AIR POWER FOR PATTON’S ARMY

The XIX Tactical Air Command

in the

Second World War

David N. Spires

Air Force History and

Museums Program

Washington, D. C.

2002
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Spires, David N.

Air Power for Patton’s Army : the XIX Tactical Air

Command in the Second World War / David N. Spires.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

1. World War, 1939-1945—Aerial operations,

American. 2. United States. Army Air Forces. Tactical

Air Command, 19th—History. 3. World War, 1939-

1945—Campaigns—Western Front. 4. Close air support—History—20th century. 5. United States. Army.

Army, 3rd—History. I. Title.

D790 .S65 2002

940.54’4973—dc21 2002000903
In Memory of

Colonel John F. “Fred” Shiner, USAF

(1942–1995)

Foreword

This insightful work by David N. Spires holds many lessons in tactical air-ground operations. Despite peacetime rivalries in the drafting of service

doctrine, in World War II the immense pressures of wartime drove army and

air commanders to cooperate in the effective prosecution of battlefield operations. In northwest Europe during the war, the combination of the U.S. Third

Army commanded by Lt. Gen. George S. Patton and the XIX Tactical Air

Command led by Brig. Gen. Otto P. Weyland proved to be the most effective

allied air-ground team of World War II.

The great success of Patton’s drive across France, ultimately crossing

the Rhine, and then racing across southern Germany, owed a great deal to

Weyland’s airmen of the XIX Tactical Air Command. This deft cooperation

paved the way for allied victory in Westren Europe and today remains a classic example of air-ground effectiveness. It forever highlighted the importance

of air-ground commanders working closely together on the battlefield.

The Air Force is indebted to David N. Spires for chronicling this

landmark story of air-ground cooperation.

RICHARD P. HALLION

Air Force Historian

v
Editor’s Note

One of the striking features of this story is the broad sweep taken by

Third Army and XIX Tactical Air Command across France. It demanded a

large number of maps be used to show places and activities in ways that words

could not. However, to the greatest extent possible this work relies on maps

prepared by contemporaneous creators, and thus has a number of maps reproduced from original histories of the period. Moreover, those which came from

other sources largely were taken from the West Point Atlas of American Wars,

a pair of volumes produced for the use of classes at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York. That volume has maps in larger format and with

more explanation, so readers who wish to study the maps in greater detail are

referred to that source, listed with each map.
Preface

Air Power for Patton’s Army is a case study of one air-ground team’s

experience with the theory and practice of tactical air power employed during

the climactic World War II campaigns against the forces of Nazi Germany. By

the summer of 1944, the Allies had four fighter-bomber tactical air commands

supporting designated field armies in northwest Europe, and in the fall they

added a fifth (making four American and one British). Of these, the U.S. Third

Army commanded by Lt. Gen. George S. Patton and the XIX Tactical Air

Command (TAC) led by Brig. Gen. Otto P. Weyland deserve special attention

as perhaps the most spectacular air-ground team of the Second World War on

the Allied side. 

From the time Third Army became operational on August 1, 1944, until

the guns fell silent on May 8, 1945, Patton’s troops covered more ground, took

more enemy prisoners, and suffered more casualties than any other Allied

army in northwest Europe. General Weyland’s XIX TAC was there every step

of the way: in the high summer blitzkrieg across France to the Siegfried Line,

in the battle of attrition and positional warfare in Lorraine reminiscent of

World War One’s western front, in the emergency drive to rescue American

troops trapped at Bastogne and help clear the Ardennes of Germans in the

Battle of the Bulge, and finally, in crossing the Rhine and charging across

southern Germany to the Czech and Austrian borders. There, Third Army

forces linked up with Soviet military units converging on the fabled German

Redoubt area from the east.

This study does not suggest that Weyland’s XIX TAC proved superior to

other tactical air commands in the European theater or that Weyland emerged

as the only effective air leader. Indeed, numerous laurels were garnered by

Weyland’s colleagues and their respective TACs: Maj. Gen. Elwood R.

Quesada’s IX TAC that supported the First Army, Brig. Gen. Richard Nugent’s

XXIX TAC that supported the Ninth Army, and Brig. Gen. Gordon P. Saville’s

XII TAC that supported the Seventh Army and the French First Army.

Moreover, during Ninth Air Force’s eight-month buildup prior to Overlord (the

invasion of France in June 1944), IX TAC, under an innovative General

Quesada, played the central role in preparing for air operations at Normandy

and on the continent. General Weyland remained in the background until

Patton’s forces entered combat on August 1, 1944. Because the XIX TAC

entered combat later, it could and did use to good advantage the valuable experience of the IX TAC.

Traditional army and air force antagonisms and unsound tactical air doctrine are frequently cited as the major impediments to smooth air-ground relations and effective combat operations. Much of that contention was apparent

vii
in Washington, D.C., even during World War II, where, facing the demands of

a worldwide conflict, headquarters’ staffs all too frequently focused on problems of intraservice and interservice competition at all levels. For military

leaders and staffs in Washington, service politics often took precedence and

preferred doctrine often served to buttress disagreement. With their respective

service priorities and in their role as advocates, these officers viewed matters

of doctrine more rigidly than did their counterparts in the field. For them, unalloyed service doctrine prescribed the right conduct of air-ground relations;

deviations could hardly be tolerated.

In the turbulent postwar period, Army Air Forces (AAF) leaders moved

swiftly and purposefully to create an independent Air Force. In the late 1940s

many U.S. Army officers, with some justification, worried that the new U.S.

Air Force’s absolute control of tactical airplanes and equipment, its doctrinal

assertions, and its overwhelming focus on strategic priorities in the emergent

Cold War meant that the army would receive less rather than more tactical air

support for ground combat operations. In the charged atmosphere of that day,

critics often found fault with the air-ground relationship forged during the

Second World War and returned to doctrinal citation and interpretation when

supporting one position or another in air-ground disagreements or other controversy. Had the various partisans reflected instead on the cooperative,

wartime air-ground record of those “comrades in arms” in the XIX

TAC–Third Army in Europe, they would have found their worst fears refuted,

as indeed they would find similar fears refuted today. When genuflecting

before the altars of doctrine in peacetime, it seems the absolute importance of

pairing military leaders of goodwill in wartime who respect, trust, and rely on

their service counterparts as comrades in arms is easily forgotten.

In preparing this study, I received help from many quarters. Above all I

wish to thank Dennis Showalter and Daniel Mortensen for their unflagging

support and enthusiasm for the project. Dennis read the entire manuscript and,

as always, offered insightful comments and unstinting encouragement. Dan

generously shared his wealth of knowledge on tactical aviation in general and

Operation Torch, in particular. It was he who first called my attention to the

cooperative, rather than confrontational, nature of air-ground relations. I

remain in his debt.

Individuals at two major military archives also deserve special thanks.

My friend Elliott V. Converse III, a former commander of the Air Force

Historical Research Agency at Maxwell Air Force Base, went far beyond the

call of duty to support my research efforts. As a result, I benefited from the

knowledge and helpfulness of the agency’s outstanding group of archivists

and historians: Richard E. Morse, Robert M. Johnson, James H. Kitchens,

Timothy D. Johnson, Archangelo DiFante, Marvin Fisher, Sarah Rawlins, and

SSgt. Edward Gaines. They made special arrangements to accommodate my

every request for information on the XIX TAC and related tactical aviation

Air Power for Patton’s Army

viii
subjects. Joseph Caver in the Research Division had copied from Weyland’s

XIX TAC scrapbook many of the pictures that appear in this volume. I am

grateful to John Slonaker, archivist at the USA Military History Institute,

Carlisle Barracks, who introduced me to a wealth of information on the Army

and Army Air Forces, beginning with Third Army’s magnificent After Action

Report of its 1944–45 campaign. Mr. Slonaker also went out of his way to help

with long-distance requests.

I also wish to express my appreciation to the people in Norlin Library’s

Inter-Library Loan Department at the University of Colorado. They enjoyed

nothing better than to pursue my requests for obscure military reference material. Their success record was outstanding and I am grateful. Several others

assisted on specific areas of the work. Jerold E. Brown of the Army’s Combat

Studies Institute at Fort Leavenworth supplied me with important material on

the Lorraine Campaign and shared his understanding of the Army’s special

long-term interest in it. David MacIsaac willingly tracked down Gen. James

Ferguson’s television interview and provided useful information on the Battle

of the Bulge. My friend Bang Nguyen assisted enormously with the maps and

charts.

Special thanks are owed several former participants in World War II tactical air campaigns in Europe, and I will always be grateful for the privilege of

sharing their recollections and insights. They are Lt. Gen. John J. Burns, 371st

Fighter Group P–47 pilot; Maj. Gen. Robert L. Delashaw, Commander, 405th

Fighter Group; Brig. Gen. Russell A. Berg, Commander, 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group; Gen. James Ferguson, XIX TAC Combat Operations Officer;

and Gen. Robert M. Lee, Ninth AF Deputy Commander for Operations.

I am especially indebted to Cargill Hall, the person responsible for contract histories at the Air Force History and Museums Program, who carefully

edited the final manuscript and helped make the story more readable, understandable, and convincing. Others who read and contributed most helpful suggestions are: Perry D. Jamieson, Eduard Mark, David R. Mets, Daniel R.

Mortensen, John Schlight, Richard K. Smith, David Tretler, and Herman S.

Wolk. Any errors of fact or interpretation that remain, of course, are my own.

At the end of this project I am more than ever convinced that the tale of

Generals Weyland and Patton, of the XIX TAC teamed with the U.S. Third

Army in the Second World War, deserves to be told. These men’s achievements continue to inspire and instruct, and I am pleased to spread the word.

David N. Spires

Boulder, Colorado

Preface

ix

xi

Contents

Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

Charts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

Maps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

Photographs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv

1 The Doctrinal Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Evolution of Early Tactical Air Doctrine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Doctrine in Practice: Operation Torch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Tactical Air Doctrine Refined . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14

2 Preparing for Joint Operations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

The Generals Paired . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Organizing Allied Assault Forces for Joint Operations . . . . . . . . . 28

Manning and Equipping the Assault Forces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Training Underway . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

The Issue of Joint Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Normandy: On the Job Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Air-Ground Support System Refined . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

Hedge-Row Fighting to a Breakout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64

3 The Battle for France . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

Exploiting the St. Lô Breakout: Blitz Warfare U.S. Style . . . . . . . 70

Supporting Patton’s End Run to the Seine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

From the Seine to the Meuse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

Protecting Patton’s Southern Flank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

A Decision in Brittany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Final Pursuit to the Mosel River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

The French Campaign Reviewed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118

4 Stalemate in Lorraine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Autumn’s Changed Conditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Refinements in Command and Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Stalemate along the Mosel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132

Planning an Offensive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

From Metz to the Siegfried Line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

Mission Priorities and Aerial Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Air Power for Patton’s Army

xii

Assault on the Siegfried Line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

Lorraine in Retrospect . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

5 The Ardennes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185

Operation Autumn Fog . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186

The Allied Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190

Victory Weather . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199

Support Facilities and the Aerial Relief of Bastogne . . . . . . . . . . . . 203

Protecting the Corridor, Dealing with Friendly Fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208

The Luftwaffe Responds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215

Consolidating Support Elements and Flight Operations . . . . . . . . . . 220

Clearing the Bulge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225

Ardennes in Retrospect . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234

6 The Final Offensive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

Operational Challenges and New Tactics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242

Into the Siegfried Line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248

Through the Eifel to the Rhine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254

Springing the Saar-Mosel-Rhine Trap—and

Across the Rhine River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260

Once More: “Blitz Warfare U.S. Style” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .270

Defeat of the Luftwaffe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275

Advance to the Mulde River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281

Down the Danube Valley to Austria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283

Victory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289

7 An After Action Assessment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317

Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371
Contents

xiii

Charts

1. Channels of Tactical Control of Combat Aviation in

Typical Air Support Command . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

2. Allied Command Relationships in the Mediterranean

March 1943 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

3. Organizational Chart of the Ninth Air Force

December 8, 1943 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

4. Air Support Mission Request System

July 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Maps

1. Torch Landings in Northwest Africa

November 8, 1942 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

2. Ninth Air Force Installations

June 1, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

3. The Normandy Battlefield . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

4. U.S. Airfields in Western Europe, 1944–1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72

5. Northwestern France, 1944: The Breakout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

6. Northwestern France, 1944: The Exploitation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92

7. Northwestern Europe, 1944: Pursuit to West Wall Operations,

August 26–September 14, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

8. European Theater . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

9. Northwestern Europe, 1944: 6th and 12th Army Group Operations, 

September 15–November 7, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

10. German Counterattacks Against XII Corps:

September 19–30, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134

11. XX Corps Operations:

October 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136

12. XII Corps Attack:

November 8, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154

13. Location and Movements of Major XIX TAC Units:

November 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

14. Third Army Operations:

November 19–December 19, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168

15. Third Army: Last Phase of Lorraine Offensive:

December 3–19, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176

16. The Ardennes: The Initial German Attack and Operations,

December 16–25, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .187
Air Power for Patton’s Army

xiv

17. Air Assignments for the Ardennes Counterattack

December 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191

18. The Ardennes Operations:

December 26, 1944–January 16, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210

19. The German Offensive in Alsace-Lorraine

January 1–30, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221

20. The Ardennes Operations:

January 17–February 7, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231

21. Eastern France and the Low Countries, December 16, 1944–

February 7, 1945, and Allied Plan for Rhineland Campaign . . . 241

22. West-Central Germany and Belgium, 1945: Rhineland Campaign 

Operations February 8–March 5, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251

23. West-Central Germany and Belgium, 1945: Rhineland Campaign 

Operations March 6–10, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259

24. West-Central Germany and Belgium, 1945: Rhineland Campaign 

Operations, March 11–21, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261

25. Germany: Crossing the Rhine, Operations,

March 22–28, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269

26. Germany, 1944: Encirclement of the Ruhr, Operations,

March 29–April 4, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274

27. Germany, 1944: Reduction of Ruhr Pocket & Advance to Elbe

& Mulde Rivers, Operations, April 5–18, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277

28. Central Europe, 1944: End of the War, Final Operations,

April 19–May 7, 1945 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284
Contents

xv

Photographs

Gens. George S. Patton and Otto P. Weyland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xviii

Gen. Bernard L. Montgomery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Brig. Gen. Laurence S. Kuter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Gens. Lewis H. Brereton, Carl A. Spaatz, and Dwight D. Eisenhower . . . 15

Gens. George C. Marshall and Henry H. “Hap” Arnold . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

British Air Vice Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham with

Brig. Gen. Auby C. Strickland, and Lt. Gen. Frank M. Andrews . . . 17

Lt. Gen. Mark Clark with Patton in Sicily. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Lt. Gen. Omar N. Bradley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

Lt. Gen. Patton and Brig. Gen. Weyland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

General Patton with troops of the 3d Infantry Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Maxwell Field, Alabama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill at Casablanca. . . . . . 28

Maj. Gen. Lewis H. Brereton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32

Air Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Maj. Gen. Elwood R. “Pete” Quesada . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

P–47 Thunderbolt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Lt. Gen. Henry H. “Hap” Arnold . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

Aerial photo of the formidable defenses at Normandy Beachhead . . . . . 52

The D-Day assault. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Armorers attach a 500-lb. bomb to a Thunderbolt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

An F–5 with D-Day invasion markings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Air attack, 406th Fighter Group . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Air Power for Patton’s Army

xvi

Maj. Gen. Troy Middleton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70

Crews arming P–47s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .74

An air-ground officer directs aircraft (above); a Ninth Air Force tactical

air liaison officer with the Third Army (below). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .75

Night armed reconnaissance missions using tracers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .76

Maj. Gen. John S. Wood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .77

Army engineers laying steel mesh (top), and broom-massaging

the airstrips (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .82 

Aviation engineers preparing fields for landing aircraft (top), engineer

battalion works on a bomb crater (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .83

Mechanics hoist a severly damaged P–47 onto a trailer (top), 

technicians are checking planes (center), and a mechanic checks 

out a P–51 Mustang (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .84

A crane is used to transfer bombs (top), airmen load crated bombs

onto trucks (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .85

The command post for Gen. Weyland’s rear headquarters near Laval . . .93

Col. Russell A. Berg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95

German Enigma machine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .105

Field Marshal Bernard L. Montgomery with Lt. Gens. Omar Bradley

and William H. Simpson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .106

Some of the 20,000 German prisoners who were surrendered to

General Macon, Ninth Army, and General Weyland, XIX TAC, on

September 16, 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .107

Maj. Gen. Richard E. Nugent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .114

Transportation Section, rear headquarters, Chalons, France. . . . . . . . . . .116

Gen. O. P. Weyland in a Thunderbolt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .120

Gen. O. P. Weyland awards an Air Medal to Col. Roger Browne . . . . .128

A P–61 night fighter equipped with rockets. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .130

Brig. Gen. Gordon P. Saville . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .138
Contents

xvii

The lab of the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142

Breaching the Etang de Lindre Dam at Dieuze, France, before

( above) and after (below) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .145

Generals Patton (right), Hodges (left) and Bradley (center). . . . . . . . . .147

Gasoline for Patton’s Third Army arrives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .150

An F–5 from the 31st Photo Reconnaissance Squadron. . . . . . . . . . . . .152

Maj. Gen. Ralph Royce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .155

Demolished command post of the 17th SS Panzer Grenadier 

Division at Peltre, France . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .156

A cutaway of a German FW 190 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .157

A–20 Havoc in France. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .162

Air and ground coordinators near the front (top and bottom) . . . . . . . . . . 164

Coordinators receive messages (top), direct overhead aircraft (middle),

and help spot for flak and ground fire (bottom) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165

Generals Spaatz, Patton, Doolittle, Vandenberg, and Weyland (left to

right), December 1944 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .175

Low-level photo taken at the Siegfried Line (top), Patton’s troops

breach the formidable defenses (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .178

Generals Patton and Patch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .179

A squadron commander with his flight leaders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .180

Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt with Adolf Hitler. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .186

Gen. Hasso von Manteuffel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .188

Vehicles move past wrecked American equipment (above). Tanks

from the 4th Armored Division in the Luxembourg area (below). . 193

A P–38 from the 367th Fighter Group. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .197

Paratroopers from the 101st Airborne Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .198

Capt. Richard Parker, 405th Fighter Group (left), a P–61 forced

to crash-land (below). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .202
Air Power for Patton’s Army

xviii

C–47 crash-landed after dropping its supplies. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .205

F–6s (above), an M–7 tank directs fire (below). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .207

Col. James Ferguson and General Weyland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .213

Gens. Weyland and Sanders, with Col. Browne and Gen. Patton . . . . . .214

Damage caused by the Luftwaffe raid on January 1, 1945. . . . . . . . . . . .216

Radar installation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .218

Photo of the Saar River at very low altitude. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .224 

Bf 109 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .227

Troops from the 4th Armored Division (top), 101st Airborne

Infantry Division troops move through Bastogne (bottom) . . . . . . . 228

Destroyed 88-mm gun ( top). An ambulance ( bottom)

removes wounded . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229

General Weyland and his staff meet with General Vandenberg

and General Schlatter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .230

Destroyed self-propelled gun near Dasburg, Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . .236

The Bullay Bridge collapsed into the Mosel River. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .243

A 354th Fighter Group P–51 Mustang . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .247

Ninth Air Force fighters entrenched in snow. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .250

Shot of Saarburg, Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .255

Troops from the 90th Infantry Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .263

A tank destroyer from the 4th Armored Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .264

Thunderbolts hit an ammunition train (top), a truck 

convoy (center), and a locomotive (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .266

Generals Patton (with pointer) Eisenhower, and Devers . . . . . . . . . . . . 267

Third Army crossing the Rhine River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .271

P–51 from the Pioneer Mustang Group . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .279

Generals Patton, Spaatz, Doolittle, Vandenberg; and Weyland . .. . . . . .280
P–47s with occupation stripes during the postwar period. . . . . . . . . . . .292

German Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .314

Contents

xix
Gens. George S. Patton and Otto P. Weyland
Chapter One

The Doctrinal Setting

The U.S. Third Army–XIX Tactical Air Command air-ground combat

team is better understood in light of the doctrinal developments that preceded

its joint operations in 1944 and 1945. Well before World War II, many army

air leaders came to view close air support of army ground forces as a secondor third-order priority. After World War I the Air Service Tactical School, the

Army Air Service’s focal point for doctrinal development and education,

stressed pursuit (or fighter) aviation and air superiority as the air arm’s primary mission. Air superiority at that time meant primarily controlling the air to

prevent enemy reconnaissance. At least among airmen from the early 1920s,

tactical air doctrine stressed winning air superiority as the number one effort

in air operations. Next in importance was interdiction, or isolation of the battlefield by bombing lines of supply and communications behind them. Finally,

attacking enemy forces at the front, in the immediate combat zone, ranked last

in priority. Airmen considered this “close air support” mission, performed primarily by attack aviation, to be the most dangerous and least efficient use of

air resources.1 Even in this early period, the air arm preferred aerial support

operations to attack targets outside the “zone of contact.”2

Evolution of Early Tactical Air Doctrine

By the mid-1930s, leaders of the renamed Army Air Corps increasingly

focused their attention on strategic bombardment, which had a doctrine all its

own, as the best use of the country’s emerging air arm. Certainly among senior

airmen at that time, tactical air operations ran a poor second to strategic bombardment as the proper role for the Army Air Corps. But this preference for

strategic bombardment was not entirely responsible for the decline in attention

paid to pursuit and attack aviation. Scarce resources and technical limitations

contributed to tactical air power’s decline in fortune. Pursuit prototypes, for

example, competed with bombers for resources, and Air Corps leaders hesitated to fund them when they often could not agree among themselves or with

their Army counterparts on the desired performance characteristics and engine

types. At the same time, the aircraft industry preferred the more expensive

bombers for obvious economic reasons, and also because that particular Armyfunded development offered technological benefits for commercial aviation.3

1
In attack aviation, the Spanish Civil War demonstrated the high risks of

relying on traditional tactics of low-level approach with the restricted maneuverability at that altitude, in the face of improving antiaircraft defenses.

Attack aircraft thus had to be given whatever advantages of speed, maneuverability, and protective armor that technology allowed, and they also had to

be mounted with sufficiently large fuel tanks to ensure an extended range

with a useful bomb load. For single-engine aircraft, this challenge proved

insurmountable in the late 1930s. Under the circumstances, civilian and military leaders considered the twin-engine light bomber the best available

answer. In the spring of 1939, Army Air Corps chief, Maj. Gen. Henry H.

(Hap) Arnold selected the Douglas A–20 Havoc for production. The fastest

and most advanced of the available light bombers, it was clearly a major

improvement over previous tactical aircraft. Nevertheless, it was neither

capable of nor intended for precise, close-in support of friendly troops in the

immediate battle zone. The A–20 fell between two schools: airmen criticized

its light bomb load while Army officials considered it too large and ineffective for close air support of ground operations. The Army also disagreed with

the Air Corps over enlisting pursuit aircraft in a ground support role.

According to Air Corps tactical doctrine, pursuit aircraft should not provide

close air support except in emergencies. As a result, before 1941 Army Air

Corps fighters such as the Bell P–39 Airacobra and the Curtiss P–40

Warhawk, though suited to the close air support role, were seldom equipped

or flown with bomb racks.4

After 1935, desires for an independent air force, doctrinal preferences,

and financial limitations reinforced the airmen’s focus on the strategic bombardment mission. Increasingly, Air Corps leaders relied on bombers rather

than fighters in their planning for Western Hemisphere defense. Turned

against an enemy’s vital industries, they saw strategic bombing as a potential

war-winning strategy. Above all, such a strategy promised a role for an Air

Corps independent of direct Army control. For many airmen, a strategic mission represented the key to realizing a separate air force. The Boeing fourengine B–17 heavy bomber that first flew in 1935 appeared capable of performing effective strategic bombardment. Furthermore, in 1935, when the

U.S. Army contributed to the revision of Training Regulation 440,

Employment of the Air Forces of the Army, it gave strategic bombardment a

priority equal to that of ground support. In an earlier 1926 regulation, strategic bombardment was authorized only if it conformed to the “broad plan of

operations of the military forces.” If the primary mission of the Army’s air arm

remained the support of ground forces, by 1935 the growing influence of the

Army Air Corps and the need for a consolidated air strike force resulted in the

establishment of General Headquarters (GHQ) Air Force, the first combat air

force and a precursor of the numbered air forces of World War II. Although

Air Corps leaders might emphasize strategic bombardment, they also upheld

Air Power for Patton’s Army

2
conventional Army doctrine, asserting that “air forces further the mission of

the territorial or tactical commander to which they are assigned or attached.”

Taken as a whole, the revised 1935 regulation represented a compromise on

the question of operational independence for the air arm: although the air commander remained subordinate to the field commander, the changes clearly

demonstrated the Air Corps’ growing influence and the Army leadership’s

willingness to compromise.5

German blitzkrieg victories at the beginning of World War II rekindled

military interest in tactical aviation, especially air-ground operations. On April

15, 1940, the U.S. Army issued Field Manual (FM) 1–5, Employment of the

Aviation of the Army. Written by a board that Army Air Corps General Arnold

chaired, it reflected the German air achievement in Poland and represented a

greater compromise on air doctrine than did the 1935 Army training regulation. The field manual, however, reaffirmed traditional Air Corps principles in

a number of ways. For example, it asserted that tactical air represented a theaterwide weapon that must be controlled centrally for maximum effectiveness,

that the enemy’s rear rather than the “zone of contact” was the best area for

tactical operations, and that those targets ground forces could bracket with

artillery should not be assigned to the air arm.6 To some unhappy Army critics, the new manual still clearly reflected the Air Corps’ desire to control its

own air war largely independent of Army direction.

On the other hand, the 1940 Field Manual did not establish Air Corpsdesired mission priorities for tactical air employment, but it did authorize

decentralized air resources controlled by ground commanders in emergencies.

Although the importance of air superiority received ample attention, the manual did not advocate it as the mission to be accomplished first. Rather, assessments of the particular combat situation would determine aerial mission priorities. Among other important intraservice issues it ignored, the manual did not

address organizational arrangements and procedures for joint air-ground operations.7 Field Manual 1–5 attempted to strike a balance between the Air Corps’

position of centralized control of tactical air forces by an airman and the

ground forces’ desire to control aircraft in particular combat situations. Given

this compromise approach to air support operations, much would depend on

the role of the theater commander and the ability of the parties to cooperate

and make the arrangements effective.

The common theme that emerges from these prewar doctrinal publications is one of compromise and cooperation as the most important attributes

for successful air-ground operations. This theme reappeared in the manual

issued following the air-ground maneuvers conducted in Louisiana and North

Carolina in 1941 that tested the German system of close air support. In these

exercises, newly formed air support commands operated with specific ground

elements, but a shortage of aircraft, unrealistic training requirements, inexperience, and divergent air and ground outlooks on close air support led both

The Doctrinal Setting

3
General Arnold and Lt. Gen. Lesley J. McNair, Commanding General of the

Army Ground Forces, to declare the joint training unsatisfactory. Although the

air and ground leaders exhibited patience and a willingness to cooperate, that

spirit did not always filter down to the lower echelons of command. As a

result, despite greater attention paid to close air support in all quarters, the state

of air-ground training in the U.S. Army by the spring of 1942 was cause for

genuine concern.8 In response to these shortcomings and the country’s entry as

a combatant in World War II, the War Department published FM 31–35,

Aviation in Support of Ground Forces, on April 9, 1942. This field manual

stressed organizational and procedural arrangements for the air support command. Here, as in previous publications, there was much to satisfy the most

ardent air power proponents in the newly designated Army Air Forces (AAF).

The air support command functioned as the controlling agency for air employment and the central point for air request approval (Chart 1). Later, in

Northwest Europe, Air Support Command would be renamed the Tactical Air

Command (TAC) in deference to air leaders in Washington and would support

specified field armies. Centralized control of air power would be maintained

by collocating air and ground headquarters and assigning air support parties to

ground echelons down to the division level. The field manual called for ground

units to initiate requests for aerial support through their air support parties,

which sent them to the air support command. If approved, the latter’s command post issued attack orders to airdromes and to aircraft.9

Field Manual 31–35 of 1942, like FM 1–5 (1940), acknowledged the

importance of air superiority and isolation of the battlefield. It also declared

that air resources represented a valuable, but scarce commodity. Accordingly,

it deemed as inefficient the use of aircraft in the air cover role in which, when

they were based nearby or circling overhead, they remained on call by the supported unit. The 1942 manual nonetheless stressed the importance of close air

support operations “when it is not practicable to employ other means of attack

upon the desired objective in the time available, or when the added firepower

and moral effect of air attacks are essential to insure the timely success of the

ground force operations.”10 Despite opposition expressed later by key air leaders, this rationale for close air support would govern the actions of General

Weyland and other tactical air commanders in Northwest Europe. On the central question of establishing priorities for missions or targets, however, the

manual remained silent, and this would cause difficulty. 

In the final analysis, would the ground or air commanders control

scarce air resources? The manual’s authors attempted to reach a compromise

on this fundamental issue. The 1942 Field Manual declared that “designation

of an aviation unit for support of a subordinate ground unit does not imply

subordination of that aviation unit to the supported ground unit, nor does it

remove the combat aviation unit from the control of the air support commander.” Attaching air units directly to ground formations was judged an excepAir Power for Patton’s Army

4
5

Chart 1

Channels of Tactical Control of Combat Aviation in

Typical Air Support Command
tion, “resorted to only when circumstances are such that the air support commander cannot effectively control the combat aviation assigned to the air support command.”11 Yet “the most important target at a particular time,” FM

31–35 added, “will usually be that target which constitutes the most serious

threat to the operations of the supported ground force. The final decision as

to priority of targets rests with the commander of the supported unit.”12 In

principle, therefore, air units could be parceled out to subordinate ground

commanders, who were authorized to select targets and direct employment.

Despite the central position accorded the commander of an air support command and explicit recognition that air assets normally were centralized at theater level, aviation units still could be allocated or attached to subordinate

ground units.

Field Manual 31–35 of 1942, like its predecessors, attempted to achieve

a balance between the extreme air and ground positions. This manual, however, underscored the importance of close cooperation among air and ground

commanders:

The basis of effective air support of ground forces is teamwork. The air and ground units in such operations in fact

form a combat team. Each member of the team must have

the technical skill and training to enable it to perform its part

in the operation and a willingness to cooperate thoroughly.13

To its credit, the manual discussed in detail the command organization and

air-ground techniques to be used across a broad spectrum of subjects, and airmen and ground officers involved in tactical air operations would adopt this

manual as their how-to guide throughout the war. Though some have criticized it, they often seem to forget that it was AAF officers who drafted and

issued FM 31–35; it was not forced on a reluctant air arm by antagonistic

ground officers who failed to appreciate the uses of air power.

In the spring of 1942 time was needed to achieve the desired cooperation

and to train air and ground personnel at all levels in the command and employment of air-ground operations. When the field manual appeared in April, however, Operation Torch, the Allied invasion of North Africa, was a scant six

months away. How could the participants master the complexities of the most

challenging of joint operations in so short a period? Despite what might appear

as an irreconcilable conflict between air and ground perspectives of the day,

the joint action called for by the manual proved to be less a problem than the

limited time available to absorb its precepts and to solve practical problems at

the field level. There was not enough time.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

6
Doctrine in Practice: Operation Torch

Operation Torch became the desert crucible in which the Allies tested

tactical air doctrine in combat. This initial Allied ground offensive of the

Second World War also exposed the many weaknesses of an American nation

unprepared for large-scale air and ground combat operations.14 Although airground command arrangements for the invasion largely conformed to the 1942

FM 31–35, Allied headquarters completed a memorandum the month before

the invasion that sought to clarify further air-ground command and control

procedures. If anything, it served to enhance the role of the ground commander and, in the eyes of the air commanders, increase the chance that air power

might be misused. Only after failure in the field would Lt. Gen. Dwight D.

Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of Allied forces in northwest Africa, turn

to the British example of teamwork displayed in the northeast African desert.

There, Air Vice Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham and Lt. Gen. Sir Bernard

“Monty” L. Montgomery, Commander of the British Eighth Army, operated an

effective air-ground system based on equality of forces, joint planning, good

communications, and a Royal Air Force (RAF) in command and control of its

limited forces in the joint air-ground plan.15

In command of the invasion, General Eisenhower controlled all military

resources in northwest Africa. If he thought of air forces in terms of theater

interests, he chose not to designate a theater air commander, and British and

American invasion forces remained loosely integrated. United States air forces

were further decentralized to support the separate task forces during the invasion. Twelfth Air Force had its components parceled out to the three task forces,

whose commanders had direct operational control of the air forces assigned to

them as authorized by FM 31–35 (Map 1). Similarly, the planners assigned

British Eastern Air Command to support operations of the Eastern Task Force.

Once the initial landings succeeded, plans called for an Allied task force to push

eastward toward Tunisia, with supporting American air forces. Later, U.S.

ground forces would be consolidated into U.S. Fifth Army, which would function as a planning and training headquarters, with XII Air Support Command

attached to provide close air support to Fifth Army ground forces as required.16

Although the November 8, 1942, landings in French Algeria on the

northwest African coast of the Mediterranean Sea succeeded easily, combat

inexperience, logistics shortages, and the inability to establish all-weather airfields close to the battle zone during the race eastward toward Tunisia, combined to prevent defeat of the Axis forces. Effective close air support failed in

the face of poor communications, an absence of radar, and the prevailing tendency of ground forces commanders to call for and rely on defensive air cover,

and of airmen willing to give it. By December 1942, the Allied ground offensive proved unable to penetrate hastily formed German defensive lines west of

The Doctrinal Setting

7
Map 1

Torch Landings in Northwest Africa: November 8, 1942

Reprinted from: Daniel R. Mortensen, A Pattern for Joint Operations: World War II Close Air Support, North Africa,

(Washington, D.C.: Center for Military History, 1987), p 54.
Tunis. With the onset of winter, Eisenhower halted the offensive. Reviewing

recent events, he criticized insufficient air support. With air forces larger than

the enemy’s, the Allies proved unable even to wrest local air superiority from

the Germans and Italians. Clearly, it was time to regroup and reassess.17

In early January 1943, General Eisenhower centralized control of his tactical air forces in northwest Africa by creating the Allied Air Force.

Commanded by Lt. Gen. Carl Spaatz, it was composed of the U.S. Twelfth Air

Force and the British Eastern Air Command. Spaatz chose as his deputy Brig.

Gen. Laurence S. Kuter who had been serving as the air operations officer on

Eisenhower’s staff. Kuter would prove to be a staunch proponent for adopting

the British air-ground system, one that centralized control of aircraft under one

airman reporting to the lead ground commander. Eisenhower sought in the

reorganization to end piecemeal, decentralized air action largely along national lines. Yet, the vast distances, poor communications, and commanders who

preferred operating along national rather than functional lines ensured that

coordinating and centralizing the direction of close air support operations with

ground forces would remain a problem. Even so, creation of the Allied Air

Force served as an important move toward eventual centralized control of all

air forces in the Mediterranean theater.18

The Doctrinal Setting

9

Adversaries of the war in North Africa, Gen. Bernard Montgomery,

Commander, British Eighth Army...
During the second Allied offensive in northwest Africa in January 1943,

XII Air Support Command deployed from French Morocco on Africa’s Atlantic

coast to support II Corps in central Tunisia. Despite the best-laid plans of the XII’s

commander, Brig. Gen. Howard A. Craig, the airmen could muster little support

when the Germans counterattacked II Corps in force on January 18. Among the

many operational problems cited, air force officials stressed the misuse of air

assets by the corps commander, Maj. Gen. Lloyd R. Fredendall. Army officers,

however, judged enemy air superiority to be the most alarming. The Allies simply did not have sufficient aircraft to achieve local air superiority everywhere.19

At this juncture Eisenhower acted to achieve greater centralization of the

air support effort by assigning General Kuter to command the newly created

Allied Air Support Command in the Allied Air Force. Kuter collocated his

headquarters at Constantine, Algeria, with that of Lt. Gen. K. A. N. Anderson,

the British army commander of all Allied forces in northwest Africa involved

in the Tunisian offensive. Kuter immediately set about controlling all Allied

air support of ground operations. Yet, a few days later, when the Germans

counterattacked in central Tunisia on January 30, 1943, Allied tactical air support broke down. Ground commanders repeatedly insisted on defensive air

umbrellas that divided and dissipated the strength of the tactical air forces.

Either many more aircraft had to be made available—most unlikely at that

time—or the process of allocating aircraft had to be improved. Eisenhower and

other key leaders in the theater did not believe the air doctrine to be at fault.

They believed that doctrine was misapplied on the battlefield.20

The Battle of Kasserine Pass in mid-February 1943, highlighted the

shortcomings of tactical air support of ground forces. Enemy troops overAir Power for Patton’s Army

10

... and Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, Commander, Afrika Corps.
ran Allied bases, communications broke down, bad weather restricted close

air support activity, and unexpected friendly fire often proved more lethal

to Allied airmen than did hostile German flak.21 Of the many critics of air

support during the land battle, British Air Vice Marshal Coningham, who

assumed command of the Allied Air Support Command from Kuter during

the course of the engagement, was perhaps the most influential and outspoken—as subsequent events at Gafsa made plain. Coningham immediately

reorganized tactical air forces on the basis of the British Western Desert

system of centralized resources, established mission priorities designed to

conserve scarce forces, and placed senior airmen in control of all air elements.22

The colorful if volatile American tactician Maj. Gen. George S. Patton

commanded II Corps near Gafsa during the battle for Tunisia in early 1943. On

April 1, unopposed German aircraft bombed and strafed his command post

killing three men including his aide-de-camp. Patton vented his anger against

Allied tactical air forces in an April Fool’s Day situation report, which, for

emphasis, he transmitted under his own name. That brought an equally sharp

retort from Coningham, now commander of Northwest African Tactical Air

Force (NATAF), who bluntly questioned Patton’s understanding of air power

and the bravery of his troops. Intervention by senior officers and a personal

meeting between the two soothed frayed tempers, but did not prevent further

friction in air-ground operations.23

The Doctrinal Setting

11

Brig. Gen. Laurence S. Kuter

was deputy to General Spaatz

and assumed command

of the newly created

Allied Air Support Command in

the Allied Air Force.
Patton’s displeasure with air support in North Africa emphatically underscored the differing air and ground perspectives of tactical air operations in

1942–1943. Patton’s complaints typified those of a field commander facing

unopposed air attack without air support of his own. The solution for the

ground commander most often fixed on securing direct control of the aircraft

that could provide continuous air cover over his lines. (Unchallenged air attack

against ground forces could hardly be explained away by airmen offering

assurances that the supporting air force contributed best when attacking the

enemy elsewhere. To front line troops, what remained unseen did not appear

effective.) In response, Coningham could argue that the army misused tactical

air power by parceling out aircraft to individual army units for combat air

patrol missions to serve as a local air umbrella. That prevented the tactical air

force from taking advantage of its flexibility and ability to concentrate forces

to achieve air superiority. Even though Allied fighter-bombers might not be

seen frequently by the foot soldier, Coningham believed them to be more

effective in most cases when used primarily to attack the enemy’s air forces in

a counterair role and to perform interdiction operations to isolate the battlefield, rather than when committed in direct support of troops under fire.24

The air support changes that Coningham introduced reflected a larger

reorganization of all Allied air and ground forces in the Mediterranean theater

approved earlier at the Casablanca summit conference in late January 1943, and

subsequently implemented throughout northwest Africa on February 18.

General Eisenhower became the Mediterranean theater commander and controlled all Allied forces (Chart 2). For the first time, he operated with a genuine

unified command set up along functional lines. British Air Chief Marshal, Sir

Arthur Tedder, assumed command of all Allied air units in the Mediterranean.

The Northwest African Air Forces (NAAF), led by General Spaatz, replaced the

Allied Air Force, becoming the most important of Tedder’s three regional air

forces. It, in turn, consisted of three functional commands, with NATAF responsible for all tactical air support of ground forces in the region. Appropriately,

Air Vice Marshal Coningham was named its commander.25

The new organizational arrangement also formally recognized distinct

aerial priorities, with air superiority and interdiction preceding those of close

air support. Air officers approved targets based on need and suitability, and air

and ground officers performed planning functions jointly. Coningham issued a

pamphlet which he circulated to reach the widest possible audience. Based on

a short talk by British field commander General Montgomery (which, incidentally, Coningham authored), it praised the British Western Desert system of airground cooperation. That system, Montgomery asserted, succeeded by virtue

of the coequality of the land and air forces and the spirit of cooperation.26

Despite the attack on Patton’s headquarters by German aircraft in early

April 1943, no one could doubt that air support improved after the reorganization. The organizational changes combined with good flying weather, more

Air Power for Patton’s Army

12
13

Chart 2

Allied Command Relationships in the Mediterranean, March 1943
support people, and many more aircraft improved Allied military performance.

Air planning became more integrated as Montgomery’s Eighth British Army,

advancing westward from Egypt, forced retreating German troops back into

Tunisia where General Anderson’s forces, moving eastward from Algeria,

sought to close the pincers. In this offensive, theater interests received top priority in decision-making. The successful attack in mid-March 1943, against

the German-held Mareth Line, located along a 22-mile stretch of central

Tunisia running from the sea to the Matmata Hills, and the ultimate defeat of

German forces in May, highlighted the new flexibility and concentration of

tactical air forces that, selectively, made local air superiority possible.

Some intractable problems nonetheless remained. Coningham, for example, never quite solved the air-ground request system to the satisfaction of

ground commanders. Although centralized, the process functioned too slowly,

especially for “on call” or “immediate” missions.27 Poor communications

equipment also could not transmit and satisfactorily receive over long distances.

The solution would come later in Italy and Northwest Europe when pilots and

ground controllers acquired improved radio communications equipment and the

Allies had far more aircraft available for support. Strained relations among

some commanders in North Africa also forced General Spaatz to spend most of

the spring in 1943 keeping peace between air and ground officers and educating both sides on the need for cooperation. Nevertheless, communication problems and local enemy air attacks continued to prevent the Allies from achieving complete air supremacy until near the end of the campaign. Even then, success primarily came when Allied forces overran German airfields in Tunisia.28

Tactical Air Doctrine Refined

As military operations in North Africa drew near a close in the spring

of 1943, tactical air doctrine became an increasingly important issue for airmen like General Kuter and others in Washington, D.C. Should FM 31–35 of

1942 be retained or, if revised, should it reflect the system now operating in

North Africa? Additionally, could such a revision be done by air and ground

officers in the spirit of cooperation and compromise that had characterized

earlier doctrinal statements? Some officers were convinced that it was too late

for compromise, and only wholesale acceptance of the new theater tactical air

doctrine would do. In a scathing review of early failures in North Africa, written as he left his five-month combat tour for an air staff assignment in May

1943, Kuter described for AAF commander General Arnold what he judged

to be specific misuses of tactical air power.29 The air umbrella topped his list;

he and other air force leaders judged this to be the core of the air-ground problem in North Africa. For them, it represented a wasteful and inefficient use of

limited air forces that made the attainment of air superiority impossible. Yet,

Air Power for Patton’s Army

14
not all ground commanders embraced the air umbrella concept. General

Eisenhower, for one, firmly believed that ground forces should not expect

permanent, defensive air cover. Not only were theater resources insufficient

for such a task, he believed troops dependent on air cover were unlikely to

exhibit the aggressiveness fostered by the combat of arms. Other Army officers, however, were much less inclined to forego the air umbrella idea.30

General Kuter also argued forcefully for American adoption of the

British close air support system, contrasting the mistakes made between

November 1942–February 1943, with the successes achieved after the postCasablanca reorganization. Among the lessons cited, he called attention to

concentrated forces employed against specific objectives, a composite theater

force, and equality with the Army in decisions of air employment. By the

spring of 1943, these lessons had become a familiar refrain in higher AAF circles. At the same time, Kuter acknowledged that the air forces required better

communications with ground forces, and he criticized the AAF for shortages

of communication equipment, deficient radar, and an inability to provide early

warning of aircraft attack, or provide a reliable fighter control system. He saw

the ultimate solution in an independent air force, where decisions on air operations would be made by airmen. Until that happened, air forces had to be

made “coordinate”—coequal—with the ground forces to achieve successful

air-ground operations.31

The Doctrinal Setting

15

Gens. Lewis H. Brereton, Carl A. Spaatz, and Dwight D. Eisenhower (left to

right) critique tactical air doctrine.
Generals Marshall, Arnold, and others in the War Department had previously been impressed with General Montgomery’s pamphlet, written by

Coningham, Some Notes on High Command in War, and with reports from

other key participants in North Africa such as Generals Spaatz, Brereton, and

Quesada. Kuter’s critique helped prompt a revision of tactical air doctrine.

Marshall assigned the task of revising American air-ground doctrine to the

War Department General Staff’s operations division and a special board of air

and ground officers.32 The resultant FM 100–20, Command and Employment

of Air Power, issued July 21, 1943, epitomized AAF headquarters’ interpretation of experiences in North Africa and the influence of Coningham’s RAF

system. Army chief of staff George Marshall, who initiated the project,

approved the final document.

This field manual specifically addressed mission priorities and command

arrangements. Like FM 31–35 of 1942, the new manual gave the preponderant

role in the employment of aircraft to airmen, subject to the theater commander’s

final authority. In addition, it directed that air forces be centralized and not

parceled out to specific ground commands, and that close air support missions

be limited because of their difficulty, high casualty rate, and relative inefficiency.33 New provisions reflected AAF thinking and influence in the War

Department. In a dramatic opening section, FM 100–20 employed capital letters

to proclaim and emphasize the equality of air power in joint warfare: “LAND

POWER AND AIR POWER ARE CO-EQUAL AND INTERDEPENDENT

Air Power for Patton’s Army

16

Gens. George C. Marshall and Henry H. “Hap” Arnold were impressed with the

tactical air doctrine refined in North Africa under the British.
FORCES; NEITHER IS AN AUXILIARY OF THE OTHER. THE INHERENT FLEXIBILITY OF AIR POWER IS ITS GREATEST ASSET...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.”34

Field Manual 100–20 set an unequivocal hierarchy of aerial missions.

“The gaining of air superiority is the first requirement for the success of any

major land operation.”35 The manual specifically addressed, as a first prerequisite for air superiority, obtaining improved communications equipment for

an effective fighter offense and, for defense, a reliable early warning radar network. In listing appropriate targets for the air superiority mission, it eliminated provisions for an air umbrella because it was “prohibitively expensive and

could be provided only over a small area for a brief period of time.”36

Next to air superiority, interdiction—aerial attack on enemy lines of

communication and supply behind the front line—designed to achieve isolation of the battlefield received second priority. Close air support—attacking

The Doctrinal Setting

17

British Air Vice Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham (left), designer of close air 

support in North Africa, shares experiences in the African desert

with Brig. Gen. Auby C. Strickland (center) and Lt. Gen. Frank M. Andrews.
enemy forces near or on the front line—ranked third. In justifying a last place

for close air support, air power proponents normally cite only two sentences

from the relevant paragraph: “In the zone of contact, missions against hostile

units are most difficult to control, are most expensive, and are, in general, least

effective....Only at critical times are contact zone missions profitable.”37

Criticism of the close air support mission as wasteful, of course, was hardly

new. Indeed, airmen had made it a major doctrinal point throughout the interwar period. The authors, however, clearly took pains to explain the difficulties

of extensive close air support while stressing the importance of cooperation

and coordination in attaining common goals. Even so, Army Ground Forces

did not share the AAF’s enthusiasm for the 1943 manual. In its view, the new

doctrinal publication envisioned an air force less inclined than ever to support

army operations. Army leaders complained, and legitimately so, that FM

100–20 had been issued without the concurrence of the Army Ground Forces.

Obviously publication of the new manual would not improve air-ground relations overnight.

In a brief 14 pages, FM 100–20 (1943) attempted to end the imprecision

and ambiguity in air-ground doctrine that characterized earlier attempts to create an effective air-ground relationship. From the AAF perspective, it emphatically stated the co-equality of aerial missions in joint operations, clarified lines

of command and control, and established aerial mission priorities on which

ground commanders could reflect. Yet, in practice FM 31–35 (1942) remained

the key air-ground manual because it prescribed precise organization and procedures for specific combat situations, although that manual’s cumbersome airground communications system and procedures remained problem areas.38

Future air-ground teams, relying on trial and error and a cooperative spirit,

would still have to devise arrangements that suited their peculiar theater circumstances and took advantage of better equipment in larger quantities. The

regular army, it seems clear, never completely accepted FM 100–20; the manual remained largely a philosophical rather than a practical treatise. Indeed, FM

31–35 would be the manual later revised to incorporate wartime experiences.39

However gratifying it might be to airmen, in practice the new doctrine

did little to influence future operations in a formal sense. Although FM 100–20

(1943) gave airmen greater independence and more say in the disposition and

employment of air assets, General Weyland and other air commanders in the

field still reported to Army officers of higher rank whom they were committed

to support tactically. If these pragmatic airmen generally followed the 1943

precepts of FM 100–20, they never allowed theory to stand in the way of mission accomplishment. As a result, they would take liberties with command

arrangements and mission priorities never envisioned by air advocates such as

General Kuter and others like him on the air staff in Washington, D.C.

Despite legitimate areas of concern in air-ground relationships, Allied

officers in North Africa during World War II for the most part cooperated

Air Power for Patton’s Army

18
earnestly and tried sincerely to solve the thorny issues of command and control and of air-power mission priorities. The severe criticism of published doctrine used during Operation Torch is largely undeserved.40 This combat effort,

the first Allied combined and joint operation of the war, suffered most from

inexperienced and inadequate forces operating with an air-ground doctrine yet

to be tested in combat. The problems and frustrations encountered in the North

African and Sicilian Campaigns did promote important improvements in command and control of air-ground operations. By the time of the Normandy

buildup in early 1944, many air and ground officers had tested doctrine under

combat conditions, worked out problems, and created bonds of friendship and

trust that they brought with them to the campaigns in Northwest Europe. When

confronting a common enemy, reality tempered the application of formal doctrine in the field, and cooperation tended to override intraservice and interservice rivalries. 

The Doctrinal Setting

19

Chapter Two

Preparing for Joint Operations

As Allied preparations for the invasion of the continent began in earnest,

Generals Patton and Weyland appeared in the United Kingdom within a week

of each other. Patton arrived by air at Prestwick, Scotland, incognito on January

26, 1944, following a painful five-month exile in Sicily. The so-called slapping

incidents, in which he lost his temper and struck two hospitalized soldiers suffering from combat fatigue, left him sidelined while others received choice

European command assignments: Lt. Gen. Mark Clark assumed command of

the U.S. Fifth Army in Italy, and Lt. Gen. Omar Bradley, Patton’s former subordinate in North Africa and Sicily, became commander of all American troops

during the buildup in the United Kingdom. Immediately on arrival, Patton journeyed to London where General Eisenhower, Supreme Commander, Allied

Expeditionary Forces, informed him that he would lead the U.S. Third Army,

which would enter the conflict only after Bradley’s U.S. First Army had

ensured success in the initial landing on the coast of France. At that time,

Bradley would turn over command of the First Army to Lt. Gen. Courtney H.

Hodges and assume command of an army group, with both Patton and Hodges

reporting to him. By all accounts, Patton was grateful for the opportunity.1

21

Lt. Gen. Clark,

soon to take command of the

Fifth Army in Italy, confers with

Lt. Gen. Patton in Sicily.
Lt. Gen. Omar N. Bradley, commander of all American troops

for the Normandy invasion.

