78, 129, 133, 139,

146, 175–76, 178

Air Staff: 5, 30, 42, 65

Army: 4

AWPD-1: 35

Black Hole: 66, 73, 75, 139, 154, 159

CENTAF: 44, 60, 78, 140, 158–59, 166

CENTCOM: 27, 61

central: 76, 109

Checkmate: 1, 35, 37, 39

coalition ground-force: 136, 176

contingency: 28, 88

conventional air operations: 45

conventional strategic air campaign: 30

D day defensive: 20, 27–28, 51, 60, 77–78, 80, 87–88, 130, 132, 150,

167, 185

deception: 22, 79, 134–35

Desert Storm: 87, 94–95, 106

GAT: 158

ground operations: 175

Instant Thunder: 1–2, 4, 33, 36, 40, 42, 44, 60–61, 66, 71, 94, 112, 137,

146

intelligence/operations: 43, 45

Marine: 39

Navy: 39

nuclear: 46

offensive: 60, 80

operational: 88

operations: 43, 45, 100, 106, 149, 156

phases: 93

philosophies: 99

process: 3, 27, 76, 137

shifts: 106

strategic: 30, 33, 43–44, 74, 76, 88, 158, 168

214
systematic: 94

TAC: 3, 169

tactical: 28, 88, 185

target: 151

theater: 27, 30, 43, 76, 151, 167–68

war: 12, 87

worst-case: 28

Policymakers: 86

Positional advantage: 111, 114–15, 117–18, 120, 122–24, 178

Powell, Colin: 31, 63, 77, 91, 158, 170

Precision attack: 20, 37, 65, 134, 191

President of the United States: 37, 55, 87, 89, 95, 158, 170, 175

Principles

economy of force: 64, 79, 107–9, 111

exponential strategic impact: 73

mass: 64, 105, 107–9, 111

political primacy: 19, 34

security: 122, 128–29, 137, 140–41

simplicity: 128–29, 137, 140–41

surprise: 117, 119, 128–29, 132–37, 141

Priorities: 73, 77, 79, 139, 147, 159, 179–80

Probability of kill (PK): 44, 106

Profession of arms: 163–64, 185–86, 188–90, 193

Psychological operations (PSYOPS): 37, 41, 99–101, 106, 108

Pursuit aviation: 12, 113

Qadhafi, Muammar: 35

Quality Air Force: 188

Rand Corporation: 185

Reconnaissance: 54, 123, 150–51

Red Sea: 117

Reflex Plan: 98

Remotely piloted vehicles: 118, 150

Republican Guard: 39, 62, 64, 78–79, 91, 122, 130

Retaliatory strikes: 167

Revolution in military affairs (RMA): 2, 5–6, 146

Rice, Donald B.: 163–65, 185–88

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia: 3, 43, 61, 66, 80, 129, 131