At the beginning of February 1944 Patton personally welcomed the

advance party of Third Army Headquarters personnel at Peover Hall in

Knutsford, near Chester, in Cheshire. The main body of his army would not

arrive until late March, and Third Army units would continue to disembark

until D-Day on June 6, by which time 275 separate Third Army camps dotted

the northern English countryside. For the next five months Patton faced the

challenge of molding his inexperienced headquarters and subordinate units

into the capable fighting force he demanded. Meanwhile, General Eisenhower

directed him to remain incognito, misidentified as the commander of a mythical U.S. Army group in southern England preparing to land in France at Calais.

In this covert operation known as Fortitude, Allied leaders took advantage of

the Germans’ known apprehension about Patton’s next appearance, successfully deceiving them into believing that Calais was the appointed landing site

for Operation Overlord.2

Largely unknown outside the AAF, General Weyland looked forward to

his first combat assignment. While Patton busied himself establishing headquarters at Peover Hall, Weyland arrived without fanfare on January 29, 1944,

Air Power for Patton’s Army

22
after leading his 84th Fighter Wing of P–47 fighter-bombers on a four-week

trans-Atlantic flight that staged from North Carolina southward across the

Caribbean through Brazil and French West Africa, then north from Africa

across the Bay of Biscay to Keevil and nearby airfields in the vicinity of

Salisbury in southern England. Weyland immediately was reassigned as deputy

to General Quesada, commander of the IX Fighter Command. With headquarters at Uxbridge, 16 miles northwest of London, IX Fighter Command would

prepare and train American fighter contingents for the invasion. The reassignment orders also named Weyland commander of a IX Fighter Command subordinate organization, the XIX Air Support Command—redesignated XIX

Tactical Air Command (TAC) in April 1944—one of several tactical operational commands earmarked for service in support of field armies in France.

Like Patton and with two jobs to manage, Weyland began almost from scratch

to assemble and shape a largely inexperienced group of American aviators and

support personnel into an effective fighting force.3

The Generals Paired

Despite arriving within a week of each other, the two commanders probably did not meet personally until much later. Given their disparate personalities and backgrounds, at first glance this selection of officers as combat partners could hardly seem to be a likely combination. Though both hailed from

California and had married women of prominent families, each exhibited vast

differences in temperament, outlook, and experience.

Born in the affluent Pasadena suburb of San Marino in 1885, George S.

Patton, Jr., grew up on a palm tree-covered estate that abuts what is today the

Huntington Library and Gardens. His family, rooted in Virginia aristocracy, was

Preparing for Joint Operations

23

Lt. Gen. Patton

and

Brig. Gen. Weyland
steeped in a tradition of military service. Patton’s father and grandfather graduated from the Virginia Military Institute (VMI); the latter died under arms for the

Confederate States of America during the Civil War. After attending the

Classical School for Boys in nearby Pasadena, California, where he developed a

lifelong interest in military history and the deeds of great men, Patton spent a

year at VMI before entering West Point in 1904. There, despite a poor first year’s

performance in mathematics, he distinguished himself in military science and

athletics, and stood 46th in the 1909 graduating class of 103. Throughout his life,

Patton suffered from dyslexia, which his biographer, Martin Blumenson, considers important to an understanding of his complex personality. If the dyslexia

provoked inner turmoil and a sense of insecurity, it likely helps explain his wellknown outbursts of profanity and arrogant behavior. Unquestionably, he drove

himself to surmount that particular affliction and become a great military leader.4

Indeed, by the early 1920s Patton had made a name for himself in the

United States Army. After graduating from West Point, he entered the cavalry

and achieved prominence for his superb horsemanship, swordsmanship, and as

a U.S. pentathlon athlete in the 1912 Olympics. Serving briefly as an aide to

Chief of Staff Gen. Leonard Wood, in 1916 he joined Gen. John Pershing’s wellpublicized “expedition” into Mexico in search of Pancho Villa. While there,

Patton gained notoriety by wounding one of Villa’s generals in a dramatic pistol

fight, “man-to-man.” When America entered World War I in 1917, Patton left

for France as commander of the American Expeditionary Force’s Headquarters

Troop. More important to his future career, however, General Pershing placed

him in charge of organizing an American tank corps. Leading this First Tank

Brigade in the battles of St. Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne in 1918, his mechanized force helped propel the American assaults before German machine gun

fire left him wounded and out of action. In a field hospital he accepted the

Distinguished Service Cross, the Purple Heart, and promotion to colonel.

During the interwar period, Patton held important posts in the cavalry and

tank corps and along the way attended both the Army’s Command and General

Staff School, the Army War College, and served as the G–2 operations chief in

Hawaii. His drive and leadership skills brought him to the attention of a future

chief of staff, Gen. George C. Marshall. As the U.S. Army’s foremost authority

on tanks and mechanized warfare at the outset of World War II, Patton was the

logical choice to organize the U.S. Armored Force at Ft. Benning, Georgia. As

commander of the 2d Armored Division he participated in the Tennessee and the

Carolina maneuvers, and served as an umpire in the Louisiana war games. He

was also a private pilot and thus predisposed to view air favorably. In 1942 he

assumed command of the First Armored Corps and organized the Desert

Training Center at Indio, California, in preparation for Operation Torch, the

invasion of North Africa. 

In the invasion of North Africa in November 1942, Patton commanded

the Western Task Force, which landed at Casablanca in French Morocco. Then,

Air Power for Patton’s Army

24
in March 1943, he led the U.S. II Corps following the Kasserine Pass battle.

Later, he assumed command of Seventh Army for the invasion of Sicily in July

1943, where he achieved recognition by besting British General Montgomery’s

forces in a race for Palermo and his subsequently undesired notoriety in the

slapping incidents. George Patton combined temperamental outburst and tactless public conduct with a mastery of mechanized blitzkrieg warfare and, under

fire, leadership by example. At least the latter attribute moved General

Eisenhower to call him the best driver of troops in combat on the Allied side,

while it caused the German High Command to fear him in the field above all

Allied army commanders.5

O. P. Weyland, 17 years Patton’s junior, was born in 1903, 100 miles east

of Los Angeles in blue-collar Riverside the second son of an English mother

and a German immigrant father, who was a musician turned itinerant farmer.

In 1919, after attending a number of public schools in southern California and

in Corpus Christi, Texas, he enrolled at Texas A&M University, graduating

with a degree in Mechanical Engineering in 1923 as a member of the Reserve

Officers Training Corps (ROTC). After graduation, and before deciding on an

aviation career, he entered the United States Army Air Service as a reservist

and went to work for Western Electric in Chicago, Illinois. The engineering

profession, as Weyland recalled later, offered little excitement in a cold climate, and he was bitten by the flying bug while serving reserve weekends at

Chanute Field. In 1924, he exchanged reserve status for a regular Army commission and began flight training at Kelly Field, Texas. Weyland impressed his

contemporaries as quiet, competent, and altogether without a flair for the dramatic.

Preparing for Joint Operations

25

General Patton with troops of

the 3d Infantry Division awaiting

evacuation from Sicily by air.
After completing flight training in 1925, Weyland joined the 12th

Observation (Reconnaissance) Squadron at Fort Sam Houston where he first

acquired his knowledge of, and appreciation for, tactical air requirements in

support of army ground forces. He went on to command the 4th Observation

Squadron at Luke Field, Hawaii, an assignment he chose over a more prestigious post in the Philippines because it offered tactical work with a fullstrength army division. In the mid-1930s he returned to Kelly Field as an

instructor pilot and chief of the observation section. His early career involved

more than operational flying assignments; he attended the Air Corps Tactical

School at Maxwell Field, Alabama, in 1937 where his field experience with

the ground forces helped him graduate as number one in his class. Two years

later, in 1939, he completed the Army’s Command and General Staff School

course at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas.

During the first years of World War II, Weyland served with the renamed

Army Air Forces primarily in Washington, D.C. There, he was assistant to the

chief of the National Guard Bureau’s Aviation Division before receiving assignment to AAF headquarters, first as Deputy Director for Air Support and then as

Chief of the Allocations and Programs Division in the office of the Assistant

Chief of the Air Staff. The latter assignment placed him at the center of the aviation buildup, which included work on AAF air inspector Maj. Gen. Follett Bradley’s plan for building up the forces needed in the cross-channel invasion. This

brought him into frequent contact with the AAF commander, General Arnold.

Between Washington assignments, Weyland commanded the 16th Pursuit Group in Panama, which flew P–40s, and in 1941 he became chief of staff

of the Caribbean Air Force (later redesignated Sixth Air Force). Weyland’s

Air Power for Patton’s Army

26

Maxwell Field, Alabama, served as the home of the Air Corps Tactical School,

where much of the tactical air doctrine developed in the 1930s.
commander, Gen. Frank Andrews, judged this air force to be “tied to no island

commanders but available for a concentrated blow for the defense of the

Canal.”6 Here, Weyland helped army leaders understand the benefits of centralizing limited air resources in support of ground forces scattered over a large

geographic area. With that background and experience and promoted to

brigadier general in late 1943, he assumed command of the 84th Fighter Wing.

On January 1, 1944, he flew with it to England and a new assignment.

Shortly after arriving in England, the U.S. Army notified General

Weyland that he and the XIX TAC would be paired with the Third Army and

its famous commander, General Patton. Privately, Weyland harbored doubts

about this assignment with the fiery army commander—an understandable

reaction given Patton’s public criticism of Allied air support in North Africa.

Long afterward, Weyland recalled that he had no idea why he and his organization were paired with Patton and his Third Army, though he admitted:

“nobody was just real anxious to do it [join Patton]. Nobody was really envious of me, let’s put it that way.”7 Doubtless at that moment in time, Patton’s

air subordinate could anticipate confrontations if he were to avoid being

bulldozed on major air employment decisions. Despite his quiet demeanor,

however, Weyland could be entirely forceful when the occasion demanded.

General Ferguson, his operations officer in World War II, perhaps described

him best as “soft-spoken but a firm and very capable fellow.”8

Whatever Patton’s feelings might have been on learning that his air commander lacked any combat experience, Weyland brought to the partnership a

military background in tactical operations that would prove excellent preparation for the air-ground mission that both would face. Though without combat

experience, he had spent his entire career in tactical aviation and he understood

air-ground requirements better than most did in the AAF. He also brought to

the XIX TAC extensive experience in fighter operational units, a thorough

knowledge of tactical air operations, and a willingness to cooperate in fixing

air-ground objectives. Moreover, his subdued, more taciturn personality complemented Patton’s flamboyancy. If Patton dramatically referred to their association as “love at first sight,” the two commanders apparently understood one

another and got along well from the very beginning.9 Certainly, by war’s end,

Patton emphatically would describe Weyland as “the best damn general in the

Air Corps.”10

Even before Patton and Weyland began assembling and training the

troops of their new commands for combat in France, however, Allied leaders

had to organize the multinational air and ground forces that would be required

in that enterprise to function in concert.

Preparing for Joint Operations

27
Organizing Allied Assault Forces for Joint Operations

Plans for a cross-channel invasion of France received renewed impetus

when Allied leaders met at Casablanca, French Morocco, back in January

1943.11 At that time in North Africa, Allied forces were firmly established and

had begun to close on German and Italian forces in Tunisia from the east and

west. In Russia, Soviet forces had halted the Germans’ eastward onslaught at

Stalingrad. In the Southwest Pacific, Americans had seized the initiative at

Guadalcanal and seemed to have checked Japanese expansion. The Allies now

had reason to believe that the tide of war at last had turned in their favor. To

ensure the success of an assault on Fortress Europe, the Allies at Casablanca

decided to stress operations against the German submarine menace, intensify

pressure on German resources and morale through the so-called Combined

Bomber Offensive originating in the United Kingdom, and clear the

Mediterranean Sea by invading the island of Sicily. 

Following the Casablanca Conference, the Combined Chiefs of Staff

undertook a detailed study of cross-channel invasion requirements based on the

tragic landing made at Dieppe, France, by British and Canadian forces in

August 1942. A successful assault, the study concluded, required a massive

landing of forces at a beachhead that offered access to a key port with a good

road network leading into the French interior and within range of Allied fighter aircraft in England. For that beachhead, planners chose the Normandy coast

Air Power for Patton’s Army

28

President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill at Casablanca.
between Cherbourg and Caen. In March 1943 they submitted their analysis to

British Lt. Gen. Frederick E. Morgan. His appointment as Chief of Staff to the

(as yet unnamed) Supreme Allied Commander (COSSAC) charged him to plan

for an invasion as early as possible in 1944. Allied leaders at the Trident

Conference in Washington, D.C., in May 1943 set that date for May 1, 1944,

and confirmed it in November at the Teheran Conference in Iran. In late January

1944 however, shortly after General Eisenhower’s arrival in London to assume

the duties of Supreme Commander, he and British General Montgomery, the

designated ground forces commander for the invasion, decided to expand the

COSSAC’s initial plan in Operation Overlord. They opted for an assault force

strengthened, from an original three to five army divisions and a landingfrontage expanded from an original 25 to 40 miles. To procure the needed

equipment for Overlord—especially landing craft—Eisenhower postponed an

Allied landing on the Mediterranean coast of southern France by one month.

Providing for the necessary tactical air support for the invasion, Allied

leaders moved the Ninth Air Force from Egypt to England. On the continent,

the Ninth would pair with the 12th Army Group in the American contribution

to the air-ground campaign in Northwest Europe. More significantly for tactical air developments, however, the Ninth’s subordinate tactical air commands

would work directly with armies in the field.12 Commander of Eighth Air

Force’s VIII ASC, Brig. Gen. Robert C. Candee, offered a proposal for the

specific organization of the Ninth Tactical Air Force (TAF) in England to

include a bomber command, a fighter command with two air support divisions,

an air service command, and for the first time, an air defense command and an

engineer command. The Air Support Divisions, later renamed Air Support

Commands, then Tactical Air Commands, would support designated field

armies on the continent. Candee’s proposal reflected the findings of a seminal

Eighth Air Force observers’ report, Air Operations in Support of Ground

Forces in North West Africa (March 15–April 5, 1943).

13

Colonel Philip Cole prepared the air operations observers report in the

spring of 1943. Cole, with a small team of Eighth Air Force officers, visited

and assessed the air-ground operations of 18 separate North African theater

units. Their report considered especially the experience of the RAF’s Western

Desert Force and the U.S. XII ASC—redesignated XII TAC in April 1944—

which had collocated its headquarters near General Patton’s II Corps advance

headquarters. The 42-page report focused on tactical air organization, control,

and operations. The team found that FM 31–35 (1942) provided the organizational guidelines (the division of headquarters into rear and advance elements, in particular) which allowed the air commander’s staff to keep up with

and remain collocated with the army in mobile operations. Air-ground teamwork also received high marks for “close and continuous” liaison among the

air headquarters and the supported ground units. The observers described the

critical importance of “air support parties” assigned to army units, and of the

Preparing for Joint Operations

29
army counterpart liaison officers stationed at each air field. The air commander, in keeping with FM 31–35, retained responsibility for directing aerial

units that flew against targets requested by the ground forces.14

Indeed, the Cole team’s report became the blueprint for organizing, commanding, and controlling tactical air operations in Northwest Europe. To control air resources, the team recommended that the air organization with tactical units assigned to support ground forces “be organized as an Air Force

headquarters.”15 To ensure that proper control could be exercised, this tactical

air headquarters at any one time should be allocated no more than two wings

of six fighter groups. The team recommended an increase of 100 percent (from

8 to 16) in the number of air support parties assigned directly to the Air

Support commander in addition to a battalion of Aviation Engineers.

Successful air-ground military operations in North Africa had required additional air support parties in the field and the ambitious airfield construction

program contemplated for mobile military operations on the continent warranted engineers assigned to each field air command. The report also urged

that these “principles of Air Support organization and control evolved by the

Western Desert Force RAF and modified to suit American organization and

procedure, as represented by XII TAC, be accepted as the current model for the

organization of such units.”16 Ninth Air Force would adopt all of these recommendations for the campaign in Northwest Europe.17

A few months after Cole submitted his report, American and British

leaders met at the Quadrant Conference in Quebec, Canada, in August 1943,

and confirmed the cross-channel invasion, now codenamed Overlord, for the

spring of 1944. The Allied leaders also called for a massive air offensive,

termed Pointblank, designed to destroy German air forces prior to the landings, and creation of an Anglo-American tactical air force to be known as the

Allied Expeditionary Air Force (AEAF). The U.S. component of this command, Ninth Air Force, thus would be largely independent of and separate

from the Eighth Air Force and other strategic air forces.18 The Ninth Air Force,

which moved from Egypt to England on October 16, 1943, under the command of Maj. Gen. Lewis H. Brereton (Chart 3), initially consisted of a small

headquarters contingent from the Ninth and elements of the Eighth Air Force’s

VIII ASC, including Colonel Cole. A vast influx of new, largely inexperienced

personnel as yet untested by combat accounted for the bulk of this tactical air

force, which over the next seven and a half months grew to more than 170,000

officers and enlisted.

The Ninth Air Force, however, depended on the Eighth for basic support.

Administrative matters remained centralized under the Eighth Air Force,

which dominated the AAF in the United Kingdom and, after January 1, 1944,

its successor, the United States Strategic Air Forces (USSTAF) in Europe.

Supply officers in Weyland’s XIX TAC repeatedly complained that logistic

bottlenecks could have been prevented had they been able to establish an indeAir Power for Patton’s Army

30
31

Chart 3

Organizational Chart of the Ninth Air Force, December 8, 1943
pendent administrative channel directly to AAF supply agencies stateside. As

for operational matters, the Ninth like its British counterpart the Second TAF,

looked to the Anglo-American AEAF for direction. Here, the issue of command prerogatives appeared much less clear.

Two weeks after the Ninth Air Force arrived in England, on November

1, 1943, the Allies activated the AEAF under the leadership of Air Chief

Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, the most controversial air commander on

the Allied side. Leigh-Mallory reportedly was possessed of a difficult personality. Yet, personality clashes normally reflect issues of larger importance. In

this case, from the time of his appointment, Leigh-Mallory and the AEAF

became the focus of a complex tug-of-war over command authority involving

not only American tactical air forces but all U.S. and British strategic forces

as well. Recent studies have been more sympathetic to this British officer in

view of the challenges he faced.19 Simply put, Leigh-Mallory believed that he

should have the authority to plan and direct all Allied strategic and tactical air

forces in support of the invasion, rather than simply to coordinate plans and

operations of the AAF’s Ninth Air Force and the RAF’s Second TAF. 

General Spaatz, USSTAF commander, for one, thought otherwise and

opposed the use of strategic air forces against tactical targets in Normandy.

Heavy bombers, he declared, should be employed against strategic targets in

Germany. Moreover, as General Brereton’s diaries make clear, American airmen resisted placing U.S. tactical air forces under a British officer.20 These

issues festered throughout the winter of 1943-1944 as Leigh-Mallory, General

Eisenhower, and the strategic bomber leaders argued over the use and control

Air Power for Patton’s Army

32

Maj. Gen. Lewis H. Brereton
of heavy bombers. Eventually, Eisenhower received the authority he needed to

use the strategic bombers in support of Overlord objectives. But in tactical

matters, the AEAF’s authority was more clearly drawn. According to the Joint

Operations Plan for the invasion, Ninth Air Force would “execute air operations in the U.S. sector as directed by AEAF” and together with Second TAF,

would support ground forces “in coordination with AEAF.”21 As it turned out,

the various tactical agencies cooperated reasonably and efficiently after the

invasion.

Jurisdictional disputes among the top commanders, however, seldom

affected leaders at lower echelons who, like General Weyland, had excellent

relations with their fellow airmen and army counterparts. In any case, Weyland

and his colleagues had challenges enough to face in building up their forces,

training for the invasion, fighting enemy air forces in Operation Pointblank,

and participating in the attacks against German rocket and buzz bomb launching sites on the continent.

Manning and Equipping the Assault Forces

General Weyland’s XIX TAC, headquartered at Aldermaston Court, near

Reading in Berkshire, in February 1944 consisted of 30 officers and 77 enlisted men—but it counted no pilots or aircraft. The XIX TAC was a subordinate

element of the IX Fighter Command led by General Quesada, recently arrived

from the Middle East with the original Ninth Air Force contingent. The Ninth

Air Force was a tactical air force, and its IX Fighter Command controlled the

Preparing for Joint Operations

33

Air Marshal Leigh-Mallory

presides at a squadron briefing.
fighter and fighter-bombers employed in the close air-support role. Both airmen, in effect, wore more than one command hat. Quesada commanded the IX

Fighter Command with its two subordinate air support commands, the IX and

XIX TACs, and commanded the IX TAC, while Weyland served as his deputy

commander at IX Fighter Command headquarters at Uxbridge and as commander of the XIX TAC. 

General Quesada directed the equipping and training of both air support

commands. Quesada’s IX TAC received priority over Weyland’s XIX TAC for

personnel and equipment during the buildup in England. The former support

command, augmented by fighter groups later destined for Weyland’s command, would be the first to deploy to airfields in France in support of the

lodgement and breakout. Weyland’s XIX TAC would become operational on

the continent, along with the Third Army, after the breakout. Initially, air leaders planned to inactivate IX Fighter Command once the two tactical air commands, as they were redesignated in April, had grown to full combat strength.

The fighter command proved too valuable as an operational coordinating

agency, however, and did not inactivate until the last fighter-bomber group

deployed to the continent in late July 1944.22

Generals Weyland and Quesada also contrasted with respect to personality, leadership style, and the experience each brought to the European theater.23 Unlike Weyland, Pete Quesada, to use his own words, had an impulsive

personality. A hands-on leader, he enjoyed flying combat missions with

younger pilots (he was 40 years old in 1944). His assignments included duty

as an aide to key Air Corps and political figures and as chief of the Air Corps’

foreign liaison section. He had attended courses at the Air Corps Tactical

School and the Army’s Command and General Staff School when, as commander of XII Fighter Command, he left North Africa for England, he brought

to his new Ninth Air Force post tactical operations experience, an appreciation

for technical innovation, and tremendous energy and drive. Responsible for

directing all tactical air training and operations for fighter-bomber groups in

the United Kingdom, he would lead IX TAC in operations supporting the First

Army, commanded initially by General Bradley in Normandy and, after the

breakout, by General Hodges. The First Army would operate on the Third

Army’s left flank in the drive across France.

If Quesada had arrived in England several months before Patton, and if

his combat experience made him the best choice to direct training in England

and tactical air operations in Normandy, army and air force leaders might have

deliberately avoided putting these two headstrong personalities on the same

air-ground team. By pairing Weyland and Quesada, these complementary personalities were able to contribute to teamwork at IX Fighter Command. Both

brought to their commands extensive tactical experience, a willingness to

innovate, a commitment to air-ground objectives, and the drive to make the

cooperative effort successful.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

34
As for Weyland’s XIX TAC’s staff structure, administratively it represented a normal air support command organization including a chief of staff,

deputy chief of staff, and four assistant chiefs of staff to head the main branches, that is, personnel (A–1), intelligence (A–2), operations (A–3), and supply

(A–4). After a number of personnel changes in the spring of 1944 Weyland

(the ROTC graduate from Texas A&M), assembled a team that remained

mostly together throughout the entire campaign. His chief of staff, Col. Roger

J. Browne (West Point, class of 1929), and his deputy chief of staff, Col. James

F. Thompson, Jr. (West Point, class of 1932), brought to their posts extensive

prewar experience as pursuit and observation (reconnaissance) pilots. The

other officer most directly involved in flying operations, Operations Chief Col.

James Ferguson, rose rapidly after entering the Air Corps in 1936 from a civilian school and, like General Weyland, had received a regular Army commission. He arrived in England as commander of the 405th Fighter Group. In the

forthcoming campaign, Colonel Browne would command the XIX TAC’s rear

headquarters while Colonel Ferguson would direct activities from the command’s advance headquarters, and Colonel Thompson would form a small XRay (small, mobile command post) detachment to keep pace with General

Patton’s rapidly moving command post echelon during the dash through

France. The remaining support branch chiefs consisted of Maj. Robert C.

Byers (A–1), Lt. Col. Charles H. Hallett (A–2), and Lt. Col. Howard F. Foltz

(A–4), all of whom belonged to the Air Corps rather than the regular Army.24

Among the many important attached units supporting the XIX TAC, the

communications and engineer troops proved indispensable. The command’s

operations turned on effective communications and two battalions of Signal

Corps personnel under the command of Col. Glenn C. Coleman (West Point,

class of 1938) constructed and operated equipment for routine command communications as well as the radios and vehicles used for the air support nets.

Over the course of the campaign, Colonel Coleman’s troops developed four

communications networks. The command net linked the command with the

wings and groups as well as adjacent units; the control net centered on the

Tactical Control Center, linking it with the command’s radars, radio intelligence unit, and ground observers; the liaison net tied the command to its tactical air parties at the Army’s corps, divisions, and combat commands; and

finally, the air-ground net included aircraft, ground stations at airfields, and

tactical air parties that moved with the army. The four networks relied on five

types of communication. Air-ground communications used VHF radio while

point-to-point communications employed land-line telephone and teletype,

FM radio telephone and teletype, HF radio, and both ground and air couriers.25

The engineers comprised the second major support group. Based on a

recommendation from Colonel Cole’s Eighth Air Force Observers Report,

Ninth Air Force’s Engineer Command assigned brigades consisting of selfcontained aviation battalions of 27 officers and 760 enlisted men directly to the

Preparing for Joint Operations

35
tactical air commands. Fortunately for the XIX TAC, Col. Rudolf E. Smyser,

Jr., commanded the 2d Aviation Engineer Brigade. A West Point graduate

(class of 1928), Smyser had been a driving force in developing aviation battalions in the prewar Air Corps and had served for two years as Eighth Air

Force’s Engineer Chief. During that time he had visited the North African theater and gained first-hand knowledge of engineering construction requirements for mobile warfare conditions. In the coming offensive, elements of his

battalions would construct or refurbish a total of 43 airstrips using six different types of surfacing material.26

In the spring of 1944, while Ninth Air Force’s engineer and signals officers labored to form operational units for the tactical air commands, General

Weyland wrestled with major command problems of his own. Beginning in

February 1944, Weyland faced four simultaneous challenges: first, building

XIX TAC with the required personnel and equipment; second, properly training all members of the command; third, conducting flying operations in support

of Eighth Air Force bombers; and, finally, participating in air-ground training

with General Patton’s Third Army. Because Quesada’s command received priority for personnel and equipment, the XIX TAC remained a small force until

the spring of 1944. By the end of March, it still totaled only 3,223 personnel in

contrast with IX TAC’s 27,093. The command’s personnel problems extended

beyond insufficient numbers to fill the authorized billets. Technical specialists

remained in short supply, and in some cases, the table of organization did not

include essential functions. One of the most glaring omissions involved air liaison officers to work with the army. Recommendations like those of Colonel

Cole’s North African Campaign analysis and Patton’s lessons learned report on

Air Power for Patton’s Army

36

Major General Quesada
the Sicily operation seem to have escaped the attention of planners at AAF

headquarters in Washington, D.C. Air Staff officials failed to foresee the need

for airmen in air support parties who would work together with army operations

officers down to division level. To meet that need, the tactical air command had

to assign them from existing authorizations, which intensified the overall shortage of personnel in Weyland’s command.27

Within two months, by the end of May 1944, General Weyland’s manning

situation improved considerably. On the eve of D-Day, XIX TAC had grown

from 3,232 to 11,965 officers and enlisted men—though it was not yet half the

size of General Quesada’s IX TAC. The major increase in personnel occurred

when the XIX TAC received its first operational flying units in April 1944.

During the Second World War, in contrast to later practice, it was the fighter

group rather than the wing that served as the primary flying organization.

Then, wings served a coordination and communications function linking the

fighter groups with the headquarters and its associated tactical control center.

During the campaign in France, the command found the wings to be an unnecessary administrative echelon and recommended their elimination in future

operations. Normally, each fighter group consisted of three squadrons for a

total of approximately 200 officers, 800 enlisted, and 75 aircraft.28

Preparing for Joint Operations

37

100 Fighter Wing 303 Fighter Wing

354 FG 358 FG 362 FG 363 FG 36 FG 373 FG 406 FG

(P–51) (P–47) (P–47) (P–51) (P–47) (P–47) (P–47)

The rugged, well-armored P–47 Thunderbolt

proved to be an ideal fighter-bomber.
The 100th Fighter Wing joined Weyland’s command in late March 1944

and became operational on April 15. Its groups already had been in the

European theater for as long as four months under IX TAC control for training

and operations. The 354th Fighter Group, in fact, had been the first operational

fighter group in Ninth Air Force and proudly called itself the Pioneer Mustang

Group. Units of the 303d Wing, however, joined the command directly from

the States and needed two to three weeks to become operational. Even after

both wings achieved operational status in early May 1944 they continued to be

assigned to IX Fighter Command and IX TAC for flying operations, rather

than to the XIX TAC.

The XIX TAC had the distinction of being the only tactical air command

in the theater that flew P–51 aircraft. Both the P–51 Mustang and P–47

Thunderbolt, or Jug, had been designed initially as high-altitude fighters. The

P–51’s six .50-caliber machine guns, superior maneuverability, and extended

range when equipped with drop-tanks made it the ideal aircraft for long-range

escort and fighter sweeps. Because Ninth Air Force visualized the need for at

least a modest P–51 capability to counter the Luftwaffe threat, it retained two

groups, the 354th and 363d Fighter Groups. Although both belonged to

Weyland’s command, the great flexibility of tactical air power made them

readily available, as required, to assist the operations of other Ninth Air Force

tactical air commands. The P–51 proved less capable as a fighter-bomber. Its

liquid-cooled, in-line engine made it more vulnerable to antiaircraft flak and

even small arms fire at low altitudes, and during steep dives it tended to develop stability problems. The well-armored P–47, on the other hand, proved to be

an ideal fighter-bomber. Its ruggedness, turbo-supercharged air-cooled radial

engine, ample bomb-carrying capability, ease of operation and maintenance,

and lower vulnerability to flak damage readily offset its high fuel consumption

and restricted forward visibility. Above all, the Thunderbolt’s eight .50-caliber

machine guns gave it outstanding firepower for strafing—the most important

of the fighter-bomber air support roles.29

The original Ninth Air Force plan called for 1,500 tactical aircraft,

enough to equip each group with 75 planes. The plan provided for an additional 10 aircraft in reserve locally and a further 15 in depot reserve. Planners

predicted a 30 percent attrition-replacement rate for the campaign. However,

normally two months elapsed before a group received its full complement of

75 aircraft. Even then, the new planes usually arrived without their full quota

of associated equipment or requested modifications, which meant that achieving operational capability might be delayed as long as six weeks.30

At XIX TAC headquarters, the officers resented their preinvasion

stepchild status and liked to blame Eighth Air Force’s administrative control

of Ninth Air Force logistics for many of their problems. They believed supply

officers in the strategic forces failed to appreciate the special needs of a tactical force and did not submit their requirements for modifications promptly to

Air Power for Patton’s Army

38
the appropriate organizations stateside. Even so, given the four-month period

from the time Weyland assumed command until D-Day, one marvels that,

despite the speed and the scale in the buildup of forces, the bureaucratic snafus encountered in so enormous an effort never became insurmountable.

Training Underway

To prepare for cross-channel operations, XIX TAC personnel participated in individual and group training programs from the time they arrived in

England until they moved to the far shore. Flexibility and mobility became

instant watchwords. Beginning in December 1943 Ninth Air Force–wide

ground training stressed mobile command post communications exercises.

Aircraft warning and control units had no time to take part, however, which

severely limited the scope and realism of this training. The results seldom

pleased evaluators. As one noted in early 1944, “the most that can be said for

this exercise is that enough mistakes were made to warrant the doubling of

efforts for further Command Post Exercises.”31 In fact, the command post

exercises continued until the spring, when XIX TAC could issue standard

operating procedures for mobile, combined operations.

Ninth Air Force aircrews participated in an especially rigorous flight

training program, General Weyland’s second command challenge. Ground orientation training for new pilots emphasized airdrome procedures, communications, and minor aircraft maintenance and refueling exercises designed to prepare aircrews for the austere airstrip conditions expected in highly mobile

combat operations on the continent.32 Flight training stressed close-air bombing techniques. When new groups began arriving at the end of 1943, General

Quesada immediately focused this program on dive-bombing, skip-bombing,

and low-level attack training. Despite their stateside preparation, new pilots

required many additional hours to master dive-bombing techniques in the

P–47. Moreover, their skills deteriorated because flying operations in early

1944 called for them to provide bomber escort rather than to perform low-level

interdiction missions. Characteristically, Quesada wasted no time in attacking

the problem on several levels. He selected two experienced officers from the

North African Campaign and sent them to operational groups and to RAF

Millfield, which specialized in training flight leaders in low-level attack procedures. As newly arrived P–47 pilot Lt. John J. Burns recalled, shortly after

arriving in England in March 1944 he checked-out in his airplane and then

spent late March and April at “Clobber College” at Atcham, practicing divebombing techniques when not flying operational missions. Quesada also

established a research project at Salisbury Range where a team of pilots and

civilian specialists determined the best bombing techniques for reducing particular targets.33

Preparing for Joint Operations

39
Operational flying became Weyland’s third major challenge during the

preparation phase. Although groups from his 100th Fighter Wing had been flying against the enemy since late 1943, until February 1944 only P–51s flew

bomber escort and photo and weather reconnaissance missions. On February

3, 52 P–47s joined 71 P–51s in support of VIII Bomber Command aircraft

attacking special targets, the high-threat buzz bomb sites in northern France

and Belgium. Together with fighter sweeps, escort missions predominated

with few exceptions until late March, when the Allies could claim air superiority in the skies over Europe.34

The main Allied effort to wrest control of the skies from the Luftwaffe

began in earnest on February 19, 1944, with a six-day assault popularly known

as Big Week. During this period, RAF Bomber Command and the U.S. Eighth

and Fifteenth Air Forces flew more than 4,000 sorties against 23 airframe and

three aero-engine factories in Germany. Supported now by sufficient numbers

of the long-range P–51 Mustang fighter, the bombers could put all of Germany

at risk, and together with the fighters, they dealt the Luftwaffe air defenses a

severe blow. By March, Allied pilots found that Luftwaffe fighters often failed

to challenge them and analysts estimated that the Luftwaffe’s western front

fighter force of 1,410 in early January 1944 had been reduced by more than

500 planes as a result of Big Week and the subsequent air attacks against targets in France and Germany.35

With air superiority over France largely assured, air leaders in March

1944 increasingly sent P–47s over specific areas on the continent to dive-bomb

and strafe interdiction targets of opportunity. Dive-bombing missions that

month for the first time outnumbered bomber escort missions by 45 to 38. The

number of high-altitude fighter sweeps, nonetheless, remained high for both

tactical air commands because they provided good practice in orientation flying

for newly arrived pilots. Fighter-bomber aircrews seemed overjoyed to be flying fewer escort missions for heavy bombers now that Eighth Air Force fighters were on hand in sufficient numbers. Their enthusiasm was quickly tempered

by the danger and challenges of low-altitude interdiction missions. In a perceptive observation, a veteran airman observed: “Our pilots are learning what we

learned in Africa—that air support work is a lot of hard work without the glory

and the huge claims of destroying enemy aircraft that are obtained in escorting

the heavy bombers into Germany.” Yet, high-altitude escort and fighter sweep

assignments were the most characteristic fighter missions, the ones most likely

to produce the traditional dogfight. With air superiority, however, high-altitude

encounter missions that produced dogfights became increasingly rare.36

When the so-called Transportation Plan to isolate the Normandy battlefield began, May 1944 became the busiest flying month prior to D-Day. In one

of the most contentious decisions of the spring, General Eisenhower overruled

the commanders of both the RAF and U.S. strategic bomber forces and diverted them from an exclusive bombing of the German homeland to attacks

Air Power for Patton’s Army

40
against transportation facilities in France. Of the five key target groups—

coastal batteries, radar stations, marshaling yards, airfields, and bridges—aircraft of the two tactical air commands concentrated their efforts against the latter three. Attacks on railroad and highway bridges in northern France became

crucial in preventing a timely German reinforcement of Normandy defenses.

By D-Day, the Allied air assault on 12 railroad and 14 highway bridges over

the Seine River delayed significantly all crossings below Paris.37

Well before D-Day, the Allies planned and directed all tactical air operations from Uxbridge, near London. In early February 1944, the AEAF and its

two tactical commands, the Ninth Air Force and Second TAF, established their

advance headquarters in Hillingdon House, Uxbridge, where a short time later

IX Fighter Command’s advance headquarters joined them. At Hillingdon

House, the commands operated side by side with the RAF’s 11 Group in a

combined control center that directed all Allied fighter operations. Later, the

British 21st Army Group and U.S. First Army personnel arrived at the center

to coordinate the air-ground request system for the invasion. The combined

control center later would direct air support operations on D-Day.38

In March 1944, General Weyland’s command began controlling its own

aircraft operations, thereby relieving IX TAC of operational responsibility.

Early that month Weyland sent 10 officers and 14 enlisted signal corps controllers to the RAF’s Biggen Hill sector control center for training. In late

March, his command began moving flying units of both wings to advanced

landing grounds (ALGs) in southeast Kent (Map 2). Deployed in full view

opposite the Pas de Calais region of France, XIX TAC units comprised an

important element of Operation Fortitude, the grand deception that convinced

the Germans that the Allied invasion would come from “Army Group Patton,”

directed against Calais.39

The ALGs in Kent were designed to resemble those planned for the continent. They proved to be excellent sites for mobility training and for operating under rather stark conditions, but they lacked adequate housing, sufficient

water supplies, and road networks able to support operations under combat

field conditions. Even though the objective called for operating only with

essential support, the airstrips still needed basic operating equipment and supplies. General Weyland spent a good part of his time in April and May 1944

working to obtain sufficient fuel supplies, to upgrade the road networks, and

to improve overall operations at the ALGs. This would prove good practice for

conditions he shortly would encounter in France.40 By the end of May, XIX

TAC had 2,000 men under canvas at each airstrip. Preparing the ALGs and

conducting operational flying, however, made joint field training with Third

Army more unlikely as D-Day approached. Even so, air-ground training progressed considerably over the late winter and spring of 1944.

Preparing for Joint Operations

41
Map 2

Ninth Air Force Installations: June 1, 1944

SOURCE: Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Effectiveness of Third Phase Tactical Air Operations,” p. 47, AFHRA.
The Issue of Joint Training

Joint training among air and ground elements, another major part of the

training program, represented a fourth challenge for General Weyland.

Because the Ninth Air Force had moved to England for the express purpose of

conducting joint operations with field armies, training in air-ground organization and procedure was a priority. Although the planners stressed joint training

from the start, Ninth Air Force officials seldom seemed to move from theoretical and organizational instruction to actual air-ground exercises in the field. A

recent study attributes this condition to recalcitrant airmen who expressed traditional hostility toward ground support requirements: “the prewar attitude

that close air support of ground forces was not a priority air mission still prevailed among flyers at all levels.”41 This conclusion overlooks entirely the real

impediments to joint training and the wide degree of cooperation among air

and ground leaders that existed in the last few months before Overlord. To be

sure, Generals Arnold and Spaatz and other leading airmen remained sensitive

to any perceived threats to air force control of air resources. After the North

African experience General Follett Bradley, as well as Generals Arnold, Kuter,

and others, believed the term air support was used too freely, implied a subservient role, and should be changed. That specific term did not appear in FM

100–20, Arnold advised his fellow airmen. The 1943 field manual prescribed

“coequal operations,” whereby “one force does not support the other in the

sense the word was used in the past.” He recommended substituting the phrase

“in cooperation with” in place of “air support.”42 Such sentiments already had

produced a notable change in terminology when, in April 1944 AAF headquarters redesignated all air support commands as tactical air commands.

Indeed, all postwar XIX TAC publications on operations in Northwest Europe

would refer only as to its aerial action being “in cooperation with” Third

Army.43 This emphasis on coequality and air prerogatives characterized the

view in Washington that produced FM 100–20 at the close of the North

African Campaign in 1943, and it would reemerge near the war’s end. Army

Air Forces leaders took their stand not on the practical lessons learned on the

field of combat, but on doctrine as it was expressed in FM 100–20. 

Fortunately for Overlord, airmen in the field paid scant attention to pronouncements that reflected doctrinal concerns in Washington, D.C. Indeed,

General Quesada’s IX TAC historian, writing in April 1944 on behalf of IX

and XIX TACs, seemed to express the sentiment in England. Delays in beginning air support training did not occur as a result of “traditional hostility”

toward the ground support mission, he observed, but rather resulted from the

emphasis in early 1944 on escorting heavy bombers.44 This escort experience

reinforced air force doctrine that properly stressed gaining air superiority as

the first priority. Following the successes of Big Week, and as planners adoptPreparing for Joint Operations

43
ed the Transportation Plan in April, Ninth Air Force fighter-bomber pilots

found themselves flying interdiction missions—an airman’s second priority

according to doctrine—almost exclusively until the D-Day invasion.

Consequently, precious little time could be spared for close air support joint

training. Actual close air support operations would have to await ground combat on the continent. In short, theater requirements dictated specific air operations in preparation for the assault on France, and those requirements converged with the air leaders’ doctrinal preferences. Together, they explain the

failure to conduct extensive air-ground training much more completely than do

simpleminded explanations that rely on a traditional hostility of airmen toward

the close air support mission.

If the Overlord buildup, training program, and operational commitments

precluded a sustained joint field training effort, at least the airmen could seize

the opportunity to spread their understanding of air-ground responsibilities.

They did so by providing lectures on joint operations, sending personnel on

field trips to the combat zone in Italy, assigning air and ground liaison personnel to designated units, and when feasible, conducting small-scale air-ground

activities. Tactical airmen implemented all of these measures cooperatively

without reference to the formal doctrinal pronouncements of FM 100–20.45

As for the forces of Weyland and Patton, the special challenge to cooperative efforts in England resulted from their relatively late arrival in the theater and the lengthy period required for both organizations to become operational. Third Army officers spent most of their time supervising the buildup

Air Power for Patton’s Army

44

Lt. Gen. “Hap” Arnold,

commander of

U.S. Army Air Forces,

on his way to visit the

Ninth Air Force in the

Middle East following the

Casablanca Conference.
and conducting essential orientation training for their personnel. Weyland’s

command, in the meantime, received its first fighter-bomber groups and began

meeting a full operational flying commitment. Under these circumstances, in

the time available, Third Army and XIX TAC officers could hardly be expected to conduct effective joint field training.

Both XIX TAC and Third Army officers realized the importance of

acquiring airfields in France as rapidly as possible and they jointly identified

potential sites. The Army intelligence officers based their analyses on reconnaissance photography obtained by the Ninth Air Force at Third Army’s request

beginning in March 1944. In another move designed to enhance cooperation

and to provide realistic training for ground elements, on April 11 XIX TAC

assumed responsibility from Ninth Air Force’s Director of Reconnaissance for

meeting all Third Army requirements.46 In early May, Third Army assigned its

first group of ground liaison officers to XIX TAC units. By the middle of the

month, the army operations officer could affirm that those plans requiring air

force support had been discussed with XIX TAC, with “many such conferences...held before plans were considered final.”47 Referring to joint air-ground

efforts in England in early 1944, another air operations officer affirmed:

Little was known at that time about the actual close AirGround Cooperation that we were later to experience. It was

up to the Air-Ground Cooperation Officers themselves to

work out ideas, try different methods, argue with one another, and finally arrive at a uniform method of operation....

When the time came for the actual invasion, the Air-Ground

Officers who found themselves fifth wheels originally with

the ground forces were by then an integral part of the unit

upon which the Commanding General relied for maximum

help.48

This officer’s enthusiasm over the progress achieved by the liaison officers on

D-Day was not entirely warranted, particularly since most had no joint field

practice or combat experience in North Africa on which to rely.

As for Weyland and Patton, they appear to have spent relatively little

time together before May 1944, the month before D-Day. Weyland, who knew

of Patton’s unhappy experience with air support in North Africa and believed

that he “came up to England with a rather low opinion...of air power,” acted

to develop good professional and personal rapport with the army commander.

He visited all of Third Army’s corps and division headquarters, where he discussed the role of tactical air power and the lessons learned in the North

African and Italian campaigns. In the latter part of May, Weyland and his intelligence and operations chiefs visited Third Army headquarters to review plans

for their movement to France and projected joint operations in August.49

Preparing for Joint Operations

45
Weyland made a special effort to acquaint Patton directly with tactical air

capabilities and the details of flight planning and scheduling. According to

Weyland, his air base orientation program impressed Patton; moreover, his

visit set the stage for effective XIX TAC–Third Army training in April and

May and made possible the true partnership that emerged in the summer.

Patton did not visit XIX TAC bases until late in May 1944, and his correspondence refers only to a visit on May 27–28 to observe 354th Fighter

Group P–51s return from an escort mission and to hear P–47 pilots of the 362d

Fighter Group plan an interdiction mission against a bridge at Rouen. The airmen impressed Patton with the thoroughness of their flight planning and takeoff precision. To oblige General Weyland, Patton spoke to officers and enlisted men about the importance of teamwork, later observing how these activities “added greatly to the entente between the ground and air forces.”50 It must

be added, however, that Patton already possessed a solid understanding and

realistic appreciation of air power. He learned to fly in the early 1920s at

Mitchel Field on Long Island during interludes in one of the polo seasons and

he often flew a private plane during the interwar period. In the spring of 1941,

Patton wrote to an airman friend: “I am personally getting so air-minded that

I own an aeroplane.” Late that summer he flew his own light airplane as the

senior umpire in the Louisiana maneuvers of IV Corps. Thereafter, he experimented with the use of light planes in a variety of combat missions, which

doubtless contributed to the Army ground forces adopting and employing

them extensively in liaison and medical evacuation roles.51

In a larger sense, Patton certainly understood that air support had

become critical to an Army that emphasized mobility over firepower. Indeed,

with the rapid expansion of the air arm beginning in 1941, War Department

planners made a conscious decision to provide the army primarily with light

and medium artillery and to rely on tactical aviation for additional heavy

artillery support. Significantly in North Africa, Patton went from the outburst

at Gafsa for the support he needed, to praises in Tunisia for the tactical air support he received, knowing full well the role of this support for mechanized

warfare.

Patton’s after-action report on the Sicily campaign revealed a perceptive

student of tactical aviation’s capabilities and limitations.52 During amphibious

operations, for example, he advocated limited use of an air umbrella—and

only if the “mastery of the air permits” air forces to maintain it to thwart counterattacks. His solution called for aircraft circling 10 minutes of every hour

over sensitive areas at the front, with a secondary bombing mission assigned

to them afterward. If these aircraft possessed radio communication with the air

support unit on the ground, “any counterattack can be met from the air.”53 This

novel approach to the controversial issue of a permanent, orbiting air umbrella would be followed in principle in the Normandy invasion and in practice by

Weyland’s XIX TAC in its support of Patton’s rapid drive across France.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

46
Patton readily accepted the proposition that controlling enemy activities

in the air was “solely a function of the air,” while interdiction or bombing

ahead of the ground forces required teamwork for success through target selection from the ground side and a bomb line chosen in conjunction with air officers, one that was easily identifiable from the air. Patton’s assessment of close

air support deserves special mention for its realism. One should not “count on

a very great effect” from air support, he said, until air units had trained extensively with ground forces. The airman’s “primary mission was...attacking targets which are adversely affecting the progress of the ground troops [when]

called for by the ground.” Patton did not advocate control of the air forces by

the ground commander, nor did he have any sympathy for ground officers and

their troops who expected too much from the air arm. It would be “illusory” to

expect fighter-bombers to destroy roads and railways, Patton conceded,

because direct hits seldom occurred and, in any case, such targets required

constant attention to keep them inoperable.54

Relying on his experience in Operations Torch and Husky, to improve

air-ground support, Patton recommended extensive joint planning that would

include the assignment of well-trained air staff officers to all division and

higher G–3 operations sections, more extensive training for radio operators in

air-support parties, and joint exercise training among air-support parties and

pilots in units earmarked for combat.55 Thus, in England, Weyland could arrive

at a basic understanding with Patton about control over air operations with far

less difficulty than he at first might have supposed. “I had full control of the

air,” Weyland, with some satisfaction declared later, “The decisions were mine

as to how I would allocate the air effort.”56

Considering the team, one might expect Patton to have ridden roughshod

over his subordinate and junior air commander whose mission, after all, was

to support his Third Army in the field. That did not occur, and Patton’s

response to Weyland’s orientation program helps explain much about his airmindedness. Patton expressed great interest in what he saw, complimented the

airmen accordingly, and spoke about the importance of air-ground teamwork

for future operations. If Patton possessed no direct command authority over

Weyland and the XIX TAC, he praised them and appealed to their sense of

mission. Patton nonetheless was a lieutenant general and Weyland a brigadier

general in the same service, and a deferential, if not command, relationship

always characterized their association. Beyond this, Patton realized that he had

in Weyland an air commander who believed that ground forces deserved all the

assistance his command could provide, an air commander who, if he had

resources available, was willing to overlook convention and doctrinal precepts

to provide that assistance whenever it was needed. Weyland always believed

that Patton remained faithful to their original agreement, that the air commander would retain full control of the air forces, even if at times some Third

Army staff officers did not. Because of the basic understanding and rapport

Preparing for Joint Operations

47
between the two commanders, the contentious issue of command and control

of tactical aviation never became serious.57 General Patton took pleasure in

supporting the airmen and referred to the XIX TAC–Third Army association

as the most outstanding example of air-ground cooperation in his combat

experience. Others with more claim to objectivity would echo his sentiments. 

Whatever the initial success and future promise of XIX TAC–Third

Army cooperative efforts in the late spring of 1944, joint training on the whole

continued to worry Allied leaders. In early May, as D-Day approached,

General Montgomery, who commanded the invasion land forces, expressed his

dismay in a letter to Patton—his Sicilian nemesis—and most likely in identical copies to other ground force commanders as well. He decried the apparent

separation between the armies and their supporting tactical air forces in

England. To link them into “one fighting machine,” the two sides needed to go

beyond paying lip service to the principle of cooperation and establish the

actual procedures and methods necessary for success. Recalling the unity

achieved in North Africa, he counseled Patton to consider establishing air and

ground headquarters side-by-side, integrating air and ground personnel at all

organizational levels, and never move his army without consulting his air

headquarters. Indeed, Montgomery observed, an army should take no action

before first asking: “How will this affect the air?” Every pilot supporting

ground forces likewise had to realize his only function was to aid the army in

winning the land battle. This meant “coming right down and participating in

the land battle by shooting up ground targets.” Air commanders were currently working hard on this aspect of the problem, Montgomery averred, and he

urged Patton to give the matter his personal attention because much needed to

be done and little time remained available.58

General Patton replied on May 7, the day after observing an “air circus”

staged by Ninth Air Force for Third Army, one in which he went aloft for a

flight in a Mosquito fighter. Patton promised Montgomery that he would do all

he could to implement the proposals for air-ground cooperation despite current

difficulties. His own “warm personal relationships with Air Force commanders...and the mutual understanding which we have,” Patton declared, “will, I

am quite sure, make our complete cooperation everything that you can

desire.”59 Although collocating the air and ground headquarters would have to

await movement to the continent, Patton promoted a Third Army–XIX TAC

program of joint training that intensified in May. 

General Bradley, at that time commander of the First Army, also criticized Allied air-ground training in the spring of 1944. He complained of the

indifference shown by Ninth Air Force commander General Brereton when

requested to participate in air-ground field exercises and training. “As a result

of our inability to get together with air in England,” Bradley said later, “we

went into France almost totally untrained in air-ground cooperation.” At the

same time, however, he conceded that enemy rocket and buzz bomb launching

Air Power for Patton’s Army

48
sites and other high-priority targets demanded a heavy flying commitment

from Brereton’s forces until May. Yet, when in the final few weeks before DDay, Brereton notified Bradley that his air forces had now been released for

training with the army, Bradley told him it was too late.60

Important Allied operational flying commitments, which continued until

the time of the actual invasion, must be judged the most crucial roadblocks to

effective air-ground training in England prior to D-Day. These commitments

conformed to tactical air power mission priorities—air superiority first, then

isolation of the battlefield. By achieving them in the spring of 1944, the air arm

insured that the invasion would succeed and that the close air support mission

could become a major focus of tactical air operations on the continent. If in

1944 the best efforts of air and ground leaders to pursue joint training in

England fell well short of the mark, it occurred for reasons other than doctrinal disputes or personal disagreements. Between Third Army and XIX TAC,

however, considerable joint planning had taken place, and a wide variety of

joint training contributed to better understanding on both sides. 

Normandy: On the Job Training

Final plans for the great cross-channel assault in the late spring of 1944

called for the British Second Army and the U.S. First Army to land 176,000

troops on the first day at five designated beaches on the Normandy coast

between the Seine River and the Cherbourg peninsula (Map 3).61 British and

Canadian forces assaulting Sword, Juno, and Gold beaches on the eastern edge

of the channel landing zone in the Bayeux-Caen area were to move inland and

converge on Caen, whose capture then would open the most direct path to

Paris. American forces assaulting Omaha and Utah beaches on the western

edge of the channel landing zone were to link up with their British and

Canadian allies along the coast and then move west and north to capture the

Cherbourg peninsula with its important port city. The British 6th Airborne

Division would drop to earth northeast of Caen to protect the British flank,

while the American 82d and 101st Airborne Divisions would perform a similar role on First Army’s flank near Ste-Mère-Eglise. 

In the channel, Allied naval forces were to provide transports for troops

and supplies as well as fire-support ashore to neutralize enemy positions.

Overhead, a continuous, orbiting Allied air umbrella would counter Luftwaffe

attacks, while additional fighters would fly close air support missions to help

the progress of the ground forces ashore. The Allies hoped the major air interdiction operation, intervention by the French Resistance underground army of

200,000, and fear of the real invasion at Calais would prevent the Germans

from mounting an overwhelming counterattack against the first troops ashore

in Normandy.

Preparing for Joint Operations

49
Map 3

The Normandy Battlefield

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 48, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
The Allies also counted on some uncertainty and confusion among

German commanders to aid in Overlord’s success. Field Marshal Gerd von

Rundstedt, Wehrmacht commander in chief in the west, favored a mobile

reserve to thwart an Allied amphibious attack, unlike his nominal subordinate,

Army Group B commander Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. Specifically charged

with defending the channel coast with the Seventh Army in Normandy and

Brittany, and with Fifteenth Army in the Pas de Calais region, Rommel advocated an extensive array of relatively simple coastal defenses as the best

response. Rommel’s experience in North Africa convinced him that Allied air

superiority would render a mobile reserve ineffective.

Both Wehrmacht commanders, however, faced additional constraints

from the Reich’s Chancellor Adolf Hitler and his staff in Berlin, whose claims

on military prerogatives embraced decisions on troop disposition and movement in the field—military prerogatives normally reserved to field commanders. In this regard, Allied leaders hoped their elaborate deception plan would

convince Hitler to keep the stronger Fifteenth Army positioned near Calais

well after D-Day to face the expected assault from Army Group Patton. In

early June, the German Fifteenth Army contained 19 divisions, with five

Panzer divisions back-stopping it. The German Seventh Army, on the other

hand, comprised 13 divisions, but only six were stationed in Normandy, and

only one Panzer division back-stopped them. Two of its Panzer divisions were

still in southern France. As for the Luftwaffe, Allied intelligence officers

believed that it could not play a decisive role during the invasion because the

Allied air assault in late winter and early spring had left half of the estimated

400 Luftwaffe fighters in France nonoperational. Nevertheless, despite having

massed the largest amphibious force in history against an enemy severely

weakened after four years of warfare, an Allied success in securing a lodgement in Normandy remained far from assured.

No one realized the risks involved in Overlord more keenly than did

Supreme Commander General Eisenhower, who elected to launch the invasion

on June 6, one day later than planned and in spite of bad weather. D-Day events

on Omaha beach, in particular, almost convinced Eisenhower and Bradley to

call off the assault. High seas and poor visibility scattered American troops and

they unexpectedly faced murderous fire from the crack German 352d Infantry

Division, which, unbeknownst to Allied intelligence, had been in position for

the previous three months. Despite suffering more than 2,000 casualties at

Omaha, the Americans by nightfall had 34,000 troops ashore on a narrow strip

of land less than two miles deep. German resistance at the three British beaches also proved tenacious, while American airborne units that landed behind

Utah beach lost 2,500. Only at Utah did the Allies get ashore without difficulty. Tenacity and good leadership helped the Allies gain toeholds on all five

beaches by the end of D-Day. During succeeding days, the Allies would continue to bring troops and supplies ashore and extend the lodgement area while

Preparing for Joint Operations

51
the German High Command, still believing Calais to be the main landing site,

held the Fifteenth Army in place for an invasion that never came.

The period in Normandy from D-Day, June 6, to August 1, 1944, served

the Ninth Air Force in many ways as a practical laboratory in which airmen

and ground force officers experimented with joint air-ground methods and

techniques. In effect, they acquired on-the-job training. Initially, the Allies

planned to control all tactical air support for the invasion from the Uxbridge

headquarters in England. Accordingly, Leigh-Mallory’s AEAF was authorized

to direct the air effort by coordinating the responsibilities of the two tactical air

forces, the Ninth and the Second TAFs. As the invasion began, Ninth Air Force

officers planned their missions side-by-side with their 21st Army Group counterparts in the Uxbridge Combined Control Center. 

In Operation Neptune, codenamed for the initial assault and lodgement

on the Normandy coast, naval flagships and direction tenders provided an

important intermediate communications link. Air representatives on board the

USS Ancon and USS Bayfield, stationed off Omaha and Utah beaches, respectively, received requests for air support from air control parties on shore at each

division and corps headquarters, and they passed them on to Uxbridge for

action. Thereafter, although the combined control center provided flying control of strike aircraft by directing them to the general area, aircrews located and

attacked their targets.62 The air plan called for tactical air forces to fly four primary missions in support of the invasion force: five groups would provide

beach cover; two groups, along with four from VIII Fighter Command, would

fly convoy cover; five groups comprised a striking force against special coastal

Air Power for Patton’s Army

52

Dicing shots of the formidable defenses at Normandy Beachhead,

taken by the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group one month before D-Day,

provided the information needed to prepare the assault.
batteries and bridges; and six more groups remained on call, available to attack

targets on the scene in cooperation with ground forces.63

The highly centralized Uxbridge control system proved unworkable from

the start. For one thing, the USS Bayfield experienced communications difficulties and depended on the USS Ancon to relay messages. More serious, air

support party officers on the ground could not transmit radio messages over the

long distance directly to Uxbridge. Unable immediately to land the bulky

SCR–399 high-frequency radio equipment, which possessed a range of 100

miles, planners had to substitute the 25-mile range SCR–284, a standard

infantry radio, in its place. This meant unacceptable delays for immediate mission requests, which were supposed to be referred directly, and not to be

relayed, from the English Channel to the combined control center for approval.

That led Uxbridge officials to authorize the senior air representative aboard the

USS Ancon, Col. Larry N. Tindal, IX TAC’s operations officer, to assume additional responsibilities.

Initially, Tindal and his First Air Combat Control Squadron handled flying control and detection of enemy aircraft. After D-Day he passed targets

from liaison officers in the forward areas and reconnaissance pilots directly to

fighter-bombers that were available for his use. He also received word of mission results and passed it on to the appropriate ground units. In effect, the

senior air representative performed the function of controller in addition to

serving as the communications link for immediate, or call, missions. As air and

Preparing for Joint Operations

53

The D-Day assault.
ground leaders who served in North Africa already knew, responsive and

effective air-ground operations demanded greater decentralization. The campaign ahead would demonstrate that centralized air command seldom functioned effectively, especially in emergency situations. In France, the reality of

combat rather than doctrinal abstractions of FM 100–20 (1943) decided the

conduct of air-ground operations.64

Although airmen flew their missions as prescribed by the tactical air plan,

they found relatively little action on D-Day and the week after the landing.

General Weyland’s XIX TAC pilots participated in the first two assignments,

beach and convoy cover, by escorting troop carriers, flying area patrol missions,

and providing top cover over the assault area. On D-Day they sighted only three

enemy FW 190s and easily drove them off. The Luftwaffe’s failure to contest

the landing demonstrated for all just how overwhelming Allied air superiority

had become. General Quesada’s IX TAC groups, meanwhile, handled interdiction and close air support responsibilities. Army–air cooperation, the airmen’s

fourth D-Day mission assignment, proved especially interesting. The Army

submitted only 13 requests for air support on D-Day, and the controllers refused

five. The missions fell almost evenly between armed reconnaissance against

transportation targets and dive-bombing of coastal batteries and gun positions

farther in shore. Significantly, none of these requests originated from the air

support liaison officers assigned to the forward units. Left mostly to their own

devices, aircrews quickly realized the difficulty of locating and attacking targets

in Normandy where one hedge-row so often looked like another.

The USS Ancon remained the designated control facility until June 10

when control passed to IX TAC’s 70th Fighter Wing headquarters, which had

arrived the day before at Cricqueville (site A–2), three miles inland from

Omaha beach. On June 9, IX TAC personnel also arrived to establish their

advance headquarters next to First Army headquarters at Au Gay. Henceforth,

IX TAC would control all flying in support of First Army in Normandy, even

though Weyland’s XIX TAC pilots would remain assigned to his command. By

June 13 this advance command post began assuming operational control

through the 70th Fighter Wing and its fighter control center, although preplanned missions continued to be handled by Uxbridge.

The Allies took a major step during the night of June 17-18, 1944, when

they authorized IX TAC to operate the air support communications and control

net at Au Gay and First Army to establish the bomb line. This consisted of an

imaginary line just in front of the ground forces. All flying attacks between the

ground forces and the bomb line became close air support and required army

coordination and close flying control. Now IX TAC and First Army planned

and controlled air support missions on the continent, while Uxbridge allocated

the tactical air effort and handled only those missions the continent-based joint

headquarters deemed beyond their capability. Meanwhile, a few days earlier on

June 10, 1944, General Quesada’s IX TAC also assumed operational control of

Air Power for Patton’s Army

54
all Ninth Air Force units operating from bases in Normandy. General Weyland,

for his part, remained in England to command IX Fighter Command, which

retained operational control of IX and XIX TAC units in the United Kingdom

until they established airstrips in France. This arrangement continued until the

end of July. In keeping with preinvasion aerial plans, Normandy would be a IX

TAC show, with Weyland’s XIX TAC in a supporting role.65

This new control system received a major baptism of fire at Cherbourg,

the port the Allies eagerly sought as a supply depot. On June 21, VIII Corps

requested massive air support for its final assault on the fortress city. With less

than 48 hours to prepare closely coordinated attacks, Generals Brereton and

Quesada decided to send all available Ninth Air Force bombers and fighterbombers against German strong points and fortifications in a large area south

and southwest of Cherbourg on the afternoon of June 22. First Army and IX

TAC officers selected the targets and planned the missions. Preceded by strikes

from ten squadrons of British Second TAF aircraft, Ninth Air Force sent one

group of fighter-bombers over the target area every five minutes for an hour to

bomb and strafe targets that the army identified by colored smoke. Tactics

included dive-, skip-, and glide-bombing from heights as low as 200 feet.

Medium and light bombers followed for a second hour against pinpoint targets. Despite the effort on that day, VIII Corps made little progress and failed

to capture the fortress until June 26. Additional P–47 missions on a much

smaller scale continued against Cherbourg until it capitulated.66

Preparing for Joint Operations

55

Armorers attach a 500-lb. bomb to a Thunderbolt.
The airmen expressed more displeasure with these results than the

ground leaders did. Although Ninth Air Force officials agreed that the June 22

attacks helped hasten the capture of the city by 48 hours, their after-action

report described planning deficiencies, poor use of the tactical force, and an

inordinately high cost in terms of pilots lost and equipment and ordnance

expended. Airmen at Uxbridge had prepared detailed plans without specific

target information or army representation, which meant that the large area

selected for attack did not permit sufficient concentration of forces against specific targets. Furthermore, the aerial attack occurred without on-the-scene

ground-to-air control, which resulted in targets being missed or otherwise ineffectively attacked. Moreover, fighter-bombers attacked fixed fortifications,

which the report’s authors considered poor targets for tactical aircraft. They

questioned this use of air power as flying artillery. 

When measured against the results, they declared that the cost of the

Cherbourg aerial operation—25 aircraft lost and an additional 46 severely

damaged—seemed excessive. If the air attacks shattered enemy morale, at

least for a short period, Allied ground forces failed to attack swiftly enough to

take advantage of that demoralization. Therefore, the report concluded,

thought should be given to moving forward ground elements within 500 yards

of the bomb line, regardless of the risk. Yet, the challenge of coordinating swift

Allied ground attacks after airmen had softened up enemy positions would

continue to bedevil planners throughout the campaign.67

The Cherbourg operation made absolutely clear that major air-ground

operations required extensive, coordinated joint planning and execution under

close control of air liaison officers assigned with ground forces. It left open the

question whether the use of light tactical fighter-bombers employed against

fortified positions could be justified in terms of damaging enemy morale, if

they proved unable to do serious damage to the actual fortifications. In any

event, as a consequence of Cherbourg, the tactical air command–army joint

operations team gained immediate prominence as the central agency for planning and conducting air-ground operations in Normandy.

Air-Ground Support System Refined

Just a few short weeks after the Cherbourg operation, IX TAC and First

Army established an effective air-ground mission request system based on FM

31–35 (1942) and the North African experience. It would serve as the model

for Third Army and XIX TAC, and for other future tactical air-ground support

operations in Europe. (Chart 4 depicts the close air support request system as

it functioned in mid-July 1944.) The key feature involved close coordination

between air and ground representatives at every level. This was achieved by

collocating army and tactical air command headquarters in the combat operaAir Power for Patton’s Army

56
57

Chart 4

Air Support Mission Request System, July 1944
Air Power for Patton’s Army

58

tions center, the nerve center directed by the tactical air command’s combat

operations officer. He worked side by side in a large tent with his army counterpart, the ground forces air intelligence officer, and his staff. Likewise, air

intelligence personnel worked together to coordinate visual and photographic

reconnaissance and artillery adjustment requests. Coordination continued

throughout the system with air representatives, termed air support party officers, assigned to work with army air intelligence officials at all division and

corps headquarters. Similarly, the army assigned ground liaison officers at

wings, groups, and reconnaissance squadrons to work with their air force intelligence officer counterparts.68

This air-ground system is best understood by following the course of

requests for preplanned and immediate air support missions.69 As a rule, the

army initiated preplanned requests at divisional level after discussion between

the army operations officer and the air liaison officer; these two individuals

determined the suitability of a given target for air action. The division request

then went over army phone lines to corps headquarters, which acted as a monitoring or filtering agency responsible for analyzing specific requests for their

impact on the overall corps situation. From the corps, the approved request

travelled by means of an air force teleprinter or SCR–399 radio to the mobile

communications van at the Joint Operations Center. A runner took the message

to the army air operations officer assigned at the unit’s combat operations center. The army representative went to the desk of the air combat operations officer and the two of them decided if the target could be attacked. If approved,

they added it to the target list, which was presented at the regular evening joint

air-ground briefing for operations the next day.

Meanwhile, the air force combat operations officer informed the requesting army unit through the air liaison officer radio net of the approved target

and of the scheduled time of friendly aircraft over the target. If the target was

not approved, the operations officer provided an explanation for its omission.

After the evening briefing, the air combat operations officer prepared the operations order and sent it to a designated fighter-bomber group. There, the group

operations officer normally selected the squadron to fly the mission and the

type of ordnance to be used. Before the flight, the army liaison officer at that

airfield briefed the pilots on the enemy situation, the location of the bomb line,

and any features of interest to the air and ground forces.

A squadron of 12 fighter-bombers performed the basic close air support

mission in Europe. Four flew top cover for the remaining two flights, each

composed of four aircraft, which were assigned to dive-bomb the target.

Before takeoff, the latter aircraft were bombed-up with two 500-lb. bombs

each. About five minutes before the time-over-target, the flight leader checked

in with the air support party officer at army corps or division headquarters on

his SCR–522 VHF radio for any last-minute information on the target. The

army marked these targets within the bomb line with colored smoke. After
much experimentation, the air-ground teams eventually relied on red smoke as

the best for visual identification. After their bombing runs, the pilots passed

their visual reports to the air liaison officer at division or corps level; then all

12 aircraft either strafed in the target area or received permission to fly armed

reconnaissance in enemy territory beyond the bomb line. After returning to

base, both the air intelligence officer and the army liaison officer debriefed the

pilots. The army liaison officer then sent a flash report by phone or radio to the

army air section at the combined operations center. The air intelligence

debriefing report went through air force channels to the wing and the Combat

Operations Center, where it arrived approximately 30–60 minutes after the

ground officer’s flash message. The army air operations officer subsequently

notified ground units of mission results.

Immediate request, or call, missions, were handled in the same manner

but far more rapidly. Reconnaissance and fighter crews often spotted lucrative

targets that required immediate attack. They passed the information to the

operations center at division or corps level through either air liaison officer or

wing command post channels, where army and air operations officers evaluated it. The tactical air command operations officer then either assigned designated alert aircraft to make the attack or diverted aircraft from a previous commitment to the newly chosen target. The latter often were airborne at the time.

General Quesada estimated that immediate requests could be met by his aircraft within 60–80 minutes.

The request system and the entire air-ground joint planning effort turned

on a joint meeting held each evening between key air and ground officers. In

Normandy, Quesada normally attended these meetings; Bradley did so occasionally. The agenda and meeting format established by IX TAC and the First

Army in July 1944 became the standard for joint American air-ground operations planning in the months that followed.70 First, the weather officer analyzed weather for the next 24 hours both in England and in the prospective target areas in France. The air intelligence officer next assessed the past day’s

missions flown by IX TAC in support of army and Ninth Air Force requests.

Then an army ground forces intelligence officer presented the previous day’s

enemy ground activities, including possible upcoming enemy action. The air

intelligence officer returned to discuss targets based on intelligence obtained

that day from visual and photographic reconnaissance reports, enemy prisoner interrogations, and a number of other sources. Based on this information, he

suggested preplanned targets for the next day from the tactical air command

viewpoint. 

The army air operations officer then presented the Army’s plan for

ground operations the following day and submitted the target request list he

had compiled from army corps requests. Normally, he also suggested retaining

a small force of aircraft in reserve to meet immediate requests from corps and

divisions. At this point, the air operations officer allotted tactical air command

Preparing for Joint Operations

59
forces to the various missions identified in the meeting, on the basis of higher

headquarters requests, the ground plan, the weather, enemy movements, and

the availability of his air forces. After allotting these forces, the air operations

section made flying group assignments for the various missions and this information was incorporated in the operations order sent to these units later that

evening. The fighter control center located with 70th Fighter Wing headquarters at Criqueville performed flying control for all U.S. tactical aircraft.

Requests for reconnaissance missions functioned somewhat differently.71 The divisions and corps submitted visual reconnaissance requirements to

the army intelligence officer on duty at the Ninth Air Force combined operations center. To satisfy corps requirements, F–6 (P–51) reconnaissance aircraft

flew the entire army front to a depth of 10–12 miles, four times daily. They

also conducted regular visual reconnaissance in enemy territory to a depth of

200 miles. The air-ground team divided the area into three sectors to be flown

four times a day. Pilots reported potential targets in the clear to the fighter control center by radio. These targets often became immediate requests. Army

liaison officers with the air units also briefed and debriefed the reconnaissance

pilots and passed the information on to the corps.

The camera-equipped F–5 (P–38) aircraft of the 67th Tactical Reconnaissance Group provided a variety of low-level photographic coverage of the

target areas. In July 1944 they flew daily front line coverage to a depth of 10

miles to construct mosaics requested by the corps. They also performed automatic daily photoreconnaissance missions, which included covering specified

airfields, marshaling yards, bridges, and targets that had been attacked previously. In addition to these and other pinpoint target requests, the F–6 aircraft

furnished superb oblique photography requested by the corps headquarters for

artillery adjustment missions. Army officers seldom complained about the

quality of the aerial photography, but in the first few weeks they frequently

found the delay in receiving it to be unacceptable.

The air-ground mission request system that operated in July 1944 might

at first appear overly bureaucratic and involved. Initially, inexperience certainly produced its share of errors and delay. Nevertheless, observers in midJuly praised the system’s effectiveness and observed that procedures adopted

and equipment available had produced a level of competence and effectiveness

that augured well for the campaign challenges ahead. Above all, the air-ground

request system depended on the quality of the airmen and ground force personnel involved. To be sure, officers assigned to air-ground duty had to be

skilled in the practices of their own service and familiar with air-ground procedures and methods. Beyond this, however, the influence exerted by an airman or a ground force officer involved in air-ground operations would disappear if he failed to understand or appreciate the other side’s needs and concerns. Critical missions in support of ground forces, especially those missions

that airmen judged the most dangerous, expensive, and least effective for tacAir Power for Patton’s Army

60
tical air forces to perform, depended on “teamwork, mutual understanding, and

cooperation” among all of the affected air and ground officers.72

In the initial weeks of combat in Normandy, the leaders clearly did not

always have the right people in the right positions. In one of the most perceptive reports on air-ground conditions in Normandy at this time, War Department observer Col. Edwin L. Johnson noted that First Army corps commanders relieved three of their four operations officers assigned to air-ground duty

within two weeks of D-Day. Furthermore, the army replaced three of its 22

ground liaison officers assigned to duty with the air units. Although Johnson

tactfully avoided discussing the reasons for the reassignments, evidence suggests that substandard abilities or poor attitudes accounted for the action. Why

were these officers not identified and eliminated earlier? Perhaps only actual

combat offered the opportunities for assessing personal abilities and for develPreparing for Joint Operations

61

An F–5 with D-Day invasion markings.
oping effective procedures and creating the teamwork required to ensure successful joint operations.73

On the air side, available records do not show a similar turnover in air

liaison officers assigned to army units in the first few weeks. Regardless, many

had problems, if of a different sort. Numerous references allude to army commanders who seemed uninterested in and unwilling to accept advice from

assigned airmen. A sizeable portion of this initial air liaison force consisted of

nonflying observers and communications officers. However well qualified

they might have been, they did not possess the credibility of rated pilots. By

early August 1944, pilots filled most of the liaison officer billets, a solution

made easier by a growing surplus of aircrew officers.74

Beyond the need for participants who understood the requirements of

their air or ground counterparts, a number of other problems affected air-ground

operations. The continental airfield construction program, for example, failed to

meet established schedules. The IX Engineer Command’s plan depended from

the start on the progress of the Allied offensive, and bad weather and tenacious

German resistance in the Normandy hedge-rows slowed the Allied advance.

Moreover, supply channels operating from ship to shore and thence to proposed

ALGs developed bottlenecks that seemed to defy all solutions. After the landing, planners also decided, correctly, that the overwhelming Allied air superiority called for more bases for fighter-bombers and fewer for fighters. That meant

additional material had to be obtained to construct the longer runways for the

heavier fighter-bombers (5,000 feet vs. 3,600 feet). The IX Engineer Command

scheduled an ALG for each fighter-bomber group, with five to be completed by

June 14, eight by the twenty-fourth, and twenty by mid-July. Although the engineers did not meet their schedule for June, by mid-July, only 45 days after the

landing, they had 16 airfields completed in France. As of August 1, only two

groups, including the XIX TAC’s 36th Fighter-Bomber Group, continued to fly

from British bases because French airstrips remained unfinished.75

For the air-ground program, these delays meant that many fighterbomber groups—with their army liaison officers—operated from England

well into July, where bad weather and overloaded communications channels

often made the transmission of information to the ground force headquarters

on the continent impossible. On the other hand, the engineers have been justly praised for their yeoman efforts under extremely challenging circumstances

and changing requirements largely beyond their control. As an interim solution, the planners adopted the roulement system, whereby designated clutches

of airfields received top priority for completion and servicing by mobile airdrome squadrons. In effect, these advance airfields became staging bases for

several units pending completion of other, permanent airstrips. As a result of

this novel policy, the XIX TAC was able to provide crucial air support to Third

Army in its drive across France, even though the air bases remained as much

as 300–400 miles behind the front lines.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

62
Along with other air-ground operating problems that needed an immediate solution, airmen and their civilian research specialists experimented with a

variety of equipment that became important in future operations. Among the

more prominent, the ground-based SCR–584 radar was employed to control

aircraft on blind bombing missions. Developed and used as a gun-laying radar,

first at Anzio, Italy, in early 1944, its accuracy and potential for other functions

led General Quesada to introduce it to guide aircraft that summer. Although

achieving only limited success initially, it proved more effective after considerable experimentation in late fall under conditions of static warfare and bad

weather.76 In another first, P–47s dropped napalm bombs in the European theater on July 17 against camouflaged buildings near Coutances, France. The

pilots reported a lot of smoke and the entire area ablaze. Napalm received its

major test in the campaign to reduce the Brittany forts, after which it became

a mainstay in the fighter-bomber arsenal employed against pillboxes, bunkers,

and other enclosed fortifications.77 In a final example of the use of new

weapons, in mid-July the 406th Fighter Group’s 513th Squadron installed fiveinch high-velocity air-to-ground rockets. Developed by a research team at

Caltech, an earlier model had been tested by IX TAC on ranges in England

during the preinvasion period with little success. On the seventeenth, the

Preparing for Joint Operations

63

The flight leader of the 406th Fighter Group demonstrates both

the effectiveness and risk of low-level attack.
squadron of 12 P–47s, mounting 48 rockets, tested the new weapon on the

Nevers marshaling yard and achieved outstanding results against locomotives

and rolling stock. Although the 406th’s rocket squadron officially remained

unpublicized well into August, German forces in Normandy came to fear its

prowess. The 513th pilots, eventually known as XIX TAC’s Tiger Tamers,

gained a well-deserved reputation for destroying enemy armor with these

rockets. Later in the campaign, Ninth Air Force authorized General Weyland

to convert the remaining two squadrons in the 406th Group for rocket-firing

ground support operations.78

Hedge-Row Fighting to a Breakout

During the so-called Battle of the Hedge-Rows in June 1944, Weyland’s

XIX TAC groups flew primarily interdiction missions as Allied air leaders

mounted an extensive campaign to prevent major German reinforcements

from reaching the French coast. These interdiction targets included the Seine

and Loire rivers, rail and road bridges, marshaling yards, and supply dumps.

Cherbourg proved to be the first major close air support operation for both IX

and XIX TAC units. Thereafter, England-based units, directed by Weyland at

IX Fighter Command’s Uxbridge headquarters, focused on interdiction targets

while, understandably, Quesada’s IX TAC headquarters in Normandy directed the ground-support operation with fighter-bombers based mostly on the

continent. Aircraft from both locations, however, continued to conduct the

escort and beach patrol missions that pilots normally found the least challenging.79

By mid-July 1944, XIX TAC fighter-bombers had gained considerable

experience flying from England and Normandy airfields to attack interdiction

and close control targets. The more experienced 100th Fighter Wing groups

arrived first on the continent, led by the 354th Pioneer Mustang Group, which

was one of two tactical flying units that first deployed from England. By the

middle of July, all four groups of the 100th Fighter Wing flew from Normandy

landing strips under IX TAC operational control.80

The distinction between tactical interdiction and close air support, or

cooperation, missions in Normandy was not always clear. The Ninth Air Force

historian for example, identified attacks on bridges south of enemy positions

at St. Lo on July 16 and 17, 1944, as air-ground cooperation rather than interdiction missions.81 This example illustrates the difficulty of accurately assessing Phase II (interdiction) and Phase III (close air support) operations in

Normandy and throughout the European Campaign. The AAF Evaluation

Board made this point clear at the outset of its important postwar assessment

of Phase III operations, stating categorically that “it is impracticable to distinguish in all instances between Second and Third Phase operations.”82

Air Power for Patton’s Army

64
Traditionally, evaluators have relied on the statistical records to measure

the success or failure of tactical air power. Indeed, air operations in all theaters

in World War II reveal a preoccupation among airmen with verifying and quantifying. Perhaps that reflected the larger issue of promoting the AAF’s view of

itself as a war-winning element with a grandiose postwar future. This is not to

say that statistics are unimportant. Statistics, an Eighth Air Force report on tactical air operations in North Africa declared, provide a method for assessing

mission accomplishment and serve to promote competition, better performance, and a sense of pride among fighter-bomber pilots.83 Over-reliance on

statistical evidence is, nonetheless, unwise. Tactical airmen in Europe found it

impossible to compile accurate statistics regardless of their attempts at objectivity. “The results of individual interdiction missions are hard to assess,” the

Ninth Air Force historian observed, “and the assessment of the work done by

the different types of planes employed is almost equally difficult.”84 Ninth Air

Force mission records show that pilots often reported “unknown” damage to

their targets or “no results observed.” At the other extreme, pilots often made

excessively favorable claims for their bombing prowess. More than likely, the

truth lay in between. A Ninth Air Force report of aerial operations in France

on July 29, 1944, reported fighter-bomber claims for 1,452 motor vehicles, 197

tanks, and 98 horse-drawn carts and wagons destroyed on traffic-congested

roads. At the same time, however, the report conceded that “ground investigation of a portion of the roads subjected to attack indicated that, although

inevitably exaggerated, such claims were not fantastic.”85

Independent verification by ground forces or airborne reconnaissance

seldom proved feasible, nor was it capable of providing absolute answers.

Given the speed of the aircraft, the smoke often encountered in the target area,

the flak menace, and visibility limitations under dive-bombing conditions, aircrew reporting of results could not be entirely accurate. Moreover, it often

proved difficult to distinguish between damage caused by army artillery fire

and fighter-bomber attacks. Weyland and other air force commanders recognized this dilemma early and made every effort to encourage aircrew accuracy and to verify pilot reports by means of reconnaissance photography and

prisoner of war (POW) interrogations. Nevertheless, the problem of accurate

reportage remained unresolved throughout the campaign in Northwest

Europe.86

Even in instances when statistical evidence proved accurate and

unequivocal, it remains questionable whether statistics represent an absolute

means of determining tactical air power effectiveness. The effect of tactical air

operations on the morale of both enemy and friendly troops was and is undisputed. German POWs repeatedly referred to the shattering effects that close air

support had on morale, while Allied ground forces acknowledged that overhead friendly fighter-bombers were a real confidence builder. After the

Cherbourg assault, for example, Ninth Air Force analysts concluded from

Preparing for Joint Operations

65
enemy prisoner reports that “in any operation of this nature the morale effect

is greater than the actual damage.”87 As the commander of the XIX TAC

asserted following an air support mission in July, “the presence of our aircraft

over the front line troops has had an immeasurable effect upon their morale.

When our aircraft are over the front line the use of close in artillery and mortars by the enemy stops.” Overemphasis on statistics could very well obscure

the real significance of the morale factor.88

If tactical air power’s effects could not be measured precisely, enemy

and allied ground force leaders and their troops understood its impact well.

They might sometimes refer to specific examples of physical destruction

caused by tactical air, but they often described its psychological effects in

demoralizing and disorganizing the enemy. Weyland recognized the psychological importance of air power and did not oppose sending fighter-bombers

over a hesitant division to help it jump off. He also allowed his aircraft to

patrol over ground forces to raise morale and keep the enemy’s head down.

Admittedly, overwhelming Allied air superiority allowed Weyland and his fellow airmen the luxury of flying morale missions without jeopardizing other

responsibilities. Such missions always were frowned upon by more doctrinaire

AAF officers who believed airpower should never perform functions best left

to ground-force artillery units. Weyland, like Quesada and a host of other airmen in the tactical air commands, was a pragmatist on issues such as this and

committed his forces in every way he believed they might support or improve

Third Army’s effectiveness in combat.

Leaders of XIX TAC spent much of July in Normandy on joint planning

projects with Third Army personnel. The XIX TAC advance headquarters

arrived on the continent on July 2 at Criqueville, which earlier was the home

base for the 70th Fighter Wing (IX TAC’s fighter control center) and the 354th

Fighter Group. Three days later the forward echelon of Third Army headquarters arrived on Utah beach, and on July 6 its advance headquarters became operational under canvas approximately 15 miles south of Cherbourg, at Nehou.

That very day, XIX TAC advance headquarters moved to join the Third Army

headquarters’ forward echelon at Nehou. Detailed planning for air-ground

cooperation began immediately and continued during the complicated and

lengthy three-week movement of army and air force operational and support

units and personnel to the continent. Much of this planning involved establishing air-ground procedures, analyzing terrain for possible routes of advance, and

allocating air support from fighter-bombers and reconnaissance aircraft.89

Third Army air intelligence personnel referred to this period in

Normandy as a “command post exercise in realities.”90 Prior to August 1944,

Third Army, like its XIX TAC counterpart, played a secondary role to the

forces at the front. Yet, in addition to planning the forthcoming campaign with

the XIX TAC airmen, Third Army sent two officers with knowledge of the air

arm over to the IX TAC–First Army joint headquarters to gain experience

Air Power for Patton’s Army

66
under combat conditions. Also, a number of ground liaison officers already

assigned to Third Army and Ninth Army worked with their First Army counterparts during June and July for the same reasons. The climax of joint training for XIX TAC and Third Army came on July 22, when Patton’s command

received a 12th Army Group directive for the Third Army’s expected mission

when it became operational. In response, Third Army and XIX TAC planners

prepared an employment plan that became a two-day study for all concerned.

Meanwhile, much depended on the results of Operation Cobra which was

scheduled to begin on July 24.91

In contrast to the Cherbourg experience, Cobra resulted from meticulous

joint planning and extensive efforts at coordination between Allied air and

ground forces.92 Cobra called for a concentrated air assault by both strategic

and tactical air forces on German defensive positions concentrated in a 3,000

by 8,000-yard area between St. Lo and Periers at the foot of the Cotentin

peninsula. The assembled aerial assault force consisted of 1,500 heavy

bombers, nearly 400 medium bombers, and 15 groups of Ninth Air Force

fighter-bombers. The object was to blast open a path for massed American

ground forces to advance with four armored columns to the south and southwest where they could destroy and isolate enemy forces and break out of the

Normandy beachhead.93

The difficulty of the earlier Cherbourg operation, the mounting of a successful ground offensive following an air assault designed to destroy and disorient the enemy without bombing friendly troops by mistake, impressed air

and ground leaders. But as successful as Cobra eventually proved to be, it created what could be called a Cobra syndrome that would affect those who

planned future ground offensives involving carpet-bombing near friendly

troops. The tragic bombing of friendly troops by Allied heavy bombers flying

at 12,000 feet produced a false start for Cobra on July 24. A second aerial

effort on the twenty-fifth also caused substantial friendly casualties, including

the former commander of Army Ground Forces (AGF), Lt. Gen. Lesley J.

McNair, but it succeeded in destroying and disorganizing German forces. The

next morning, VIII Corps’ four mobile divisions massed along a one-division

front, moved forward to exploit the gap in the enemy lines under the closest

air-ground cooperative effort to date. 

Quesada’s adventure on the eve of this operation, when he obtained a

Sherman tank and installed in it a VHF radio for communicating directly with

aircraft, is now the stuff of Air Force folklore. Having proved his point to the

satisfaction of Bradley, Quesada provided the lead tank in each armored column with a standard fighter-bomber SCR–522 radio, along with an experienced pilot to serve as an air controller. These air controllers then talked to

continuing relays of fighter-bombers that had been dispatched to cover the

advance of the columns throughout the day. Quesada’s innovation in communications permitted what became known as armored column cover. This was

Preparing for Joint Operations

67
the close air support helping to propel mobile armor operations in tactical warfare that would characterize the battle of France.94

Armored column cover succeeded immediately. At first, relay flights of

four aircraft covered the advance of individual columns, sought out targets of

opportunity, and struck those designated under the authority of the combat command commanders, directed by air force controllers. Coordination occurred

entirely at the local level, with the IX TAC–First Army headquarters allocating

air forces and identifying ground units to be supported. In three days, the airground team moved 30 miles and neared Avranches, southwest of St. Lo on the

Gulf of St. Malo. The pace of advance convinced military planners to maximize

the breakthrough and its opportunity for more rapid movement. They increased

the force covering each armored column from four to eight aircraft. New flights

arrived at hourly intervals to relieve those flights already operating in the target

area. Although both IX and XIX TAC groups flew column cover missions in

the drive beyond the St. Lo roadway, they performed other ground-support

tasks, too. Designated squadrons remained on alert for immediate requests,

while other units flew armed reconnaissance missions.95

With the American breakout proceeding so well, Patton grew restive.

Officially, he and his Third Army had to wait until August 1, 1944, to enter the

fray. At his urging, however, on July 28 Bradley named him acting Deputy

Army Group Commander with operational command of all troops in the VIII

Corps zone. This conformed to plans for VIII and XV Corps to operate under

Third Army. For Weyland and Patton, the long wait had ended. The following

day, on July 29, Weyland arrived from England and reviewed plans with

Patton for operations scheduled to begin on August 1. Two days later both

advance headquarters relocated to an apple orchard five miles northwest of

Coutances. This would be the first of many joint moves as they prepared for

mobile warfare on a grand scale. 

In the past seven months, Weyland’s and Patton’s forces not only trained

together, they fashioned an air-ground plan in which all could believe. At the

same time, XIX TAC pilots and support personnel gained combat experience

in support of the Allied landings in Normandy. During this period, the First

Army–IX TAC air-ground team established a mission request and air-ground

control system that worked. By the end of July 1944, air and ground personnel gained the necessary experience with procedures and equipment to fashion

a very effective close air support system. Moreover, with an enemy now on the

run and Allied air superiority well established, Weyland had every reason to

feel confident. Yet, in the mobile warfare about to commence the air commander would face new air-ground challenges. To meet them, he would be

forced to adopt and test new aerial practices that could not always be based on

prior experience or doctrinal precepts.96

Air Power for Patton’s Army

68
Chapter Three

The Battle for France

The battle for France created unprecedented challenges for Allied tactical air forces. Not even the famed mobile warfare in the deserts of North

Africa could compare with the headlong dash of George Patton’s Third Army

from Normandy southeastward to the German border in the summer and fall

of 1944. At the start of this campaign, O. P. Weyland and his staff could call

on little combat experience beyond directing fighter-bomber operations from

IX Fighter Command in England in June and July of 1944. Now, in France,

Weyland decided how best to support Third Army in what quickly became a

blitzkrieg. At one point in mid-September, the XIX TAC would perform a

variety of missions at five different locations across a 500-mile front. To

keep pace with and support Third Army, Weyland had to modify and adapt

tactical air doctrine and conventional methods of communication and organization.

In all theaters of war, AAF doctrine called for centralized air control,

for the concentrated use of air power, and for tactical missions flown in the

prescribed order of air superiority, interdiction, and close air support. Yet

these precepts, which applied most readily to positional warfare, failed in a

fluid situation that called for selectively applying air power to support constantly moving ground forces dispersed over an expanding front. To direct

aerial attacks on the enemy successfully in this kaleidoscopic environment,

and to move and relocate air bases quickly, Weyland found it necessary to

decentralize operations, disperse his forces, and delegate more authority to

subordinates. In some cases he simply “threw away the book” and improvised as circumstances dictated. If the Luftwaffe’s weaknesses in 1944 permitted tactical airmen the flexibility to modify doctrine and improvise to

solve operational problems, the demands of mobile warfare severely tested

their solutions. In that testing, Weyland relied on the goodwill of the men in

the air and on the ground, and on the good relationship already established

between his command and the Third Army. In that relationship, cooperation

and mutual respect became the keys to success for the XIX TAC–Third Army

team.1

69
Exploiting the St. Lô Breakout: Blitz Warfare U.S. Style

On the morning of August 1, General Bradley met with General Patton

and his staff and corps commanders to discuss how Third Army could best

exploit the breakthrough which already found VII and VIII Corps troops moving forward 30 miles south of St. Lô. Having secured the base of the Cotentin

peninsula at Avranches, Allied leaders realized their forces not only could

swing west into Brittany and seize the Breton ports as planned, but by swinging east, they also could move around the German left flank toward the Seine

River and Paris. Accordingly, Third Army received a three-part mission: first,

drive south and southwest from the Avranches region to secure the Rennes and

Fougeres area in eastern Brittany; second, turn west to capture the Brittany

peninsula and seize the ports; and third, simultaneously prepare for operations

farther to the east. To carry out this mission, Third Army gained the VIII and

XV Corps on August 1, with the XX and XII Corps scheduled to become operational and join them on August 7 and 12, respectively. Under Maj. Gen. Troy

H. Middleton, VIII Corps would exploit the breakthrough at Avranches and

move westward into Brittany. While XX Corps, commanded by Maj. Gen.

Walton H. Walker, readied its forces to move south later, Lt. Gen. Wade H.

Haislip’s XV Corps would push south toward Fougeres.

In this plan, XIX TAC’s mission centered on supporting the VIII Corps’

offensive with an initial force of three P–47 groups, the 358th, 371st, and 365th

Fighter Groups, which at that time continued to operate under the control of General

Quesada’s 84th Fighter Wing. In early August, Weyland had no night fighter units

and only one tactical reconnaissance squadron—the 12th Tactical Reconnaissance

Squadron based at LeMolay in Normandy. The XIX TAC would receive additional flying groups based on the success of Patton’s drive south and east.2

Air Power for Patton’s Army

70

Maj. Gen. Troy Middleton, 

commander, VIII Corps,

aboard the USS Ancon.
The Battle for France

71

The first week of August set the tone for the first month and a half of

mobile operations in France. Third Army and XIX TAC planners met on July

31 to confirm an earlier decision to move XIX TAC’s advance headquarters

with Third Army’s forward command post during the forthcoming campaign.

The emphasis on mobility began that day, when Patton announced that Third

Army’s command post would move immediately to a location five miles

northwest of Coutances. Weyland agreed to join the army’s command group at

its new location the following day, on August 1. By late evening of the thirtyfirst, XIX TAC’s advance headquarters was in place and ready for operations

the next day. The air command’s headquarters would move an additional four

times during August and twice more in September. Shortly after midnight,

Weyland called Ninth Air Force headquarters to declare his forces ready for

operations and to review plans for the following day. It became a daily custom

for the commander of the tactical air command to call General Brereton or,

after August 6, Lt. Gen. Hoyt S. Vandenberg, his successor as commander of

Ninth Air Force, on the Redline command net to discuss procedures, review

the previous day’s operations, and discuss the course ahead.3

During his conversation with General Brereton in the early hours of

August 1, Weyland recommended reversing the locations of the 84th and 303d

Fighter Wings. The latter, which arrived at Criqueville (A–2) from England on

July 26, thus would be moved and positioned near Brucheville airstrip (A–16),

15 miles closer to the flying units it would control in Normandy when the command became operational (Map 4). The IX TAC’s 84th Fighter Wing would

maintain flying control of the three groups initially assigned to Weyland’s

command until the 303d Fighter Wing was in place and prepared to relieve the

84th. The XIX TAC’s second wing, the 100th Fighter Wing, which had arrived

at Criqueville earlier on July 4, would remain nonoperational until the command gained flying control of all assigned fighter groups. During mobile operations in France, the XIX TAC, unlike other commands, preferred to locate its

fighter control center near wing headquarters and its airfields, rather than near

the advance headquarters’ combat operations center. Plans and directives originated at the combat operations center, but allocation of missions and flying

control of the groups were wing responsibilities.

The XIX TAC’s more decentralized organizational approach called for

the wing, which the planners normally established between the advance and

rear headquarters, to relay operational orders and reports to and from the flying groups and assist the rear headquarters. Rear headquarters handled administration, supply, training, and personnel matters. At the outset of the campaign,

by making wing headquarters the center of the communications net, planners

expected the XIX TAC advance headquarters to be able to move forward with

Third Army’s forward echelon headquarters and maintain communications to

groups with a minimum of required new installations. As Weyland would soon

learn, in the practice of mobile warfare, even more decentralization would be
Map 4

U.S. Airfields in France, 1944-1945

Reprinted from: Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Effectiveness of Third Phase Tactical Air Operations,” pp. 327-328,

AFHRA.
The Battle for France

73

necessary if his advance headquarters was to keep up with Patton’s headquarters and maintain reliable communications lines to his own forces.4

On August 1, 1944, however, Weyland faced other, more pressing command problems.5 That day Ninth Air Force commander, General Brereton, left

France for England to assume command of the First Allied Airborne Army.

Before leaving, he called and informed Weyland that his deputy, Maj. Gen.

Ralph Royce, would also be away temporarily and that Maj. Gen. David M.

Schlatter would be setting up the Ninth’s advance headquarters a few miles north

of Coutances near the headquarters of the 12th Army Group. Consequently,

Quesada, as commander of the IX TAC, would coordinate flying responsibilities

and division of flying groups between the IX and XIX TACs. Quesada and

Weyland could rearrange the wings as they saw fit without any need for formal

orders. Anxious to have his own team in charge, after conferring with Quesada,

Weyland assigned to the 303d Fighter Wing control over all XIX TAC fighter

groups. That evening the 303d headquarters arrived near Brucheville (A–16)

from Criqueville (A–2), to join the 84th Fighter Wing, which would remain there

until it replaced Quesada’s 70th Fighter Wing at Criqueville, when the latter

moved south of St. Lô (Map 4).

During the initial week of combat operations, Weyland’s command and

control procedures evolved as his forces and responsibilities with Third Army

grew. Only by August 8, 1944, when his command was at full flying strength

with nine groups, did his two wings exercise extensive operational control. At

least until mid-August, the 405th Fighter Group remained under IX TAC’s

70th Fighter Wing for operational control. Early August would be a period of

transition, one in which fighter-bomber groups moved from IX TAC to XIX

TAC—and in some cases back again. The planners developed and refined

organization and operational procedures in response to a growing Third Army

and its requirements for ever greater tactical air support.

Although weather grounded Weyland’s fighter-bombers in the morning

of August 1, in the afternoon he sent the three groups covering VIII Corps on

two types of missions. The 358th Fighter Group flew armed reconnaissance

into the Brittany peninsula to explore the path ahead of VIII Corps’ armored

spearheads, while the 371st and 365th Fighter Groups provided cover for elements of the 4th and 6th Armored Divisions, respectively. 

Armed reconnaissance normally involved squadron-size formations of

eight or twelve P–47s armed with 500-lb. bombs and with armor-piercing

incendiary .50-caliber ammunition for the aircraft’s eight machine guns. The

P–47s roamed well beyond the bomb safety line, the boundary within which

all bombing was controlled by an air liaison officer. In enemy territory they

searched for targets of opportunity, such as enemy troop concentrations or

armored forces either fleeing or approaching the front lines. Patton’s swift

advance often caused the bomb line to change several times a day, frequently

requiring pilots to update their maps while airborne.6
The more highly publicized second tactical role, armored column cover

(which was first used at St. Lô in conjunction with the Cobra breakout)

became a standard feature of air-ground cooperation in the dash across France.

General Weyland did not alter the original procedure significantly. He normally assigned one fighter group to each armored combat command and made

it responsible for providing squadron coverage continuously during daylight

hours. Air liaison officers attached to the armored columns controlled the missions either from tanks or other armored vehicles by means of SCR–522 VHF

radio. Ordnance carried by the aircraft varied with the amount of enemy armor

and German fighter opposition expected. In areas where enemy fighters were

active, only a third of the aircraft were bombed-up. Where armor opposition

was light, P–47 pilots carried fewer bombs and resorted to strafing attacks.

The airmen considered strafing enemy forces the most effective form of attack

during combat in France and German prisoners agreed.

It became common practice for Weyland’s fighter-bombers to patrol as

much as 35 miles in front of Patton’s columns to search out and destroy potential resistance and keep the columns informed through the liaison officers of

what lay ahead. The column cover force often performed armed reconnaissance

in addition to a close air support mission, which made distinguishing between

the two missions difficult for the statistical control section. Furthermore, the

Third Army staff asked the airmen to report the location of the Third Army

spearheads, which frequently outdistanced their own communications. In an air

role reminiscent of the observation mission in World War I, it became customary for pilots to identify Allied ground units throughout the campaign, and the

last section of the daily mission report listed all forward sightings.7

Because of the fluid tactical situation, close control and flexibility in

planning became paramount. As a XIX TAC official observed, Patton quickAir Power for Patton’s Army

74

Crews arming P–47s with

500-lb. bombs and .50-caliber

ammunition.
ly “turned the interdiction job inside out,” requesting air power to prevent

German troop movement out of, rather than into, the battle zone. In Brittany,

for example, the fighter-bombers accelerated Third Army’s rapid advance

with column cover and armed reconnaissance missions, and thus prevented

German counterattacks from developing. Crews for XIX TAC received

explicit instructions not to destroy any bridges in the Avranches area, which

already had become a bottleneck for Allied traffic. Except for the Breton

ports, Patton’s three armored columns bypassed any German strong points

along the way that might impede the advance. If, as some critics have

charged, Patton proved more adept at pursuit than destruction of the

enemy’s forces, it is hard to fault his tactics during the westward thrust in

Brittany.8

For XIX TAC aircrews, Patton’s blitzkrieg tactics meant that planning

often took place in the cockpit while airborne, in response to swiftly changThe Battle for France

75

An air-ground officer directs aircraft near the front lines (above);

a Ninth Air Force tactical liaison officer with the Third Army uses a radio

to direct fighter-bombers to enemy targets (below).
Air Power for Patton’s Army

76

ing requirements of Third Army troops. It also meant that tactical air power

served as an air umbrella in highly mobile warfare, a coverage that FM

100–20 (1943) judged “prohibitively expensive” and effective only briefly

and only in a small area. Doctrinal reservations aside, Weyland always

defended his use of air cover for armored spearheads because the mobile

warfare that Patton favored left too little time for artillery to be brought

forward. Weyland and other tactical air leaders set aside established mission priorities in favor of a pragmatic response to mobile operations.

General Weyland, however, would have been the first to agree that the existence of Allied air superiority, air power’s first priority, made armored column cover possible by releasing large numbers of aircraft for close air support.9

At the end of August 1, 1944, the 4th Armored Division approached

Rennes, 80 miles south of St. Lô. Its highly regarded commander, Maj. Gen.

John S. “P” Wood, worried about a counterattack from a possible German column moving from the southwest. With XX Corps scheduled to move south

through the Avranches bottleneck the next day, Weyland’s forces found themselves stretched woefully thin because of commitments to cover the armored

divisions and fly armed reconnaissance throughout Brittany and as far south as

the Loire. Once again he contacted Quesada for support and received two additional fighter groups for the following day.