Robustness: 100, 108

Rogers, Buck: 139

Rommell, Erwin: 9

Route pack system: 79

Royal Air Force (RAF): 115–16

Russ, Robert D.: 2–3, 21, 30, 61, 90, 164, 170

Ryan, Michael E.: 32

215
Safwan, Iraq: 81

Satellites: 123, 147, 149, 157

Saudi Arabia/Saudis: 3, 57, 59–60, 77, 88, 127, 129–30, 133, 140, 149,

170

Scales, Robert H.: 179–80

Schlieffen, Alfred von: 72, 99, 111

Schlieffen Plan: 72, 99, 112, 114

Schwarzkopf, H. Norman: 1–3, 19, 22, 28, 31–33, 39, 42–43, 46, 56–57,

60–65, 75, 78–80, 99, 112, 130–32, 135, 157–58, 167, 169–70, 180

Sea component commander: 56

Sea power: 174, 179

Secretary of the Air Force: 163

Secretary of defense: 31, 55, 87

Sector operations center (SOC): 100, 106–8, 117, 119, 128

Security/stability: 89, 95

environment: 7, 192–93

national/international: 6, 193

Service Liaison: 75

Simultaneity: 1, 73, 98–99, 101, 105, 137, 147

Single air commander: 16, 19, 53, 55–56, 58

Single integrated operational plan (SIOP): 27–28, 30, 44–45, 76, 165, 168

Sorties: 5, 44, 59, 77, 92, 108, 123, 180

Southwest Asia: 11, 21

Soviet Union: 18, 153

Spaatz, Carl A. (“Tooey”): 4, 15, 17, 52

Space power: 1, 98, 146

Space systems: 1, 30, 131, 151, 156

Special instructions (SPINS): 44

Special operations forces: 42

Speicher, Scott: 118

SPOT: 156

State Department: 2

Stealth: 2, 36, 41, 99, 107, 109, 128, 134, 137, 179

Stovepiping: 185–86, 188

Strategic: 45, 133

air defense: 20, 37, 46, 60, 128, 138

airpower: 17

air strikes: 20, 62, 80, 102, 180

air warfare: 22

attack: 4, 19, 28–29, 44, 46, 54, 60, 63, 65, 77, 80, 90, 98–99, 104–5,

112, 123, 130, 132, 167, 171

bombardment: 5, 12, 16, 32, 52, 168–69

bombardment theory: 167–68

bombardment zealots: 53, 167

campaign: 27–30, 37, 44, 63, 77, 79, 90, 98, 137, 167, 171, 185

nuclear forces: 168

offensive: 1, 37, 60, 91, 173

216
operations: 53, 55, 77

paralysis: 35, 37, 43–44, 46, 61, 72–74, 77, 80, 92, 98–99, 100–102, 105

107–8, 137, 175

weapon systems: 168

Strategic Air Command (SAC): 29–30, 75, 165, 167–68, 187, 190

Strategic Bombing Survey: 16

Strategic/tactical

controversy: 190

distinction: 44, 165, 172–73, 187, 190

Strategy: 28, 35

Sun Tzu: 85, 97, 129, 132, 145–46, 185

Superhigh frequency (SHF): 155

Suppression of enemy air defenses (SEAD): 61, 137, 175

Surveillance: 14, 54, 59, 123, 131, 153

Systemic collapse: 45, 99–100, 107–8

Tactical: 19, 45, 47, 165, 168–69

counteroffensive: 60

deception: 152

employment of airpower: 30

engagements: 5, 18

nuclear weapons: 15

operations: 53, 77

paralysis: 45

support: 20

Tactical Air Command (TAC): 2–3, 15, 29–30, 32, 46, 61, 164–66, 169–70,

187, 190

Tactical air control center (TACC): 157

Tactical air forces (TAF): 165–66, 169

Tactical satellite communications (TACSATCOM): 155

Tactics: 11–12, 17, 23, 58

Targeteer/targeteering/targeting: 28, 43, 45, 56, 64, 73–74, 100, 104, 106,

138, 147, 157–58, 168, 179

Targets: 3, 13–14, 39, 41, 45–46, 61, 64–65, 72–74, 79, 92–94, 98, 105–8,

117–18, 121, 138, 140, 146–47, 154, 158, 180

categories of: 37, 40, 44, 158

deep theater: 180

electrical power: 22, 35–37, 39, 41, 72, 101–2, 138, 147, 193

fielded military forces: 35–36, 44, 102, 121, 136, 147

fuel storage/refinement: 101

high–priority: 106

key nodes: 99–100, 104

key production/organic essentials: 15, 28, 35–36, 37, 46, 63, 65, 73

leadership: 35–36, 40, 102, 138, 175

list of: 72

marshaling yards: 41

military storage: 39

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national infrastructure: 36–37, 101