During the next four days of the Brittany Blitz,10 between August 2–5,

Patton’s forces overran the entire Breton peninsula and laid siege to the port

Night armed reconnaissance missions used tracers with

.50-caliber ammunition.
fortresses at St. Malo, St. Nazaire, Lorient, and Brest (Map 5). At the same

time, XV and XX Corps moved rapidly south in the direction of the Loire

River and swung east toward Paris. Ninth Air Force increased the aircraft in

General Weyland’s force accordingly. On August 2, he received the 363d

Tactical Reconnaissance Group, the command’s second P–51 group, and the

405th P–47 fighter group, which would gain a reputation as one of the Allies’

top close air support groups. By this time, the 303d Fighter Wing had assumed

responsibility from Quesada’s 84th Fighter Wing for administration and control of the five XIX TAC groups and the command’s fighter control center.

Ninth Air Force’s schedule of operations for August 2 reflected the rapidly

changing situation as well as the flexible nature of tactical air power. It contained a long list of specific assignments for each of General Quesada’s IX

TAC groups supporting First Army. Weyland’s five groups, however, could be

assigned targets entirely “at the discretion of the CG [commanding general] of

XIX TAC.” The first stage of mobile warfare already compelled the air leaders to decentralize operational control.11

A host of problems had to be solved during the first week of August. The

shortage of air support officers for ground units led the list. The very first

request Weyland received on August 1 was a plea from VIII Corps to find two

additional liaison officers for Brig. Gen. Herbert L. Earnest’s Special Task

Force A, preparing to attack along Brittany’s north coast. One air support officer per armored division had proved insufficient because of the division’s

practice of creating combat commands or special task forces in pursuit operations. Because the air liaison function had not been included in the original

personnel authorizations, the tactical air commands had to assign liaison officers to the ground units from their own organizations. Weyland managed to do

this on August 1. Yet on the third, he needed to find three more officers for XV

Corps’ 5th and 7th Armored Divisions and its 28th Infantry Division. Faced

with a shortage of experienced candidates at the time, he asked General

Quesada for help, and IX TAC immediately supplied the needed officers. A

The Battle for France

77

Maj. Gen. John S. Wood,

Commanding General,

4th Armored Division.
Map 5

Northwestern France, 1944: 

The Breakout

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 54, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
few days later Weyland returned the favor, providing IX TAC additional air

support needed to blunt a dangerous German counteroffensive at Mortain.12

Enemy night flying operations presented another challenge. Maj. Gen.

Hugh J. Gaffey, Third Army chief of staff, approached Weyland on August 3,

1944, with a request for nighttime air cover for the Pontorson Bridge over the

Sée River and for dams and roads in the Avranches area to quell nuisance

nighttime shelling by the Germans in Northwest Europe. As in North Africa,

night combat capability would prove a key weakness of Allied air forces

throughout the campaign. Without a night fighter squadron, Weyland could

only request that Ninth Air Force provide one as soon as possible. The Ninth

responded by assigning one of IX Air Defense Command’s two P–61 night

fighter squadrons to cover this Third Army area of operations. Later in the

campaign, when the Luftwaffe threat declined further, the air leaders would

assign night fighters directly to the tactical air commands, where they increasingly flew interdiction rather than air defense missions.

Initial air-ground coordination also proved a problem. Several times during the first week of August, crews flying column cover for the 4th Armored

Division in the St. Malo area complained that they could not contact the air

liaison controller with the division. Officers at XIX TAC traced the problem to

an overloaded C-channel, which pilots and the controllers used for all airground communications. Lieutenant John J. Burns of the 371st Fighter Group

recalled that C-channel, despite being designated as the squadron channel,

turned out to be a common channel for all of Ninth Air Force once close air

support began in earnest. As a solution to the communications congestion,

General Weyland’s operations officers designated each of four channels for a

specific function. They also encouraged better radio discipline whereby flight

leaders would contact the ground station only when nearing the head of the

column. Air-ground communications problems in Brittany declined significantly once the command introduced these procedures.13

As Patton’s forces swept forward, Weyland had to move his headquarters,

which involved relocating the advance headquarters’ tents, vehicles, and communications and other equipment. On August 2, Third Army moved its forward

echelon command post 11 miles north of Avranches, and XIX TAC followed

suit the next day. That same morning, Weyland conferred with Ninth Air Force

officers about constructing a clutch of airfields for the XIX TAC farther south

in the Rennes area where the command could support ground offensives in the

direction of Brest or eastward, depending on how events unfolded. General

Royce wanted to send in engineers immediately and Weyland had to remind

him that the area remained unsecured. The XIX TAC commander always coordinated airfield sites with the Third Army staff, and that evening General

Gaffey concurred in the Rennes plan as well as in a proposal to establish a

rearming and refueling strip near Avranches. Enemy activity and supply delays,

however, prevented the engineers from beginning this work until August 7.

The Battle for France

79
The IX Engineer Command’s 2d Engineer Aviation Brigade (Provisional)

handled airfield construction and maintenance for Weyland’s command.14

Normally its commander, Col. R. E. Smyser, Jr., would assign one of his aviation battalions to develop a single advanced landing airstrip with a runway

5,000 feet long and 120 feet wide. Understandably, the time required to complete the field depended on the site’s initial condition. A new airfield normally

took nine or ten days to complete, but the tactical air command’s maintenance

officers cautioned that the engineers tended to be over-optimistic by two or

three days. Although the engineers refurbished former German airstrips that

featured sod or concrete runways, Weyland preferred prefabricated bituminous

prepared Hessian surfacing15 for new runways during the good summer weather and Patton’s rapid sweep east. A Hessian surface airstrip, which could be finished in about ten days, provided a firm, smooth, relatively dust-free surface

and proved usable immediately after a rainstorm.

While the engineers worked on new airfields, the command’s supply and

maintenance officers located at the rear headquarters arranged through Ninth

Air Force’s Service Command to prestock these fields with ammunition, fuel,

and other supplies. With the short distance from Normandy to the Rennes area,

truck transportation and road congestion proved a lesser problem than the one

that developed later, when the rapid drive eastward created severe bottlenecks

and transport shortages. Normally, XIX TAC engineers considered a field

operational after the runway and one taxiway had been completed. At this

time, airdrome personnel, the real nomads of Ninth Air Force, arrived to rearm

and service the aircraft until the fighter group’s ground echelon arrived. Unlike

British fighter squadrons, XIX TAC groups had their own maintenance personnel assigned to perform routine aircraft maintenance functions. The services of the command’s two airdrome squadrons proved especially valuable

for roulement operations, whereby a series of advanced landing strips could be

used temporarily by squadrons whose home bases often remained far to the

rear. This procedure increased the command’s mobility, considerably extending the operational flying range of its units.16

As the XIX TAC prepared for its move to the Brittany airfields, Patton’s

forces already had advanced rapidly south and east. By August 5, 1944, XV

Corps captured Mayenne, 20 miles east of Fougeres, and pushed on to Laval further south (Map 5). Patton’s tactical interests lay clearly to the east, in the direction of Germany, not to the west in Brittany, which he had instructed VIII Corps

to overrun with a minimum of force. He remained ambivalent about the need to

“reduce” the French ports that proved so difficult to assault, yet which earlier

seemed so essential as Allied supply bases for the campaign in Northwest

Europe.17

The two commanders exchanged opposing views on this issue of fortified positions on August 5, when Patton requested aerial attacks on German

gunboats that threatened his flank at St. Malo. Weyland declined to send fightAir Power for Patton’s Army

80
er-bombers against such targets after learning that on the previous day the

358th Fighter Group had encountered extremely heavy flak from nearby pillbox defenses and ships in the harbor at St. Malo. Patton, perhaps mindful of

the “short bombing” at St. Lô during Operation Cobra, did not want to call on

heavy bombers, so Weyland requested medium bombers from Ninth Air Force.

At the same time, the air force command also provided the night cover over

the road south of Avranches that he requested on behalf of Third Army. This

became Weyland’s method of supporting Third Army operations: he supplied

fighter-bombers whenever he believed the request sound, but otherwise he

would refuse them and turn to Ninth Air Force for help with medium bombers.

While conferring with Ninth Air Force leaders about medium bombers for

Third Army, General Weyland received the good news that the 36th Fighter

Group, flying P–47s at Brucheville, site A–16, (Map 4) had joined his command. Curry’s Cougars, a favorite of his and the last of his original XIX TAC

units to arrive from England, rapidly became a favorite of Patton’s too, as

attested by the letters of commendation and numerous references to shipments

of Cointreau liqueur to the 36th Fighter Group from Third Army.18

Weyland had to have been pleased with the first five days of “Blitz warfare, U.S. style.”19 Despite the problematic nature of bomb damage assessment

statistics, his groups tallied an impressive score of interdiction and close support target claims at a cost of only three aircraft lost. Armed reconnaissance

and armored column cover missions clearly proved ideally suited for mobile

operations, while the air-ground support system eliminated initial communications problems and continued to improve. He also could effectively command his forces and keep pace with Third Army’s advance echelon. Planning

was underway for his groups to displace forward, and maintenance and supply

experienced no difficulty providing support. Although he dealt with many

issues through established organizational channels, informal discussions with

Patton and his staff often proved highly effective. With the combat situation

changing almost hourly, informal decision-making and flexibility became

essential to air operations.

As XIX TAC aircraft ranged south of the Loire—far ahead of the Third

Army spearheads to the east—and west into Brittany in support of VIII Corps,

General Weyland encountered growing command and control difficulties.

While Patton needed to remain as close as possible to his advancing columns

to oversee operations at the front, Weyland’s focus shifted in the opposite

direction. His operational capability depended increasingly on the aviation

engineers who built new airfields and on the signals experts who provided his

communications net. In numerous respects, the air arm became more ground

based than were the ground forces. Command and control under these conditions would prove to be Weyland’s greatest challenge and one he never completely mastered during the mobile phase of operations.

The Battle for France

81
82

Army engineers handled airfield construction and maintenance for

Weyland’s advancing aircraft squadrons, laying steel mesh for

emergency landing strips (top), and on occasion broom-massaging

the airstrips (bottom).
83

Aviation engineers used heavy equipment in preparing fields for landing

aircraft (top). They were also called upon to repair damage following

enemy bombardment: this engineer battalion worked with air hammers on

a bomb crater left by a 500-lb. bomb (bottom).
84

Mechanics hoist a

severely damaged

P–47 onto a trailer to

be stripped of all

usable parts (top);

only a few miles

behind enemy lines

(right), these soldiertechnicians are refueling, rearming, and

checking planes for

the next mission.

On a German

airfield captured

by the Allies, a

mechanic

checks out a

P–51 Mustang.
85

A crane is used to transfer bombs from storage to be mounted beneath

the wing of a P–47 (top); and at a French railroad station, airmen load

crated bombs onto trucks destined for Ninth Air Force airstrips (bottom).
Supporting Patton’s End Run to the Seine

On the Allied side, General Bradley’s decision to allow Patton to operate in Brittany with minimum forces led to a major change in Allied strategy

that took advantage of collapsing German positions.20 In light of Third Army’s

initial success, on August 4, 1944, Allied ground forces commander General

Montgomery, with General Eisenhower’s approval, directed the Allied armies

to strike east in force to destroy the German Seventh Army west of the Seine.

Accordingly, while most of Patton’s forces attacked to the east, First Army

troops moved toward the road centers of Vire and Mortain while the British

would attack toward Argentan, and the Canadians in the direction of Falaise

(Map 5). The Germans, meanwhile, had not remained indifferent to the growing threat of encirclement. Back on August 2, Hitler directed Field Marshal

Guenther von Kluge, his commander in chief in the west, to counterattack the

Allies at Mortain with eight of the nine Panzer divisions available in

Normandy. By doing so, Hitler hoped the Wehrmacht could reach the coast,

regain Avranches, isolate Patton’s army, and then move north to destroy the

beachhead. If successful, the Germans could reestablish the conditions of static warfare that proved so successful during June and July. Von Kluge planned

to attack by August 6 or 7.21

As Third Army’s XV Corps prepared to encircle the German Seventh

Army in the Mortain area from the south during the second week of August,

XIX TAC assumed other support functions and expanded to its full complement of nine groups. On August 6, Ninth Air Force leaders decided to increase

XIX TAC’s striking power by dividing the fighter-bomber groups equally

between the two tactical air commands. Until then most had been flying under

IX TAC control. Ninth Air Force officers informed Weyland that XIX TAC

would have operational control of the following nine groups beginning on

August 7: the 36th, 373d, 406th, 371st, 405th, 354th, 358th, 362d, and 363d.22

These comprised the command’s original 100th and 303d Fighter Wings, now

supplemented by the 371st and 405th P–47 groups. Weyland was particularly

pleased to gain the 354th, a crack Mustang fighter group, and the 406th Fighter

Group, whose rocket-firing 513th P–47 squadron had performed so effectively against tanks during the St. Lô breakout. At the same time, Weyland sought

to simplify command and control procedures by having only one wing, the

303d, control all of these groups until the units moved to new airstrips farther

afield.

On the evening of August 7, 1944, Weyland met with General Gaffey and

other members of the Third Army staff to discuss the growing threat of a

German counterattack, which they expected to occur east of Avranches near

Mortain (Map 5). The XIX TAC aircrews had been overflying the Avranches

bottleneck on return flights since August 2, and were keeping Third Army well

Air Power for Patton’s Army

86
informed of German concentrations developing in the Mortain area. After the

meeting on the seventh, Weyland called Quesada, whose IX TAC held primary responsibility for the area threatened, and offered to divert his fighterbombers to the crisis area at any time, and place them under the control of

Quesada’s command. Three Panzer divisions did, in fact, attack early the following morning and the IX TAC commander called to accept the offer. He

asked only for the 406th’s rocket squadron and P–51s for top cover. During the

day’s fighting, the XIX TAC pilots claimed 18 enemy aircraft shot down and

much German ground equipment destroyed.

By August 7, 1944, General Walker’s XX Corps units had reached the

Loire River and began moving east. The XIX TAC now began its celebrated

airborne “watch on the Loire,” although it is not clear precisely when Patton

requested Weyland’s forces to guard his flank or when the air commander

responded that he could do so, providing he had good weather. Patton did not

worry too much about the exposed southern flank of the Third Army, noting in

his diary that “our air can spot any group of enemy large enough to hurt us and

I can always pull something out of the hat.” Weyland’s forces had been flying

armed reconnaissance in the Loire region since August 2, and the 12th Tactical

Reconnaissance Squadron had been doing the same. Once his fighter-bomber

groups and the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group moved into the Rennes and

Le Mans areas in mid-August, the 10th added to the schedule a daily photo

reconnaissance milk run over the Loire by A–20s of the 155th Night Photo

Squadron. The watch on the Loire became a fixture on the mission charts well

into September as Patton’s southern flank grew to nearly 500 miles long—

from Brittany in the west to the Mosel River in eastern France.23

On August 8, 1944 the Third Army command post moved again, this

time to St. James, eight miles northwest of Fougeres (Map 5). The principle

of collocating headquarters for joint operations continued when Weyland

joined Patton the same day. Weyland left the command’s B-echelon in place

with the fighter control center under Colonel Ferguson at Beauchamps, the

previous site above Avranches, until he could be assured of effective communication. He had good reason for concern. The following morning he learned

that during the evening the enemy had sabotaged his land lines, normally the

most reliable and secure means of communication, in what would become

common practice in the days ahead. Wire and signal equipment shortages also

contributed to the communication problem. Although Weyland could contact

Ferguson by VHF radio, the situation proved far from ideal. The commander

of the tactical air command vowed his advance headquarters would never

again outrun its landline communications net to its forces. Meanwhile, Colonel

Ferguson’s small echelon, which had been left behind, maintained contact with

the groups and controlled air operations.24

For Weyland and his staff, the best solution seemed to be to move the

fighter-bomber groups forward to the Rennes area below the fighting at

The Battle for France

87
Avranches and closer to Third Army’s front line divisions that most needed air

support. Being closer to the front lines would provide less flying time en route

and, consequently, more time over target. Furthermore, the weather in Brittany

was better because it did not suffer as much from the fog and mist of

Normandy that often restricted flying in the mornings. Much of General

Weyland’s time during the second and third weeks of August involved arrangements for moving to the Rennes sites as quickly as possible. By August 11, the

engineers had repaired the concrete runway at Rennes (A–27) and the sod field

at a second German site, Gael (A–31) (Map 4). The 354th and 362d Fighter

Groups and 100th Fighter Wing moved in that day, with the 12th Tactical

Reconnaissance Squadron due at Rennes the next day. Conditions proved far

from ideal at these new airfields. The 354th complained about the rough surface at Gael and Weyland agreed with their assessment when he visited there

a few days after the field became operational. He also disapproved of the

hordes of civilians on the field and he took steps to alleviate both hazards. With

communications now secure, he decided to move the command’s B-echelon

down to St. James to consolidate operational control at advance headquarters

once again. The fighter control center would remain with the 303d Fighter

Wing at Beauchamps until it could be brought forward to the Le Mans area.

General Weyland had suggested Le Mans as the next site for forward airfields during a Ninth Air Force commander’s conference on August 9. At that

meeting he asked for a microwave early warning (referred to as MEW) radar,

the new, large, 60-ton ground radar that could track and control intercepts of

enemy aircraft and control friendly airplanes out to distances of 200 miles,

well beyond the range of conventional forward directional post radar. General

Quesada’s command obtained one of the five existing MEW radars for use in

Normandy ten days after D-Day. Although Ninth Air Force possessed a second radar, it remained in England to assist in defending against the V–1 flying

bombs, which the Germans began launching against England on June 13,

1944. Weyland declared that he, too, needed a MEW radar in view of not only

the renewed German air threat associated with the Mortain buildup, but also

XIX TAC’s widening range of reconnaissance missions. A lack of early warning, he argued after suffering the loss of several aircraft, was “costing planes,

crews, ground soldiers, and equipment.”25

Civilian technical experts in the European theater took a contrary position. Radar, they argued, played a rather small role in the battle of France

because of the speed of the advance and the good weather. Pilots normally

could navigate to their targets even when out of range of fighter control sets,

while the sets themselves generally lacked organic transport and were not very

sturdy. Although these reasons were doubtless valid, General Weyland, aware

how important General Quesada considered the new radar, remained convinced of the requirement. In fact, IX TAC had the only available MEW radar,

which it credited with playing a large role in helping its fighters destroy 160

Air Power for Patton’s Army

88
enemy aircraft from D-Day to the beginning of September. General Weyland

failed on four different occasions to obtain the MEW radar, but in the third

week of September he succeeded. The XIX TAC received a set for its newly

formed provisional tactical control group in the Metz area just in time for the

Lorraine Campaign.26

It is difficult to precisely evaluate XIX TAC’s effectiveness during the

second week of operations. In terms of statistics, its groups continued to add

to their impressive totals of enemy targets destroyed and damaged, while mission and sortie rates set record highs. These became the first of the heady days

of Third Army’s headlong advance that often averaged 20 miles a day. During

the drive, Weyland’s airmen flew column cover for the armored spearheads

moving east while continuing to support ongoing operations in Brittany, and

other patrols roamed well beyond Paris searching out the Luftwaffe in the air

and the Wehrmacht on the ground.

A number of special days stand out in the record-setting operation. On

August 7, the Luftwaffe appeared in force for the first time since August 1, and

according to pilot reports of the ensuing engagements, it lost 33 aircraft.

Significantly, the 36th Fighter Group claimed six after the ground controller

released its aircraft from covering the XV Corps and vectored them to Chartres

airfield following a reconnaissance pilot’s report that he spotted enemy aircraft

at that site. This type of reconnaissance and fighter-bomber teamwork would

continue to improve in the weeks ahead. On another occasion, the 362d Fighter

Group demonstrated in missions east of Paris that, contrary to conventional

wisdom, strafing with .50-caliber guns proved effective against tanks attacked

from the rear (which housed the engine compartment). On August 8, during

their third mission of the day, the P–47 pilots attacked seven Panzer tanks,

claiming three destroyed and four damaged, before proceeding on to other

lucrative targets. Nevertheless, the 362d would have to work much harder to

top the 406th Fighter Group’s 513th squadron, the Tiger Tamers, which consistently led the command in claims of Nazi armor damaged and destroyed.27

Tactical air power demonstrated flexibility in other ways as well. When

General Gaffey asked Weyland to see whether the 4th Armored Division,

which had moved beyond its HF and FM communications range of headquarters, required help, Weyland obtained the information needed through his air

liaison communications net (it was between 20–25 miles from Brest at the

time) and notified army headquarters. General Patton also often asked the air

arm to check out suspected counterattacks, which Weyland did with alacrity,

scrambling or diverting aircraft to the target area. If the threat did not require

immediate attention, he responded by sending a reconnaissance plane to have

a look, and then followed it with fighter-bombers if necessary. In short, XIX

TAC provided Patton an on call, close air supporting service.28

General Patton harbored no doubts about the effectiveness of his air support. Characteristically, following a visit from RAF Air Chief Marshal Arthur

The Battle for France

89
Tedder, General Spaatz, and other prominent airmen on August 9, General

Weyland recorded in his diary that Patton seemed “well satisfied” with the

support of XIX TAC. A less happy aspect of the meeting, however, found

these officers expressing renewed interest to Weyland in the seizure of Brest

and other Brittany ports in the near future. Patton and Gaffey discussed this

prospect with Weyland that evening over drinks. Neither the Third Army leaders nor Weyland were enthused over the prospect of static, siege warfare. The

air commander knew that fixed fortifications represented some of the most difficult and dangerous targets for fighter-bombers, and his later evaluations of

XIX TAC operations invariably stressed this point. Cherbourg should have

been proof enough for those in doubt. On the other hand, tests at the AAF’s

Proving Ground Command at Eglin Field, Florida, in January and February

1945, demonstrated that fighter-bombers with 1,000-lb. bombs stood the best

chance against the hardened defenses of the V–1 and V–2s. In the case of

Brest, Spaatz and Tedder clearly reflected the views of General Eisenhower’s

headquarters, and although expressing reservations, Weyland “agreed to render ourselves [XIX TAC] available.” It is likely that Patton later wished he had

argued Weyland’s case with the senior airmen.29

On August 11, 1944, with the encirclement of the German Seventh Army

near Argentan well underway from the south, General Patton ordered units of

XV Corps to push on toward Falaise after the capture of Argentan. The XIX

TAC supported the offensive with 36th and 362d Fighter Groups’ P–47s, which

provided day-long air coverage of the advancing columns. Both Patton and

Weyland looked forward to a crushing victory. At the same time, Weyland’s

forces continued to support the other, ever-widening Third Army fronts: in the

east toward the Seine, in the west in Brittany, and in the south along the Loire.30

Between August 12–19, the Third Army and the XIX TAC attempted to

close what their historians referred to as the Argentan Trap. On August 8, the day

after the German counterattack began, General Bradley proposed that First Army

hold at Mortain while units of First and Third Armies moved north to meet advancing Canadian and British forces, thereby preventing a German escape to the Seine.

Bradley worried that Patton’s force of four divisions might be too weak to halt the

German retreat, while a failure to establish a clear meeting between the converging American and Canadian troops could result in confusion and much loss of life.

Consequently, in one of the war’s most controversial decisions, on August 13,

Bradley ordered Patton to halt XV Corps’ drive and hold near Argentan. Yet when

the Canadian drive stalled at Falaise on August 16, a 15-mile gap remained

between the two Allied lines. With the jaws of the trap open until August 20, an

estimated 50,000 German troops escaped eastward through the so-called Argentan-Falaise gap. Eventually this force would join 200,000 additional German soldiers west of the Seine and the Allies would be unable to prevent their crossing.

Patton, meanwhile, received permission from Bradley to send part of the XV

Corps to the Seine in an additional attempt to encircle retreating German forces.31

Air Power for Patton’s Army

90
The Luftwaffe could do little to assist the pell-mell German retreat.

Despite using between 30–40 night fighters and bombers in operations against

Allied ground targets, close support of German Seventh Army forces proved

nearly nonexistent. By mid-August 1944, German air leaders could muster only

75 single-engine fighters for daily operations on the western front. Although the

Luftwaffe could still achieve a figure of 250 sorties on August 15, this sortie rate

could not be sustained despite reinforcements that allowed for several full-scale

efforts of 250–300 sorties per day later in the month. The rapid Allied advance

forced the Luftwaffe to abandon bases in France for more secure, more distant

sites in Belgium. By the end of August, the Luftwaffe’s single-engine fighter

force in Northwest Europe totaled only 420, 110 of which flew from French

bases. Equally alarming, accumulated losses and insufficient training of new

pilots after early 1944 resulted in a largely inexperienced force that found itself

generally outmatched by Allied aviators. Pilots for XIX TAC reported the

Luftwaffe now preferred to attack only when it clearly outnumbered its opponent, but the inexperience of the Luftwaffe pilots still gave the Allies the upper

hand.32

With Allied troops holding the shoulders of, and causing severe losses

within, the Mortain-Falaise-Argentan pocket, tactical air had good hunting as

the Germans felt compelled to clog the roads even in daylight in their desperate attempt to flee. For XIX TAC pilots, though, the opportunity proved less

rewarding than they desired. The Ninth Air Force had established boundaries

that focused Weyland’s forces on protecting Patton’s right flank, where they

could “blast away at armored columns east and south of Paris.” One can appreciate the dismay of Curry’s Cougars, who watched other Ninth Air Force units

line up for what became known as harvest time in Argentan on August 17.33

Weyland, meanwhile, faced a major crisis in joint operations. The dilemma first appeared on August 11 when General Gaffey, Third Army chief of staff,

recommended moving the two command posts forward to Le Mans. Weyland

quickly rejected the idea because the site farther east would not be situated along

the north-south communications axis of 100th Fighter Wing or near the proposed

location of the 303d Fighter Group (Map 5). If Third Army moved directly to

Le Mans, he said, XIX TAC would have to operate there with a liaison detachment. He suggested Laval as the next location instead. Both air and ground

advance headquarters moved to Laval the following day, on August 12, with

Weyland finally directing Colonel Ferguson’s B-echelon to deploy to St. James.

So far so good. Then, given the rapid pace of his sweep to the east, Patton

announced that Third Army’s forward echelon had to move to the Le Mans area

on the fourteenth. The army commander had little choice. Spearheads by XII

Corps had already reached Orleans, while XV Corps arrived earlier at Argentan,

and then sent several units toward the Seine. Meanwhile, XX Corps was moving

rapidly toward Chartres. In the west, VIII Corps continued to struggle against the

Brittany ports while keeping a modest ground watch on the Loire (Map 6).

The Battle for France

91
Map 6

Northwestern France, 1944:

The Exploitation

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 55, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Weyland explained that he could not join Patton immediately in Le Mans

and still retain effective control of his forces. The Army commander agreed

that XIX TAC’s advance headquarters should not move without adequate communications for command and control. Weyland’s makeshift solution was to

move deputy chief of staff Colonel Thompson, another officer, and a small signals unit to the Third Army’s command post as the air command’s so-called

X-Ray detachment.34 This plan called for Thompson’s unit to link the two

headquarters through a single cable that had been rushed forward, while retaining the air liaison party VHF radio net as backup. The X-Ray detachment performed a liaison function only; control of operations remained with General

Weyland at the forward echelon in Laval. The headquarters B-echelon, which

controlled the fighters, also would move to Laval from St. James as soon as

effective communications could be established. Now XIX TAC had four separated headquarters elements—rear headquarters at Nehou and three advance

headquarters echelons at St. James, Laval, and Le Mans—an example of tactical air’s flexibility in Europe. Contrary to the emphasis on centralization

called for in air force doctrine, highly mobile operations demanded ever

greater decentralized control of the supporting air resources.

To accommodate this decentralization, the Third Army staff split its air

operations section into two echelons as well.35 The army’s air operations officer and the administrative echelon remained with Patton’s forward command

post. There, the air operations officer posted the daily air situation for General

Patton, coordinated missions for army support, and kept the ground echelon

that remained located at XIX TAC’s combat operations center apprised of

General Patton’s wishes and intentions. For his part, Colonel Thompson kept

General Weyland informed of the army’s intent. Even so, Weyland normally

The Battle for France

93

The Chateau near Laval that served as the command post for

Weyland’s rear headquarters.
flew from Laval to Patton’s command post in Le Mans every other day to confer personally with Third Army’s staff. The decentralized system eventually

functioned reasonably well, but at the start it faced major problems.

With decentralization there is always a tendency among the components,

in the friction of war, to act independently. Effective command and control in

these circumstances become more difficult to ensure. General Weyland immediately confronted this challenge. It is not entirely clear whether Third Army’s

air intelligence and operations officers at Le Mans bypassed only Weyland at

Laval, or how much coordination they carried out with Colonel Ferguson at Bechelon’s location in issuing orders to air units, but in Weyland’s view they

misused the system. This struck at the core of AAF doctrine on control of air

power and General Patton’s agreement with his air commander. Two days after

moving to Le Mans, on August 16, Weyland visited Third Army headquarters

and met with assistant chief of staff Maj. Gen. H. R. Gay (Patton and Gaffey

were away at the time) and the Army air intelligence and operations officers.

Afterward, he reflected, we “straightened out the confusion” of Army intelligence (G–2, Air) and Army operations (G–3, Air) officers who had been “laying on missions direct.” Weyland clearly felt compelled to make his highly

decentralized air command and control system function effectively—under the

air commander’s direction.36

By August 16, 1944, elements of the Third Army reached the Seine, and

spearheads had moved within nine miles of Paris’s western suburbs. The front

lines now stretched 100 miles from Weyland’s Laval headquarters and even

farther from his fighter-bomber bases. This meant that Colonel Smyser’s engineer battalions already needed to prepare sites in the Le Mans area before they

had finished those in the Brittany group. Two days earlier, on August 14,

Weyland had met with General Vandenberg and his deputy, Brig. Gen. Richard

E. Nugent, regarding the next airfield cluster needed by the command. The

generals agreed that construction on the first of four Le Mans fields would

begin the next day. Weyland met with his staff on the fifteenth to arrange for

the new deployment. They decided that the 100th Fighter Wing should handle

the forward airdromes at Le Mans, while the 303d Fighter Group would operate those in the rear area at Rennes. The forward direction post radar system

would be located at Rennes for flying control. The command’s operations officer, Colonel Ferguson, would manage the move. Everything now waited on the

progress of the engineers.37

The following evening, General Weyland attended his first XIX TAC

joint operations briefing and first combined operations conference in several

days. In fact, it is doubtful whether he found time in the days before separating

his advance headquarters into two and then three echelons to be present at these

evening briefings, since he normally met with General Patton and his staff on

fast-breaking events during the evening hours. From mid-August forward,

however, Weyland routinely attended the XIX TAC evening planning briefing.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

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After the evening meeting on August 16, Weyland conferred with Col. Russell

A. Berg, recently designated commander of the 10th Photo Reconnaissance

Group. The XIX TAC had just gained this group, which would provide much

needed visual and photographic data for the air-ground team. Its arrival represented an additional challenge to his aviation engineers in their constant effort

to find the optimum operational locations for command units. Weyland wanted to locate Berg’s group, most of which was then only en route from England,

at Chateaudun, the big German base approximately 150 miles east of Rennes.

However, because the engineers did not expect it to be fully operational until

August 27, the 10th’s squadrons would use the Rennes airfield in the interim.

The 155th Night Photo Squadron, flying F–3 (A–20) aircraft, arrived to join the

12th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron on the eleventh, followed by the second F–6 (P–51) unit, the 15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, on the

twelfth. By August 15, the group reached full-strength with the addition of the

31st and 34th Tactical Photo Squadrons, which flew F–5 (P–38) reconnaissance aircraft.38

In addition to making Chateaudun the focus of the command’s reconnaissance effort—at least until the command moved forward again—General

Weyland viewed that base as the major roulement site for the entire area.

Chateaudun could provide short-term support and serve as a staging base to

increase the range of the fighter-bombers. The importance of reconnaissance

had risen dramatically since the Normandy Campaign, and the Chateaudun

location would enable the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group to make a major

contribution on all fronts. Reconnaissance data reported by pilots and acquired

through photography became the primary source of intelligence for command

operations during the summer of intense mobility. Although the fighter control

center provided the tactical air command headquarters radio intercept, or Y,

The Battle for France

95

Col. Russell A. Berg,

commander, 10th Photo

Reconnaissance Group.
information from the 3d Radio Squadron (Mobile), Detachment C, the records

are sketchy on its value before the Ardennes Campaign. Nevertheless,

Weyland realized the importance of his radio intercept source of intelligence

on enemy air movements and refused to release his Y-service to the new XXIX

TAC when the latter became operational in September 1944.39

Meanwhile, on August 16, the Third Army steamroller overran

Chateaudun, Dreux, Chartres, and Orleans; it reached the Seine at MantesGassicourt and Vernon northwest of Paris three days later. The XIX TAC continued to find good targets in the area of German retreat. The 36th Fighter

Group, in fact, had its biggest day of the month here on August 13 when it

claimed the destruction of 400–500 vehicles west of Argentan. Allied officials

estimated that, of the nearly 14,000 German vehicles lost in the retreat from

Falaise, air attacks accounted for 60 to 80 percent.40

The command also dealt with what appeared to be a resurgent Luftwaffe.

Once redeployed from its Paris airfields, the Luftwaffe attempted to protect

German ground forces moving toward the Seine. On August 15 and 16, the

Luftwaffe lost 26 fighter aircraft in action near Dreux against the 354th’s

Mustangs and P–47s of the 373d and 362d Fighter Groups. Perhaps it was fitting that the 36th Fighter Group, which had been deprived of participation in

the lucrative Mortain corridor attacks, played a key role in the final act to the

west when the first of the fortified ports in Brittany fell on the seventeenth.

Curry’s Cougars circled the St. Malo fortress area until the Germans accepted

the surrender ultimatum that day.41

The Allies now turned their attention to the Seine River. As early as

August 13, Weyland had requested information from the Third Army chief of

staff concerning likely German crossing points on which his pilots could

focus. Third Army’s intelligence assessment concluded that the Germans

would attempt to hold open the corridor to the Seine. Could the U.S. First and

Third Armies arrive in force and in time to prevent the Germans from escaping across the river?

From the Seine to the Meuse

Third Army’s XV Corps secured a bridgehead over the Seine at MantesGassicourt on August 19, with orders to follow the left bank to Elbeuf and

Vernon and cut off the enemy’s escape route. On its right, XX and XII Corps

moved rapidly toward Fontainebleau and Sens, respectively. Meanwhile, VIII

Corps prepared to launch an offensive against the remaining German-held

Breton ports by the twenty-fifth (Map 6). With First and Third Army troops

continuing to pull up to the Seine on August 20, General Eisenhower earlier

decided to abandon the original limits set for the lodgement area. Instead of

waiting to build up the logistic base, American forces would cross the Seine in

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96
force and relentlessly pursue the disintegrating German army and prevent it

from regrouping at the German border. At the same time, the Supreme Allied

Commander rejected General Montgomery’s proposal on August 23, for a

“single front” approach in the north, one in which the British general would

direct a methodical advance through Belgium and on into the Ruhr. In its

place, Eisenhower adopted the so-called broad-front strategy that permitted a

second advance led by Patton’s Third Army farther south toward the Saar. To

temper Montgomery’s disappointment, he added Hodges’s First Army to

Montgomery’s northern advance—and accorded it priority for gasoline deliveries over Patton’s swiftly moving forces.42

General Eisenhower based his decision to continue pursuing the

Germans across the Seine partly on the spectacular success of Operation Anvil

(also called Operation Dragoon), the amphibious invasion of southern France.

On August 15, 1944, three divisions of U.S. VI Corps and an attached French

armored force under the command of Lt. Gen. Alexander Patch’s U.S. Seventh

Army landed on the south coast of France between Cannes and Toulon.

Seventh Army’s objective involved freeing the port of Marseilles for Allied

supply and protecting Eisenhower’s southern flank farther north. While French

troops invested the ports of Toulon and Marseilles, American divisions, soon

aided significantly by French resistance forces, quickly fanned out in hot pursuit of German troops fleeing north through the Rhone River valley and into

the foothills of the French Alps. This rapid Allied drive threatened to eliminate

German forces in southern France and, by linking with Allied forces in northern France, block German troops in their headlong retreat from reaching the

safety of the German border.43

As Allied forces attempted to envelop German forces at the Seine River,

XIX TAC continued to provide column cover and armed reconnaissance support over all of the Third Army’s expanding fronts. Yet Weyland’s fighterbombers were now spread dangerously thin in the east and south, which meant

increased flying distances and less time to loiter. Moreover, the weather turned

sour on August 19, and air operations in the Seine region became severely

restricted. The command could fly only 16 missions on the nineteenth, a more

respectable 36 on August 20, but none on the twenty-first. This came at a particularly inopportune time because the Allies, rejoicing that the Argentan

pocket at last had been closed on August 20, also knew that the Germans had

been sighted crossing the Vernon Bridge over the Seine that same day. Again,

Ninth Air Force’s weak night fighter force limited its ability to interdict growing and extensive German nighttime movements. In spite of the rain and low

ceilings, XIX TAC’s fighter-bombers did what they could by dropping

delayed-fuze bombs at ferry slips.44

Some critics contend that Patton and his Third Army could have prevented the escape of the German Seventh Army across the Seine. If, as the

argument runs, Third Army had not been so dedicated to headlong pursuit to

The Battle for France

97
the German border and instead elected to confront the enemy directly in what

amounted to frontal assault, it could have destroyed the retreating German

forces, possibly leading to a German surrender all along the line well before

Christmas 1944. To be sure, on August 23, General Patton directed his staff to

prepare two plans, one for pushing eastward below Paris with all due speed,

and another, Plan A, calling for just such a move—a sudden swing north of the

city to Beauvais to entrap the Germans and, in Patton’s view, indeed bring the

war to a swift end. Yet, the latter operation meant moving Third Army forces

across the boundaries of the British and Canadian armies, interfering with the

other Allied commands, and threatening General Eisenhower’s broad-front

strategy. This strategy called for all of the Allied armies to advance abreast

against the retreating Germans, to share equally in the eventual victory.

Submitted for approval, Eisenhower rejected Patton’s Plan A the next day, the

twenty-fourth.45

At the Seine, tactical air power, too, played a less than decisive role.

Only a massive, concentrated air assault on the German forces there might

have made a difference, but XIX TAC planners apparently never contemplated this in view of competing priorities, worsening weather, and perhaps the

command’s preoccupation with getting the Le Mans airfields ready. Still, postwar AAF evaluators of these close air support tactical air operations concluded: “Allied air forces, with more night reconnaissance and night air attacks,

could have effectively prevented most of [the German equipment] from crossing [the Seine].”46

Before Eisenhower disapproved Patton’s Plan A, on August 22 Generals

Weyland and Patton met at 12th Army Group headquarters, where they

reviewed the probable course of future operations. With leading elements of

the Third Army moving forward rapidly against Melun, Louviers, and Troyes,

they anticipated the highly mobile campaign would soon move beyond Paris

to the German border. Weyland worried that Patton might not understand the

range limitations that his fighter-bombers faced when called on to operate far

to the east of their soon-to-be completed bases at Le Mans.47 Even with roulement operations underway at Chateaudun, the great distances involved would

limit the P–47s’ effectiveness in supporting operations in eastern France. With

a full bomb load and a 150-gallon belly tank, the Thunderbolt possessed a

combat radius of approximately 350 miles. Yet, the distance from Chateaudun

to Metz totaled nearly 300 miles, which meant precious little time for operations in the target area. The P–51, with bombs and an external fuel tank, however, had a combat radius of 600 miles, which made it the obvious choice for

extended fighter sweeps and area patrols in eastern France and Germany.

The prospect of conducting extended operations over greater distances

also meant that the command faced problems of increased strain on pilots, aircraft, and support agencies. As Weyland told Patton, XIX TAC confronted

major difficulties supporting a continued advance without more advanced

Air Power for Patton’s Army

98
fighter bases, adequate supplies, and established communication. Even before

his groups moved to the Le Mans bases, Weyland was looking eastward for

potential airfields. Paradoxically, the extraordinary success of mobile airground operations now imperiled effective air-ground cooperation!

In the Paris region, Weyland responded to a variety of Third Army

requests. The Luftwaffe took advantage of the bad weather on August 21–22 to

attack the 79th Infantry Division’s bridgehead across the Seine northwest of

Mantes-Gassicourt. Responding to the Third Army chief of staff’s request for

help, General Weyland promised to triple air coverage in that area. The twenty-second proved to be a particularly good day for the command; its fighters

claimed to have destroyed 20 enemy aircraft while losing only one of its own.

In response to the increased threat from German fighters, P–47 crews preferred

to leave the high-explosive bombs behind and rely on rockets (for the 406th

Fighter Group) and strafing while on column cover assignments. Armed reconnaissance and armored column cover, meanwhile, continued to comprise the

majority of missions during this period, highlighted by the air support of 4th

Armored Division’s Combat Command A, 12 miles east of Sens on August 23.

In this instance, 362d P–47s, after flying armed reconnaissance ahead of the

column, returned to disperse Bf 109s that earlier had strafed the ground troops.

The Luftwaffe also continued to challenge XIX TAC in the forward area, while

the two P–51 groups had success on area patrols east of Paris near Reims.48

With the arrival of General Charles de Gaulle’s French forces, the liberation of Paris began on August 24. Third Army continued its major thrust east

in the direction of Metz and Nancy, and its staff worried increasingly about its

diminishing supply stocks. In the West, as VIII Corps prepared to attack Brest

the next day, the protection of its southern flank remained the task of XIX

TAC. In spite of bad weather, the command flew 12 missions on the twentyfourth, including the 371st Fighter Group’s armed reconnaissance flights

between Tours and Orleans, flights that became known as “working on the

railroad.” The group claimed more than 200 rail and road vehicles destroyed

or damaged from German forces retreating northward from U.S. Seventh

Army troops. This, however, served only as a prelude to the eventful interdiction missions of early September.49

General Weyland remained busy with the Le Mans airfield program. He

informed his staff on August 23 that the Chateaudun field was nearly ready for

initial roulement flying, even though the airfields around Le Mans would not

be fully operational for another four or five days. He requested that Ninth Air

Force station a night fighter squadron there with his 10th Photo Reconnaissance

Group, but the initial priority centered on roulement operations, in which he

planned to turn around six fighter-bomber squadrons a day at Chateaudun.

Perhaps Third Army would receive the support it needed farther east after all.

During the final week in August, both Third Army and XIX TAC leaders had reason to be optimistic. On August 25 Patton’s forces enlarged bridgeThe Battle for France

99
heads across the Seine, while armored spearheads drove east. Units of XII and

XX Corps approached Chalons, while the XX Corps reached Melun and the

XII Corps captured Troyes. In the increasingly distant west, VIII Corps as

promised, launched its long-awaited assault against the isolated Breton ports

on August 25 (Map 7). Only the persistent shortage of gas and ammunition,

and increased maintenance requirements for armor, clouded expectations of

continued Third Army success. Near month’s end, the 12th Army Group

issued orders that called for Third Army to proceed to the Rhine and secure

bridgeheads from Mannheim to Coblenz.50

On August 25, XIX TAC played a major role in ending the German

fighter threat in France. Once again the pioneer 354th Mustang group led the

way with claims of 49 enemy aircraft destroyed in a series of fighter sweeps

north and east of Paris. Among those 49 was the record-setting 500th enemy

aircraft shot down by the group since it arrived in the theater in late 1943. That

day, Ninth Air Force forces counted 127 German aircraft claimed destroyed

and 30 more damaged, at a cost of 27 U.S. aircraft. During the aerial fighting,

American pilots observed Bf 109s dropping belly tanks, suggesting that the

enemy had begun flying from Belgium and the homeland as Third Army

approached the last network of German airfields remaining in eastern France.

American pilots also observed increasingly inexperienced foes, who all too

frequently made the fatal mistake of trying to turn with the agile P–51 in pursuit. After the shoot-out on August 25, German tactical air forces posed little

threat to Third Army’s advance.51

The next day Weyland initiated roulement operations at Chateaudun for

squadrons of the 36th and 405th Fighter Groups assigned to fly close air support missions at Melun and Troyes. However, Weyland and his staff remained

well aware of the need for air bases east of Paris. The day after Chateaudun

opened for business, Weyland met with Ninth Air Force officers to plan the

construction and distribution of new sites as much as 50 miles east of the

French capital. Fifty miles represented the typical jump forward for the command. Once again, Weyland focused on establishing a roulement staging base

as soon as Third Army could secure the area. Meanwhile, his intelligence officer, Colonel Hallett, drew up a rail interdiction plan to cut off the main escape

route for German troops trapped south of the Loire.52 On August 26, Third

Army’s staff enthusiastically endorsed the plan, and Weyland started the operation the following day by sending the 371st Group south, where it destroyed

more than 200 enemy vehicles. The key question about the rail-cutting program would be whether the command could devote sufficient air power to the

task in view of its other commitments. Reports from Brittany, where the 358th

and 362d flew daily area patrols and furnished ground support, indicated the

Allied siege of the Atlantic ports was progressing slowly. Ground forces there

might require a larger commitment from the tactical air forces. Yet, the weather also threatened to weaken the effort when a cold front moved in from the

Air Power for Patton’s Army

100
Map 7

Northwestern Europe: Pursuit to

West Wall, Operations, 

August 26 - September 14, 1944

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 56, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Air Power for Patton’s Army

102

Atlantic on August 28 and restricted operations for the remainder of the

month.

In spite of bad weather on August 28, XIX TAC managed to fly its usual

complement of fighter sweeps and close air support operations in the east and

in Brittany. It also sent the 406th Fighter Group south of the Loire, where it had

a good day against enemy air, claiming 14 aircraft destroyed. The next day,

however, operations ceased entirely because of bad weather throughout northern France. Bad weather persisted on the thirtieth, when only two weather

reconnaissance flights could be launched. Meanwhile, on August 29, XIX TAC

moved its advance headquarters from Laval to the Foret de Marchenoir

between Orleans and Chartres (Map 7). The command historian enthused that

with this move “control of operations shifted far eastward.”53 Certainly a move

of 100 miles proved necessary and helpful, but at month’s end Weyland, ever

the “fireman,” had to spend most of his time in the East visiting potential sites

for the next move forward. To increase support to the Third Army, he was

determined to get roulement operations started at a Reims airfield immediately.

On August 28, 1944, Third Army crossed the Marne alongside First

Army on a 90-mile front (Map 7), but its supply stocks were almost gone.

Patton’s staff described current supply levels of petroleum as alarming. No

gasoline had been received that afternoon, and delivery was 100,000 gallons

short of operating requirements. Moreover, logistics officers expected little

improvement because General Bradley, 12th Army Group commander,

adhered to Eisenhower’s dictum and gave supply priority to the First Army. To

keep up, Third Army enhanced its already notorious reputation for appropriating available fuel stocks and other supplies wherever it found them.

Meanwhile, C–47s of the Ninth Air Force’s IX Troop Carrier Command augmented the severely taxed Allied overland system by flying supplies to Beille

and other airstrips near Le Mans, beginning on August 19 and continuing for

the rest of the month. Although most of these C–47 deliveries ended up with

Third Army, with priorities set otherwise, Patton’s supply problems worsened.54 The XIX TAC did not suffer from the fuel constraints experienced by

Third Army. Although consumption of aviation gasoline and oil increased significantly following the Cobra breakout, the pipeline from Cherbourg and

repaired railroad tracks and equipment provided the airfields with bulk fuel

from sizeable accumulated stocks (with 2 million gallons in reserve). Where

bottlenecks occurred or the pipeline and rail network could not keep pace with

the swift advance, XIX TAC relied on deliveries by truck or C–47 aircraft.55

Even short of supplies, Patton’s forces continued their relentless

advance, now within 100 miles of the German border. On August 30, his intelligence section warned that the Germans would stand at the city of Metz to

enable defenders to reinforce the Siegfried Line. Clearly the army needed to

reach the Mosel River and pierce the German line of fortifications before the
defense could entrench itself. Yet, it seemed as if the fates had combined to

thwart Patton at the climactic moment of the campaign. On the thirtieth, he

was told that Third Army would receive no further gasoline shipments at all

until September 3. Bad weather and competing tactical air priorities also conspired to restrict armor operations.56

By the end of its first month of combat, Third Army had crossed the

Meuse and swept past Chalons, over the American battlefields of the First

World War (Map 7). Moving well ahead of initial schedules, Patton’s forces

had conducted widely dispersed mobile operations in France that left “uncovered” a southern flank nearly 500 miles long. Yet, the pace slowed as the army

outdistanced its supply system. In fact, by August 31, XX Corps captured

Verdun, but its Sherman tanks had no more gas. Generals Patton and Weyland

nevertheless remained confident that Third Army and XIX TAC would win the

race against time and break into Germany itself. After all, as one Third Army

staff officer asserted, they had only one more river—the Mosel—to cross.57

For General Weyland and members of XIX TAC, the great drive across

France in August 1944 would remain the high point of the command’s service

in Europe. The very next month, an account of its first month’s exploits entitled Twelve Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties received wide distribution in

Washington military circles. The command also made available an unclassified version for the public.58 Although the end of mobile warfare had not yet

arrived, September would indeed bring a change in the nature of the fighting

in eastern France. At the end of August, however, the participants could not

yet foresee this change. With the promise of more supplies at month’s end,

Third Army was poised to launch a major assault against the Mosel River

defenses, while the XIX TAC prepared to concentrate its forces in the East in

support of this army offensive. 

Protecting Patton’s Southern Flank

Historians debate the effect of operating responsibilities in the Loire and

Brittany in September on XIX TAC’s ability to provide close air support for

Patton’s offensive on the Mosel. In the East, was Third Army denied the concentrated air support it required? Attention had focused on fuel and ammunition shortages, but did a shortage of aerial support also contribute to the halting of Patton’s forces? 

At the beginning of September 1944, XIX TAC’s mission embraced air

support responsibilities on three fronts: in eastern France it flew armed reconnaissance and column cover missions in support of Third Army’s drive toward

Metz; along the Loire River it kept watch on Patton’s flank and flew interdiction sorties against German forces retreating from southern France; and, lastly, in Brittany it played the key tactical air role in the sieges of the Breton forThe Battle for France

103
tified port facilities. It operated air bases from Brittany to the Le Mans area. As

it prepared to move forward again, General Weyland’s strike force consisted of

the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group and two wings of four fighter-bomber

groups each. Only the 363d Fighter Group, the second P–51 group, no longer

appeared in the command’s original nine-group lineup of August 7. Given the

Luftwaffe’s inability to contest air superiority, the 363d had been redesignated

at the start of the month as the 363d Tactical Reconnaissance Group and was

being reequipped with F–6 aircraft for reassignment to the soon-to-be established XXIX TAC.59

Among the three fronts, in terms of operational commitments, the Loire

front proved to be the least burdensome for the command. Weyland dispatched

daily reconnaissance flights and armed reconnaissance missions south of the

river when good targets could be found. To support his intelligence officer’s

interdiction plan, he also scheduled a daily rail-cutting mission in the DijonBelfort region, the point of exit for German troops retreating from southern

France. Often his air groups attacked targets of opportunity on these missions

and rearmed and refueled at one of the roulement staging bases, thence to fly

“on cooperation” with the ground forces for the remainder of the day. Although

the southern flank did not become a major combat front for the army in

September, it remained important because of the potential threat from German

forces remaining in the south. Patton garrisoned the north bank of the Loire

River thinly with elements from VIII Corps and relied entirely on his air arm

to alert him to and blunt any tactical threats from the Germans in this quarter.

The air arm, in turn, greatly benefited from Ultra intelligence on German locations and movements south of the Loire. From the beginning, the “watch on the

Loire” became largely an air force show, and it marked a historic milestone for

tactical air power.60

September opened with a major victory for XIX TAC pilots flying south

of the Loire. The rapid drive of Third Army beyond the Meuse and the advance

of General Patch’s Seventh Army northward from the Mediterranean precipitated a general German retreat up the Rhone valley toward the Belfort escape

hatch. As a result, command pilots on armed reconnaissance and fighter sweep

missions in the Nancy and Bourges regions found numerous choice targets in the

Wehrmacht traffic jam. On September 1 the command tallied the largest interdiction mission score of the entire campaign in France when its aircrews claimed

more than 800 motor vehicles destroyed or damaged. Curry’s Cougars led the

way with claims of 311 motor transport and 94 armored vehicles knocked out,

and an ammunition dump set ablaze for good measure.61

The XIX TAC kept up the pressure on harassed German troops with its

modest surveillance and armed reconnaissance force. The effort paid dividends early in the afternoon of September 7, when one of the 155th Night

Photo Squadron’s F–3s flying the Loire spotted a long enemy vehicle column

near Chateauroux on its way toward the Belfort Gap (Map 7).62 The 155th

Air Power for Patton’s Army

104
The Battle for France

105

Ultra operatives busily intercepted communications of the German troops who

used Enigma machines such as this to encode their transmissions.
pilot radioed in his sighting and the 406th Fighter Group arrived shortly thereafter. Once it expended all of its ordnance and ammunition, the group left to

reload, leaving vehicles overturned and burning. Then the 406th aircraft

returned again to complete the destruction of the column. Final claims totaled

132 motor transport and 310 horse-drawn vehicles destroyed. This mission

served as the most outstanding example of reconnaissance-fighter-bomber

coordination that, by September, had developed into a routine but very effective system.63

On September 9, 1944, information reached Army authorities that

Wehrmacht elements remaining in the area south of the Loire would likely surrender with a gentle nudge, and U.S. Ninth Army commander Lt. Gen.

William H. Simpson and Maj. Gen. Robert C. Macon, commander of the 83d

Infantry Division, assumed this responsibility after Third Army had declined

it. That evening Simpson visited General Weyland at XIX TAC headquarters

and outlined his plans to force a surrender, plans in which the XIX TAC figured prominently. Weyland’s forces would fly reconnaissance overhead, along

the route of the Germans’ march to the Loire River, but would not interfere

with their movement. If the enemy troops refused the surrender terms offered,

Air Power for Patton’s Army

106

Field Marshal Bernard L. Montgomery with

Lt. Gens. Omar Bradley and William H. Simpson.
however, then the fighter-bombers would return to attack them. Two days later,

on the eleventh, Weyland learned that the German commander of this hastily

assembled composite force, Maj. Gen. Botho Elster, had agreed to the terms

and marched his troops under U.S. Army escort through country controlled by

the French Resistance to the Loire River and a formal Wehrmacht surrender at

the Beaugency Bridge.64

General Simpson called Weyland on September 16 and generously invited him to attend the surrender ceremony at 1500 hours local time. It proved to

be a busy day for the XIX TAC commander. He arrived at Chalons to join

Generals Simpson and Macon at the Beaugency Bridge on schedule and was

pleased to hear that the XIX TAC’s aerial presence overhead received primary credit for compelling the surrender. Never before had an air commander

been present or received such laurels when one ground unit surrendered to

another. On his return to Chalons, Weyland received a call from General

Vandenberg asking for information and requesting his presence that evening at

Ninth Air Force headquarters in Versailles. Once again the XIX TAC commander took to the air, this time flying westward for dinner with Vandenberg

and his deputy, General Nugent. At a press conference, Weyland described the

role his command had played in convincing the German troops to surrender.65

The command’s own analysis of the Loire victory acknowledged that the

Germans’ flight south of the Loire did not result exclusively from the aerial

interdiction missions on September 1 and 7, or from Colonel Hallett’s rail-cutThe Battle for France

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Some of the 20,000 German prisoners who were surrendered to

General Macon, commander of the 83d Infantry Division, and

General Weyland, XIX TAC, on September 16, 1944, in a formal

surrender at Beaugency Bridge. The surrender was forced largely 

by the campaign of isolation by XIX TAC fighter-bombers.
ting program which forced the Wehrmacht onto the highways where it became

even more vulnerable. Equally important, on September 11, the U.S. Third and

Seventh Armies linked up, blocking the Belfort exit to Germany and trapping

these forces. Constant harassment from the French underground also took its

toll on the German troops. Tactical air power, nevertheless, contributed an

important element in forcing the surrender, if it was not a sufficient cause in its

own right. For the first time air forces not only had secured an army’s flank,

but aerial pressure and the threat of renewed aerial attack led directly to the

surrender of the enemy ground force. Wehrmacht General Elster made that

abundantly clear afterward. The persistent fighter-bomber attacks, he said, had

been the key factor in the decision to surrender his 20,000-man marschgruppe.

The XIX TAC mission of guarding Third Army’s flank and contributing to the

ultimate surrender of opposing ground forces has been lauded as an unprecedented example of tactical air power’s flexibility and diversity.66

A Decision in Brittany

In spite of XIX TAC’s unprecedented achievement on the Loire front,

General Weyland remained convinced that the diversion of his command’s

assets in Brittany during this period precluded even greater successes. “The

fruits of the program of interdiction and harassment,” he said, “would have

been considerably larger had it not been interrupted by concentration of the

fighter-bomber effort at Brest.”67 Indeed, the command’s major focus in early

September centered not on the Loire or Meuse fronts, but on Brittany where the

fortress city of Brest, after many weeks, still represented a major “potential”

port for Allied supplies. Whatever its potential, by this time Brest clearly had

become a secondary Allied objective 300 miles from the main front. Under the

command of an experienced General Middleton, VIII Corps had made little

progress since opening its siege offensive back on August 25. Initially,

Middleton simply had been allocated insufficient forces and ammunition to

succeed against the 30,000 determined defenders—almost twice the number

estimated—who remained well protected within an elaborate defensive complex that included concrete pillboxes, casements, gun emplacements, and a host

of additional obstacles. After VIII Corps failed to capture the garrison by

September 1, the planned completion date of the siege, military officials decided that more effort would need to be devoted to the embarrassing problem.68

On September 2, 1944, General Vandenberg notified the XIX TAC commander that Allied leaders had identified Brest and the other Breton fortified

sites still holding out as an urgent priority. These sites would be attacked by all

available bombers and fighter-bombers. Weyland, Vandenberg continued, had

been named operational commander for the tactical air effort, an effort that

would include not only every fighter-bomber group in his command, but othAir Power for Patton’s Army

108
ers from General Quesada’s IX TAC as well. General Vandenberg directed

Weyland to coordinate the Brittany air effort with General Middleton, the VIII

Corps commander. Earlier, Middleton had criticized what he considered subpar air support from the XIX TAC. Yet, when Weyland raised the issue with

Patton the corps commander denied it, and nothing more came of the incident.

Weyland could have anticipated support from Patton. The Third Army commander judged Middleton at this time to be a complainer and procrastinator

who, like Montgomery, required more of everything before beginning an

assault. In fairness to Middleton, his assessment of the tactical difficulties at

Brest proved accurate, and later Patton would come to consider this most capable infantry leader among his best corps commanders. In any event, in early

September, Middleton had all the air power he needed, or so it appeared. When

Weyland contacted the VIII Corps after Vandenberg’s call on the evening of

September 2, however, he learned that American ground forces could not follow up immediate fighter-bomber attacks because insufficient supplies of

ammunition made it impossible to mount coordinated air-ground attacks.69

The Ninth Air Force operations order for September 3, 1944, nonetheless, called for an “all out attack” which, as it turned out, totaled 24 of the 34

missions and nearly 300 of the 500 sorties flown on that day.70 Weyland spent

the day coordinating the effort and trying to obtain updated target lists for his

pilots from army air intelligence and air liaison officers in Brittany. On the following day, when bad weather forced cancellation of air operations at Brest,

he turned his attention to improving support for Third Army in eastern France.

Leaving the Brest operation in the capable hands of his combat operations officer, Weyland left on the morning of September 5 for the Third Army front with

three specific objectives in mind: investigate potential new airstrip locations;

discuss air support for the forthcoming offensive; and convince Patton that

XIX TAC planes assigned to Brest would better serve Third Army in the east.

First, Weyland wanted to reconnoiter potential airfield sites in eastern

France personally. Before leaving Chateaudun, he spoke with Ninth Air Force

headquarters and requested five fields in the Reims area and several near St.

Dizier for his groups then at Rennes and Le Mans, respectively. He also discussed using two airfields much closer to Third Army’s Mosel front—

Coulommiers (A–58) and Melun (A–55) near Paris—as rearming and refueling strips (Map 4). In fact, on the trip to Third Army headquarters on

September 5, he stopped off to visit his airdrome squadrons in the vicinity.

General Weyland also wanted to discuss Third Army’s resumption of operations with Patton’s staff. Because air and ground leaders customarily consulted on upcoming major assaults, Weyland had ample reason to fly to Chalons

and consult with the staff on the air role in Third Army’s joint plan for an

offensive against the Mosel defenses.71

Early on the afternoon of September 5, Weyland conferred with Generals

Patton and Gaffey and with General Haislip, commander of XV Corps. The

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Haislip forces would attack in the direction of Luneville on the right of XII

Corps, which had taken up positions opposite Nancy. Facing Metz, the XX

Corps prepared to attack the next day, on the sixth, in an effort to pierce the

Siegfried Line—provided its forces received sufficient gasoline supplies.

Although operations reports for the first three days of September confidently

alluded to securing bridgeheads and performing active reconnaissance to the

east, Third Army basically had stalled. The situation began to improve when

supply allocation rose and gas allowances increased on September 4. Of the

640,000 gallons requested that day, supply depots delivered 240,265. On

September 5, air and rail shipments of 358,840 gallons proved sufficient for

General Patton to order immediate resumptions of the advance.72

During the planning conference with Patton and his staff, Weyland also

raised the third issue. He informed Third Army leaders that air support in the

east would be restricted because all XIX TAC groups were reassigned to the

Brest operation. It is not clear whether he asked Patton directly for help to

reduce this commitment, although such a request probably would have been

unnecessary. From early in the campaign, Patton considered Brittany a backwater of the war. On September 5, the day of his meeting with Weyland, he

doubtless experienced relief now that VIII Corps and the Brittany Campaign,

on the fifth, had become the responsibility of the newly formed Ninth Army.

Whatever his feelings, higher authorities had committed his fighter-bombers

to support non-Third Army missions. After the meeting, Weyland remembered

that Patton agreed to seek release of the fighter-bombers in Brittany so they

could support Third Army’s attack to the east and into Germany. The XIX

TAC commander certainly cannot be faulted for seeking Patton’s help to

escape or reduce a commitment that neither favored. Weyland knew perfectly

well that the Brittany fortifications represented high-risk, low-yield targets for

his fighter-bombers, despite AAF evaluations that suggested P–47s would

have better success than medium or heavy bombers. Moreover, the air commander, like the ground commander, considered Brest a costly diversion from

far more urgent military tasks.

General Weyland and his staff always maintained that the command’s

commitment to the Brittany Campaign, especially for two pivotal weeks in

early September, prevented it from giving Third Army the vital support it

needed during the final push to the German frontier. Third Army officers felt

the same way. As for the Brest Campaign itself, it is hard to disagree with the

military historian B. H. Liddell Hart, who concluded that “the diversion to capture the Brittany ports brought [to the Allies] no benefit.”73 Senior airmen subsequently deplored the use of air power at Brest as “wasteful and ineffective.”74

There is much merit to the criticism. Despite 31 battalions of allied

artillery available at Brest at the start, as days turned into weeks, the pressure

mounted for more and more air support. One must remember, however, that

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army planners in the late 1930s had designed army divisions for speed and

mobility, which meant that medium rather than heavy artillery became the

standard issue. As part of the compromise that would build up the air arm in

the early 1940s, army leaders planned to rely on air power to augment artillery

fire. Air leaders quite willing, even eager, to accept the expansion of aerial

forces later seemed much less willing to accept the trade-off that would

employ the fighter-bombers as flying artillery.75

After Brest became Ninth Air Force’s primary objective on September 3,

Weyland sent fighter-bombers from the two tactical air commands against

every conceivable target holding up the ground advance there. These included

dug-in troop positions, heavily fortified coastal batteries, and reinforced concrete pillboxes and fortress walls. On occasion he resorted to the air umbrella,

the practice frowned on by doctrinaire air force leaders. Weyland’s air umbrella in Brittany provided continuous four-plane air patrols to support each division. Nevertheless, VIII Corps ground forces made little progress until

September 14, when accumulated attacks on seacoast batteries, specific targets

in the city center, and constant pressure from the ground forces at last forced

the defenders into the inner ring. Here, in the final assault, P–47s identified

and attacked individual fortified houses in what amounted to house-to-house

fighting.76

The postwar AAF Evaluation Board analysis proved highly critical of

the indiscriminate use of air power at Brest, which it attributed to the absence

of an air liaison or other advisory officer at VIII Corps headquarters. As a

result, planners had inadequate knowledge about the effects of various bombing techniques, bomb fuzings, and related procedures. The evaluators also

deplored the lack of coordination by target officers to produce an integrated

target plan for the operation. General Weyland’s difficulties in obtaining targets for his aerial forces certainly reflected this weakness. It seems surprising

to find many of the same coordination problems that first appeared at

Cherbourg reappearing at Brest.77

The tactical air experience at Brest, however, also revealed a positive

side, at least by the later stages of the operation. Air-ground coordination, in

particular, improved steadily during the campaign. Unlike the Cherbourg operation, air liaison officers now provided a VHF controller link that proved

invaluable. Missions directed by the division air liaison officer who coordinated the use of fighter-bombers on airborne alert with division artillery batteries proved especially effective. In contrast with air operations in North

Africa, air superiority and sufficient forces allowed the air-ground team to use

the air umbrella effectively. Normally the P–47 groups flew 12-ship squadronsize missions and relied on three types of ordnance: two 500-lb. bombs, one

1,000-lb. bomb, or napalm-filled tanks. Brest was the first major test of

napalm employed on the continent, and the jellied gasoline bomb rapidly

became a popular and effective weapon when used properly. At Brest, fighterThe Battle for France

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bombers dropped 133.2 tons of the firebombs. Airmen found that napalm

proved most destructive when used on targets already partially destroyed and

on deep shelters because of its adverse effect on the ventilation system. The

use of napalm in attacks with ground forces in close proximity to the target

suggests that air and ground forces had achieved a high level of coordination.

Near the end of the assault on Brest, which fell on September 18, 1944, the

XIX TAC historian could declare with good reason that “close air-ground

cooperation was paying big dividends.”78

Although the command lost only 12 aircraft during the entire September

operation in Brittany, in terms of future value, the operation proved far too

costly for the Allies. The German defenders destroyed the port facilities when

VIII Corps troops finally overran the fortress complex on September 18. By

that time the main Allied war effort had moved far to the east. Allied leaders

decided not even to rehabilitate the Breton ports, relying instead on port facilities in Antwerp, Belgium. General Weyland, with some justification, could

complain bitterly: “While this enormous air effort was being concentrated on

such a small area, Third Army’s eastward-pushing spearheads were covered

very thinly with fighter-bombers....”79

Back on September 8, 1944, just three days after their joint planning

meeting at Chalons, Generals Gaffey and Gay asked Weyland for more air support of Third Army’s Mosel crossing. Evidently Patton had been unable to

secure a reduction in XIX TAC’s commitment in Brittany, and the air commander explained how SHAEF’s current air requirements for Brest affected

the level of air support that he presently could furnish for the ground advance

at the Mosel.80 In fact, on September 6, the day after the planning meeting at

Chalons, the command sent six of its eight groups on 33 of the day’s 37 flying

missions to Brest. This heavy concentration of air power in Brittany continued

for the next two days. After that, however, the effort would decline to three

groups on September 9 and 10, and normally two groups thereafter until the

fall of Brest on the eighteenth. During this period, Third Army always

received air support from at least two groups, and after September 12, it normally claimed about two-thirds of XIX TAC’s daily mission allotment.

Weather also played a role in allocating the air effort. Bad coastal weather at

Brest could, as it did on the sixth, result in aircraft being diverted to Patton’s

front. Then, too, Patton carefully retained his airborne watch on the Loire

River flank.81

Third Army probably received more air support than Patton could have

expected after the Brittany assault began in earnest on September 3. Certainly

he could have benefited from additional air support in September, but probably interdiction, not close cooperation sorties over his columns, would have

proved most helpful. With the pause in mobile operations, his artillery now

could support front line troops preparing to cross the Mosel. Tactical air support to isolate the Mosel battlefield seemed likely to produce the greatest divAir Power for Patton’s Army

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idends. Weyland recognized this, and the mission logs for mid-September

show that armed reconnaissance rather than armored column cover missions

predominated. It is here, with interdiction targeting, that the Brest commitment

most seriously affected Third Army’s potential for success. It is hard to avoid

the conclusion that a major interdiction program in the Mosel-Rhine region,

designed to prevent an intensive German buildup along the Mosel, offered the

best role for tactical air power at the time. No amount of tactical air power,

however, could move an army that literally had run out of gas at the end of

August, an army that remained largely stationary the entire first week of

September. Logistic constraints rather than insufficient air support proved to

be Patton’s real Achilles heel.82

Final Pursuit to the Mosel River

By September 18, 1944, with Brest captured and the Loire flank secured,

the command could devote its full force and attention to Third Army’s Mosel

front. As important as the Brest and Loire operations became, General

Weyland realized that his chief objective continued to be one of support for

Third Army’s main offensive. This meant moving his groups to Chalons and

St. Dizier airfields in time to concentrate his air power in force on Third

Army’s front. Could XIX TAC relocate its groups to airfields in eastern France

in time to affect favorably Third Army’s operations? Weyland directed the

majority of his time during the month of September to that end and his personal touch was evident throughout the relocation process. On September 6,

the day after personally examining potential airfield sites, he joined General

Quesada at Ninth Air Force headquarters in Versailles, where they, along with

Generals Vandenberg and Nugent, allocated new airfields between the two tactical air commands.83

The XIX TAC received four fields in each region. Weyland approved of

the selection, but later he would lobby—unsuccessfully—to be given the

Reims-Champagne airfield as well. The main problem was that only two of the

fields, Conde-sur-Marne (A–76c) and St. Dizier (A–64), could be used immediately (Map 4). Weyland had already chosen these as his roulement and emergency rearming and refueling fields in the forward area, and on the evening of

September 6 he directed Colonel Ferguson to have the command’s two airdrome squadrons move in, and the Ninth Air Force’s service command representative to stock the fields with sufficient gas.

As for the other sites, five needed to be surfaced with square-mesh tracking material and the remaining two required extensive rehabilitation. The plan

called for the St. Dizier cluster to have two of its fields operational by

September 10, and two more by the thirteenth. The engineers expected the

Chalons sites, with the exception of the roulement base, to be operational by

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113
the eighteenth. That schedule, as Weyland learned, however, did not reflect

operational availability. Vandenberg allowed only two of Weyland’s groups,

the 371st and 405th Fighter Groups in Normandy, along with the 100th Fighter

Wing headquarters at Le Mans, to relocate to the St. Dizier area on September

10 (Map 7). The remaining six groups would have to remain in place farther

west until the Brest Campaign’s conclusion.84

Weyland also wanted to move his advance headquarters to Chalons as

soon as adequate communications facilities could be established. The 405th

and 371st Fighter Groups would be controlled by the advance headquarters

until the 100th Fighter Wing became operational, while the 303d Fighter Wing

would continue to control groups in the rear area until they moved forward.

Complications arose in early September, when authorities decided to create a

new command, the XXIX TAC, commanded by General Nugent, from units

currently assigned to the IX and XIX TACs. General Nugent’s command

would support U.S. Ninth Army operations on First Army’s left flank. From

General Weyland’s forces, the planners selected the 303d Fighter Wing for

transfer, along with two as yet unnamed fighter-bomber groups. Nugent’s new

command would become operational on September 14,85 and understandably

he wanted the 303d available on the fourteenth. Weyland objected because his

widely separated fields of operation required more decentralized command

Air Power for Patton’s Army

114

Maj. Gen. Richard E. Nugent,

assistant chief of staff for

operations, Ninth Air Force.
and control arrangements than the IX TAC and he declined to give up the wing

as long as the Brest Campaign remained active. As it turned out, General

Vandenberg allowed the 303d to remain with the XIX TAC one more day, until

September 15.

On September 10, the St. Dizier airfield became operational, and the

10th Photo Reconnaissance Group arrived from Chateaudun to fly missions

from its new site. Ninth Air Force agreed to use medium bombers to augment

resupply of the Third Army and declared the bomber resupply mission top priority. St. Dizier was the field selected. This troubled Weyland because it meant

his own units’ operations would be shorted, and the runways would suffer

damage from the heavier airplanes. Yet, Third Army clearly needed special

help for its worsening supply plight. As it was, airmen did not deliver the first

bulk gas to St. Dizier until the twenty-first.86 September 10 also proved memorable for another reason. On that date XIX TAC moved its advance headquarters to Chalons. The command historian confidently proclaimed that this

move finally ended the communications problems between the two headquarters. Although another two weeks passed before the relocation could be completed, joint planning no longer had to include the X-Ray echelon, and at

Chalons, Patton and Weyland were only 15 miles apart (Map 7).

While Weyland moved his forces to forward airfields as rapidly as possible, Patton confronted his supply problems. Supply shortages for the Third

Army began to occur in mid-August.87 The gas situation emerged as the most

serious of all in early September. Even when fuel began arriving for the Third

Army as promised after the third—by air, road, and rail—the stocks never

reached the levels required. Ammunition stocks also had been seriously

depleted, especially for XII Corps divisions attacking in the Nancy area. By

September 12, Third Army had to request its entire airlift allocation be used

for ammunition requirements.

Despite shortages of ammunition and fuel, Patton’s forces continued a

limited offensive, and on September 7, XX Corps units reached the Mosel

south of Metz and forced a crossing. By September 9, elements of the corps

established bridgeheads north and south of the city and U.S. artillery had

begun shelling the forts. At the same time, XII Corps launched a coordinated

assault to outflank Nancy. The corps could not capture the city, however, until

September 15, while the Metz forts proved impervious even to shelling by 8-

inch howitzers, medium guns. Even though all three corps had reached the

Mosel, determined enemy resistance made it difficult to maintain bridgeheads.

Progress became slow in all zones of the front.

Weyland realized the urgency of the situation. On September 12, he met

with General Gay and 12th Army Group officers about the requirements

involved in transporting his air groups to their new locations in eastern France.

They had to come by rail from three different areas (Map 7), he explained, and

it would take four trains to transport ground elements of two groups. The assisThe Battle for France

115
tant chief of staff promised to ask Patton and Gaffey for rail priority. Given the

transportation bottleneck and Third Army’s own desperate needs in September,

it was not surprising that XIX TAC ground echelons improvised the move via

a combination of rail, road, and air transport.88

The relocation experience of the 36th Fighter Group proved typical.89 It

had only been at site A–35 on the outskirts of Le Mans for 12 days when, on

September 19, the command notified it to pack up for the journey to Condesur-Marne (A–76), 160 miles to the east (Map 4). The base was already familiar to aircrews as a rearming and refueling base for the longer missions from

Le Mans. Unit personnel performed the now-familiar task of packing up tents

and equipment and splitting into advance and rear echelons. The air echelon

left on the nineteenth, with the rear following in stages. Most of the equipment

made the journey by train, while the majority of the personnel arrived by C–47

aircraft. The group took nine days to complete the move, which must be considered admirable given the enormous transportation problems that existed

throughout the Allied area in September. On the other hand, the nine days in

transit loomed large for a command in a race against time.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

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Solving the enormous transportation problems that existed throughout

the Allied area in September 1944 must be credited to the personnel

of the Transportation Section, rear headquarters, Chalons, France.
The group historian declared the field at Conde-sur-Marne, nine miles

northeast of Epernay, to be a virtual wilderness. What made the most impression on the new arrivals proved to be the mud, which they considered even

worse than they remembered in England. On the other hand, at least the forward deployment meant better air support for the Army and it ended the practice of landing at forward fields to refuel, then flying the mission, and later

landing at one of the eastern airstrips because of bad weather. The 354th

Fighter Group historian recounted how, in past roulement operations, half the

group might be grounded at forward bases or at their home base because of bad

weather, with some continuing to fly missions from the staging sites for several days. For all its hardships, however, the roulement system clearly allowed

XIX TAC to provide air support quickly to front line units, and it ensured the

flexibility and mobility of tactical air power during the exploitation phase of

combat in France.90

With Brest about to fall on September 17, 1944, General Weyland directed his combat operations officer, Colonel Ferguson, to have all XIX TAC

groups moved forward and ready by September 25, for “all-out” operations in

eastern France against German forces on the Mosel.91 Yet would there still be

time to make a difference against German defenses growing stronger by the

day? From September 19–25, most of XIX TAC’s missions consisted of armed

reconnaissance flights against transportation targets in the Rhine and Mosel

River valleys.92 Despite these mission assignments, there is no record that

General Patton complained that the air command now emphasized interdiction

rather than close air support. With his artillery available on an increasingly static front, it made good sense to send the fighter-bombers to try to isolate the

battlefield. During this period, however, poor weather interfered with strike

missions, and tactical reconnaissance missions continued to report heavy

enemy traffic moving into the Mosel region unhindered.

If General Weyland began to emphasize armed reconnaissance in late

September, he did not neglect close air support missions. Many of these supported the celebrated 4th Armored Division, now engaged in heavy combat

outside Nancy. Its division commander, however, General Wood, offered

Weyland his only other encounter over command authority. One of XIX TAC’s

communications officers, Lieutenant Kiljauczyk, was temporarily serving with

the 4th Armored pending reassignment. General Wood flatly refused to release

Kiljauczyk on the grounds that XII Corps retained authority in such matters.

Weyland, who did not brook lightly challenges to his authority, promptly telephoned the Third Army chief of staff, General Gay, who just as promptly settled the question in Weyland’s favor. To their credit, General Patton and his

staff invariably supported their air commander.93

Appropriately, the operational highlight that closed this period involved

the same 4th Armored Division. Early on September 24, General Gaffey called

Weyland and requested emergency air support for the division’s Combat

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Command B, which had come under heavy armored counterattack near Nancy.

Despite poor weather, Weyland dispatched two squadrons of the 405th Fighter

Group with 500-lb. bombs to rescue the force. Afterward, increasingly bad

weather forced them to land at Etain and Weyland took the crews over to meet

with a grateful Third Army staff. The following day, the 4th Armored Division

sent the command a proper message of thanks, confirming that the P–47s had

knocked out six Panzer tanks.94

On September 22, 1944, both air and ground advance headquarters began

moving from tents to covered quarters at Etain, which meant that joint operations would be conducted together for the first time since early August. Circuit

problems, however, cut out communications between Chalons and Etain,

delaying the arrival of the bulk of XIX TAC’s advance personnel and communications equipment until the twenty-fourth. By this time, Colonel Ferguson

had met his commander’s directive of having all groups in place for the all-out

effort on September 25. Unfortunately, bad weather made the twenty-fifth the

first totally nonflyable day of the month. That morning, General Patton, with

General Weyland in attendance, addressed his staff, announcing that Third

Army would go on the defensive until sufficient fuel and ammunition could be

obtained.95 Typical of Patton, this would be an aggressive defense, one in which

limited attacks would be made to improve positions, while the troops prepared

to resume the offensive and attack on the Nancy-Frankfurt axis when ammunition and supply permitted. The Third Army–XIX TAC team had lost the race

against time and the mobile warfare of the summer and fall came to an end.

The French Campaign Reviewed

O. P. Weyland’s report on XIX TAC’s performance during the drive

across France boldly asserted that aerial operations on fronts 350 miles apart

proved “entirely practical because of the flexibility and range of air power.”96

The airmen made this possible in large part by decentralizing operations farther

than established doctrine recommended or than planners originally intended. At

one time, XIX TAC had groups based in three different areas and used roulement practices to stage from several others. At the same time, while the command echelon maintained air force control of its far flung units with diverse

responsibilities, its task became increasingly difficult through late September.

Too often, perhaps, General Weyland found himself a fireman scurrying back

and forth, attempting to maintain control and ensure effective operations.

Air force tactical doctrine prescribed that control of air assets remain

concentrated in the hands of the air commander, especially at the theater rather

than the army level. Except for overall tactical air priorities, however, General

Weyland held that control at the army level, and only occasionally did army

interference demand his attention. During the battle of France, in only two

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instances did Weyland consider his authority as the air commander endangered. One occurred when Third Army operations officers at Le Mans attempted to direct close air missions; the other involved the assignment of the XIX

TAC communications officer serving with the 4th Armored Division. Neither

situation involved Patton or his immediate staff. In both cases, at Weyland’s

request, Third Army’s chief of staff acted promptly to settle the matter. The

ability of XIX TAC to respond rapidly to Third Army’s changing combat situations during the exploitation phase overcame tendencies by army officers to

extend their authority into the air arena. From the beginning, the battle for

France emerged as a joint operations campaign that required and received a

high measure of cooperation and personal involvement. If the Allies enjoyed

overwhelming air superiority and possessed the organization and forces to

make joint operations function effectively, personal respect and trust among

partners proved decisive, as the XIX TAC–Third Army team demonstrated.

Air-ground cooperation, of course, began at the top. The professional

relationship between Weyland and Patton was one of admiration and mutual

respect. Although Patton’s ability to improvise is well documented, Weyland,

too, showed that in the drive across France he could react to and meet changing situations with an equivalent flexibility of thought and action. However

inexperienced in combat he may have been on arriving in England, Weyland

proved himself a fast learner under fire. The XIX TAC commander emerges

from the record as the tactical air commander in fact as well as in name. When

ground authorities requested supporting action beyond the capabilities of his

forces, Weyland quickly refused, while asking the Ninth Air Force to furnish

the supporting action needed. Normally, these requests involved the use of

medium or heavy bombers and night fighters. Only during the initial assault

against heavily defended Breton ports in late August did Patton appear to disagree actively with his air commander, who opposed the use of his fighterbombers in the attack. In this case, however, Weyland’s hands were tied by

senior Allied leaders once they set air priorities and decided on maximum use

of air power to accelerate capture of the forts. A few days later, both Weyland

and Patton worked together to free tactical air and reduce its commitment in

Brittany during the major effort against the ports in early September 1944.

During the first two weeks of the campaign, Weyland met with Patton

nearly every day. Normally, the Third Army inner circle consisted of Patton,

chief of staff Gaffey, and assistant chief of staff Gay, although corps commanders attended planning meetings that involved major offensives. Third Army

headquarters also conducted a regular morning briefing that Weyland attended

as often as possible. Beyond this, however, Weyland’s diary reflects frequent

conferences and informal discussions with Patton and Gaffey on fast-breaking

developments that called for air force assistance. Weyland normally would

suggest the course of action and, once a course was approved, immediately

contact his combat operations officer, Ferguson, to arrange the details. 

The Battle for France

119
The fast pace of combat in France in the summer and fall of 1944 meant

that planning and decision-making frequently became more fluid, unstructured, and highly personalized. Only by mid-August did Weyland regularly

attend the XIX TAC–Third Army nightly joint operations meetings. Even

when the two headquarters were separated after August 14, Weyland did not

rely entirely on his X-Ray liaison unit at the Third Army command post;

instead he daily discussed with Patton and his staff current and future plans by

phone or teletype. As often as possible, he flew his Stinson L–5 light plane or

a P–47 aircraft from a XIX TAC airfield to Third Army’s headquarters to discuss matters personally. Along the way, he invariably reconnoitered prospective airfield sites and visited his operating units. 

If mobile warfare called for flexibility in action on Weyland’s part, it

also compelled him to modify doctrine over the course of the campaign.

Although close air support remained third in priority for AAF tactical air

forces, XIX TAC gave “first priority [to] cover of the armored units.”

Moreover, that support most often appeared in the form of air patrols dedicated to specific army units—the exact patrols that were found so objectionable

in North Africa because they prevented the concentration of air power.97 This

close support of the armored forces and infantry divisions did not diminish the

role of interdiction, as armed reconnaissance mission results demonstrated.

Moreover, Allied air superiority, the first aerial priority, made possible the dual

emphasis on isolation of the battlefield and close support of the ground forces

in the first place.

If mobile land warfare called forth tactical air power’s special capabilities, it also exposed its limitations. The extended lines of communication and

the pace of the campaign put a tremendous strain on all elements of the command. The technology of the World War II communications network proved

especially sensitive and General Weyland repeatedly had difficulties establishing and maintaining good circuits from advance headquarters to the wing

headquarters and the fighter control center. The signals network depended on

the fate of the airfield siting and construction program; both served to restrict

Air Power for Patton’s Army

120

General Weyland

often flew in a

Thunderbolt from

one headquarters

to another to

coordinate

activities.
XIX TAC’s efforts to keep up with a rapidly advancing Third Army. In

Northwest Europe, as in other Atlantic and Pacific theaters, air power was

built on the ground.

By September 1944, concern over aircraft shortages also arose within the

command. Although the XIX TAC never had to curtail operations because it possessed too few aircraft, it had to adjust aerial operations to account for the uneven

flow of replacement airplanes. For added flexibility, General Weyland set

squadron size at 12 rather than at 18 aircraft, a 33 percent reduction. Moreover,

the command, which normally possessed eight groups, found that flying more

than two group missions daily (or a total of 72 individual aircraft sorties) could

not be supported adequately, given the aircraft loss rate of 114 in August and 72

in September, when combined with the uncertain arrival of replacements.98

On the other hand, fighter-bomber groups never lacked for sufficient

numbers of combat pilots during the drive across France. In fact, groups complained that they had too many pilots for available positions. Although aviator

losses for the command totaled 64 in August and 92 in September, the August

and September pilot replacement figures were 162 and 281, respectively.

Fatigue became a concern. The strain of continuous combat encouraged the

command to rotate pilots back to the states for recuperation normally after 200

combat hours. In doing so, Ninth Air Force policy, perhaps reflecting the overabundance of fighter pilots in the theater, required that such pilots be reassigned to other commands upon their return. Combat losses, rotation, and the

heavy influx of new, inexperienced pilots led to a decline in the number of

experienced group, squadron, and flight leaders, and this proved the most serious and persistent problem for the command.99

By September 1944, XIX TAC support units also felt the strain of the

long lines of communication and difficulties in transportation. Aircraft maintenance seemed less affected than supply. The command’s assistant maintenance and supply officer believed that maintenance in the command was the

best in Ninth Air Force because of the coordination between service teams,

depots, and the tactical units. The supply saga proved to be different, however. For the move to Chalons, which began on September 10, 1944, and took

two weeks to complete, the supply section found itself short of truck transport

and had to resort to the expedient of pooling group vehicles and of securing

help from available rail and air transport.100

On balance, the conduct of mobile warfare on several fronts presented

XIX TAC a challenge it never entirely mastered. Even the air commander’s

resort to extremely decentralized command and control and a rearrangement

of mission priorities could not provide all of the air support wanted in Third

Army’s blitzkrieg across France. If, as the command declared, it proved capable of supporting diverse ground operations on widely separated fronts, it

invariably found that concentrating its air power on one particular front caused

a restriction in its coverage on other fronts. This became most evident in

The Battle for France

121
September when the Brest Campaign in the west demanded substantial tactical air involvement at the expense of air operations in eastern France. Even

with command of the air assured and substantial aircraft available, warfare’s

competing priorities overtaxed General Weyland’s available forces; these

events remind us that tactical air forces represent a costly, limited resource.

Only late in the month could he muster his forces and concentrate them on

Third Army’s front. By this time, however, the plan of the air-ground team was

thwarted by a combination of bad weather, limited night flying capability,

Third Army supply shortages, and a new type of combat: positional warfare. 

General Patton did not always appreciate the limitations of tactical air

power. As General Weyland recalled, after their early successes the Third

Army commander seemed to believe that the XIX TAC was capable of anything.101 An overstatement, perhaps, but it reflected Patton’s faith in the

army–air team, a faith that never faltered. Even when chances of success on

the Mosel diminished sharply in late September, he still found time to send an

Associated Press reporter to Weyland to give the XIX TAC the publicity

Patton thought he deserved, and “link 3d Army–XIX TAC as a team.”102

Indeed, for the peppery, judgmental Third Army commander, over the course

of the campaign, General Weyland had proved himself and his command in the

face of formidable and constantly changing operational challenges. In late

September 1944, however, both men confronted another, more vexing assignment. Static warfare now would challenge the XIX TAC–Third Army team as

never before. The Lorraine Campaign was about to begin. 

Air Power for Patton’s Army

122
Chapter Four

Stalemate in Lorraine

Of all U.S. Third Army’s World War II campaigns, Lorraine would prove

by far the most difficult and frustrating. In early September 1944, however,

victory fever remained high and both officers and troops believed that Lorraine

would fall quickly in General Patton’s drive to the Rhine River. By month’s

end, numerous obstacles conspired to thwart the best efforts of Third Army

and the XIX TAC; the air-ground team found itself embroiled in fighting similar to the positional warfare of World War I on the western front.1

Autumn’s Changed Conditions

In the fall of 1944, Patton’s route for invading Germany south of the

Ardennes increasingly claimed less Allied attention. With few key military

objectives, it hardly compared with British General Montgomery’s northern

approach through the Ruhr industrial area, and in the context of General

Eisenhower’s broad-front strategy (Map 8), Allied leaders viewed Lorraine as

a secondary front. Natural terrain and man-made defenses favored the

Wehrmacht, and because the land rises from west to east, the Third Army

would have to fight uphill throughout much of the region, cross many rivers

and small streams, overrun numerous fortified towns, and breach two major

defensive systems, the Maginot and Siegfried Lines.2

Among the German defensive systems, the Maginot Line would prove

somewhat less troublesome. The French sited and built it looking eastward.

The Siegfried Line, or West Wall, however, looked westward and remained a

formidable challenge for the invaders. Despite recent neglect, the fortifications

extended three miles deep in places and included numerous interconnected

concrete pillboxes, troop shelters, observation posts, and antitank obstacles.

Moreover, American troops in Lorraine dealt not only with reduced supplies

of ammunition and gasoline, but also with increasingly determined German

defenders able to take advantage of fortified positions and foul weather in the

fall. As if these were not enough challenges, General Bradley’s 12th Army

Group, committed to the “northern approach,” ordered Patton on September

10, 1944, to overrun the province of Lorraine and penetrate the Siegfried Line

with an army reduced from four corps to two, the XXth commanded by Lt.

Gen. Walton H. Walker, and the XIIth led by Maj. Gen. Manton S. Eddy. The

123
Map 8

European Theater

Reprinted from: Christopher R. Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An Overview, Sep-Dec 1944,” (Ft. Leavenworth,

Kan.: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985), p. 2.
Stalemate in Lorraine

125

October combat quickly became a stalemate, with Third Army ground forces

fighting limited engagements to improve their positions while building the

supply base for a major offensive in early November that, they hoped, would

take them through the Siegfried Line and on to the Rhine River.3

The Lorraine Campaign encouraged XIX TAC officials to consider the

capabilities, and especially the limitations, of tactical air power. Above all, the

airmen in Lorraine sought to use air power to break the stalemate on land.

Weyland, as commander of the XIX TAC, became the key figure in the planning of air support in three joint operations undertaken by the Third Army

against German border defenses during this period: first, Operation Madison,

the assault on Metz and the Mosel defenses in early November; second,

Operation Hi-Sug, the first major attempt to break through the Siegfried Line in

early December; and finally, Operation Tink, the most ambitious air and ground

operation of its kind, which the Allies planned to begin at the very time the

Germans launched their Ardennes counteroffensive known as the Battle of the

Bulge. Throughout the nearly three-month period in Lorraine, General Weyland

proved to be a resourceful and pragmatic commander, one intent on providing

maximum support for the ground forces. In that effort, doctrinal pronouncements did not dictate field operations. Air superiority, interdiction, and close air

support received the attention he thought they deserved, but not necessarily in

that order. If the way in which Weyland mixed the mission priorities during the

campaign largely satisfied the needs of the ground commanders whom he supported, it frequently did not meet the expectations of tactical air purists.

Like Third Army, XIX TAC faced a radical readjustment of operations

in the fall conflict. With army elements drawn abreast in September on a 135-

mile front along the old French fortress line from Thionville to Epinal, mostly static action on a single front replaced the mobile operations of summer

(Map 9). The new combat conditions were not entirely unfavorable. The long,

good-weather flying days might be gone, but static warfare meant an end to

decentralized operations that compelled Weyland to support multiple fronts far

from home bases. As mobile as tactical air power could be, he had learned

through experience that the air arm could not keep pace with General Patton’s

breakneck advance across France when communications links unravelled.

Now the command consolidated its forces, which enabled communications,

maintenance, and supply echelons to catch up near the Marne River region in

close proximity to Third Army. Air bases could be clustered within 50 miles

of Third Army’s front lines, which reduced flying time to the target area by 50

percent. With the ground forces able to bring their medium and heavy artillery

into position, the airmen could leave a large portion of the close support mission to army gunners and thus devote more of their effort to isolating the battlefield in a concerted Allied program of air interdiction.4

By late September 1944, the Luftwaffe had become especially ineffective

in Third Army’s zone of responsibility. During the month, the Allied onslaught
Map 9

Northwestern Europe, 1944:

6th and 12th Army Group Operations,

September 15–November 7, 1944

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 59a, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
forced Luftwaffe leaders to give up air bases first in France and then in Belgium

and to withdraw their remaining forces into Germany. The dislocation produced by Allied attacks, the loss of unified command and control, poor servicing facilities, and fuel shortages at the new bases in Germany meant that serious operations would have to await a rebuilding of the force. Moreover, at

month’s end, Hitler redirected the air force’s primary focus to the overhead

defense of the Third Reich against Allied strategic bombardment, rather than

to support the Wehrmacht on the ground in the west. As a result, only 350 single-engine fighters covered the approaches to the Rhine, while the remaining

western front command’s 500 fighters moved to bases in northeast Germany to

help defend Berlin and the oil industry. By transferring aircraft from the eastern front as well, the aerial force defending the Reich numbered 1,260 singleengine fighters, or nearly 65 percent of the total available single-engine fighter force.5

As the weather worsened with the onset of winter, XIX TAC’s sortie figures plummeted from a high of 12,292 in August to 7,791 in September 1944,

then skidded to 4,790 in October and only 3,509 in November. Third Army’s

slowdown in September and the worsening weather also permitted the Germans

to build up their defenses. For XIX TAC pilots this resulted in the worst flak

concentrations they had experienced thus far in the conflict.6

Like Patton’s Third Army, Weyland’s command also fought the Lorraine

Campaign with reduced forces. On September 23, 1944, when General

Bradley directed Third Army to assume a “defensive attitude,”7 Weyland still

possessed all eight fighter-bomber groups comprising 288 aircraft, as well as

having the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group from the summer campaign in

place in eastern France. By October 1, however, XIX TAC strength had

declined to five groups and 180 fighters: the Pioneer Mustang 354th Fighter

Group and four Thunderbolt units. The latter included the 358th Orange Tails,

the 362d Maulers, the 405th Raiders (perhaps the command’s premier close

support group), and the celebrated 406th Tiger Tamers. In early November, the

command also lost the 358th Fighter Group to XII TAC, which supported

General Patch’s U.S. Seventh Army on Patton’s right flank in the Alsace area

of France. The only addition made to the command prior to the Ardennes

emergency of mid-December was the 425th Black Widow (P–61) night fighter squadron that was assigned on October 7.8

During the Lorraine Campaign, General Weyland directed air operations

from Etain, where XIX TAC advance headquarters moved on September 22,

1944. Administrative and support responsibilities continued to be exercised

through rear headquarters located at Chalons under his chief of staff, Colonel

Browne. The rear headquarters remained at Chalons throughout the fall and

early winter, but advance headquarters followed Patton to Nancy on October

12, where it remained until January 1945 (Map 9). The most significant change

in the fall came not in command organization but in flying control. With winStalemate in Lorraine

127
ter’s weather impending, the equipment, organization, and procedures for navigating and bombing assumed central importance for the command. Indeed, in

the campaign to come, the establishment in late September of a provisional tactical control group to replace the fighter control center would prove a crucial

decision.9

Refinements in Command and Control

During the drive across France, a fighter wing operated the fighter control

center far removed from advance headquarters. General Weyland became convinced that this method of command and control was inefficient. Establishing a

tactical control group to perform the functions of navigation and operational

control at Etain solved the problem of divided responsibility, and it brought

together all aircraft warning units, the fighter control squadron, and the Y-service radio intercept detachment in a single advance headquarters. Elements of

the group operated from a tactical control center located directly behind the

front, close by advance headquarters. In short, with consolidation of forces at

the Third Army front, decentralization came to an end. Communications now

would be centralized and positioned more directly under the command’s control.10

Radar also became important once the command undertook to support

position warfare in bad weather. Earlier, wing personnel at the fighter control

center had used an area control board to plot and handle aircraft movement.

Now, the tactical control center delegated this function to five fighter director

post radar facilities in the XIX TAC flight control system (Chart 4). Each forward director post facility consisted of two British radars with their rotating

Air Power for Patton’s Army

128

Gen. O. P. Weyland

awards an Air Medal

to Col. Roger Browne,

his chief of staff.
antenna arrays and control and communications trucks. While personnel used

one radar to control aircraft, the other swept the area of coverage to provide

early warning. Field orders passed from joint combat operations centers to the

control group’s tactical control center, where communications officers made

flight control assignments for each of the director posts based on their radar

coverage capability and handling capacity. The command sited the director

posts so that close air support coverage could be provided all along the Third

Army front. Data from the forward radars and radio equipment were transmitted back to the tactical control center, which maintained a complete picture of

all scheduled missions and unknown and hostile tracks in the command area.

This control proved especially important for, and effective in, diverting fighter-bombers to targets called in by reconnaissance aircraft. In this capacity, the

director post units provided vectors to fighter-bombers on close cooperation

missions to bring the aircraft to a specific point where the ground air liaison

officer took over. Likewise, reconnaissance aircraft could be vectored to specific targets or general areas designated in the field order. Although these

director posts proved their usefulness late in the drive across France, General

Weyland and his staff considered that their limitations in range, radar resolution, and in the amount of control facilities available posed serious handicaps

for fall and winter flying conditions.

The answer appeared with the arrival in late September of the Americanbuilt MEW radar AN/CPS-1, which supplemented the four forward director

post radar facilities in the XIX TAC communications network. This huge, 60-

ton radar offered a high-power output (3,000 mc), very short wavelength (10-

cm wave), and a rotating antenna which resulted in superb coverage and excellent capability to accurately locate individual aircraft over a 200-mile front in

all directions. MEW radar operators used two sets of indicator tubes. Half consisted of B-scans, which observers watched to report all aircraft in their

assigned sectors to the tactical control center. Controllers handled the remaining tubes, known as planned position indicator tubes, to track assigned close

air support formations from takeoff to landing. 

A Direction Finder (D/F) Fixer Station at each radar site identified the

formation and its bearing or position taken on all VHF transmissions. When

correlated with blips on the MEW’s planned position indicator tube, the D/F

Fixer MEW could furnish a close air support formation leader with a variety

of flight and target information. With its British height-finder radar, the

MEW also could provide range, azimuth, and altitude of aircraft at ranges

approaching 200 miles. The microwave radar’s resolution and inherent accuracy were greater than any other Allied search radar. During intermittent

testing in its first month of operation, the XIX TAC controllers found the

new microwave radar to be accurate to a range of one-half mile with an

azimuth error of one degree, which they considered acceptable for initial

operations.11

Stalemate in Lorraine

129
During August 1944, General Weyland had lobbied hard for improved

radar that would provide long-range control of his aircraft far from their operating bases. Its introduction was delayed by difficulties in finding and converting one of the few alternate systems available. Only one of the five preproduction models had been modified in the spring of 1944 for mobile operations in Normandy, but it remained with General Quesada’s command. A second MEW radar facility was operating as a fixed station on England’s south

coast to control nighttime aerial operations and to track incoming V–1 flying

bombs. To answer Weyland’s need for an offensive system, technicians made

this model mobile, or at least transportable in vans, and sent it to the continent

on September 8. After a test exercise at Chateaudun, where it performed well,

the command moved it east to Nonsard, near Etain, on the twenty-second.

Clearly, Weyland also based his decision to reorganize the flight control function in September on the timely acquisition of this long-range radar.12

The MEW radar immediately became the key element in XIX TAC’s

operations for flight control and as a device to direct reasonably accurate aircraft bombing in bad weather. Records for October 1944 indicate that it controlled about half of the command’s daytime missions and all of the night

photo and night fighter aircraft flights. In nighttime flying, it performed a

ground controlled intercept (GCI) function. The night missions were unprecedented for the tactical air forces and only the radar system made possible the

command’s new night offensive capability. In a conference with Ninth Air

Force officers on September 27, Weyland learned that the tactical air commands would likely receive night fighter squadrons of P–61s. Although the

Black Widows had been operational since early summer, their effectiveness

was less than desired because the tactical commands did not always know

when or where they would be airborne. With the arrival of the 425th (P–61)

Night Fighter Squadron in early October, XIX TAC controllers now had the

ground equipment needed to operate night defensive patrol and offensive

Air Power for Patton’s Army

130

A P–61 night fighter equipped with rockets.
intruder missions. Better command and control measures could not, however,

alleviate the fundamental and ever-present problem of too few night fighters

available to seriously impede German nighttime movements.13

Not surprisingly, the command experienced initial technical and operator problems with its new and unfamiliar equipment. As a line-of-sight instrument, optimum location of any radar is crucial, a fact made clear at the first

site when communications officers discovered a blind spot to the southeast.

Although siting processes proved to be slow, by November 20, the AN/CPS-1

had been moved five times. Technicians estimated its antenna life would not

exceed ten movements from place to place, which became an incentive to

develop effective siting techniques and procedures as quickly as possible.

Although the command remained enthusiastic about the new MEW radar

and control facility from the start, the same could not be said for the SCR–584,

a 10-cm microwave close control radar system. General Quesada’s IX TAC

had experimented with the short-range SCR–584 for close control in a number

of operations in Normandy. This radar promised to provide more accurate navigation control, what airmen referred to as last-resort blind bombing. The set,

however, with only a 30-mile practical operating range, required more personnel than the more powerful MEW radar and it proved more difficult to operate. When conducting a mission, a formation would rendezvous at a given altitude over a specified point with the lead aircraft positioned 500 feet ahead of

the formation. Once the SCR–584 locked on to the lead plane, the pilot could

take his formation to the assigned target. Course deviations en route could be

made without difficulty because a moving spot of light on the underside of a

horizontal map always indicated the plane’s position to the controller. Under

static conditions and with adequate operator training, a modified SCR–584

later became a useful addition to winter operations during the Ardennes

Campaign. During the winter, however, the XIX TAC long-range MEW radar

received an additional close-control modification, after which the command

preferred it to the SCR–584 system for both winter flying and the mobile conditions of the drive across Germany in the spring of 1945.