national population: 36

oil: 22, 35–37, 39–41, 89

operational: 121, 185

ports: 39

radar sites: 39, 104, 118, 134

railroads: 39–41

selection of: 44

sets of: 39–42, 45–46, 73, 92, 114, 137–38

strategic: 44, 72, 108, 121, 167, 185

supply lines: 22, 91, 135

tactical: 121, 185

transportation systems: 101

Task Force Normandy: 117, 134

Tawalkana mechanized infantry division: 130

Technologies: 2, 6–7, 11–12, 17–18, 23, 35–36, 98–99, 105, 108–9, 114,

117, 131–32, 135–36, 147, 192, 194

Telecommunications: 37, 39–40, 154, 193

Tempo: 18, 73, 92, 108

Temporary suppression: 45

Theater

campaign: 61, 65

of operations: 30, 178

operations: 165, 169

war: 28, 165, 168

Time-phased force and deployment data (TPFDD): 31, 154

Time-phased force and deployment list (TPFDL): 87

Tinker AFB, Oklahoma: 131

Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC): 166

Trenchard, Hugh: 4

Turkey: 192

Ultrahigh frequency (UHF): 155

Unified and specified commands: 165

United Nations (UN): 1, 41, 89, 133

demands: 41, 102

resolutions: 63, 133

Security Council: 133

United States: 1, 2, 6, 10, 15, 19, 20–21, 27, 35, 40, 52, 71, 76, 85, 89, 107,

121, 130, 133, 146–47, 149, 153–55, 166, 174, 188, 191

Air Force: 1–3, 7, 15, 21, 27–30, 40, 43–45, 46, 58, 61, 66, 71, 73, 78, 87

112, 147, 158, 163–67, 170–72, 174, 179, 185–90, 193

chief of staff: 189

fragmentation of: 28, 165, 187

independence of: 12, 171, 174, 176, 188

initiatives: 187, 189

leaders: 185, 190

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mission: 54, 167, 186, 188–89

organizational restructuring: 187–90

vision statement: 187, 189

Army: 5, 29, 34, 45, 51–52, 59, 78–79, 87, 166, 176–77, 179–80

Marine Corps: 19, 22, 56, 58–59, 79, 87, 129, 147

Navy: 58–59, 79, 87, 147, 165

Unity of command: 109

US Air Forces, Central Command (CENTAF): 3, 28, 39, 43, 46, 56, 59–61,

65, 75–78, 80, 98, 133, 154, 158–59, 165, 167, 169, 175

US Army Air Corps: 52, 112

US Army Air Forces (USAAF): 14, 45, 114, 170

US Army Forces Central Command (ARCENT): 59

US Central Command (CENTCOM): 1, 27–28, 31–32, 39, 42–44, 60–63, 72,

76, 91, 129, 154, 165, 167, 175

US European Command: 155

US military: 28, 37, 43, 51, 63, 152

US Naval Forces Central Command (NAVCENT): 58–59

USS La Salle: 66

USS Saratoga: 118

US Strategic Bombing Survey: 14, 21

Vietcong: 11

Vietnam: 1–3, 11, 17–18, 27, 46, 85, 88, 94, 166, 168

Vietnam War: 17, 79, 107

Wages, Brian E.: 58–59

Walker, Kenneth N. (“Ken”): 4, 12–14, 194

Waller, Cal: 98

Warden, John: 1, 19, 27–30, 32, 35, 41–42, 60, 62, 65, 72, 80, 91, 98–99,

112, 130, 132, 137, 157, 169–70

Washington, D.C.: 3, 5, 76, 168

Weaponeering: 45

Weapons of mass destruction: 37, 63, 131, 192

Weapons mix: 87

Weather: 94

Welch, Larry: 170

White papers

“Global Reach—Global Power”: 187

“Reshaping for the Future”: 187

“View of the Air Force Today, A”: 185

Wilson, Steve (“Foose”): 168

Wohlstetter, Roberta: 153

Work-arounds: 100, 151, 156

World War I: 4, 18, 20, 51, 58, 97, 112, 114

World War II: 4, 11, 13, 17, 21, 34, 45, 52, 54, 58, 107, 113–14, 170

219