After paying a visit to XIX TAC to observe installation of the long-range

microwave radar in late September 1944, David Griggs, a technical advisor

with the U.S. Strategic Air Forces in Europe, urged Weyland to acquire a number of new devices, including a ground-controlled (blind) approach (GCA)

system to aid aircraft landing in poor weather, as well as an SCR–584, which

he predicted could achieve blind bombing accuracy of 200 yards at a range of

30–35 miles. He admitted that “we have yet to learn how to make the most

efficient use of it operationally” and recommended the command accept civilian experts from Ninth Air Force’s Operational Research Section to monitor

the MEW radar and the SCR–584, when the latter became available.14

In early October 1944, Weyland requested that his staff study the Griggs

proposals and recommend a course of action. In contrast to officers at

Stalemate in Lorraine

131
Quesada’s IX TAC, those at XIX TAC seemed wary of the civilians, perhaps

because of the extravagant claims made for the new technology. Although

Weyland’s chief of staff Colonel Browne favored the new equipment and civilian operational research personnel, he told General Weyland that the senior

XIX TAC intelligence, operations, and signals officers would accept an “ORS

[Operational Research Section] in this Command as a necessary evil. No one

wants it particularly but we all feel that it may do some good.” As it was, the

scientists and engineers proved their worth, especially after December 1, when

British Branch Radiation Laboratory scientist J. E. Faulkner arrived to coordinate all radar-related activities of the command. In any event, with the addition of the MEW radar, the XIX TAC could now conduct effective long-range

armed reconnaissance and escort missions in Northwest Europe under winter

weather conditions. At the end of September, meanwhile, the XIX TAC prepared for operations in support of Third Army’s assault on German defensive

positions in the Mosel region.15

Stalemate along the Mosel

On the western front in early September 1944, General Eisenhower

believed Allied armies could reach the Rhine River before constraints on

resupply became critical or German defensive actions proved decisive. United

States First Army patrols crossed the German border near Aachen on

September 11, 1944, while Allied forces in southern France linked up with

Eisenhower’s northern troops in pursuit of what appeared to be a thoroughly

beaten enemy. On the eastern front, Soviet armies had conquered the last areas

of Russian territory from the Germans and slashed into Poland. Overhead,

operating almost at will, British and American strategic bombers pounded

Germany day and night. The Third Reich indeed appeared on the verge of collapse. By the end of September, however, the Allied optimism disappeared.16

To begin with, Montgomery’s bold plan in the north, labeled Operation

Market Garden, called for crossing three rivers in the Netherlands to outflank

the West Wall, while employing an airborne-assisted assault. Approved by

Eisenhower, British and American airborne troops were to seize a narrow corridor 65 miles deep and hold it, while Montgomery’s British Second Army

raced through on its way to the Zuider Zee. The airborne portion of the operation began on September 17 and proved successful. Stiff German resistance,

however, slowed the British ground forces, while nearby German Panzer units

isolated the northernmost British airborne troops at a small bridgehead north

of the Lower Rhine, at Arnhem, the celebrated “bridge too far.” Facing an

increasingly desperate situation, on September 25 and 26, 2,000 British paratroopers, all that remained of an original 9,000-man force, retreated to the

south bank of the Rhine. Though most of these surviving paratroopers manAir Power for Patton’s Army

132
aged to reach Allied lines, Operation Market Garden failed entirely.

Montgomery’s forces had stalled and they neither outflanked the West Wall

nor achieved a position for a strike against the Ruhr.17

Allied armies farther south also experienced the brunt of renewed and

tenacious German resistance. General Hodges’s U.S. First Army found itself

too greatly extended to exploit the West Wall penetrations achieved at Aachen

and in the Ardennes. In Alsace, the 6th Army Group made only limited gains

against Wehrmacht troops who used the forested foothills of the Vosges

Mountains to good advantage. Patton’s U.S. Third Army drive bogged down

when his troops encountered determined German defenders at the Mosel River

and the fortified city of Metz. By month’s end, the Allied assault in the west

had stalled everywhere; it became increasingly clear that a sustained, renewed

offensive would have to await replenishment of supplies. Montgomery’s

troops captured Antwerp on September 4, 1944, the Belgian port city crucial

to an Allied logistical buildup, but his forces neglected to clear all of the

Schelde Estuary of its German defenders. Despite being surrounded and isolated, elements of Gen. Kurt Student’s battle-seasoned First Parachute Army

now blocked passage of Allied shipping into and out of the port. Allied military leaders, it must be said, at first failed to see the threat that this situation

posed and days passed before General Eisenhower pressured Montgomery to

clear the Schelde Estuary of its German defenders. Newly promoted to Field

Marshal,18 Montgomery in mid-October finally turned his full attention from

Operation Market Garden to the challenge on the Schelde. Much to the surprise of the baton-wielding British commander, despite intense assaults, the

tenacious Germans retained control of the port approaches for three more

weeks, until they surrendered on November 8. Even then, until the last mines

were located and cleared from estuary waters, Antwerp’s port facilities

remained closed to Allied vessels until November 28, 1944!19

In the south, Omar Bradley’s directive in late September 1944, called for

U.S. Third Army to assume a defensive posture and hold its position in

Lorraine until supplies reached levels that would permit a major offensive

(Map 9). Never content simply to hold a position, Patton advised Third Army

leaders on September 25 that a “defensive posture” did not imply an absence

of contact with the enemy. Rather, while consolidating, regrouping, and rotating personnel, Third Army would pursue “limited objective attacks” against

the enemy.20 The XIX TAC supported these modest attacks and conducted an

interdiction program against the Wehrmacht, while preparing for the impending, major joint offensive.

During one of these attacks in late September 1944, General Eddy’s XII

Corps found itself engaged in a sometimes desperate tank battle at Arracourt,

while to the north in the Gramecey Forest, a grim, close-quarters infantry

struggle continued for control of the bridgehead there (Map 10).21 On

September 26, while XII Corps consolidated its position northeast of Nancy

Stalemate in Lorraine

133
Map 10

German Counterattacks Against XII Corps: September 19–30, 1944

Reprinted from: Christopher R. Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An Overview, Sep-Dec 1944,” (Ft. Leavenworth,

Kan.: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985), p. 18.
and fought off heavy enemy counterattacks, General Patton ordered General

Walker in the south to capture the fortified town of Metz and sweep to the

Rhine. This would prove much too large a limited objective for two supplyshort infantry divisions and one armored division spread along a 40-mile front.

Earlier, Patton’s forces assaulted the outlying forts to the southwest of the city

on a small scale, but using only the Michelin road maps available to them at

the time, they had no idea of the challenge they faced. 

As it turned out, when French archival maps and drawings of the

Maginot Line arrived from Paris in early October, Third Army leaders learned

that the old Metz fortress complex consisted of 43 interconnecting forts surrounding the city on both sides of the Mosel River. Many held up to 2,000 personnel and housed heavy artillery in steel- and concrete-reinforced turrets.

These heavily defended forts also would prove an equally tough target for XIX

TAC fighter-bombers. On September 26, for example, while Walker’s forces

prepared to attack Fort Driant five miles southwest of Metz, the 405th Fighter

Group, the Raiders, flew in bad weather to bomb the fort using 1,000-lb.

bombs and napalm. The results offered little encouragement to those hoping

for a quick victory (Map 11).22

On September 27, the first good flying day in several weeks, the 5th

Infantry Division’s probing attack at Ft. Driant met fanatical resistance. The

405th Fighter Group’s six-mission supporting effort again had little effect in

spite of accurate bombing and correspondingly high praise from the ground

forces. Next day, XIX TAC stepped up its effort by sending squadrons from

four groups against the Metz forts for a total of 13 missions and 156 sorties.

The command preferred using squadron-sized missions and continued this

practice for most of the fall campaign. Under conditions of fewer daylight

hours and limited forces, XIX TAC provided maximum flexibility by allowing

a fighter group to divide its forces, if necessary, among close support and interdiction missions. It also became customary at this time for each squadron in a

group to be assigned to support a particular army division.

The Metz mission results of September 28, 1944, did not please General

Weyland. Using pillboxes and turrets as aiming points, his pilots had bombed

accurately, yet had apparently produced little damage. Ninth Air Force became

especially interested in the effect of napalm on the Metz targets and Colonel

Hallett, XIX TAC’s intelligence officer, undertook a study of firebomb results

during this attempt to subdue Ft. Driant’s defenders. His investigation of attacks

on the twenty-eighth revealed that the 5th Infantry Division reported large fires

lasting as long as 30 minutes. When a reconnaissance patrol attempted to move

forward shortly after the bombing, however, German defenders in the fort kept

it pinned down by heavy and accurate automatic weapons fire. Unfortunately,

Hallett’s findings proved typical for fighter-bomber attacks in support of

assaults against fixed, fortified defenses. The only note of encouragement was

that the attacks often stunned the defenders and temporarily silenced the guns.23

Stalemate in Lorraine

135
Map 11

XX Corps Operations: October 1944

Reprinted from: Christopher R. Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An Overview, Sep-Dec 1944,” (Ft. Leavenworth,

Kan.: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985), p. 25.
General Weyland and his staff expressed their frustration at the evening

briefing on September 28. After assessing mission results, Weyland concluded that the forts were “not a proper target” for fighter-bombers. As in the case

of Brittany, his arguments focused on the high level of effort and cost for the

limited results achieved. On the previous day the command lost six aircraft to

flak and he expected the flak threat to worsen. For Weyland and his staff veterans, it must have seemed like a rerun of the Cherbourg and Brest Operations.

They believed the Metz fortifications required bombing by heavy and medium

bombers. General Weyland’s air support efforts in the weeks ahead invariably

turned to coordinating heavy and medium bombers of the Eighth and Ninth

Air Forces for his joint air-ground plans.24

Later in the evening of September 28, 1944, Patton’s chief of staff

Gaffey called Weyland to request priority support next day for Manton Eddy’s

XII Corps, whose 35th Infantry and 4th Armored Divisions came under heavy

counterattack at Arracourt. Weyland promised Gaffey a squadron arriving

overhead every hour and he gave that assignment to the 405th Fighter Group.

The Raiders responded with 96 sorties and, in the words of the Army historian of the Lorraine Campaign, “nearly leveled the village and cut up the

German reserves assembling there, thus weakening still further the ability of

the enemy to exploit an attack that had been initiated successfully.” The

Wehrmacht counterattack was blunted.25

In the weeks ahead, General Weyland found his reduced command

assuming new missions, straining the forces available for each assignment. For

example, the command assumed responsibility for supporting XV Corps,

which had been transferred to the U.S. Seventh Army, on Third Army’s right

flank, until aircraft of the XII TAC under Brig. Gen. Gordon P. Saville could

be based closer to the Lorraine front. Support for the 5th Infantry Division at

Metz decreased to only two squadrons of Curry’s Cougars in the 36th Group.

A Ninth Air Force directive on September 25, established rail-cutting as the

first priority for fighter-bombers. This interdiction program intensified in

October, but it would be hampered by continuing bad weather and the relatively small number of aircraft that Weyland had available and which he was

willing to commit to the effort. On September 29, the other groups of XIX

TAC flew fighter sweeps against German airfields or armed reconnaissance

against rail interdiction targets. Along with close support of XX and XII Corps

efforts, these three missions—close air support, interdiction, and fighter

sweeps—comprised the bulk of XIX TAC’s flying in the Lorraine Campaign.

Bad weather on the last day of September prevented all flying and the winter

weather ahead threatened an effective interdiction campaign against German

ground forces. With the XIX TAC grounded, Third Army might rely on its

artillery for close support to continue its limited-objective attacks. The interdiction rail-cutting program, however, received a setback every day of bad

weather. Only continuous air attacks on transport held the prospect of keeping

Stalemate in Lorraine

137
German supply lines shut and the Third Army battlefield isolated. The

European weather worsened.26

General Weyland faced bad flying weather and conflicting aerial priorities throughout the October 1944 buildup. As part of a major Allied bombing

effort, Ninth Air Force announced an expanded interdiction campaign on

October 2 against rail traffic, marshaling yards, and bridges on the Rhine and

Saar rivers. At the same time, XIX TAC was expected to furnish close air support to the Third Army because, for General Patton, any defensive stance on

the ground involved limited-objective attacks against Germans. In that cause,

Maj. Gen. S. LeRoy Irwin’s 5th Infantry Division struggled to take Fort Driant

during the first two weeks of October, suffering an incredible 50 percent casualty rate before Patton conceded failure. As early as October 3, with both

Patton and Weyland observing, General Irwin’s forces breached perimeter

defenses of the fort assisted by strong air support from the 405th and 358th

Fighter Groups, after medium bombers from the IX Bombardment Division

had first stunned the German defenders.27 Third Army lauded the support of

both fighter groups.

It was one thing to penetrate Ft. Driant’s outer defenses and quite another to gain access to its underground, interconnected defensive network. German

officer school candidates, who happened to be battle-hardened former NCOs,

led a ferocious German counterattack which halted the American forces.

Intense fighting continued around the fort until October 12, when Patton reluctantly directed his forces to withdraw and maintain a containing operation.

Elsewhere along the front, however, Patton’s so-called defensive operations

escalated. The XX Corps’ 90th Infantry Division continued methodically to

reduce Maizieres-les-Metz, the town six miles north of Metz that blocked the

only unfortified approach to the city. Other units laid siege to other Metz

fortresses, while forward units pressed ahead to enlarge bridgeheads across the

Air Power for Patton’s Army

138

Brig. Gen. 

Gordon P. Saville,

commander,

XII Tactical Air Force
Mosel north and south of the city. During Third Army’s buildup for the planned

November offensive, it continued to rotate troops out of the front line for training in the reduction of fortifications (Map 11).28

General Patton became increasingly frustrated with the lack of forward

progress during October 1944. At the army’s morning briefing on October 13

he urged his air commander to clobber the Driant fort in retaliation for the casualties it had inflicted on his 5th Infantry Division. Weyland turned that task over

to his operations officer, Colonel Ferguson, but little aerial retaliation occurred

prior to the major offensive in early November. The command flew only one

bombing mission against the Metz fortifications during the last two weeks of

October. Directed against three small fortified towns south of the city, it

involved but one squadron from the 405th Fighter Group on the twenty-second.

Weyland considered interdiction targets more important than the fortifications,

and General Patton, who seemed to have recovered from his frustration, did not

pressure the air arm further.

Both Patton and Weyland could agree that the key to unlocking the Metz

fortress complex lay in a massive bombing effort in conjunction with a major

land attack. Earlier, on October 2, 1944, Weyland and his staff had met with

General Vandenberg, Ninth Air Force commander, to discuss responsibilities

and procedures for use of the medium and heavy bombers in tactical operations. They decided to request heavy bombers for the planned offensives in the

First and Third Army areas and they agreed on 48 hours’ notice to complete

necessary arrangements. Even at this early date in the Lorraine Campaign, air

leaders had begun long-range planning for the joint operations to come.29

Meanwhile, XIX TAC concentrated on the rail interdiction program,

with General Patton’s full support. On October 5, Ninth Air Force revised target assignments for its medium bombers and fighters with inner and outer lines

of interdiction. It divided the targets among tactical air commands accordingly. The XIX TAC’s allotment consisted of eight rail lines in Third Army’s sector from Coblenz to Landau and ten lines east of the Rhine. On October 7,

Patton lifted the ban on bridge destruction, although it was not until after the

nineteenth, when Ninth Air Force again directed all four tactical air commands

to make interdiction their top priority, that mission results showed a pronounced number of bridge targets attacked.30 The XIX TAC historian on

October 7, 1944, claimed the “all out campaign against RR traffic was paying

dividends” because the enemy had resorted to barge traffic on the RhineMarne canal. Understandably, policing this canal also became a major command activity and command pilots achieved good success, especially after the

362d proposed and carried out a lock-destroying mission. Nevertheless, reconnaissance reports after the first week in October indicated German traffic continued to be heavy west of the Rhine, which tempered initial optimism.31

Army chief of staff General Marshall visited Third Army headquarters on

October 7, 1944, and praised the accomplishments of the Third Army–XIX TAC

Stalemate in Lorraine

139
team. He also attended what General Weyland referred to in his diary as a special briefing. In fact, Weyland, too, attended these special briefings either in

General Patton’s personal van or the Third Army chief of staff’s office prior to

the regular Third Army morning staff briefing. These particular briefings normally occurred every morning and, as only became known publicly many years

later, involved Ultra communications intelligence. By early October, Patton had

received Ultra assessments for more than two months. Ultra specialist Maj.

Melvin C. Helfers joined Third Army at its Knutsford headquarters shortly after

Patton’s arrival in England, but remained on the sidelines and unknown to Patton

until his information, so vital to Third Army operations, was brought to Patton’s

attention. This occurred on August 6, when Ultra forecast a German counterattack in the direction of Patton’s troops at Avranches. Armed with this information, Major Helfers convinced Third Army’s intelligence chief, Col. Oscar W.

Koch, that Patton must be briefed on this German plan. Duly impressed by the

Ultra data, Patton expressed surprise that he had not been informed earlier of

Helfers’s intelligence role at Third Army. In any event, the next morning the

General summoned Helfers to personally conduct the first of what became routine Ultra briefings for Patton and a few other select Third Army officers.

Although General Weyland began attending the Third Army Ultra briefings consistently only in early October, he had been receiving Ultra data on

Luftwaffe plans and dispositions since mid-June, while he was still in England.

During operations in France, his fireman duties in support of Third Army’s

offensive often precluded regularly scheduled briefings from his own Ultra

specialist, Maj. Harry M. Grove. In addition to meeting with General Weyland

when feasible, Major Grove provided the XIX TAC’s intelligence chief,

Colonel Hallett, with daily updates on German air force activities. By midOctober, and with the Lorraine Campaign well underway, Weyland brought

Colonel Browne, his chief of staff, and Major Grove to the Third Army Ultra

briefings when Luftwaffe data proved especially important.32

There is little disagreement about Ultra’s importance in supplying Third

Army with the enemy’s ground order of battle information on a regular basis,

but its usefulness for the tactical air arm appears more questionable. General

Quesada has argued that Ultra’s main contribution was “to instill confidence

and provide guidance to the conduct of war...rather than the tactics of the

war.” No doubt this came from following changes in the Luftwaffe’s air order

of battle. Indeed, Ultra allowed Allied intelligence officers to follow the major

Luftwaffe recovery, redeployment, and first serious use of jet fighters in the

fall. Though one can argue that Ultra’s information provided knowledge of

strong enemy concentrations, which meant heavy flak areas to avoid, the airmen seem to have relied on the Y-service radio intercept operation for their

best intelligence of immediate Luftwaffe plans. Beyond this, tactical and photographic reconnaissance assured the command of systematic coverage of the

battle zone, weather permitting.33

Air Power for Patton’s Army

140
Despite a weak Luftwaffe presence on Third Army’s front, General

Weyland remained determined to guard against a possible resurgent air threat.

The command’s intelligence chief, Colonel Hallett, studied the problem and on

October 6, 1944, he advised the combat operations officer that the presence of

350 German fighters at 30–40 airfields in the Saar represented a force that

could not be ignored. He suggested that higher headquarters develop a coordinated plan of attack. Failing this, XIX TAC should hit all of the airfields within range of its fighter-bombers. Hallett awaited pictures from the 10th Photo

Reconnaissance Group, whose efforts had been hampered by the weather,

before he prepared the final target folders. Unknown to Weyland’s intelligence

chief, the Luftwaffe had already begun building up its forces for a counterattack that Hitler began planning as early as mid-September. On October 8,

Weyland sent three groups against some key German airfields where tactical

reconnaissance reported a major buildup. Led by P–51s of the 354th Fighter

Group, command pilots attacked five airfields with impressive results. They

claimed seven aircraft destroyed in air combat, 19 more on the ground, and

possibly an additional 26 damaged. Although General Weyland continued to

worry about the Luftwaffe threat, his forces did not strike German airfields purposefully again until the end of the month. The command focused on interdiction, but bad weather continued to hamper that effort. Following the attacks

against German air forces on October 8, for example, air operations had to be

scrubbed for the next two days.34

General Weyland used the nonflying time to deal with support problems.

Airfields, especially, needed attention. The persistent rains of September and

October 1944, along with heavy use of command fields by heavily laden C–47

transports resupplying Third Army, had taken their toll on runways and taxiways. On October 8, Weyland inspected the airstrip at Etain, which he wanted

as the future base of the 362d Fighter Group and the 425th Night Fighter

Squadron. The C–47 landings had ruined the runway, and the previous

evening’s rain forced engineers to abandon their attempt to lay Hessian strip,

the bituminous surface used most frequently during the drive across France.

The engineers required three or four dry weather days to complete a runway,

and rain fell nearly every day. General Weyland strongly argued for switching

to pierced steel plank surfacing, but Ninth Air Force refused, citing availability and shipping weight. A steel-plank airfield required 3,500 tons of material,

while only 350 tons of Hessian proved sufficient to cover the same field. At

Vitry, rain in October softened the runway to the point where it became unserviceable. Consequently, the 358th Fighter Group Orange Tails moved to

Mourmelon, home of the 406th Fighter Group. From the command’s viewpoint, however, two groups operating from a single base placed an undesirable

strain on personnel and facilities. Weyland also lobbied to have a pierced steelplank field laid at a future site near Metz for two groups, and in this case he

succeeded.35

Stalemate in Lorraine

141
By late October 1944, pierced steel-plank runways also experienced

rapid deterioration and required considerable maintenance. Officials referred

to reduced operations resulting from these conditions, although the record is

not specific or entirely clear how seriously the problem affected operations.

The engineers knew, however, that the incessant rains loosened the grading

and soil compaction. The solution seemed to be a crushed rock base for all

airstrips, but this meant finding rock in sufficient quantity, crushing it and

shipping it efficiently in spite of its enormous weight. If the rains of October

created one set of operational problems, the cold weather expected in

November would intensify difficulties with the Hessian-surfaced fields

because the cold would crack the tar seal, thus permitting propeller wash to

blow the stuffing loose. Had they been granted three or four more days of good

weather in early October, the engineers declared, they would have been able to

winterize all XIX TAC airfields before the onset of severe weather. The command’s experience in October underscored an oft-forgotten axiom that “air

power begins and ends on the ground.”36

Despite the rain and mud in October 1944, the command’s aircraft maintenance operation experienced no major difficulties, something that could not

be said for supply. Although the supply situation improved with the establishment of dumps in the forward area, key problems affected the command

throughout the winter. Back in September, the command reported shortages of

replacement P–51 aircraft and related spare parts, yet repeated requests for

resupply were not met. By November, the 354th Fighter Group, for example,

Air Power for Patton’s Army

142

The lab of the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group processing recce photos.
reported a shortage of 30 aircraft in the group. Given the Eighth Air Force’s

priority claim on P–51s for bomber escort duty, no solution appeared in sight.

The P–51 problem doubtless contributed to a decision in November to convert

the Pioneer Mustang group to P–47s. Although officials attributed this conversion to the need for more fighter-bomber support and reduced air defense

requirements, the adverse effects of insufficient replacement aircraft on the

XIX TAC mission doubtless contributed to the decision.37

The flow of P–47 planes and parts, meanwhile, remained uninterrupted

during October and November. By mid-October, all groups had at least the prescribed 70 aircraft; by the end of October, the new P–47D-30 model with its

improved electrical bomb release began arriving. Soon it became the dominant

Thunderbolt model in theater. The only subsequent improvement involved

installation of the underwing pylons for rocket launching. The 362d Fighter

Group was next in line after the 406th for five-inch rockets, but a shortage of

parts delayed the conversion. By the end of October, only one squadron of the

362d completed this modification.38

Finally, the XIX TAC commander had to deal with pilot replacement. The

problem was not that the command received too few fighter pilots—although

only 99 pilots arrived in October 1944 to fill the 162 vacancies, the surplus of

63 from the month before balanced the allotment. The main difficulty involved

the experience level of the newly arriving airmen. Early in the month the command historian observed that new pilots had very little flying time in fighters

and appeared especially weak in gunnery and bombing. Furthermore, the command had neither the facilities nor sufficient gasoline to train these replacements properly. Although General Weyland complained to General Vandenberg, Ninth Air Force did little until December 10. That day Weyland evidently had had enough; he refused to accept 11 replacement pilots who collectively had almost no training in fighter operations. Ninth Air Force approved his

decision and promised to look into the stateside training program.39

Planning an Offensive

While XIX TAC carried out a variety of missions in support of Third

Army’s limited-objective attacks and worked to improve the command’s logistics and control functions, General Weyland and his staff joined their colleagues at Third Army headquarters in planning a major offensive. The logistic situation remained the key hurdle. During mid-October 1944, while

Patton’s forces continued fighting house-to-house in Mazieres-les-Metz and

consolidating their positions in the XII Corps area, Third Army supply officers

worked diligently to build up supply depot stocks through a rigorous conservation and rationing program, highlighted by a 25 percent reduction in the

gasoline issue.40

Stalemate in Lorraine

143
While Third Army focused on logistics, the XIX TAC concentrated on

its rail interdiction program. Once the heavy overcast lifted on October 11,

1944, for example, the command followed the practice of designating one

group, usually the 405th Fighter Group, for close air support, while the other

four flew armed reconnaissance missions. After October 23, however, the

command stopped flying scheduled ground force support missions and devoted its entire effort to armed reconnaissance, escort, and at times, fighterbomber sweeps of German airfields.

Waiting to take the offensive while his supply base was replenished

offered no comfort to General Patton. On October 18, he advocated a major

offensive even if it had to be undertaken on a shoestring. At the morning briefing, his staff suggested two alternative plans for enveloping Metz and pushing

on to the Siegfried Line. Although in attendance, Weyland made no comment

when the Third Army commander called for an immediate offensive, but he

personally considered it ill-advised to attack before all major army elements

were fully equipped and prepared. Despite the co-equal intent of published

doctrine, Weyland and Patton were not on an equal footing in rank and

Weyland never pretended otherwise. In any case, the joint planning process

was officially underway. Armed with Third Army’s plans, on October 19,

Weyland prepared a directive for his staff to develop an air plan for the offensive. At the same time, another air plan called for sending fighter-bombers

against the Etang de Lindre Dam in what would prove to be an impressive XIX

TAC first.41

The dam-busting idea had been raised a few days earlier, on October 13,

1944. The dam lay three miles southeast of Dieuze and right in the path of XII

Corps’ proposed line of advance. The corps staff feared that the enemy might

destroy the dam during their assault and cause the Seille River to overflow,

isolating forward elements and forestalling the entire Third Army advance.

This dilemma foreshadowed another that would confront Allied armies in the

north on an even larger scale in November, when First and Ninth Armies on

their way to the Rhine needed to cross the Roer River. Germans on the high

ground at Schmidt in the Huertgen Forest controlled two dams on the upper

reaches of the little river which, if opened, could flood the low-lying plain and

forestall the Allied advance. In Lorraine, XII Corps wanted the Seille River

dam destroyed in support of its limited-objective attack. Because of the precision required, the planners canceled the original request for heavy bombers in

favor of fighter-bombers.

Weyland assigned the task to Col. Joseph Laughlin, the aggressive commander of the 362d Fighter Group, which frequently received the command’s

most challenging missions.42 Colonel Laughlin and several officers spent

hours at headquarters in Nancy studying large-scale photographs taken by the

31st Photo Squadron and diagrams and specifications obtained from local

records. They even consulted a professor from the University of Nancy. The

Air Power for Patton’s Army

144
145

High-level strategy dictated breaching the Etang de Lindre Dam at

Dieuze, France, before the Third Army offensive in November, preventing

the Germans from releasing the water between Patton’s advancing

troops and thereby separate them from supplies after the attack had

begun. The photo below shows the extent of the breach and how

successfully the 362d’s Thunderbolts carried out their mission

in spite of a difficult target defended by very heavy flak.
preparation paid off handsomely. On October 20, with Colonel Laughlin in the

lead, two P–47 squadrons armed with 1,000-lb. armor-piercing bombs, dove

from 7,000 to 100 feet in the face of heavy flak and scored at least six direct

hits. The bombs made a 90-foot break in the dam; the resultant flood waters

engulfed the town of Dieuze and isolated German units in the area. The XII

Corps used the disruption caused by the flood to launch a successful limitedobjective attack three days later.43

The next day, October 21, 1944, the 405th Fighter Group flew missions

in support of three different corps. One of them, bombing a town and troop

concentrations, assisted XII Corps’ 26th Infantry Division in its limited-objective attack 22 miles east of Nancy that elicited high praise from the ground

controller. General Weyland had to be encouraged when General Spaatz visited the air command that day and remarked that “the Third U.S. Army–XIX

TAC team is the finest we have yet produced.” Even if Spaatz’s declaration

was intended only to boost morale, the record of this air-ground team already

merited praise.44

Although bad weather severely curtailed flying during the last week of

October, team officials continued to work on the joint plan for Third Army’s

offensive. Scheduled to begin on November 5, 1944, the Third Army plan

called for crossing the Mosel north and south of Metz, entirely bypassing the

strongest forts, and pushing on to the Rhine River. Metz would be taken later

by XX Corps through encirclement and infiltration.45 On October 22,

Weyland’s intelligence and operations chiefs presented the air plan, which the

air commander discussed the next day in a joint meeting with General Patton,

the Third Army staff, and the two corps commanders. Essentially the air proposal called for a large preliminary air assault to neutralize the forts and

strongpoints. Heavy bombers would pound the outlying Metz forts while

medium bombers hit smaller forts, supply dumps, and troop concentrations in

two key areas. The XIX TAC fighter-bombers would attack all known command posts in the vicinity as well as fly armed reconnaissance missions

against all road and rail traffic and enemy airfields in close proximity to Third

Army’s front. (At this time, General Weyland did not know what would be the

size of the bombing force available for Third Army’s use.) Army leaders

expressed satisfaction with the plan, and Weyland indicated he intended to

request two additional fighter groups for tactical support. The planners dubbed

this offensive Operation Madison.46

Despite the fact that Generals Patton and Weyland had agreed on the

joint plan, the path ahead during the next week and a half was far from smooth.

For one thing, higher authorities reminded them immediately that the Third

Army sector of the Allied front continued to be judged second in importance

to the First Army area opposite Aachen. Originally, Allied plans called for the

main effort against the Siegfried Line to be led by General Hodges’s First

Army. Now that Aachen had been secured, Hodges’s plan called for an attack

Air Power for Patton’s Army

146
toward Cologne south of the Ruhr, also beginning November 5. Politics and

prestige, however, never seemed far removed from Allied decision-making

and Field Marshal Montgomery delayed returning an American infantry division borrowed earlier from the 12th Army Group. Under these circumstances,

General Bradley, 12th Army Group commander, postponed First Army’s

offensive and decided to allow General Patton to begin Operation Madison on

the fifth. First Army would then launch Operation Queen, an attack against the

Roer River defenses, a week after the initiation of Operation Madison (Map

9). At the end of October a decision between the two planned offensives had

not yet been reached.47

Meanwhile, Third Army’s supply shortfalls continued. Even though

ammunition and rations stocks improved, available gas reached only 67 percent of the level requested. General Weyland had his problems, too. Meeting

with Ninth Air Force Commander General Vandenberg on October 27, he

learned that not only would XIX TAC not receive two additional fighter

groups for Operation Madison, but the command instead would lose another

group, this time to General Saville’s XII TAC for its operations in southeastern France. Moreover, as the Ninth Air Force commander explained, General

Bradley’s focus on First Army in the north meant dividing the fighter groups

that remained: six for General Quesada’s IX TAC and four each for General

Weyland’s XIX TAC and General Nugent’s XXIX TAC.48

Weyland objected vigorously, but to no avail. The next day, he met with

his wing commander, Brig. Gen. Homer “Tex” Saunders and Colonel

Ferguson, combat operations chief. If the decision could not be overturned,

they recommended relinquishing the 358th Orange Tails. Still upset, Weyland

expressed displeasure to General Patton later that day in a formal memorandum. The proposed fighter group allotment, he asserted, “appears most

inequitable, and if it goes through we are in a bad way.” The ratio of fighterStalemate in Lorraine

147

General Patton

(right) is removing

a new pistol from

his holster to show

Gens. Hodges

(left), and Bradley

(center).
bomber support for the offensive, he averred, penalized Third Army because

the IX and XXIX TAC groups would be supporting proportionally smaller

ground forces. He reminded General Patton that all of the Ninth’s 13 bomber

groups remained under centralized control and could be shifted easily to influence the action in any area. The rapid shifting of fighter support, divided

among three tactical air commands, under the circumstances could not be

depended upon to meet exigencies. He considered it essential that XIX TAC

be allowed at least five groups for Operation Madison. “I contend,” he said,

“that First Army can still have priority without robbing us.”49

Patton promptly called General Bradley on the matter. Then he, General

Weyland, and Col. Paul D. Harkins, Third Army’s deputy chief of staff, drove

to Luxembourg on October 29 to discuss the issue further with Bradley and

Ninth Air Force officers. Their argument did not prove convincing. As Patton

confided to his diary: “tried to move a fighter-bomber group for Weyland but

lost all the air guys to First and Ninth Armies.” The 358th Fighter Group prepared to transfer prior to the offensive, even though XII TAC would not play

a significant role in Operation Madison. In the end, Ninth Air Force allowed

the Orange Tails to fly one last operation for XIX TAC after all.50

The bad weather ended temporarily and October 28 and 29 became two

of the best flying days of the month. The command used its good fortune to

concentrate on interdiction targets: rail and road bridges both east and west of

the Rhine. The armed reconnaissance missions brought out the Luftwaffe this

time, and the 354th Fighter Group Mustangs again set the pace in air encounters. Attacked by more than 100 Bf 109s near Heidelberg, the pioneer group

tallied claims of 24 destroyed and eight damaged in aerial combat, while losing only three of its own. Weather again forced cancellation of the interdiction

program the last two days of the month. By now the command began focusing

on bridges rather than rail cuts, and it ended the month claiming 17 bridges

destroyed and 22 damaged. The command admitted, however, while the

bridges proved to be suitable targets, the program achieved only limited success. General Weyland did not question sending squadrons of 12 aircraft, each

armed with two 500-lb. general-purpose bombs, against each bridge. The

bridges, however, proved to be heavily defended by flak batteries and very difficult targets to hit. As later studies would show, the fighter-bombers would

have had greater success against bridges if they had been armed with the larger, 1,000-lb. bombs. Moreover, like the rail-cutting program, the airmen needed better flying weather to bomb the German-held bridges consistently. Too

often mission reports revealed that pilots flew against secondary targets

because of overcast conditions in the original target area. When the command

reviewed its flying effort for October 1944, it was not surprised to find that

only 12 days had been completely flyable, 12 partially flyable, and seven totally nonoperational. Forecasters predicted the weather in November would be

worse.51

Air Power for Patton’s Army

148
Stalemate in Lorraine

149

As October drew to a close, Weyland looked back on a month in which his

command contended with bad weather, strengthened German defenses, Third

Army’s inability to mount a sustained offensive, and requirements that called for

a battlefield interdiction program and a variety of additional missions—and all

had to be managed with reduced aerial forces. At month’s end, however, plans

for Operation Madison, aimed at crossing the Mosel and driving for the Rhine,

neared completion. Patton seemed determined to attack the Germans entrenched

in Lorraine even though the offensive was viewed elsewhere as a secondary

attack and even though his ground forces were short-handed. Third Army supply officers still believed a major offensive could not be sustained at this time,

but D-Day remained set for November 5, weather permitting.52

From Metz to the Siegfried Line

Throughout the week preceding Operation Madison, General Weyland

met daily with the Third Army staff on matters of coordination, timing, and

target priorities. As the air commander on the air-ground team, he played a

crucial role in the planning and execution of the joint operation. On November

1, 1944, for example, two officers from Eighth Air Force Bomber Command

visited Weyland to discuss Madison targets for their heavy bombers. Next day

he attended a conference at Third Army headquarters, where a visiting General

Bradley received a detailed review of Operation Madison. Bradley told Patton

that First Army could not be ready to attack until the tenth; Patton replied that

his Third Army could attack on 24 hours’ notice. Bradley gave him the “green

light” to launch Operation Madison on November 8.53

During this conference, Third Army supply officers happily noted that the

logistics situation continued to improve, especially as a result of bulk gasoline

shipments delivered by rail. How much of this improvement represented unauthorized supplies purloined from other commands remains unclear. Patton seldom interfered with the innovative activities of his supply officers, who continued to enhance a notorious reputation for “requisitioning” army materiel originally destined elsewhere. After other ground officers discussed various minor

changes in the assault plan, Weyland presented the air plan to Generals Bradley

and Patton. He discussed the various adjustments that had been made in terms of

lines of attack and specific targets and he explained realistically what could be

expected from his forces with his command reduced from five to four groups of

fighter-bombers. With bad weather anticipated and the shorter flying days of winter to contend with, the ground forces would receive about 25 percent of the aerial support they had received in the summer. Consequently, the timing of various

parts of the operation would be essential if air support were to achieve its objectives. Clearly Weyland attempted to make a case for receiving air reinforcements

now that Operation Madison would lead the Allied assault on the western front.54
150

Gasoline for Patton’s Third Army was flown from England in C–47s

(top and center), then moved by truck and rail to supply dumps near his

armored columns.
Stalemate in Lorraine

151

On November 3, 1944, Patton, Weyland, and their staffs conferred again

at Third Army headquarters on target priorities and the timing of attacks for the

various infantry and tank units. Late that morning, General Weyland revised the

air plan to include maximum bomber support. Afterward, Ferguson and Hallett

flew to Ninth Air Force headquarters with the published plan to request full

heavy bomber and medium bomber support from the fifth through the eighth of

November, and possibly to the ninth, as well. The air proposal called for heavy

bombers to attack ten forts commanding the road approaches to Metz and the

medium bombers to strike four forts in the Metz area, eight supply dumps, and

German troop concentrations in the Bois-des-Secourt and Chateau Salins areas

about 12 miles east of Nancy. Fighter-bombers would attack nine command

posts using 500-lb. general-purpose bombs with delay fuzes and napalm, where

available. Additionally, the fighters would bomb eight German airfields on DDay. Weyland considered this plan extremely ambitious, especially for the

fighter-bombers, and he continued his effort to obtain more groups.55

If the weather proved unsuitable on November 5 and no improvement

occurred by November 8, the ground forces would attack early on the eighth

without initial support from the heavy and medium bombers. Although the

Third Army staff always preferred to attack with air support, it would delay, but

seldom cancel, an offensive if the air arm proved unavailable. Nevertheless, if

bad weather persisted, the air leaders would still attempt to have bomber support available for later use against specific forts, well out of range of the

advancing troops.56

With the onset of static warfare during September 1944, the emphasis on

reconnaissance had shifted from visual or tactical reports to photographic coverage. By the end of the month, the F–5s (P–38s) of the 31st and 34th Photo

Reconnaissance Squadrons were working overtime flying daily photo cover to

a depth of nine miles behind enemy lines, as well as obtaining vertical and

oblique coverage of Mosel River crossing points and pinpoint photos of fortifications. In addition, the F–5s continued their program of bomb damage

assessment and airfield coverage missions.57

In October 1944 the challenge for the 10th Photo Group’s F–5s increased

markedly as poor flying weather created a large backlog of requests and the

group lost its 34th squadron to the 363d Reconnaissance Group; this left only

one squadron to handle the load. The 31st Photo Reconnaissance Squadron’s

historian provided a good description of the effort. “One day in October, when

the weather broke, the unit flew 36 missions totaling 80 targets and 4,000

square miles of mapping.” This occurred in only five hours of photo daylight.

By the end of October, the overworked squadron completed 90 percent of the

air-ground basic photo coverage plan, which consisted of a combination of

areas and routes in a zone from the front lines to the Rhine River.58

Before the November offensive, the reconnaissance pilots provided photos of each Metz fort as well as photo coverage of the terrain that surrounded
Air Power for Patton’s Army

152

the city of Metz. The photographs and interpretation reports were included in

the target folders that XIX TAC sent to the bomber commands for study.

Patton took a personal interest in this process. When he learned, on October

31, that bomber crews had not received the required target folders, and with

the unhappy consequences associated with the short bombing in Operation

Cobra vividly in mind, he had intelligence officers prepare to rush them by car

to Ninth Air Force and the IX Bombardment Division headquarters in

Luxembourg. The XX Corps also received vertical and oblique shots of all

planned crossing points, and all targets scheduled for attack by the fighterbombers were photographed and analyzed as well.59

With everything ready, General Weyland flew off to Mourmelon on

November 4 for a farewell address to the 358th Orange Tails. Bad weather in

the target area on November 5 and two subsequent days, however, forced cancellation of the strikes planned for medium and heavy bombers. Meanwhile,

although the XIX TAC could only fly on the afternoon of the fifth, it made the

most of its attacks on German airfields. The 354th Fighter Group racked up the

day’s top score with claims of 28 German aircraft destroyed and 16 damaged

with no loss of its own. 

The Allies, meanwhile, consolidated XII TAC and a recently equipped

French First Air Force into a new tactical air force, the First Tactical Air Force

(Provisional). Its commander, former Ninth Air Force deputy commander,

General Royce, arrived at Nancy on November 5 to complain personally to

Weyland about what he considered the lack of cooperation from XIX TAC.

Apparently he expected to receive at XII TAC the 405th Fighter Group that he

preferred rather than the 358th that Weyland had assigned him and he made

plain to Weyland his profound displeasure. He also criticized the proposed

basing arrangement for his air force. Weyland patiently explained that the initial mix-up, whereby Ninth Air Force had mistakenly assigned the 405th to

Royce, had been sorted out and that Royce’s command would receive new

An F–5 from the

31st Photo

Reconnaissance

Squadron.
Stalemate in Lorraine

153

orders assigning the 358th Fighter Group to the XII TAC. Weyland told Royce

that his command had been cooperating extensively with XII TAC in support

of XV Corps. In fact, Weyland declared, “we have been doing their missions.”

Nothing further occurred over the unit transfer issue, although the question of

support for XII TAC resurfaced later in November and again in January, when

the Germans launched a diversionary offensive in Alsace. This incident

involving Royce remained one of the few instances of overt disagreement

among the tactical air commanders. Such isolated cases do not detract from the

cooperation that generally characterized relations among the airmen.60

Air defense against the debilitated Luftwaffe became another issue of

special concern to General Weyland. As the officer responsible for air defense

of the Third Army area, prior to the offensive he convened a meeting to discuss

coordination of antiaircraft artillery fire in the so-called inner artillery zone, the

designated area within which Third Army gunners could fire freely at unidentified aircraft. Participants included the chief of Third Army’s antiartillery units

and several XIX TAC officers: Col. Don Mayhew, the tactical control center

commander, Colonel Ferguson, the operations officer, and representatives from

the night fighter and night photo squadrons. They wanted to assure themselves

that everyone concerned had detailed information on all aircraft scheduled to

pass through the artillery zone and obtain agreement on the proper safeguards.

All too often army gunners fired on friendly aircraft because air defense personnel had not been forewarned or because an aircraft had not conformed to

flight plans. At the same time, no one wanted to waste valuable, limited night

fighter sorties on intercepting what frequently turned out to be friendly aircraft,

unknown to the ground controllers flying in the area. Air-ground coordination

required constant attention, and the challenge to the air defense system became

especially acute later during the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944.61

The XII Corps opened the Madison Offensive at 6:00 a.m. on November

8, despite the lack of bomber support and the misgivings of General Eddy, who

was ordered by Patton to either attack or “name his successor.” By the end of

the first day, Eddy’s troops progressed two to four miles along a 27-mile front

in absolutely atrocious weather and against stiff German resistance (Map 12).

Later that morning the weather improved enough for limited fighter-bomber

operations and the XIX TAC made the most of it. Enemy nerve centers attracted over half of the day’s 471 sorties. Highlighting these command post raids

was an attack by the 405th Raiders that scored direct hits on the 17th SS

Panzer Division headquarters at Peltre, southeast of Metz. Subsequent interrogations and investigations revealed that a number of high-ranking officers had

been present when the fighter-bombers demolished the structure, and German

operations suffered disruption for two weeks following the attack. The other

groups also had good success on the eighth, although at day’s end XIX TAC

squadrons found themselves scattered at bases all over the forward area as a

result of the weather.62
Map 12

XII Corps Attack: November 8, 1944

Reprinted from: Christopher R. Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An Overview, Sep-Dec 1944,” (Ft. Leavenworth,

Kan.: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985), p. 26.
Stalemate in Lorraine

155

The cost to XIX TAC, however, proved high. The 362d Fighter Group

suffered most when a German force estimated at 40 FW 190s bounced one of

its 12-ship squadrons. Although the Mauler pilots shot down 11 enemy aircraft,

they lost three of their own. Another of the group’s aircraft crashed on a strafing run in extremely poor weather. The command had established poor-weather flying parameters at a minimum 3,000-foot ceiling with broken clouds and a

visibility of three miles. For takeoff, the XIX TAC considered a 1,000-foot ceiling acceptable. Now, however, much of the target area had ceilings down to

1,500 or 1,000 feet. That evening at the command briefing, Weyland acknowledged the problem, but he asserted, given the importance of the offensive, that

the command would take “calculated risks on weather” as a matter of policy.63

General Weyland’s expressed concerns about fighter resources and the

postponement of Operation Queen, the Allied plan for First Army in the north to

attack toward the Roer River defenses, convinced Generals Bradley and

Vandenberg to provide Weyland with additional fighter support for Madison. On

November 8, the XIX TAC received three fighter groups and the return, for one

week, of its old 358th Fighter Group. In fact, despite its administrative transfer to

XII TAC on the fifth and Royce’s displeasure, General Weyland might well have

been the beneficiary of further tactical assets after November 11 had the poor

weather held. This was not to be, and when the weather improved on November

16 and Operation Queen began, additional fighter-bombers could not be spared.

On November 7, 1944, General Vandenberg convened a conference at

Luxembourg City on how to best use the medium bombers. Army and air

Maj. Gen. Ralph Royce, 

commander,

First Tactical Air Force

(Provisional)
Air Power for Patton’s Army

156

officials in attendance decided to strike at tank obstacles in the Siegfried

Line. On November 9 large numbers of heavy and medium bombers attacked

in force. To prevent the bombing of friendly troops, Third Army used radio

marker beacons to identify its forward positions, and artillery lobbed two

flak lines of red smoke 3,000 feet below the bombardment formation. The

medium bombers had the most difficulty with the weather. Only 74 of the

514 bombers dispatched actually bombed their assigned targets, which were

German troop concentrations, barracks, and tank obstacles. Of the 1,223

heavy bombers attacking, 679 used seven forts as aiming points in the 5th

Infantry Division zone south of Metz, 47 attacked Thionville, 34 others hit

Saarlautern, 432 bombed the Saarbruecken marshaling yard, and 31 attacked

targets of opportunity. Patton considered the attack “quite a show and very

encouraging to our men.” He also attributed the participation of the heavy

bombers on his army’s front to the good relations he shared with the leading

airmen. Generals Spaatz and Doolittle observed the bombing with him, and

Patton told his diary that “the show was largely a present to me from

them.”64

With direct dive-bombing hits, two squadrons from the 405th Fighter

Group demolished this command post of the 17th SS Panzer Grenadier

Division at Peltre, France.
Most of the heavy bombers had to bomb through an overcast ranging

from 6/10 to 10/10 cloud cover. Evaluators considered this a major reason why

the forts themselves received little material damage. In early December 1944

ordnance and engineer officers conducted a study for the AAF Evaluation

Board of the air attacks during the November campaign. Relying on photographic records, personal examination of the forts attacked, and interviews with

American and German ground force personnel in the assault area at the time,

the survey determined the air attacks did very little material damage to the forts,

but the bombing destroyed other strongpoints, disrupted communications, cut

roads and railways, and generally left the enemy confused and dazed.65

As the study of Phase III close air support operations concluded, “It was

the intensity of the attack, rather than the pin-point accuracy, that achieved the

results of materially aiding the attacking ground forces.”66 The lesson once

again proved that ground forces had to move forward as rapidly as possible

after the bombardment to take advantage of the enemy’s shocked condition.

The same problem recurred a few days later, in Operation Queen, when Allied

ground forces withdrew to a safety zone two miles from the target area and

could not move forward fast enough to prevent the German defenders from

reestablishing their positions after the war’s heaviest air bombardment in support of ground forces. The Cobra syndrome and fear of short-bombing continued to haunt Allied air-ground operations.67

Stalemate in Lorraine

157

A cutaway of a German FW 190.
Operation Madison proved successful from the air force’s standpoint.

Assisted by the air assault, XX Corps bypassed the Metz fortifications and

pushed across the Mosel River. On the second day of the offensive, XX Corps

attacked north and south of Metz, after the Mosel flooded its banks and left

mud ankle-deep in most places. Despite the hostile elements, the Americans

established bridgeheads over the Mosel and captured eight more villages. The

next day, 11 more towns fell, and Patton’s troops forced the surrender of the

important Fort Koenigsmacher, southeast of Thionville. For Third Army personnel, the weeks of patient training in October paid off. The tactics of bypassing the strongest fortified positions and reducing them later with high explosives and gasoline proved very effective.68

By the third day, on November 10, 1944, the enemy began a general but

“fighting” withdrawal in the region. The movement offered good targets for XIX

TAC fighter-bombers, which provided effective support through November 11.

In most cases Weyland’s fighter groups supported a specific frontline division

and with only group-sized missions. During the initial drive of Operation

Madison, fighter-bomber pilots perfected what they termed village busting tactics. Standard practice soon called for successive waves of an attacking squadron

in flights of four to carry three different types of ordnance: four aircraft came

each armed with two 500-lb. general purpose bombs; four came with fragmentation bombs; and four came with napalm. The flights attacked targeted villages in

that sequence, with the first wave opening up the houses, the second creating kindling in the structures, and the napalm dropped by the third ignited the material

exposed by the bombs. As one command official dryly observed, “this [bomb]

combination worked quite successfully,” and ground controllers offered lavish

praise. Unfortunately, the operational reports are silent on whether civilians or

soldiers occupied the houses attacked, or to what extent the airmen experienced

moral qualms about attacking the villages. Following the attack, bad weather set

in to restrict air support on November 10 and 11, and made the following three

days totally unfit for flying.69

Mission Priorities and Aerial Resources

With Third Army’s offensive off to a good start, General Weyland

returned to one of his favorite concerns, the Luftwaffe threat to the Third

Army’s area. He had good reason to worry. Throughout October and November

1944, Ultra analysts continued to monitor the Luftwaffe buildup, which resulted in a single-engine fighter force that expanded from 1,900 to 3,300 aircraft

by mid-November.70 This represented an increase of nearly 70 percent over the

numbers available in early September. Weyland attempted to enlist the aid of

heavy bombers in the counterair mission. Even before the Eighth Air Force

bombing on November 9, he had convinced officials to direct bombers against

Air Power for Patton’s Army

158
16 airfields identified by his intelligence section on November 10. The result,

however, proved disappointing: pilots hit only 2 of the 16 fields. Nevertheless,

he repeated his request for the heavy bombers and also lobbied for the use of

Eighth Air Force fighters.

The seriousness of his concern was perhaps best demonstrated on

November 12, when he convinced General Patton to relieve all fighterbombers that day from close air support missions, which permitted them to be

applied against counterair targets. Weyland could never implement the consistent program of pressure on the Luftwaffe he desired. The weather, the limited

availability of medium and heavy bombers, and the continuing high-priority

rail and road interdiction program took precedence. Although it is tempting to

speculate on whether a more sustained effort against the Luftwaffe might have

crippled it for the future Ardennes assault, such a diversion of resources might

well have rendered the interdiction program ineffective.71

As it was, interdiction received only 50 percent of the effort that Weyland

devoted to close air support of Patton’s Third Army. The statistical record for

November suggests that scheduled close support sorties totaled 1,387, while the

figure for armed reconnaissance was 697. The command flew armed reconnaissance missions against what officials termed targets of opportunity. On the other

hand, they recorded pinpoint targets separately and the figure for this third category reached 532 sorties. Statisticians, however, reported all three in official

command statistical summaries under the heading “dive bomb.” Understandably,

the vast majority of close air support missions in November occurred in conjunction with Operation Madison. It is also clear, in spite of Third Army’s

reliance on its own artillery for a significant portion of its close fire support, that

fighter-bombers continued to play a major role, especially in large offensives.

Once again, competing mission priorities made it difficult, if not impossible, to

make interdiction the overwhelming priority on a consistent basis.72

Then, too, the effectiveness of the interdiction program is enormously

difficult to measure. Too often bad weather in the target area prevented accurate aircrew reporting or later assessment of bomb damage results by means of

reconnaissance flights. In any case, at this stage no one could expect a fighterbomber pilot to achieve the kind of pinpoint bombing in bad weather often

unachieved by aircrews of a later generation with much improved technology.

Although mission reports increasingly mention that pilots dropped bombs

through the overcast under the direction of ground control, the targets normally proved to be large area concentrations beyond the bomb line. Although the

MEW system could direct aircraft within range of the target, the pilot still

needed to acquire it visually for accurate bombing. After December 1944,

accuracy would improve markedly when the command acquired the SCR–584

and a close control device for the MEW system.73

Bad weather days in mid-November compelled General Weyland to deal

with a number of mission support issues. The problem of soggy airfields now

Stalemate in Lorraine

159
Air Power for Patton’s Army

160

headed the list. Rainfall amounted to twice the norm during the month, and on

two occasions the Mosel overflowed its banks. The 354th Fighter Group had

the most difficult situation. October rainfall made its airfield at Vitry largely

unserviceable and a second flood on November 8 effectively eliminated all

operations from the site. As a result, the group flew from St. Dizier after

November 13, until the engineers readied the field at Rosieres (A–98) later in

the month (Map 4). The most shocking news for the Mustang group, however, came on the thirteenth, when it learned that P–47s would replace its P–51s.

To say that group pilots were not pleased is an understatement of the first

order. The group’s historian termed November 13 a “Black Letter Day,” and

morale took a nosedive. Three months later, the group historian asserted that

the pilots, for the most part, still preferred the P–51 because of its additional

speed and better handling qualities.74

General Weyland had little choice in the fate of the 354th Fighter Group.

In mid-November his job was to convert the group as soon as possible.

Transition training began immediately, one squadron at a time. At Weyland’s

insistence, the P–47s were to arrive before all the P–51s left so at least two

squadrons would remain operational at all times. Training lasted about a week

and a half for each squadron, with the last squadron finishing on December 17,

1944. Although one might expect the new P–47 group to be less proficient

than its sister groups, operations records do not bear this out. The 354th

Fighter Group came in for its share of praise over the next two months and

Weyland thoughtfully commended the group on its first outstanding P–47

group mission. Whether the XIX TAC benefited in the winter fighting by having a P–47 rather than a P–51 unit is doubtful. In any event, when the airground team prepared for mobile operations in March 1945 the spare parts

availability for the P–51 aircraft again improved, and the 354th reconverted

back to the P–51s. Even so, one officer asserted that the reconversion occurred

largely because of the serious morale problem in the group.75

The severe November rain and mud, meanwhile, forced other groups to

change bases as well (Map 13). On November 5, the 362d Fighter Group

began its move from Mourmelon to Rovres, near Etain and Verdun, where it

was joined by the 425th Night Fighter Squadron. Later in the month the 10th

Photo Group, with one exception, moved its squadrons and photographic facilities from St. Dizier to Conflans to escape the elements. The exception proved

to be the 155th Night Photo Squadron whose A–20s could operate more safely on St. Dizier’s concrete runways in bad weather. Although the command

made the moves in response to the terrible weather, it now had all three groups

positioned farther forward and better able to support Third Army operations.

The ground advance in Operation Madison had widened the distance from the

Marne bases to the front lines from 50 miles in September 1944, to as much as

a 100 miles in November. Fortuitously, these groups also would be well-sited

to support the Ardennes counterattack in December.76
Map 13

Location and Movements of Major XIX TAC Units: November 1944

Reprinted from: XIX Tactical Air Command, “History,” Operations, November 1944, AFHRA.
General Weyland still found the aircraft replacement situation in

November unacceptable. The critical P–51 shortage could be alleviated

through the conversion program, but the single squadron of P–61 Black

Widows had declined to 14 aircraft from its authorized strength of 18, and

prospects for replacements in the immediate future seemed poor. As a result,

he proposed to Ninth Air Force that A–20 Havoc light bombers be exchanged

for their P–70 night-fighter variant for intruder operations. Ninth Air Force

disapproved the request. Weyland also failed to convince Ninth Air Force

headquarters to support another ambitious plan. To compensate for winter conditions, he asked General Vandenberg in a November 14 letter to increase the

number of aircraft authorized for fighter groups by 25. In a lengthy argument

he noted that bad weather and shortened daylight hours had reduced the sortie

rate to less than 50 percent of the summer figure. At the same time, the groups

now received a steady flow of pilot replacements in numbers capable of sustaining a much higher loss rate. Each squadron, he said, could man 24 aircraft,

or 72 per three-squadron group. Moreover, because of the low sortie rate under

winter conditions, available maintenance personnel could support a 100-aircraft group, which meant that 72 aircraft could be sent on missions when

weather permitted.77

Ninth Air Force declined to raise the number of authorized aircraft, citing the eventual need for additional logistics personnel in assembly and maintenance at the base air depot as well as in the tactical and service squadrons.

Headquarters Ninth Air Force had little interest in trying to change authorization for maintenance personnel, let alone aircraft, and instead it suggested

reducing the flow of replacement pilots rather than increasing the number of

airplanes. Although Weyland’s proposal seems imaginative and reasonable for

the situation in the fall, he could not foresee the strain an emergency such as

Air Power for Patton’s Army

162

A–20 Havoc at a Ninth Air Force Base in France.
Stalemate in Lorraine

163

the Ardennes Offensive would put on his facilities and personnel. Indeed, late

in December 1944, his command maintenance and supply officers described

maintenance as poor. As a result of the heavy battle damage suffered by most

aircraft in the intense effort to halt the German attack, depots and service teams

became overburdened with no end in sight.78

The nonflying days in November also provided General Weyland time to

confer with XII TAC to the south on support requirements. Here the cooperative spirit and the theme of flexibility predominated. He agreed to a request

from General Saville that the XIX TAC assist XII TAC with two groups to support Seventh Army’s planned offensive on November 15–17, with the proviso

that XIX TAC receive help from Ninth Air Force to the same extent. When

Ninth Air Force authorities in Luxembourg did not approve this arrangement,

Weyland declined to send his two groups, but he still promised Saville help if

he got “in a jam.” Unexplainably, when Ninth Air Force subsequently agreed

to provide Saville’s command four groups instead of two, XII TAC declined

them because it “expected bad weather on the 14th.”79

Autumn weather in Lorraine was awful. One member of the 362d

Fighter Group described the move to Rouvres on November 5 in terms reminiscent of the First World War:

When the last remnants of the Group splashed up the quagmire roads into this churned up sea of mud that was to be our

new site and possibly our winter home, the unanimous opinion was expressed that web-feet and fins would be requisitioned next....Living conditions in the immediate future

looked very dismal and bogged down.80

The slow pace of the campaign and the many days when the weather prohibited flying led to inactivity and boredom that could be relieved only slightly by

contact with the dour Lorrainers. Typical was the attitude of the 405th Fighter

Group historian who concluded his commentary on his outfit’s experiences in

November by noting that “all in all, it was an unremarkable month, characterized only by its dreariness and monotony.”81

The weather finally improved somewhat on November 15, 1944, and the

command sent a squadron each from the 405th, 406th, and 362d Fighter

Groups to support XII and XX Corps as well as fly armed reconnaissance.

General Eisenhower visited the command that day and, like many before him,

dutifully paid tribute to the outstanding partnership of XIX TAC and Third

Army, and to General Weyland personally. Also on this day the 358th Fighter

Group departed officially for XII TAC, which left the command with four

fighter groups, its lowest number since it became operational.82

Fair weather—a ceiling of 5,000–7,000 feet and visibility between two

and three miles—made November 17 the biggest day in the air in a number of
164

As the Ninth Air Force–Third Army operations advanced, air-ground

teamwork became more sophisticated. Air and ground coordinators

shared VHF radio facilities in relay stations near the front (top) and were

also installed in mobile radio stations in 3/4-ton trucks (bottom), receiving

messages from communications officers (top, opposite page).
165

Effectiveness of counterflak artillery also

increased through air-ground teamwork, using

liaison planes for spotting flak positions and

directing fire to officers in ground units (right).

Air-ground operations and liaison

officers directed fighter-bombers

directly overhead to targets from

information relayed to them (center).
Air Power for Patton’s Army

166

weeks. Weyland sent all groups on two missions, totaling 317 sorties. Two

groups furnished Third Army close air support, with the 406th Fighter Group

flying in support of the 10th Armored Division in its push beyond Fort

Koenigsmacher and the 405th Fighter Group supporting the 6th Armored

Division in the XII Corps zone. Weyland tried to visit Third Army’s corps and

division headquarters as often as time permitted. On November 17, he happened to be visiting the 6th Armored Division, where he conferred with an

appreciative General Eddy. Weyland also encountered his disputant, General

Wood, commander of the 4th Armored Division, soon to be relieved after the

stress of combat proved too severe. Their earlier disagreement over control of

a XIX TAC officer seemed behind them, and indeed, Weyland had little trouble in Lorraine with the corps and armored division commanders who understood the constraints imposed by the weather, and invariably appreciated XIX

TAC aerial assistance when the weather made flying possible. Even most

infantry division commanders, whose troops generally received less air support than their armored division counterparts, expressed satisfaction with XIX

TAC’s effort on their behalf.83

On November 18, General Weyland visited XX Corps, which had nearly completed its encirclement of Metz with the able support of the 406th

Fighter Group. With the 405th Fighter Group assigned expressly in close support of XII Corps units, only the 354th and 362d Fighter Groups could attack

interdiction targets. The 354th and 362d had a field day. Tactical reconnaissance had reported heavy rail traffic west of the Rhine, and the two groups

combined to destroy nearly 500 railroad cars, the highest number of claims in

the command’s history. According to reports, they also counted destroyed

nearly 300 motor vehicles, 26 armored vehicles, 74 locomotives, 42 horsedrawn vehicles, 32 gun positions, and 19 buildings.84

November 19, 1944, proved to be another good day, but a costly one. As

Third Army cut the exits from Metz, fighter-bombers swooped down to within a hundred yards in front of the American patrols to strafe the retreating

enemy. The command lost 13 aircraft and 8 pilots, and officers now considered

Third Army’s zone of operations the worst for flak concentrations since Caen

back in the early stages of the Normandy fighting. The command lost 62 aircraft shot down in November, exactly twice the October figure. Ironically,

despite the higher losses, the XIX TAC took important steps to reduce the flak

menace. For one, the command’s intelligence section maintained a detailed

flak “library” and display map showing all known flak concentrations. The

daily intelligence report also described each new flak sighting to pilots.85

The major development, however, proved to be the antiflak program initiated by the ground-pounders of XII Corps. As General Weyland explained at

a press conference in December 1944, “this was not at our request, but that

started in the XII Corps—I did not even think of it, but somebody in the XII

Corps saw that when bombers came over, the [XII Corps] artillery would open
Stalemate in Lorraine

167

on the flak positions. Undoubtedly, this saved many planes and lives.” Indeed,

the Army directed antiflak artillery to fire on all known enemy gun positions

when fighter-bombers operated in their area. The new procedure called for the

artillery to be alerted when aircraft assigned to close air support missions in

the area were airborne, then a liaison plane served as artillery spotter and

directed fire on the German flak positions. In one of the XIX TAC combat

reports, an official judged the XII Corps artillery support very effective and

“most popular with the pilots.”86

The effectiveness of counterflak artillery fire increased as the result of a

major advance in air-ground teamwork that occurred during the latter part of

the Metz operation, when Third Army corps and divisions adopted the “combined operations office” used at the command. Now, air and ground officers

shared the same room and received facilities and equipment previously

unavailable. Technicians furnished VHF air-ground equipment for the new

offices, which provided good integration of the air effort into the ground operation. Ground personnel, for their part, ran a land line to the artillery fire direction center, which made target marking and, especially, antiflak fire considerably more effective. Even with improved air-ground cooperation, however, the

massive concentration of light flak on the Siegfried Line and the increase in

close support missions in November produced a high fighter-bomber casualty

figure for the month.87

After November 19 the weather closed in again for five straight days, as

Third Army forces led by the 95th Infantry Division (a unit comprised of those

Patton liked to call “the Iron Men of Metz”) completed mop-up action inside

the ancient city on November 22. Third Army officers proudly boasted that

they commanded the first military force to capture Metz since 451 AD. Some

might criticize the length of the operation and remind Americans that the

Prussians had occupied Metz during the Franco-Prussian War, but Third

Army’s two-month siege remains impressive in view of the region’s worst

flooding in 20 years and limited air support. Critics, including German officers, have been less kind to Patton for following his own broad-front strategy

of dividing his armor and using it as infantry support rather than forming it into

a concentrated battering ram to break through the Maginot and Siegfried Line

defenses in early November. As it was, after Metz fell, six forts still remained

in German hands and General Patton made the decision to invest them while

continuing eastward. By the end of November, his forces had crossed the Saar

at Saarlautern and Dillingen against stiff resistance to hold a continuous front

of 25 miles inside Germany, while only four of the Metz forts remained in

enemy hands (Map 14).88

The high Third Army casualty rate of 22,773 attested to the grim fighting in Lorraine, 90 percent of which came from infantry units. Losses in

infantry units became so severe that draftees from noncombat positions had to

be involuntarily retrained as infantry. The cold and soggy November fighting
Map 14

Third Army Operations: November 19–December 19, 1944

Reprinted from: Christopher R. Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An Overview, Sep-Dec 1944,” (Ft. Leavenworth,

Kan.: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985), p. 29.
Stalemate in Lorraine

169

also produced a trenchfoot problem of monstrous proportions. Fully 4,587

cases appeared at division clearing stations, and an estimated 95 percent of the

individuals afflicted proved useless to the Army until the following spring.89

For General Weyland’s forces, it became the same old story of limited flying. After Metz fell, the command had only two more good flying days in

November. On November 25, XIX TAC pilots flew 220 sorties divided generally between the two groups supporting advancing ground units and two flying

armed reconnaissance/interdiction in the Rhine and Saar valleys. The next day

only the 406th Fighter Group flew ground support missions, but its targets

included 14 towns that subsequently fell to XX Corps’ assault. In a perceptive

comment on air-ground effectiveness on November 21 General Patton observed,

“The impetus of an air attack [for ground forces] is lacking due to [the] fatigue

of [the] men. I have attempted to get at least an infantry division out of action

for a rest.” The brutal conditions of fighting in Lorraine seemed to hamper the

air-ground team at every turn.90

While weather prohibited flying the last four days of the month,

Weyland turned his attention to the problem of the Siegfried Line defenses.

The XX Corps found, to its unpleasant surprise, that cities like Saarlautern had

actually become part of the West Wall. American forces discovered the

Siegfried Line to be unlike the Metz or Maginot Line systems of huge underground forts and artillery positions. Third Army now confronted a line of

Dragon’s Teeth—tank obstacles, extensive barbed wire, well-positioned pillboxes with overlapping zones of fire, and fortifications that included cities

such as Saarlautern and Dillingen. Even though the German forces opposite

Third Army were reduced to one-quarter the size of the American attacking

force, the tenacious defenders remained in well-prepared positions and fought

hard to protect their homeland. Fighter-bombers could only offer modest assistance against such fortified defenses.91

The key problem was how to get Third Army forces across the swollen

Saar River in the face of the entrenched Siegfried Line defenders. Given Third

Army’s situation, General Weyland again decided to coordinate heavy air

bombardment with the advance of the infantry units. Planners termed this plan

“Hi-Sug.” An earlier attempt to breach defenses at Merzig through an aerial

assault on November 19 failed overwhelmingly. There, XIX TAC employed an

air plan that called for eight groups of medium bombers to soften up the

bridgehead area. Only four groups completed their bombing runs, however,

and although accuracy proved good, the 9th Bombardment Division lost 13

aircraft and eight pilots. Once again, for fear of short bombing, the ground

troops had been positioned so far back from the Saar River that they failed to

attack the German defenses until 48 hours after the bombing. Weyland judged

the air effort as “absolutely wasted.”92

The lesson repeated in the Merzig bombing proved a telling one in the

Northwest European campaign. When medium or heavy bombers carpet-
Air Power for Patton’s Army

170

bombed a defensive area, the ground forces needed to move forward immediately after the last bomb had fallen and close with the stunned defenders. For

the Hi-Sug plan, Third Army decided to cross the Saar River near Saarlautern

at the end of November, with forces directed to move forward to within 2,000

yards of the river prior to the air bombardment. The bombers would carpetbomb the eastern side of the river in the proposed bridgehead area.93

General Weyland served as the major liaison figure for air support in the

joint planning process. On November 27 he requested of Ninth Air Force

heavy as well as medium bomber strikes. Although he did not get the heavy

bombers for the assault, Ninth Air Force promised full use of the medium

bombers. During Third Army’s morning briefing on November 29, General

Patton approved Weyland’s plan to have medium bombers strike the Siegfried

Line. As always, air-ground coordination and timing would be critical.

Weyland assured the ground leaders that medium bombers could be employed

as soon as Third Army ground forces were ready, and Patton’s staff responded

by saying XX Corps was prepared for the assault any time from November 29

to December 2. Patton wanted to attack the following day, but later on

November 29 his staff notified Weyland that XX Corps would not be ready for

the bombardment until December 1. Although this meant that targets in the

northern area of the offensive had to be scratched, the plan still looked promising (Map 14).94

On November 30, the air-ground team held a joint planning meeting at

Third Army headquarters where it reviewed the plan to use medium bombers

and further examined and established last-minute timing changes in detail. The

XX Corps would lead off, with the 95th Infantry Division’s Iron Men attacking across the Saar River in the vicinity of Saarlautern, while the 90th Infantry

Division performed a holding action. In the XII Corps zone, the main effort

would be made by the 26th Infantry and the 4th Armored Divisions, with the

80th Infantry Division to follow. If XX Corps encountered trouble on its front,

it would hold the enemy’s key forces while XII Corps troops broke through the

gap below Saarlautern in the enemy’s weakened sectors. 

The air plan called for medium bombers employed over three days, with

the first day’s bombing of Siegfried Line defenses to be accomplished visually before 2:00 p.m. Should bad weather occur on the second and third days,

Third Army agreed to continued bombing using the Oboe radar blind-bombing method. That evening, at the XIX TAC briefing, General Weyland explained that the entire 9th Bombardment Division force would be allocated to

the Siegfried Line breakthrough operation now scheduled for the following

day, December 1. He also told his staff that Third Army, reflecting confidence

in the bombers as well as the urgency of the operation, had overcome its

doubts and now agreed to accept Oboe bombing at any time. 

General Patton’s willingness to permit use of a blind-bombing system,

which was more effective against large area targets, suggests how important
aerial bombardment support had become for the Army commander. Even so,

his troops would attack without air support if necessary. Before that evening’s

XIX TAC briefing, Patton met with Generals Gaffey, Gay, and Weyland on the

subject of the air plan. Although he desired air support, Patton declared that

the 90th and 95th Infantry Divisions would attack on December 3, with or

without the benefit of aerial bombing.95

General Weyland remained confident that Operation Hi-Sug, his third

joint operation of the Lorraine Campaign, could overcome the stiff German

defenses, the bad weather, and the friction of war to burst open the Siegfried

Line and permit Third Army to move rapidly on to the Rhine River. If so, he

could put behind him a frustrating period for his command. 

Assault on the Siegfried Line

The air-ground assault in Lorraine in early December 1944, was the only

major Allied offensive on the western front at that time. First and Ninth Armies

in the north continued to clear the Huertgen Forest after many weeks of grim

infantry fighting and high casualties and labored to build up their forces along the

Roer River for a major offensive in mid-December. The river would remain a

major barrier until American troops could wrest control of the dams on its upper

reaches from the Germans. In Alsace, Lt. Gen. Jacob L. Devers’s 6th Army

Group achieved greater success, forcing retreating Germans from French soil and

reaching the Rhine River. Only a large bridgehead of enemy forces west of the

Rhine near Colmar, the Colmar pocket, remained to impede the Allied drive.96

General Patton’s high expectations for Operation Hi-Sug rested in large

part on the massive bombing assault scheduled for December 1, and he, General

Weyland, and their respective staffs devoted considerable effort to ensure that

air-ground coordination proved successful. At midmorning on December 1,

1944, Weyland called the Third Army commander to tell him that eight groups

of medium bombers were on their way. The XX Corps had been notified as

well. Shortly thereafter, General Patton called back requesting that XX Corps

receive priority from the fighter-bombers, too, and Weyland informed him that

this had already been done. Indeed, XX Corps units began crossing the swollen

Saar River supported by three of four bomb groups that flew 96 of the 123 total

sorties for the day.97

By midafternoon the early optimism began to fade. Because of radio failure, Weyland learned that only four of the eight bomb groups had bombed their

targets. The air commander then conferred with General Patton and Colonel

Harkins, his deputy chief of staff, who informed him that, in any case, XX Corps

had not been in position that morning to follow-up the bombing and establish its

bridgehead on the east bank of the Saar. Despite the laborious planning of the

past days, ineffective air-ground coordination once again prevented success.

Stalemate in Lorraine

171
General Weyland agreed to try again the next day and Patton promised

to get the necessary target information and current front line locations from

XX Corps by 7:30 p.m. that evening. Weyland then contacted Ninth Air Force

to again request the bombers and to assure bomber pilots that the target information would be delivered at about 8:00 p.m. Director of operations at the

Ninth, Col. George F. McGuire, responded favorably but suggested that,

because 12th Army Group established flying objectives for the medium

bomber effort, it would help if Third Army contacted General Bradley’s headquarters. Weyland, determined to avoid repeating the first day’s mistake, never

hesitated to call on General Patton for crucial assistance, and he considered

assistance crucial in this instance. He asked the Army commander to “needle”

higher headquarters to ensure the support of Ninth Air Force and Patton said

he would call Bradley immediately. As these machinations on December 2

illustrate, the medium bomber force also had other competing priorities and

represented a limited resource.98

At that night’s XIX TAC briefing, the airmen announced that 10 groups

of medium bombers, approximately 360 airplanes, would strike the Siegfried

Line the following day, while the fighter-bomber force would be strengthened

by the loan of two groups from IX TAC and XXIX TAC. They assigned to the

fighters armed reconnaissance missions and other missions to disarm strongpoints and blunt counterattacks in support of the ground advance.99

During the Hi-Sug attack on December 2, 1944, the TAC commander and

his combat operations officer (using call signs Ding Bat 1 and Ding Bat 2)

observed the medium bombing from a P–47 and P–51, respectively. This time

all medium bomber groups struck the targets assigned and General Weyland

found only one group that appeared to have bombed off-target. This time XX

Corps troops had moved to within 2,000 yards of the Saar River and followed up

the bombing effectively, despite heavy resistance. The 95th Infantry Division’s

crossing on December 2 received air support only from the 406th Group,

although the group did good work against what the army considered the highest

concentration of enemy flak it had ever faced. However, the 406th Fighter Group

achieved its bombing claims at a high cost: five aircraft lost to flak. Using

napalm and fragmentation bombs, the 406th fighter-bombers struck artillery

positions under the close control of the air liaison officer who maintained contact with the division artillery officer. The latter directed effective artillery smoke

to mark targets in the Siegfried Line and the pilots claimed five gun positions

destroyed. It represented another example of a successful air-ground cooperative

effort that turned on placing the combat operations office at division level.100

Despite the close support from medium bombers and fighter-bombers,

the 95th Infantry Division came under intense enemy artillery fire from the

Siegfried Line fortifications for the next few days as its forces struggled to

cross the overflowing Saar River. In the face of severe winds, the veteran

405th Fighter Group failed repeatedly to lay smoke bombs on the hilltops and

Air Power for Patton’s Army

172
enemy observation posts to screen the crossing. General Weyland followed the

events closely and held out hope that the army would make the grade. The tenuous bridgehead did hold, but the XX Corps became bogged down in houseto-house fighting in Saarlautern that would last for two weeks. Meanwhile, XII

Corps pushed steadily, if slowly, northeast toward the Saar, while at the same

time mopping up enemy activity in Saar-Union.101

While close air support of the advancing infantry units accelerated on

December 2, XIX TAC also decided to support Third Army’s drive with a

renewed interdiction program against rail targets on December 2. The airground team did not doubt the need for a major effort. Weyland remained convinced that he could cover the ground troops sufficiently and also engage in

interdiction operations to isolate the battlefield. Tactical reconnaissance pilots

reported heavy rail traffic west of the Rhine since late October. Third Army

intelligence specialists, meanwhile, began to monitor and analyze rail traffic in

their area in mid-November. Observations and reports of rail traffic for the

period November 17 to December 2 showed, among many sightings, 300

trains active on November 17, 84 on November 18 and 19, and 46 on

November 26. This rail traffic, intelligence officers concluded by December 2,

suggested “a definite buildup of enemy troops and supplies directly opposite

the north flank of Third U.S. Army and the southern flank of First U.S. Army.”

Subsequent analysis of rail traffic on December 9, 14, and 17, cited a continuing, heavy volume of traffic directed toward the Eifel region, a hilly, densely

wooded region of Germany north of the Mosel River between Trier and

Coblenz. In early December, Third Army intelligence officers began to warn

of a possible German spoiling offensive in their sector or from the Eifel.102

The XIX TAC interdiction program in early December, however, could

hardly do more than minor damage to the enemy. Even though it received priority attention, mission reports from December 1–16 show the command flew

interdiction and close air support missions in equal proportion. As the November

program demonstrated, the competing priorities of the command made concentration of aerial forces on any single mission next to impossible. The ferocity of

the fighting in the Siegfried Line called for flying ground support missions on

every day possible.103 While the interdiction and close support missions assisted

the slow-moving offensive, it became clear that Operation Hi-Sug had not

achieved the overwhelming breakthrough sought by the air-ground team and the

military stalemate on the Siegfried Line continued. Weyland immediately began

working on plans for a more elaborate operation, a massive air assault that would

require even closer coordination between XIX TAC and Third Army forces.

On December 5, 1944, Weyland attended an important conference at

Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Forces (SHAEF) in Paris. Allied

conferees addressed the question of how best to use air power against the

Siegfried Line. Particular interest centered on the potential effectiveness using

strategic bombers in a tactical role, a proposition long considered doctrinal

Stalemate in Lorraine

173
heresy by strategic airmen. Predictably, attendees representing strategic bombers

opposed using heavy bombers for anything except strategic bombing. First and

Ninth Army representatives wanted to divert heavy bombers for use against

dams on the Roer River. Weyland argued that if the heavy bombers were made

available, they would be effective in a tactical role, in coordination with a major

offensive in which the ground forces would be moving forward. Evidently his

argument helped, because Eisenhower requested that General Spaatz, commander of United States Strategic Air Forces in Europe (USSTAF), assist Third

Army with the support of heavy bombers even though Allied leaders continued

to view Patton’s front as secondary. At the same time, it was clear Third Army

would have to make substantial progress against the Siegfried Line or go over

on the defensive. The Ninth Air Force commander, General Vandenberg, concurred and when Spaatz said he would visit Nancy, Weyland assured him that

XIX TAC already “had a plan to use the heavy bomber effort.”104

The next day, December 6, General Spaatz and General Doolittle, commander of Eighth Air Force, arrived at XIX TAC headquarters to confer with

General Weyland and his staff. Weyland explained the Third Army’s situation

on the Siegfried Line and the air plan to get them through it, while Colonel

Hallett discussed the targeting objectives for the heavy bombers. Spaatz and

Doolittle accepted the plan in principle, after which they met with General

Patton and together approved Weyland’s joint plan of attack. Unlike previous

heavy bomber operations, this plan called for attacks on the Siegfried Line in

the vicinity of Zweibruecken by the heavy and medium bombers for three consecutive days. Troops from XII Corps would move forward while bombing of

deeper targets continued. Five target areas would be hit initially by heavy

bombers and safety would be assured by detailed coordination with antiaircraft

artillery units, the use of marker panels, and by Eighth Air Force radio communications. Fighter-bombers would be employed to keep the enemy off balance and break up any counterattacks.105

General Weyland considered his plan the best solution to date for solving the dilemma of the time lag between the carpet-bombing and infantry

advance. Previously, Operation Queen, and initially Operation Hi-Sug, failed

because the infantry took too long to reach the target area after the bombing.

Clearly coordination, timing, and a host of other potential problems had to be

clarified for Weyland’s plan to succeed. For example, the planners needed to

coordinate operations with Seventh Army and XII TAC, and Doolittle and

Spaatz agreed to visit General Devers, the 6th Army Group commander, and

General Royce, his air commander. Both accepted the XIX TAC plan “in principle.” Meanwhile, General Weyland set to work on other requirements such

as developing target folders with current photos of the targets and coordinating air defense measures. The latter became an issue because of the proposed

move to the Metz airfield of the command’s 100th Fighter Wing in the near

future. Weyland always favored keeping the same army antiaircraft units to

Air Power for Patton’s Army

174
Stalemate in Lorraine

175

defend the same air units when they moved to a new airfield. For the upcoming offensive, he sought to ensure that air defense units would be provided

adequate communications for control of the inner artillery zone or, failing that,

that these zones would be curtailed for the offensive. He met with key air

defense officers from 12th Army Group and Third Army on December 8 and

they promised to have their ground antiaircraft controllers well-briefed.106

Meanwhile, the Hi-Sug ground offensive continued. At Metz, Fort

Driant fell to XX Corps troops on December 7. Now only Fort Jeanne d’Arc

remained in enemy hands. General Walker’s troops also continued to enlarge

their bridgeheads at Saarlautern and Pachtern. In the XII Corps sector, troops

engaged in house-to-house fighting in the southern part of Saargumeines and

corps artillery shelled Saarbruecken (Map 15). The XII Corps received priority air support at this time and Weyland’s command continued its general practice of assigning one group to cover one particular front line army division. On

December 8, for example, the 405th Fighter Group supported the 35th Infantry

Division’s attempt to consolidate its four Saar River crossings near

Saargumeines, attacking towns and marking artillery targets with smoke, while

the 362d Fighter Group repelled counterattacks threatening the 80th Infantry

Division. Both groups received letters of appreciation from XII Corps for their

Generals Spaatz, Patton, Doolittle, Vandenberg, and Weyland (left to right)

at the advance headquarters in Nancy, December 1944.
SOURCE: H.M. Cole, The Lorraine Campaign, Map 49, (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1950)

Map 15

Third Army

Last Phase of Lorraine Offensive,

December 3–19, 1944
aerial assistance, but progress proved slow in the face of German delaying

actions which included land mines, booby traps, persistent counterattacks, and

the ever-present mud and rain.107

Bad weather set in again on December 9, 1944, and XIX TAC severely

curtailed air operations for the next three days. Even so, with the 90th Infantry

Division in trouble, the command responded despite the poor weather. On the

ninth, for example, it flew only 56 sorties, including a 362d Fighter Group

mission to drop blood plasma in wing tanks to troops of the 90th pinned down

in their Saar River bridgehead. Invariably, during December two fighterbomber groups flew close air support missions for the same corps: the 362d

supported XII Corps operations while the 406th provided coverage of XX

Corps units. Meanwhile, the 405th Fighter Group, which had flown more

ground support missions than any other group during the Lorraine Campaign,

now assumed the burden of flying armed reconnaissance missions. The

Raiders had no trouble adjusting to this role.108

Not surprisingly, General Weyland concentrated on the forthcoming

combined operation during the lull in the air war. Perhaps a measure of his personal association with the joint operation is expressed in the name adopted for

it: Tink, his wife’s nickname. It was a busy time for the planners. On December

10, Seventh Army and XII TAC officials visited Third Army, where all

acknowledged that the forthcoming XIX TAC–Third Army offensive would

have first priority. Another coordinated attack, termed Operation Dagger,

would follow in the Seventh Army area within four days of the start of

Operation Tink. They further agreed that Generals Saville and Weyland would

go to SHAEF to receive final approval for their plans, while General Patton

would meet with his Seventh Army counterpart, General Patch, on December

13 to decide final timing of the attacking forces. After the December 10 meeting, Patton described the expectations of the Allied planners. Previous tactical

carpet-bombings, which had been confined to a single day, had not proved

entirely effective. Allied leaders believed that the three day air blitz on

Zweibruecken planned in Operation Tink would catch the enemy off guard.109

On December 11, officers from Strategic Air Forces Headquarters in

England arrived to discuss Operation Tink, after which Weyland called Spaatz

to request RAF Bomber Command’s support as well. General Spaatz promised

to attend the meeting at Third Army headquarters scheduled for the thirteenth.

On December 12, the XIX TAC’s chief of staff flew to London with the air

plan, issued only that day, to coordinate the Eighth Air Force bomber contribution. “D-Day” was set for December 19.

Improved weather on December 12 also brought a request from Patton

and General Walker, XX Corps commander, for special support for his troops

closing in on the final Metz fort. Bombing of the fort by six groups of medium bombers was originally scheduled, but it had to be scrubbed because of bad

weather. Weyland promised an extra effort from his forces to take up the slack,

Stalemate in Lorraine

177
178

Dicing, or low-level, photo taken across the Saar River at the

Siegfried Line (top) by a 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group F–5 provided

vital information needed for Patton’s troops in breaching the

formidable defenses (bottom).
and the 406th Fighter Group responded with five missions on the twelfth. Fort

Jeanne d’Arc finally surrendered that day.110

The next few days were filled with various planning meetings for

Operation Tink. Generals Patton and Patch together with Generals Vandenberg,

Weyland, Saville, and a number of other key figures met on December 13 to

examine air-ground plans and procedures in detail. Although Tink remained

first priority, Seventh Army would attempt to sneak through the German

defenses in the Vosges under Tink’s momentum, assisted by Ninth Air Force’s

medium bombers (Map 9). All air support for XII TAC and Seventh Army

would be coordinated though XIX TAC, thereby ensuring that centralized control of the air forces would be maintained.

With the plan in good order, General Weyland spent December 14 and

15 visiting his units. On the sixteenth, he arrived back at Nancy, where he convened a meeting for representatives from all participating air organizations to

confirm reconnaissance areas and towns selected for interdiction attacks. In

the evening of December 16, General Weyland, in what appears to have been

little more than an afterthought, penciled a brief notation in his diary about

events reported to the north of Third Army, “German offensive started in First

Army area.” One can only speculate whether at this early point he appreciated

the significance of the assault and what it might mean for Operation Tink. The

weather was good on December 16 and aircrews happily described a “field

day” flying against German targets west of the Rhine, reports reminiscent of

those in the heady days of August in France.111

At the Third Army morning briefing on December 17, 1944, army

briefers reported that First Army and VIII Corps were “very surprised” at the

German counterattack in their zone. Not only had the Wehrmacht caught them

off guard, the enemy marshaled a larger striking force than anyone had expected. General Weyland promised to send two fighter groups north to support

Stalemate in Lorraine

179

Generals Patton

and Patch
VIII Corps throughout the day. In fact, December 17, with a total of 356 sorties, turned out to be the busiest flying day for the command since November

8, when Operation Madison began. All four groups flew in support of the

beleaguered VIII Corps troops in the Ardennes region near Bastogne.112

The XIX TAC issued the revised air plan for Operation Tink on December

17. It confirmed that this attack would be the largest tactical air operation of its

kind yet attempted. Medium bombers from the IX Bombardment Division and

heavy bombers from Eighth Air Force and RAF Bomber Command would

bomb both specified areas and 34 individual targets during three consecutive

days. Moreover, Eighth Air Force fighters would fly 14 armed reconnaissance

routes and bomb 26 supply depots. Fighter-bombers from XIX TAC would

attack all communications centers behind the point of assault immediately following the main bombardments. In the confusion, the ground forces expected to

be able to move forward with less opposition. Tink, indeed, was an ambitious

plan.113

Bad weather on December 18 restricted flying to two groups, the 354th

on loan to IX TAC and the 362d in support of XII Corps. General Weyland

now confided to his diary that “First Army is in a flap” over the German counterattack and that his Siegfried Line assault, Operation Tink, had been postponed from December 19 to 22. After the briefing next morning, on December

19, a special meeting took place at Third Army headquarters. General Patton’s

staff announced that the 4th Armored and 26th Infantry Divisions had been

ordered to move north, if required, to relieve VIII Corps. In that event,

Weyland concluded, Operation Tink would be canceled because Third Army

would have insufficient forces to exploit an air bombardment. Patton was to

Air Power for Patton’s Army

180

A squadron commander in the 354th Fighter Group checks last-minute

details with his flight leaders before a mission against German supply lines.
meet that day with Eisenhower and Bradley at Verdun and would subsequently advise Weyland of the final decision.114

That afternoon General Weyland called General Vandenberg. He urged

the Ninth Air Force commander to continue with Operation Tink and hoped

that it would be unnecessary to divert ground forces. Yet, early the same

evening Patton called to say that “Tink was scrubbed.” Official notice from

SHAEF arrived later, and with the severity of the situation in the Ardennes

becoming clear to all, Weyland immediately requested three additional fighter

groups and a second reconnaissance group to help Third Army pull the “First

Army’s chestnuts out of the fire.”115

Although Operation Tink never occurred, it offered perhaps the best

coordinated air proposal for propelling ground forces through German

Siegfried Line defenses in the Lorraine Campaign. It also provided a good

means of assessing General Weyland’s role as its key planner and liaison officer for air support. Operation Tink could have represented “what might have

been” for Generals Weyland and Patton. On December 20, however, the air

commander had little time to brood about cancellation of his plan. The

Ardennes emergency required everyone’s full attention.

Lorraine in Retrospect

The Lorraine Campaign ended in mid-December 1944. General Patton

captured the sentiments of those he led for Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson

in one of his own colorful epigrams:

I hope in the final settlement of the war you insist that the

Germans retain Lorraine, because I can imagine no greater

burden than to be the owner of this nasty country where it

rains every day and where the whole wealth of the people

consists in assorted manure piles.116

General Weyland certainly was no less frustrated by the three months of static warfare. The high hopes of September 1944 had unquestionably turned sour

and the unpleasant weather seemed to match the progress of the campaign.

Nothing that Weyland could command in the air seemed able to alter that stalemate. In terms of the weather, the terrain, the forces, and the fortifications, the

Lorraine Campaign in many ways represents a case study in the limitations

rather than the capabilities of air power.

All the while, in response to requests from Generals Patton and

Vandenberg, Weyland assigned and shuffled mission priorities to meet the

most crucial needs as he perceived them. With air supremacy seldom contested by the Luftwaffe, he directed most of the command’s flying toward interStalemate in Lorraine

181
diction and ground-support targets. For air power purists, he may have favored

close air support missions too often at the expense of interdiction.

Nevertheless, Weyland always responded first to the needs of Patton’s troops

in combat. Normally he handled this responsibility with two fighter groups,

which left the other groups free to apply against the remaining missions. Most

of these consisted of armed reconnaissance sorties, but bomber escort, leaflet

dropping, fighter sweeps, and at times, air alert required attention. Force size

continued to be a constant headache. To be sure, commanders seldom, if ever,

believe they have sufficient forces. Yet, given the competing responsibilities,

and with the exception of supporting the infantry and armor units, Weyland’s

command was far too small to concentrate on any assignment in force. In

Lorraine, the command had sufficient resources to cover the ground support

mission only because Third Army itself had to fight with reduced forces and

suffered from the tyranny of logistics.

Most of all, with the size of his command, Weyland found it impossible

to defeat the weather, which became the air-ground team’s worst enemy. A liability for the Allies, the abundant bad weather was always a comfort to the

enemy. On bad-weather days, the fighter-bombers did not fly effectively;

sometimes they did not fly at all. This left the German defenders free to move

supplies to the forward area and dig in from Metz to the Siegfried Line, ably

protected by heavy flak concentrations. Even in the best of times, with more

air firepower, the dug-in and reinforced strongpoints often proved impervious

to fighter-bomber attack. Weyland knew this, and so did the enemy. Little

could be done until both air and ground forces received reinforcements, and

their mission in Lorraine became more urgent. This was the promise of

Operation Tink and the reality of the Ardennes emergency.117

On the other hand, tactical air operations made gains during the campaign. Air-ground cooperation improved considerably as a result of counterflak procedures and the combined operations offices situated at Army corps

and division headquarters. The air arm also demonstrated that it could be

effective in aiding the advance of the ground forces in spite of unfavorable

conditions. Numerous letters of appreciation from the ground units attest to

aircrew success in attacking German strongpoints, repelling counterattacks,

and creating better tactical mobility for the troops. 

Radar and communications developments during the three months

accounted for much of the gains. Like so many aspects of the command, airbase movement became routine, in spite of the weather, while tactical air power

proved itself able to react immediately and adjust to new situations. Such

adjustments, for example, might involve the rapid movement of an entire group

from one base to another, or involve reconnaissance aircraft leading fighterbombers to an immediate target and coordinating army antiflak artillery fire.

Early in the campaign Weyland recognized that larger air attacks were

required to break the stalemate on the ground. For him the answer lay in longAir Power for Patton’s Army

182
range, jointly planned offensives propelled by a heavier concentration of air

power. If the four air-ground operations he helped develop—Operation

Madison, Merzig, Hi-Sug, and Tink—proved less than completely successful,

they nevertheless were well-conceived. In December, he became absolutely

convinced he had found the answer to the stalemate and a return to mobile

warfare in Operation Tink. Although it was a complex plan, requiring closer

coordination among the various air and ground participants than any previous

offensive, Weyland remained confident that thorough preparation, teamwork,

and close cooperation would ensure success. 

Above all, through all the frustrating experiences of the Lorraine

Campaign, Weyland and Patton maintained close cooperation between the air

and ground forces. Although other Allied air-ground teams cooperated effectively in the fall campaign, XIX TAC and Third Army developed a special

relationship under adverse conditions. The official Army historian of the campaign declared, “one outstanding feature of the Lorraine Campaign was the

cooperation between the XIX TAC and the Third Army.”118

Near the end of the Lorraine experience, General Patton met the press

with his air commander. He explained the Third Army’s “method of air-ground

tactical cooperation” for the correspondents assembled so that they might

describe it accurately for the public back home:

No operation in this army is contemplated without General

Weyland and his staff being present at the initial decisions.

We don’t say that we are going to do this and what can you

do about it. We say that we would like to make such an operation—now how can that be done from the air standpoint?119

Third Army staff members, General Weyland added, understood “not

only the capabilities...of air but also [its] limitations....Third Army does not

look upon the XIX Tactical Command as a cure-all.” He then turned to the

heart of their relationship. “Our success is built on mutual respect and comradeship between the air and ground [team] that actually does exist. You can

talk to any of my boys about that....My boys like the way the Third Army

fights. My kids feel that this is their army [emphasis added].”120 The mutual

respect, even affection, that promoted this kind of cooperation, coupled with

Weyland’s pragmatic approach to using tactical air power, surely accounted for

much of the air-ground team’s success.

The cooperation between the XIX TAC and Third Army air-ground team

had grown and prospered, remarkably under the most disconcerting conditions

of static warfare in Lorraine. That cooperation would be put to the test under

far more desperate circumstances in mid-December 1944—in the Ardennes. 

Stalemate in Lorraine

183

Chapter Five

The Ardennes

The German surprise attack in the early morning hours of December 16,

1944, quickly turned into far more than the spoiling action about which Third

Army intelligence officers had worried for the past several weeks. Instead,

three Nazi armies launched a 20-division assault along a 60-mile front opposite the Ardennes forest region in southern Belgium and northern

Luxembourg. Defenders of this area held by First Army’s VIII Corps was

comprised of, as one observer phrased it, “dirt farmers and shoe salesmen.”

The success of the German onslaught ended General Eisenhower’s own ambitious plan for a winter offensive. Planned offensives by First Army in the

direction of Cologne and by Third Army in the Saar had to be abandoned to

combat the German menace at the Allied center, a bitter struggle that became

known as the Battle of the Bulge.1 When Eisenhower met with key Allied officers at Verdun three days after the initial German attack, he declared the grave

military situation to be “one of opportunity for us and not [one] of disaster.”

Although his audience may have found it difficult to embrace such a view at

that moment, Eisenhower’s perception proved absolutely correct. In the end,

Germany’s Ardennes Offensive, Operation Herbstnebel (Autumn Fog), ended

in overwhelming defeat, leaving West Wall defenses woefully depleted before

a renewed Allied attack.2

The Ardennes Offensive also provided Allied air power with an opportunity to demonstrate its capability in a defensive emergency. Never before in

northern Europe had tactical military forces been called on to meet a major

threat without benefit of extensive prior planning between air and land commanders. It would prove a test worthy of tactical air power and of the airground teamwork demonstrated a few months earlier in France. Although the

Allied aerial response was applied theaterwide, Weyland’s XIX TAC faced

challenges at the cutting edge of Patton’s celebrated counterattack to relieve

Bastogne and drive German forces out of the Bulge.3

Weyland played a pivotal role in directing tactical air operations in the

southern half of the Bulge. Yet, popular attention is fixed most often on

Patton’s dramatic 90-degree turn north, and in the air, on Quesada’s direction

of air support in the northern area of the Bulge. Nevertheless, for both Third

Army and its air arm, the Battle of the Bulge in many ways represented their

greatest triumph of the European Campaign.

185
Operation Autumn Fog

On December 16, 1944, in the initial confusion and fog of battle, the true

nature of Operation Autumn Fog remained unclear. If Allied leaders had correctly identified Adolf Hitler rather than Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt as

the architect, they might have better reacted to a surprise attack of such a size

and stunning boldness. Since September, Hitler had brooded about a German

counterattack out of the Ardennes against Allied forces reminiscent of

Operation Fall Gelb, the invasion of France in mid-1940. If in late 1944

German forces could reach the Belgian port of Antwerp, 100 miles in the distance, they would split the Allied line and be in position to destroy American

and British troops to the north by trapping them against the English Channel

and North Sea. If less than completely successful, so audacious an assault

would nevertheless gain precious time and disrupt the anticipated Allied offensive against the Siegfried Line.4

Operation Autumn Fog called for the main attack to be delivered in the

north along the Malmedy-Liege axis to Antwerp by the Sixth Panzer Army, led

by SS Gen. Sepp Dietrich. It had the narrowest front of the attacking forces,

and much would depend on access to the road network to sustain the drive

(Map 16). In the center, General von Manteuffel’s Fifth Panzer Army had the

task of seizing the key road communications centers of St. Vith and Bastogne,

and of pushing on to the Meuse River before turning north. To the south, the

Seventh Army, commanded by Gen. Eric Brandenberger, would provide flank

Air Power for Patton’s Army

186

Field Marshal

Gerd von Rundstedt

with Adolf Hitler
Map 16

The Ardennes: The Initial German

Attack and Operations,

December 16-25, 1944

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 61, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Air Power for Patton’s Army

188

protection to the Fifth and expand into northern Luxembourg. To further the

drive, the Germans formed special parachute units to seize key road junctions

and serve as blocking forces, while Lt. Col. Otto Skorzeny’s U.S.-uniformed

guerrillas would sow confusion behind Allied lines and take control of the

Meuse bridges. The Luftwaffe’s aerial striking force, meanwhile, had been

secretly expanded to some 2,400 tactical aircraft for the campaign and moved

to bases in the Rhine valley. The mission was to provide close air support for

the attacking armored and infantry units in the breakthrough area. Whether an

air force by now trained largely in air defense interception tactics could

achieve success in ground attack operations without first attempting to gain air

superiority remained to be seen. Like the entire operation, much would depend

on deception, surprise, and the weather.5

The failure of Allied intelligence to comprehend the marshaling of

German forces has remained one of the most controversial aspects of the campaign. Although it is difficult to avoid blaming American and British commanders and their intelligence officers, one must admire the German deception

operation that included a massive buildup in the Eifel region without the Allies

suspecting its true nature. The Allies identified Dietrich’s headquarters near

Cologne in the fall, and the Germans made every effort to give it a defensive

Gen. Hasso von

Manteuffel, 

commander, Germany’s

Fifth Panzer Army
appearance against First Army’s expected offensive. Then, at the last minute,

Dietrich’s Sixth Panzer headquarters secretly moved to the Eifel. Similarly, the

Fifth German Army moved into the heavily wooded Eifel under a cover plan

that called for counterattacking the First Army’s offensive to the north. Only

top-level Wehrmacht officers knew the true nature of the plan, while their

forces developed elaborate measures of camouflage and followed strict radio

discipline. By mid-December 1944, sufficient fuel and supplies had accumulated and forecasters predicted a spell of much-needed foul weather. In the

course of three nights, the attackers quickly moved into place and prepared to

strike. The deception achieved complete success.6

In hindsight, many indications from Ultra and other intelligence sources

pointed to an impending German offensive. In mitigation, it is often argued

that bad weather prohibited sufficient air reconnaissance of the buildup area,

especially on the eve of the assault. Despite terrible weather, however, tactical

reconnaissance flights from at least one of the two photo reconnaissance

groups covered the Eifel and the Rhine River valley on all but one day preceding the attack. On five of those days, including December 14 and 15, all

flights reported heavy road and rail traffic into the region. As for the XIX TAC,

it experienced only two days before the sixteenth when flying proved impossible, and its focus on armed reconnaissance missions provided sufficient

opportunity to appreciate the heavy rail traffic west of the Rhine. Even with

inconsistent reports, there could be little doubt of a major deployment taking

place. Third Army analysts had studied rail movement since mid-November

1944, and understood the direction and general size of the rail transport activity, but they thought about the movement mainly in terms of a German spoiling attack that might be launched from the Eifel against either the First or the

Third Army front. Moreover, the Germans communicated over land lines and

avoided the radio. Thus, Ultra intercepts remained silent on the Germans’ true

purpose for the buildup, and with a traditional army officer, von Rundstedt,

assumed to be in charge, it made perfect sense to overlook the Ardennes as the

center of German interest. Not only did its hilly terrain seem especially unsuitable for armor operations in winter, but the Germans could hardly be expected to attack through the Ardennes a second time.7

Given the inability of the Allies to be strong everywhere on the western

front, they weakened what appeared to be the most secure sector, the center. It

would have taken more to alter Allied preconceptions about German intentions

than the intuition of General Patton, who in late November 1944, recorded in

his diary, “the First Army is making a terrible mistake in leaving the VIII

Corps static, as it is highly probable that the Germans are building up east of

them.”8 Indeed, as one authority on the Ardennes Offensive remarked, “the

Americans and British had looked in a mirror for the enemy and seen there

only the reflection of their own intentions.”9 In fact, on December 16, 20 divisions from three German armies confronted only four Allied divisions

The Ardennes

189
deployed along an 80-mile front between Monschau on the north and Trier on

the south. When it struck that day, the Wehrmacht directed the brunt of its

attack against the line held by a combination of recently arrived green or else

battle-weary troops of General Middleton’s VIII Corps (Map 16). German

artillery barrages followed by a heavy infantry assault broke the line of the

Allied defense for rolling armored spearheads. The next few days became desperate ones for the Allies.10

The Allied Response

On December 16, 1944, Allied air forces possessed a significant numerical advantage over the Luftwaffe. Ninth Air Force had deployed in the field

nearly 1,000 fighters and fighter-bombers in three tactical air commands; two

were mostly to the north, in Belgium, while the XIX TAC was south of

Luxembourg, in France (Map 17). Fighters from other Allied air commands

brought the Allies’ total to just over 4,000 available front line fighter aircraft,

nearly double the available Luftwaffe deployment. Much would now depend

on how Allied air leaders used their superior force.11

The official Ninth Air Force account of the campaign asserts that the tactical air forces pursued three objectives in reacting to the German offensive on

December 17: first, maintain air supremacy and prevent the Luftwaffe from

supporting German ground forces; second, destroy the enemy’s main combat

elements, such as the tank and artillery forces that propelled the advance; and

third, strike at the enemy’s means of supply, including bridges, rail yards, supply depots, and communications centers to isolate the breakthrough area. This

final objective drove enemy supply lines farther back from the battle area and

made them more vulnerable to subsequent Allied air assault.12

In the emergency, close air support, which claimed third-priority in the

tactical mission hierarchy, took precedence over interdiction.13 One might

argue that, at first, close air support even held priority over air superiority in

the desperate attempt to blunt the German drive and confine it to manageable

proportions. At the same time, the Ninth Air Force did not need to specifically target the German air force in the Ardennes region because the Luftwaffe’s

determination to provide cover to its attacking forces reopened the contest for

air supremacy in the battle zone. Thus, close air support missions almost

invariably resulted in first-priority counterair contests as well.14

This was certainly the case for General Weyland’s forces on December

17. His response to the call for assistance was immediate and overwhelming.

Taking advantage of unexpected good weather, every group in the command

flew what they termed ground-force cover missions in support of VIII Corps

units. At day’s end, the fighter-bombers had flown half of their 356 total sorties in support of ground forces in the Ardennes breakthrough area, west of the

Air Power for Patton’s Army

190
Map 17

Air Assignments for the Ardennes Counterattack December 1944

Reprinted from: Col. William R. Carter, “Air Power in the Battle of the Bulge: A Theater Campaign Perspective,” Airpower

Journal, III No. 4 (Winter 1989): 23.
Our and Sauer rivers along the German border. The remaining sortie figure

reflected close support and interdiction missions in support of limited-objective

operations by XX Corps and XII Corps, which at this time continued preparations for the soon-to-be canceled Operation Tink.15

The Luftwaffe made a strong presence on that December day with an

estimated 600 sorties flown in support of the armored breakthrough and airborne landings. Both sides suffered high losses. Weyland’s fighters claimed 24

enemy aircraft destroyed for a loss of nine of their own. General Quesada’s

forces, which had major responsibility for supporting First Army operations,

claimed 49 destroyed and another 35 damaged. Even the reconnaissance pilots

got in on the action when the 15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron’s crack

pilot, Capt. John H. Hoefker, returned with three and a half planes claimed.

Ground air defense units tallied an additional 54 aircraft shot down. The next

day, the Luftwaffe appeared in force again at the Ardennes front and once more

suffered heavy losses—50 to Allied fighters and 51 to antiaircraft fire. After

December 18, the Luftwaffe would never again attempt another large-scale air

support effort for its ground forces in the Bulge.16

The Allies achieved immediate air supremacy in the battle zone less by

conscious design than as a by-product of the close support missions. Not that

the German Air Force did not remain a menace. Instead of fighter-bombers,

Allied air leaders assigned medium and heavy bombers the counterair mission

of striking nearby Luftwaffe bases. Nevertheless, fighter-bombers frequently

attracted Luftwaffe attention while supporting ground forces or while on interdiction missions beyond the Ardennes. In fact, the experience of the 406th

Tiger Tamers proved representative. Its 513th Fighter Squadron, flying a

ground support mission on December 17, received orders to assist P–38s in a

dogfight with six FW 190s. After jettisoning their bombs, the Thunderbolt

pilots entered the fray and claimed three enemy aircraft destroyed. Of course,

this encounter meant that the 513th aircraft did not bomb targets in support of

ground forces, a dilemma that persisted throughout December when the

Luftwaffe remained most active.17

The outstanding aerial effort on December 17, however, could not be

repeated for the next five days because the Germans received the bad weather

that facilitated their plans. Like Lorraine, weather became a determining factor in the air portion of the Ardennes Campaign. Only a squadron-sized mission on December 18 and 19 by the 354th Fighter Group broke the frustrating

pattern. Yet, the 354th Pioneers found the Luftwaffe dangerous on both occasions. On the eighteenth, one of its squadrons attacked a force of 12 FW 190s

bombing First Army troops east of Duren. Although it claimed four of the

enemy aircraft destroyed, it lost two P–47s of its own. The next day an estimated 70 FW 190s attacked another Pioneer squadron after bombing a marshaling yard, and the American pilots counted nine enemy fighters down at a

cost of three of their own. Despite the losses, General Weyland was pleased

Air Power for Patton’s Army

192
with the performance of his newly equipped P–47 outfit; that evening he lauded the Group “on [a] fine beginning with P–47s.” All further flying by the

command until December 23 supported XII Corps, which remained in position

opposite the Zweibruecken area prior to its emergency redeployment north.18

While bad weather during the next five days prevented effective aerial

operations, Allied leaders developed their strategy, prepared the necessary

command and control measures, and readied their forces for a counteroffensive. On December 18, General Eisenhower alerted Patton to postpone

Operation Tink and be prepared to counterattack against the expanding

German salient. The situation on the ground quickly became critical for VIII

Corps, as a German Panzer corps rapidly moved to reach the key communications center of Bastogne before the 101st Airborne Division arrived there in

The Ardennes

193

4th Armored Division vehicles move past wrecked American

equipment, Bastogne (above); tanks of the 4th Armored Division

in the Luxembourg area used as artillery fire on

German positions (below)
force. The Germans lost that close race the next day, the nineteenth, but they

captured Houffalize 18 miles to the north. By December 21, they would surround the 101st Airborne Division, elements of the 10th Armored Division,

and various other units at Bastogne.19

Early on the morning of December 19, Patton directed his 4th Armored

and 26th Infantry Divisions to begin moving into the III Corps area 30 miles

north.20 Later that day, he joined Eisenhower and Bradley at Verdun, where the

Supreme Commander outlined his plan, first to blunt and then turn back the

assault (Map 16). The western tip of the German attacking force was to be prevented from crossing the Meuse. With the northern and southern shoulders of

the salient confining the width of the breakthrough, the Allies would seal the

northern part of the Bulge and counterattack in the south. Allied leaders adjusted the boundaries accordingly. General Devers’s 6th Army Group would move

up to replace Third Army’s XII Corps in Lorraine, while Patton assumed command of VIII Corps and headed north with two attacking corps. Once his

forces had secured Bastogne, he would attack northeast in the direction of

Houffalize and eventually cut the salient in two.21

At this meeting, Patton electrified those present by promising to move

his forces northward and be positioned to counterattack within 48 hours.

Although he had directed his staff to prepare for this eventuality, it nonetheless meant shifting an entire army, solving enormous logistics problems, and

arranging complex movement schedules during brutal winter weather. Patton

and the men of his command succeeded, and the move remains today as one

of the great feats of military history. As his biographer observed, “it was an

operation that only a master could think of executing.”22

General Weyland did not react as swiftly. On that day, December 19, he

still hoped to salvage Operation Tink. Like many others, he had been slow to

appreciate the gravity of the German attack. One can also understand his reluctance to abandon the plan he had helped fashion and believed would lead to a

breach of the Siegfried Line. Certainly his conversation with General Quesada

that afternoon, when they used special encrypted communications for the first

time, could have left him in little doubt about the seriousness of the situation.

That evening, after General Vandenberg notified him of Operation Tink’s cancellation, he requested reinforcements for his command—three additional

fighter groups and another reconnaissance group. He soon received nearly all

of the forces that he requested.23

Ninth Air Force planners, meanwhile, continued developing an air plan

based on requests from 12th Army Group, which focused on attacking German

armored elements, isolating the Ardennes-Eifel region from rail support,

harassing road traffic inside and outside the Bulge, and eliminating resupply

facilities immediately beyond the Ardennes. This basic plan would remain

unchanged. It called for medium bombers to concentrate on supply facilities

such as bridges, railheads, and communications centers with the objective of

Air Power for Patton’s Army

194
forcing enemy supply points back to the Rhine River. Although fighterbombers would help, their main assignment would be close support to meet the

immediate threat, the front line Panzer force; they would also fly armed reconnaissance against road and rail targets from the Ardennes to the Rhine River.

The planners viewed air superiority as essential and likely to need more attention because of the increased Luftwaffe presence, although they did not at first

address this issue specifically. Eventually, they relied on Eighth Air Force

bombers and fighters to handle much of the Luftwaffe counterair threat (Map

17).24

With the cancellation of Operation Tink, December 20, 1944, proved to

be the key planning day for a counterattack by the Third Army–XIX TAC

team. At a morning conference at the Third Army command post, Patton distributed the new order of battle: XX Corps would remain deployed along the

Saar; XII Corps would reinforce the blocking force at Echternach; VIII Corps

would strike the salient from the west; and while III Corps attacked from the

south with 4th Armored Division advancing north to Bastogne, the 26th

Infantry Division would move toward Wiltz, and the 80th Infantry Division

toward Diekirch. Third Army units, Patton explained, had already begun to

regroup to wheel the army’s axis of advance from northeast to the north.25

Armed with Patton’s plan, Weyland met with key staff members and

decided to revive X-Ray, the command’s small mobile command post that permitted close air-ground coordination, and move it with the Third Army command post from Chalon to Luxembourg City the next day. This time, chief of

staff Col. Roger Browne would head X-Ray, while Colonel Thompson

remained in command of the rear headquarters at Chalon. General Weyland

would operate advance headquarters from Nancy with his combat operations

officer, Colonel Ferguson. Much, of course, would depend on the pace of the

battle and General Patton’s location.26

At the same time, Weyland directed his signal officer, Col. Glenn

Coleman, to work with Ninth Air Force to extend land lines from the Metz airfield, already scheduled to become operational later in December, to the

Luxembourg City headquarters and other XIX TAC bases. They also discussed

additional communications problems, especially new radar locations, and they

decided to leave the MEW radar at its present location at Morhange, east of

Nancy, until Third Army shifted the bulk of III Corps forces north. Then the

MEW radar, which offered the best range and precision of available radar systems, could serve as the primary navigation and warning radar for the command’s operations in the Bulge.27

That evening SHAEF informed Weyland of the new air and ground command arrangements based on Eisenhower’s decision to divide the Ardennes

sector into northern and southern halves for better command and control. Field

Marshal Montgomery would command Allied forces in the northern sector,

while in the south, General Bradley retained control of Patton’s Third Army

The Ardennes

195
along with a sprinkling of First Army units. In the north, the two American air

commands, IX and XXIX TACs, would be subordinated to the British Second

Tactical Air Force commanded by Sir Arthur Coningham (Map 17).

Coningham, however, left General Quesada free to apply both British and

American fighter-bombers as he saw fit. This arrangement for the air forces

avoided the kind of friction that developed later between Montgomery and

American ground commanders over the British Field Marshal’s methodical

and extended preparations, and over his subsequent claims to have “saved the

American side” in the Ardennes emergency.28

In the press of events, when Weyland contacted the Ninth Air Force chief

of staff on December 20, 1944, regarding reinforcements, he learned that his

request the previous evening had not reached Vandenberg. Weyland stressed

its importance in light of the SHAEF message, and a short time thereafter he

spoke to Vandenberg personally. The Ninth’s commander did not commit himself at this point, but suggested they meet in Luxembourg City in two days, on

December 22.29

Once again General Weyland turned to General Patton for assistance.

The next day he drove to Luxembourg City and, after assuring himself that his

staff had XIX TAC’s “Spitfire X-Ray” ready for operations, conferred with

Patton on the aerial reinforcement issue. Patton readily agreed to prime

Bradley, and he delivered on his word. Next morning, on December 22 at 12th

Army Group headquarters in Luxembourg City, Bradley, Patton, Vandenberg,

and Weyland reached agreement on Weyland’s request for additional units.

Since Third Army would make the main effort against the Germans in the

Bulge, Weyland argued, tactical resources needed to be divided more equitably

among the air commands.30

The outcome pleased General Weyland. Within the week he expected to

receive three fighter-bomber groups from IX TAC: the 367th (a P–38 group) and

the 365th and the 368th (two Thunderbolt groups). The 365th would go to the

Metz airfield when the engineers had it ready, and the other two groups would

go to Juvincourt, at least temporarily. Two tactical reconnaissance squadrons

from XIX TAC would join the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group at Conflans.

This would bolster the reconnaissance capability of the command by 50 percent,

and the air leaders expected the emergency to call for a maximum effort from

these units. At this early date, the planners at 12th Army Group Headquarters

discussed the likelihood of each tactical air command temporarily receiving a

P–51 group from Eighth Air Force to handle escort duties and perform counterair

missions. The XIX TAC group was later identified as the 361st Fighter Group, a

P–51 unit, and the command based it at St. Dizier. With these additional units,

XIX TAC would have a striking force of eight groups totaling 360 airplanes—

its most potent arsenal since the summer campaign in France. Moreover, the

locations of the new bases improved the effectiveness of the force because all

were within short striking distance of the Ardennes and the Saarland.31

Air Power for Patton’s Army

196
Yet, the transfer of these aerial units had not been cleared beforehand

with IX TAC’s commander, General Quesada, the primary loser in the realignment. When Weyland saw Vandenberg the next morning, he learned that both

IX TAC and Second TAF (RAF) vigorously protested the transfer. In view of

the deteriorating situation on the ground in the northern sector at that time,

Quesada’s dismay was understandable. Nevertheless, Vandenberg explained,

the transfers would take place as planned. Despite the disagreement,

Quesada’s objections did not alter the close personal relationship between the

two American air commanders or affect tactical air power’s effective

response. The rapid transfer of units between commands demonstrated its

flexibility.32

The basic command, control, and organizational arrangements were completed on December 22, 1944, the sixth day of the German offensive. General

Weyland immediately began coordinating support for the new air units with his

maintenance and supply officers, and he approved a new tactical reconnaissance

plan that comprised ten areas generally encompassing St. Hubert within the

western portion of the Bulge, Cologne, Mainz, and St. Avold in Lorraine.33

The command’s preparations for a counterattack during the initial week

of the offensive proceeded smoothly. Weather remained the major uncertainty.

Group histories for this period reflect the intense preparations to attack and the

frustration and anxiety of waiting for the weather to clear. Moreover, for the

first time on the continent, the command also had to worry seriously about

Luftwaffe air raids. By December 22, Third Army reported 78 Luftwaffe raids.

Most seemed to be nuisance strikes, such as the attacks on Rosiers and Metz,

two of the XIX TAC airfields. Although these raids caused little damage, they

nevertheless heightened the tension and compelled planners to take action to

thwart the air threat in their rear area.34

Meanwhile, despite the bad weather, German ground forces experienced

problems executing all phases of their plan. In the north, U.S. V Corps troops

The Ardennes

197

P–38 of the 367th Fighter Group
exercised unexpectedly stiff resistance along the Elsenborn Ridge, and

Dietrich’s armored forces found themselves delayed and confined to only two

of the four needed roads. Likewise in the south, VIII Corps grimly held on for

three days opposite Echternach, thereby delaying the Seventh German Army’s

drive to break through to the southwest. In fact, both northern and southern

shoulders continued to resist and confine the width of the German attack. As

a result, the Fifth German Army in the center assumed the main burden of the

offensive, as it had more success breaking American defense along the Schnee

Eifel ridgeline with its two Panzer corps in the lead. Even here, tenacious

pockets of resistance delayed General von Manteuffel’s forces. St. Vith held

out until December 23, forcing the Germans to deal with severe traffic congestion and supply backups. For an offensive scheduled to reach the Meuse

River while operating on two and a half days’ worth of supplies and five days’

rations, these delays proved critical.35

By December 22 at XIX TAC, officers and enlisted men realized that

German forces had encircled Bastogne and were regrouping for a fresh assault.

Although 4th Armored Division’s three combat commands moved northward,

their pace slowed in the face of heavy snow and ice, and the German forces in

their path. The fighter groups eagerly sought to get into the battle—none more

so than the 406th Fighter Group that had developed such good rapport with the

101st Airborne Division when these paratroopers arrived at Mourmelon in late

September 1944 to recuperate after their rough experience in Operation

Market Garden. The 406th Fighter Group expected to take the lead at Bastogne

just as soon as the weather broke.36

Air Power for Patton’s Army

198

Paratroopers of the 101st Airborne Division, supported by

firepower of the 4th Armored Division, Bastogne
Victory Weather

Seven days after the Nazi breakthrough, on December 23, 1944, the

Allies awoke to a Russian High, a high pressure system from the east, which

brought clear skies and cooler temperatures throughout the region.37 Now the

planes could fly and tanks could roll during what the American side would call

five days of victory weather. For Weyland’s forces, the next five days, from

December 23–27, proved the most active in the command’s operational experience and provided a superb example of tactical air power’s effect on a land

battle under emergency conditions.38

On December 23, the XIX TAC swung into action, lacking only the

361st Fighter Group, which Eighth Air Force had yet to deploy to the continent. The airplanes flew in close support of VIII Corps forces at Bastogne and

of Third Army’s advancing armored columns, by now within six miles of the

beleaguered town, although facing increasingly stiff German resistance. The

362d Fighter Group flew six missions in support of the III Corps forces, but it

also supported XII Corps with two missions and, for good measure, sent 15

aircraft to escort C–47 Dakotas on a mission to drop supplies in parapacks to

the American troops isolated at Bastogne. Characteristic of flying during the

Bastogne period was the 362d Fighter Group’s high mission rate. The XIX

TAC’s average of 57 missions per day for the five-day period was among the

highest in the command’s history.

During the emergency operation, ground support personnel serviced,

reloaded, and returned the aircraft to action as fast as they possibly could.

Tactical reconnaissance pilots played a particularly crucial role, keeping all

roads and railroads entering the Bulge under continuous surveillance. It

became increasingly routine for these pilots, having called in targets to the

control center, to lead fighter-bombers to them. This saved time, allowing

more fighter-bomber missions to be flown during these short December days.

Sortie figures for the tactical reconnaissance squadrons reflect their important

contribution. They flew 26 successful sorties on the 23rd, but with the addition

of the two squadrons from XXIX TAC, they averaged 70 for the remaining

four days. No unit proved more important than the night photo squadron,

which flew 99 sorties in December, its largest number to date, acquiring

urgently needed nighttime photos of highway traffic and communications targets.39

The missions of the other groups on December 23 included escort for

263 C–47s to Bastogne, specific close support, armed reconnaissance of the

Bulge and the Eifel region near Trier, and coverage of the weakened Saar front

opposite XX Corps. Moreover, because Third Army leaders worried about XII

Corps’ right flank, the 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group flew a daily mission

in the Trier-Merzig area looking for any signs of a buildup and excessive

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bridge-building. In effect, the command again protected Patton’s right flank

much as it did in France the previous summer.40

These five mission types characterized the entire Ardennes period. Of

the five, close air support in the Bulge received the most attention as Allied air

forces attempted to slow the German drive and protect American units under

attack. During the five days of victory weather, close support sorties outnumbered armed reconnaissance sorties by two to one (1,124 to 509). Again, however, the wartime records defy precise analysis. Many aircraft that initially set

out on a ground support mission ended flying armed reconnaissance after

being released by the ground controller. Likewise, pilots flying armed reconnaissance often had targets in the St. Vith, Malmedy, and Bastogne areas in

close proximity to friendly ground forces. Then, too, fighter-bombers on escort

duty for bombers and C–47 transports frequently bombed and strafed targets

of opportunity after completing their escort missions.41

Targets of opportunity abounded. Following the Bulge Campaign, in

February 1945, the command’s operational research section analyzed the effort

devoted to targets of opportunity from December 15, 1944, through January

31, 1945. They included in this category targets attacked on armed reconnaissance missions and on missions that originally had assigned targets but that

ended attacking targets of opportunity. During the five-day Bastogne emergency, the command’s daily sortie rate for targets of opportunity averaged 71

percent of the total 2,846 sorties flown. In view of the emergency, controllers

often diverted aircraft to “hot targets.” Researchers reminded the command of

the difficulty of compiling precise and accurate information, and cautioned

that “the number and type of such targets cannot be determined...[precisely]..., since operations following December 15 have involved the attacking of

such a wide variety of targets, most of which might well be classed as targets

of opportunity.”42

Both the scramble and escort missions also demonstrated that the airmen

still considered the Luftwaffe a major threat. During the Ardennes Offensive it

became standard procedure to escort and fly cover for all medium bomber

flights. At times, the fighters and bombers failed to properly rendezvous, however, and the bomber-force leader then had to decide if the importance of the

target required that his unit proceed unprotected. That option ceased on

December 23, 1944, when a large force of about 500 B–26 Marauders and

A–20s, after failing to contact their fighter escort, chose to fly on and strike

vital bridges west of the Rhine. On this mission that force lost 37 aircraft, 31

to enemy fighters and 6 more to flak.43 The arrival of P–51s from the Eighth

Air Force on December 24 relieved the XIX TAC of a considerable escort

responsibility, and from that date until the end of the Ardennes Campaign, the

P–51-equipped 361st Fighter Group flew the majority of medium bomber

escort missions, allowing the rugged P–47s to concentrate on what they did

best—bomb and strafe.44

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200
The command’s concerns about the Luftwaffe threat during the fight for

Bastogne were well-founded, as the B–26 losses on December 23 made plain.

The urgent need of forward Wehrmacht troops for aerial protection from the

massive Allied fighter-bomber assault during the five days of late December

brought the Luftwaffe out in force. It averaged nearly 600 sorties per day and

a further 200–250 at night from an assortment of night fighters, fighterbombers, and bombers. The desperate situation now faced by German troops

in the Bulge required the Luftwaffe’s entire effort, which meant that Allied

bombers could attack rearward supply and communications sites virtually

unmolested. Indeed, the vigorous appearance of the Luftwaffe on December 23

and resultant loss of B–26 medium bombers prompted Ninth Air Force to take

swift counterair action. It possessed one division of heavy bombers on loan

from Eighth Air Force for use in its interdiction program east of the Rhine

River. On December 24, Ninth Air Force dispatched them to carpet-bomb 14

airfields in the Frankfurt and Cologne areas.45

By month’s end the Allied heavy bombers and fighters had exacted a

severe toll from Luftwaffe forces. From the approximately 1,000 enemy sorties

flown over the battle lines west of the Rhine on December 23, Allied airmen

forced that daily rate steadily downward until December 27, the last goodweather day of the period, when the Luftwaffe managed only about 500 sorties—some 50 percent of the number flown four days earlier. Moreover, it

became increasingly difficult for Luftwaffe aircraft to penetrate Allied defenses and reach the Ardennes area from bases in the Rhine valley. The American

air counteroffensive had pushed German air support, like other supporting elements for German ground forces in the Ardennes, steadily eastward away from

the front lines. The Luftwaffe withdrawal put greater strain on its already

depleted fuel supply. Although the Luftwaffe might inflict severe losses on the

Allies, it could neither protect the Wehrmacht ground troops, especially during

daylight hours, nor blunt the Allied air and ground counterattack. Moreover,

the massive Allied air response during the days of good weather resulted, for

the first time, in widespread reports of Luftwaffe pilots using any excuse available to return early from their missions.46

Claims of aircraft destroyed by XIX TAC for this five-day period were

the highest in its history. On December 23, command pilots counted an impressive 34 enemy aircraft shot down in air encounters. Although claims of so

great a number of enemy aircraft vanquished in a single day would not again

be made, by the twenty-seventh, when the weather began closing in once

again, the command could claim a total of 84 enemy aircraft killed and 35

damaged. During the same five-day period XIX TAC also suffered its highest

loss rate. Of 93 aircraft lost in combat during December, 47 occurred during

the period from December 23–27. The worst losses occurred on December 26,

the day after Christmas, when the XIX TAC lost 14 aircraft, although six pilots

parachuted safely into friendly territory. By the end of December, General

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Weyland once again had to discuss the rate of the flow of P–47 replacement

aircraft with General Vandenberg.47

Participants described the concentration of flak in the Ardennes as the

greatest in the war to date. Allied intelligence explained that two large, selfpropelled flak units had been sent forward under fuel and movement priority

to secure key towns and crossroads. By the time they reached the point of farthest advance, five miles from the Meuse River, all communications junctions

had heavy flak protection. Understandably, the command suffered most of its

losses from flak. Of the 93 aircraft lost in December, flak accounted for 42 and

probably 22 more as well. In January 1945 the statisticians attributed 35 of the

50 aircraft shot down to flak.48

Air Power for Patton’s Army

202

Capt. Richard Parker,

405th Fighter Group

(left); flak-spattered

P–61 (below)
Most of the tactical air command’s losses during the Bastogne operation

occurred among the P–47 groups, the 362nd, 405th, and 406th Fighter Groups,

which flew the majority of close air support missions and had the highest sortie rates. These three groups accounted for 42 of the 69 pilots lost in December,

and 47 of the 81 aircraft lost in combat. What at first is most surprising are the

aircraft abort statistics. Although the figure for the month was 6 percent, that

for the period, December 21–31, was only 4.23 percent. Moreover, the record

shows mechanical reasons responsible for only 1.59 percent of the aborted

flights. Yet this record occurred during the most intense flying period of the

month, which suggests that the emergency elicited a special effort from the

maintenance and support people, and that the command permitted aircraft to

fly with problems not otherwise tolerated.49

Along with 11 aircraft lost on December 23, one other disturbing incident occurred on that day. Intelligence officers reported that pilots of 362d

Fighter Group P–51s, in a dogfight near Trier against what they later claimed

were enemy FW 190s, tangled with and shot down one of the Orange Tail

P–47s from the 358th Fighter Group. By the end of the month, the problem of

what authorities referred to as friendly fire incidents involving both aircraft

and artillery units would become a major issue of concern for Ninth Air Force

and 12th Army Group.50

Support Facilities and the Aerial Relief of Bastogne

While XIX TAC pilots pressed their attacks during the days of victory

weather, General Weyland spent much of the period dealing with a variety of

operational support issues. On December 23, the topic of airfield status headed the list, with discussion focused on the Metz airfield. Weyland’s chief engineer, Colonel Smyser, promised to have the Metz field ready for one fighterbomber group on December 25, and for another one on January 1. As usual,

the engineers’ hopes proved too optimistic. By this time, they constructed all

fields with pierced steel-plank to avoid the damage from weather that forced

the command to abandon six airfields in the fall. Even with pierced steel-plank

runways, however, the engineers needed to lay a rock base first. They also had

learned from experience that they could not declare a field operational when

only the runway and little else had been completed. An operational airfield

needed useable, all-weather hardstands, service roads, and taxiways before the

aircraft arrived.51

The Metz airfield, which lay within 25 miles of the Saar valley, was closer to enemy lines than any other XIX TAC base. For this reason General

Weyland wanted to ensure that it had adequate air defense units in place. He

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called Ninth Air Force’s air defense chief about protection for the three new

fighter-bomber groups that were on their way to XIX TAC. Weyland learned

that Metz already had an antiaircraft battery in place, and the air defense chief

promised to check on Juvincourt and put a battery at Mourmelon. By

December 25, Weyland had arranged for two antiaircraft batteries at each airfield. Third Army continued to report nightly visits from the Luftwaffe, and

Weyland could not afford to take the aerial threat lightly.

On December 24, with the air defense situation apparently well in hand,

General Weyland and his staff turned their attention to airfield facilities. That

day he visited Juvincourt, where he found that the 367th Fighter Group had just

arrived, “glad to join XIX TAC.” Although the group’s sincerity is not to be

doubted, the unit could hardly be pleased with the new field. The 368th Fighter

Group had been scheduled to move from Juvincourt to the Metz complex, but

it flew from Mourmelon until the Metz field could be readied. Hardstand problems at Mourmelon required that the group remain at Juvincourt along with the

367th. The heavy flying of the next few days considerably strained the support

facilities of a base not designed to service two groups simultaneously.52

After conferring on December 24 with his 100th Wing commander, Brig.

Gen. “Tex” Sanders, Weyland decided to establish what he referred to as a rear

wing at the command’s rear headquarters at Chalons. This, he explained,

would improve operational control of the groups in the Marne area, while the

100th Wing, which had moved to Metz, would handle support for the forward

bases in Lorraine. The command declared the rear wing operational on

December 27, 1944, which in effect, meant that Weyland had further decentralized command and control. Despite the shorter flying distances, the new

arrangement proved similar to the one used for mobile warfare in France.

Extremely decentralized tactical air operations had been associated with widely separated facilities or fast-paced mobile warfare in France. Now, however,

although the front was relatively stable, Weyland established three headquarters echelons and two wings. He could rely on experience, good communications links, and his tactical control group located with the advance headquarters to ensure efficient command and control.53

The next four days proved relatively quiet along the Saar and Mosel

fronts as the battle for Bastogne, farther to the north, intensified. Responsibility

for the city’s aerial defense belonged to Weyland’s command, and relieving

Bastogne would always retain a special place on the command’s honor roll.

The Bastogne mission illustrates the various ways the tactical air force could

contribute to support troops in a defensive situation. None proved more important than the escort mission to protect Allied transports supplying the garrison.

In this instance, no one questioned the number of sorties that might have been

used for other missions. Bastogne, which held up the XLVII Panzer Corps, had

to be defended at all costs. Led by the 406th Fighter Group, three groups flew

a total of 95 sorties on December 23 when escorting 263 C–47 cargo craft to

Air Power for Patton’s Army

204
the city. The size of the escort force varied from one to two squadrons, depending on the number of transports that required protection. Frequently, the fighter-bombers flew armed reconnaissance or close support missions after completing the escort assignment. This, for example, occurred on December 23,

when a squadron from the 362d Fighter Group performed its escort responsibilities and then went on to strike a German command post and bivouac area.54

A single squadron provided escort protection on December 24 to a transport force flying to Bastogne because the transports numbered only 161. Yet the

squadron from the 354th Fighter Group failed to rendezvous with the transports

and went on to attack its secondary target, a marshaling yard near Mayen, 16

miles west of Coblenz. The next day, a four-plane flight from the 405th Fighter

Group flew the only escort mission, one that proved significant. In the initial

fighting east of the city, most of the 326th Airborne Medical Company had been

captured. With medical needs critical, a Third Army physician volunteered to go

into the besieged perimeter in a L–1 light plane. He did so without incident

under the protection of the 405th Fighter Group. The number of escort missions

increased to five on December 26, the day the Third Army broke the siege, and

to three on December 27, before the weather turned nasty again. If the results of

the operation are measured in losses, as well as how well they ensured the survival of the garrison, the relief operation succeeded. Of the 901 C–47s involved

over the five-day period, 19 from the IX Troop Carrier Command were lost.55

Along with the escort mission, much of the command’s close support

effort during this period focused on Bastogne, either in support of VIII Corps

troops surrounded inside the town, or in support of III Corps forces driving

north to rescue the trapped VIII Corps units. Attacks on close-in targets that

defenders could not shell because of ammunition shortages proved particularly effective. While all groups participated at one time or another during the five

days, General Weyland assigned specific groups almost exclusively to these

two corps. The 362d Fighter Group covered the advance of the III Corps’ 4th

Armored Division, while the 406th Fighter Group flew the close support misThe Ardennes

205

C–47 used for supply drops to besieged troops at Bastogne
sion for VIII Corps in the Bastogne area. During the height of the battle, from

December 24–26, the 406th Fighter Group averaged 17 missions a day in support of VIII Corps. Losses were heavy, with seven 405th Fighter Group aircraft

shot down on December 26 alone. Although the 362d Fighter Group suffered

fewer losses, none was more difficult to accept than the death of Maj. Berry

Chandler, commander of the 379th Fighter Squadron, inadvertenly shot down

on December 26 by III Corps antiaircraft fire. That same day Weyland received

a personal call from Maj. Gen. John Milliken, III Corps commander, thanking

the 362d Fighter Group for its magnificent support in breaking through to the

city’s defenders. Weyland promptly passed the corps commander’s message on

to the group hoping it would help atone for the loss of Major Chandler.56

The Luftwaffe appeared again in force on December 26, mostly in the IX

TAC sector. Even though General Weyland’s Y service, the command’s intelligence communications intercept operation, had predicted an air attack on

Bastogne consisting of between 400 and 500 aircraft, nothing of the sort

occurred. Later command reports affirmed that the Y service made a valuable

contribution during the Ardennes Campaign, but the record shows little more

than two Y reports, both of which proved to be false alarms.57

The Bastogne emergency also elicited a major effort from the 10th Photo

Reconnaissance Group. Responsibility for battlefield coverage of the area fell

primarily to F–6 (P–51) pilots of the 15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron,

who proved adept at spotting enemy armor columns preparing to attack the

perimeter, leading fighter-bombers to attack targets, and at adjusting artillery

fire for the gunners. Normally the F–6s, rather than the unarmed F–5s (P–38s)

of the 31st Photo Reconnaissance Squadron, flew photo missions in high-flak

areas. Bastogne was not, however, a routine situation for the group. The 101st

Airborne Division trapped in Bastogne requested photos of the area in order to

conduct accurate counterbattery artillery fire. A P–38 pilot volunteered to fly

in the photos, which the group gathered from its photo library and delivered in

a drop-tank. The pilot had to come in low and slow to drop the tank accurately to the encircled troops. Although he succeeded, the 101st wanted more current prints. The next day the 31st Photo Squadron flew 20 missions to get

them. Again, volunteers came forward to fly the dangerous delivery mission,

but two separate drop attempts ended in failure when German flak downed

both planes. The experience of the P–38 pilots well represents the extra effort

airmen displayed during the Bastogne emergency.58

Only in the area of night fighter support of Bastogne did air power prove

deficient. Generally, IX TAC’s single night fighter squadron patrolled the

Bulge area, while XIX TAC’s 425th Night Fighter Squadron flew patrol and

intruder missions in the Eifel and Saar regions. Reviewing the operation, the

12th Army Group Air Effects Committee concluded that “generally, night

fighter activity within the area was inadequate.”59 Yet this was a major theaterwide weakness of the tactical air forces.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

206
On December 26, Third Army broke the German encirclement at

Bastogne. At 1:00 p.m., General Patton called Weyland to request a maximum

effort in front of the 4th Armored Division for its final push to Bastogne.

Weyland immediately directed his combat operations officer, Colonel Ferguson,

to lay on extra missions. That afternoon, the 362d Fighter Group flew nine missions in support of III Corps, while VIII Corps forces received eight from the

405th Fighter Group and 18 from the 406th Fighter Group. The extra effort paid

off. Elements of the 4th Armored Division made contact with the 101st

Airborne Division at an outpost two miles south of the city later that day. By

December 27, the last day of victory weather, the task became one of keeping

the Bastogne corridor open. That did not promise to be easy.60

The Ardennes

207

F–6s, 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group (above); tank commander of an M–7

tank directing fire from a self-propelled 105-mm outside of Bastogne (below)
Protecting the Corridor, Dealing with Friendly Fire

By the end of December 1944, the German drive in the Ardennes had

stalled and the most forward units were forced back (Map 18). Panzer forces had

reached Celles, within five miles of the Meuse, as early as December 24, before

stiffening resistance from British and American troops and a lack of fuel halted

their advance. At year’s end, Third Army was involved in heavy fighting in the

III Corps area where Patton’s corridor into Bastogne had been widened to

approximately five miles and the Bastogne-Arlon highway cleared. In the VIII

Corps sector, units advanced to within three miles of linking up with First

Army’s forward elements, and they fought hard to repel counterattacks west of

Bastogne. The XII Corps units, meanwhile, conducted a seesaw battle for

Echternach at the southern hinge of the Bulge, where their pace slowed in the

face of bad weather, rough terrain, and German artillery concentrations. While

Field Marshal Montgomery continued to gather forces in the north in preparation for his major offensive planned for January 3, 1945, General Patton acted to

protect the Bastogne corridor and readied his forces to move farther northeast to

St. Vith by way of Houffalize to cut off German units to the west. Bad weather

and German intransigence combined to slow progress everywhere.61

Bad weather in late December certainly weakened XIX TAC’s efforts to

cover ground units in the Bulge and to undertake an ambitious interdiction

program to cut the enemy’s lifeline. Along with directing the air campaign to

support the Third Army, General Weyland also confronted issues of air

defense that stymied his best efforts. From December 26, 1944, until January

3, 1945, when bad weather forced a two-day cancellation of flying, Weyland’s

forces continued to support the Third Army corps as much as possible and in

the same manner as it had done so previously. The 362d and 406th Fighter

Groups largely flew in support of III Corps and VIII Corps operations, respectively, while the 405th Fighter Group covered the XII and XX Corps fronts.

This left the three new groups and the 354th Fighter Group available to focus

almost exclusively on the interdiction program developed by Ninth Air Force.

Although in later years General Weyland provided no special reason for this

division of labor, one must assume that he considered the command’s longest

serving P–47 groups best qualified to fly close air support missions because

they were more accustomed to working with Third Army’s units and their air

controllers. Nevertheless, all four groups flew “cooperation” missions with the

ground forces on occasion, especially in late January 1945, when the Germans

on the hitherto static Lorraine front increased their pressure on Saarlautern in

XX Corps’ area and began a mass exodus from the Bulge.62

The theaterwide interdiction plan developed by Ninth Air Force and 12th

Army Group sought to break down the German forward supply system by

reducing the enemy’s road capacity in the Bulge itself, while simultaneously

Air Power for Patton’s Army

208
The Ardennes

209

destroying the road and rail system in the Eifel and communications centers

east of the Rhine. The planners divided bomber targets geographically into an

inner and outer zone to be attacked by medium and heavy bombers, respectively. By the end of December the interdiction effort began to produce results.

Towns in the Ardennes had become favorite targets as chokepoints and reports

of rubble blocking traffic became commonplace. In the Eifel, where the XIX

TAC and the IX Bombardment Division had been concentrating on rail bridges

and marshaling yards, intelligence analysts considered the rail network useless. Ultra intercepts confirmed their assessment, which described the chaos on

both sides of the Rhine River. Shipments of German materiel faced delays of

a week or more now that supplies had to be off-loaded at the Rhine for movement westward. With the rail system in the Eifel largely destroyed, the fighter-bombers turned their attention to the road network, while the medium

bombers used larger bombing formations to attack key bridges. This aerial

interdiction effort gradually isolated the battlefield.63

Mission assignments reflected renewed emphasis on interdiction for the

seven-day period beginning December 27 when the new groups began flying

in force for Weyland’s command. Except for one 368th Fighter Group sevenplane attack on a tunnel on January 2, 1945, the three new fighter-bomber

groups exclusively flew armed reconnaissance. Nearly half of the 361st

Fighter Group’s missions were fighter sweeps that produced attacks on targets

of opportunity. For the six flyable days during this period, interdiction sorties

averaged 78 percent of the total for the command. As always, operations of the

tactical air arm reflected the ground situation, and after Bastogne, the XIX

TAC could afford to cover the ground forces with fewer missions and devote

a larger share to interdiction targets. Its flexibility enabled it to adjust with ease

to the new requirements.64

Although the Luftwaffe seldom appeared during the final days of

December 1944, Third Army continued to report nightly German air raids.

During the five days of victory weather, the raids rose to more than 100 per

night, but they declined to approximately 50 by month’s end. Although airfields occasionally reported attacks, damage never proved severe, and Third

Army air defense units always reported destroying at least a portion of the

attacking force. Nevertheless, the German strikes made air leaders like

Weyland sensitive to a threat he could do little to contain. Certainly his night

fighter force was woefully inadequate for the task.65

General Weyland’s single P–61 night fighter squadron, like IX TAC’s,

could only be described as understrength, short of spare parts, and battle

weary. Altogether, the squadron flew only 111 sorties during the last week of

the month which accounted for 14 enemy aircraft destroyed at a cost of 3 of

their own. The 425th Night Fighter Squadron seldom could sustain a consistently high sortie rate. One night the number might be 20 and another night 5;

the bad weather and hazards of night flying combined with equipment short-
Map 18

The Ardennes Operations:

December 26, 1944-January 16, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 62, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
ages to limit the Black Widow’s effectiveness. Even with the XIX TAC controlling all night flying with its best radar, the MEW system, periodically

either the controller or pilot would fail to make positive contact with one

another, or the aircraft’s radar would malfunction. Apart from this, the airmen

found the counterair intruder mission especially challenging because enemy

airbases often proved too widely dispersed or beyond the range of available

AAF aircraft. Nighttime disorientation and uncertainty could kill, too. The

most unfortunate example of this occurred on December 27, 1944, when

General Weyland learned that a Third Army air defense battery shot down a

P–61—the second such incident. Although the gunners bore part of the blame,

in this case the pilot mistook another base for his home one and inadvertently

wandered into the army’s inner artillery zone.66

Despite the handicaps, however, neither tactical air command wanted to

give up its night fighters. With their enormous fire power of four 20-mm cannon, napalm bombs, and eight 5-inch rockets, when properly applied, the

P–61s had a terrifying effect on enemy morale. For air leaders, the answer lay

in more aircraft and spare parts. On the last day of the month, Col. Robert M.

Lee, operations deputy at Ninth Air Force, called to ask whether the XIX TAC

would be interested in a British Mosquito squadron from the Mediterranean

theater to supplement its night force. Weyland gladly accepted the offer, but

when he heard that a P–61 squadron would become available as well, he suggested that IX TAC receive the Mosquito squadron because of its proximity to

RAF bases. Ninth Air Force disagreed, and the Mosquitoes of the 421st Night

Fighter Squadron arrived at Etain to join the 425th Night Fighter Squadron on

January 13, 1945. The XIX TAC night fighters remained, however, a small but

gallant force arguably faced with the most demanding mission in the command. Their small numbers limited them to a harassment role having little

impact on German operations.67

This issue of friendly fire—of American gunners on the ground mistakenly shooting at American aircraft overhead, or American aircraft mistakenly

attacking other Allied aircraft or bombing or strafing American forces on the

ground—became so serious it could not be ignored. Losses to friendly fire persistently occurred during the Allied campaign in the Mediterranean, and the

problem never had been solved. If carpet bombing errors by heavy bombers

employed in tactical operations such as Cobra produced the most spectacular

and notorious mistakes, the problem proved even more acute in the far more

numerous fighter-bomber close support operations. During fighter-bomber bombing and strafing in proximity to friendly ground forces, opportunities for error

were ever-present. Large- or quick-reaction military operations like the Ardennes Offensive demanded greater close air support, attracted more attention to

real or imagined Luftwaffe intruders, and magnified the problem across the front.

Pilots frequently complained about trigger-happy infantry gunners, while the latter reported that too often Allied fighters attacked them instead of the enemy.

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211
Although General Weyland’s responsibilities included air defense of the

Third Army area, he did not control all air defense units. In the tactical control

center, the air force controller worked closely with the liaison officer of the 38th

Antiaircraft Artillery (AAA) Brigade (which protected the airfields) to coordinate night fighter patrols, inner artillery zones, and the so-called blank check

areas, for which the controller specified certain times for firing. Army-controlled

air defense units, however, remained coordinated with, but not fully integrated

into, the air force warning system. General Weyland sought to answer the problem by stressing positive identification and radar control of fighter-bombers, and

enforcement of procedures governing local air defense. This meant ensuring that

all elements in the system received comprehensive aircraft movement information. All too often, for example, Eighth Air Force aircraft, flying through friendly artillery zones, were surprised when fired upon, and were then chagrined to

learn that the artillery controller had no knowledge of their flight plan.68

The air defense problem demanded constant attention. Every major joint

operation required detailed coordination on air defense procedures, while each

time one of his air units moved to a new location, Weyland needed to confirm

that the site had adequate protection from the Third Army’s 51st AAA

Brigade. His challenge increased in winter and during the intense Ardennes

fighting. Heavy snows made target identification more difficult, especially in

the breakthrough area where airmen worried about an imprecise bomb line,

about friendly troops positioned on three sides of the enemy bulge, and about

the fake target-marker panels deployed on the ground by the Germans.69

The XIX TAC thoroughly investigated every friendly fire incident reported. Its records for the winter months on the subject are reasonably comprehensive and show an inadvertent firing-at-aircraft incident nearly every day in the

month of December 1944. Perhaps Third Army gunners can be forgiven when,

for the first time in the conflict, they experienced substantial and recurrent

Luftwaffe raids. On the ground, most friendly fire reports originated with Third

Army units and concerned strafing attacks by friendly aircraft. Normally the

battalion headquarters sent these field reports to the commander of the 38th

AAA Brigade, who passed them on to Colonel Ferguson at XIX TAC. He usually turned them over to the command’s capable inspection team of Lt. Col.

Leo H. Johnson, Air Inspector, and his chief investigating officer, Chief

Warrant Officer (CWO) Samuel L. Schwartzberg. On occasion, Ninth Air

Force also contacted General Weyland with a request to investigate an incident

that might have involved the command’s fighter-bombers. The inspectors’

investigation reports reveal an impressive comprehensiveness and objectivity.

Not unlike contemporary air accident investigation procedures, the inspectors

collected reports from all parties, examined various types of evidence including film when available, reconstructed the missions of all groups that flew on

the day of the incident, and interviewed all parties concerned. If XIX TAC

pilots proved to be at fault infrequently, the friendly fire investigative reports

Air Power for Patton’s Army

212
nevertheless appear thorough and convincing. Throughout the Allied drive into

Germany, friendly fire continued to bedevil the air-ground team’s best efforts

to eliminate it.70

The problem of friendly fire had been building for some time, as

Weyland’s concern over the losses of Major Chandler, the night fighter, and the

362d Fighter Group incidents attest. The issue came to a head for both the air

and ground leaders during the last two days of December 1944, when

Luxembourg’s capital served as the advance headquarters site for Generals

Bradley, Patton, and Vandenberg. Apparently on December 30 Ninth Air Force

controllers called for help when two German Bf 109s appeared overhead. Two

P–51 and two P–47 aircraft arrived five minutes after the German aircraft left.

In spite of attempts to identify themselves, anxious American gunners guarding a bridge on the city’s outskirts shot down a 405th Fighter Group P–47 and

the pilot perished. The incident deeply disturbed General Weyland, who sent a

sharp message from his Nancy headquarters to Colonel Browne at X-Ray. He

“requested” all Allied antiaircraft batteries be prohibited from firing on any aircraft except those positively identified as belonging to the enemy and clearly

observed to be strafing or bombing.71

The following day, on December 31, the P–47 affair at Luxembourg City

took center stage in an exchange of messages among key air and ground leaders. Its seriousness became evident when Weyland reported that General

Vandenberg had taken the matter to Bradley, and that Bradley or Patton would

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213

Col. James Ferguson (far left) and General Weyland (far right)

at a press briefing
send a message of regret to the 405th Fighter Group because, as General

Weyland pointed out, we “do not want bad feeling[s].” Later that morning,

Vandenberg called Weyland about a report from Third Army concerning a

P–47 strafing attack on one of its convoys between Thionville and

Luxembourg City, asking him to investigate the charge. In this instance

Vandenberg identified the 362d Fighter Group as the probable culprit, but subsequent investigation showed the Maulers to be elsewhere at the time of the

incident.72

In the early evening, Colonel Browne informed Weyland that Generals

Spaatz, Doolittle, Patton, and he had conferred that afternoon at Third Army

headquarters in Luxembourg City about the issue of army firings on Allied

planes and of fighter-bomber attacks on U.S. ground forces and installations.

In the first case, they believed the chief culprit to be a rumor circulating widely in the Third Army area to the effect, that in the words of General Patton,

“the Germans are flying our P–47s.” Besides official refutation, the conferees

had no solution to this problem, but they reiterated that there would be no

bombing whatever permitted within the bomb line except under control of an

air support officer. Air units also needed to do a better job of crew briefing and

always rely on radar control. Most interesting and portentous of all, they

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214

From left to right: General Weyland; Col. Roger Browne, XIX TAC chief of staff;

Brig. Gen. Homer L. Sanders, commander, 100th Fighter Wing; and General

Patton
decided to prohibit all flying operations the following day, January 1, 1945, in

the XII and XX Corps areas, where the most recent incidents had occurred.

Evidently they thought this would help cool tempers and allow everyone time

to review procedures.73

Yet friendly fire incidents continued throughout the Ardennes

Campaign. In mid-January 1945, it would reach a point where the XII Corps

commander wrote personally to General Weyland. He worried that if accidental aerial attacks on his forces continued, relations between the air and ground

units would collapse. Only the end of the campaign and the intense flying

associated with it seems to have reduced, but not eliminated, the difficulty.74

By New Year’s Eve, 1944, certainly both air and ground leaders were alert to

the issue. The fighter-bombers would not fly over the XX Corps area the next

day, and Third Army gunners were admonished to be less trigger-happy. The

Luftwaffe could not have chosen a better time for an air assault against XIX

TAC and Third Army installations.

The Luftwaffe Responds

At 10:30 a.m. on January 1, 1945, while XIX TAC’s forces carefully

avoided flying in the XII and XX Corps zones, 15 Bf 109s attacked the Metz

airfield. They approached at low-level, “on the deck,” in flights of three and

strafed the field from all four directions of the compass. Their assault destroyed

20 command aircraft and damaged 11 more, but the Germans suffered severe

losses as well: the Metz air defense battery claimed 12 of the 15 attackers;

Third Army units reported that they shot down 6 of 10 other fighters over the

Metz area during the airfield attack. The fog of battle, however, produced a

number of less praiseworthy incidents elsewhere in the Third Army area. In his

diary that evening, General Patton noted three P–47s had chased a staff car

with General Gaffey, 4th Armored Division commander, into a ditch, while his

own Third Army antiaircraft gunners took aim and holed the airplane in which

AAF Generals Spaatz and Doolittle were returning to First Army headquarters

at Liege, Belgium, after their December 31 meeting that addressed the friendly fire problem!75

Although the Luftwaffe struck only the Metz airfield in the XIX TAC area

of France, this attack was part of a coordinated strike of between 750 and 800

fighter aircraft against 16 Allied airfields in Belgium and Holland. The Allies

counted 134 aircraft destroyed and a further 62 that required major repair, while

German fighter chief Gen. Adolf Galland reported a loss of 220 aircraft in the

operation. The Luftwaffe’s bold New Year’s Day raid originally had been

planned to begin the Ardennes Offensive. Coming as it did this late in the campaign, the attack provided hard-pressed Wehrmacht forces in the Bulge no relief

and it further decimated the Luftwaffe. Afterward, Hitler directed his attention

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215
to the 6th Army Group front in Alsace. To support the German offensive north

of Strasbourg during the first week in January, the Luftwaffe diverted between

400 and 500 aircraft from the Ardennes Operation south, opposite the Alsace

region. Along with a host of aircraft serviceability problems, bad weather during much of the first half of January prevented the Luftwaffe from flying more

than about 250 sorties per day in both operational regions.

The poor reaction of air defenses to the Luftwaffe raid at Metz troubled

Weyland and his staff the most. Despite significant claims against the attacking force, none of his planes on five-minute alert got off the ground and the

Ripsaw microwave radar control provided no warning until just a few minutes

before the low-flying Bf 109s struck. Although not mentioned, the Y service

intercept operation appeared equally ineffective against an enemy that

required only six minutes’ flying time from German-held territory and came in

on the deck under radio silence.76

In light of the Luftwaffe’s tactics, the inability of the air defense units at

Metz to respond more rapidly does not seem surprising. Nevertheless, the

Luftwaffe threat called for immediate countermeasures. At 1:00 p.m. that afternoon, Weyland chaired a conference with his staff to discuss ways to improve

the air defense system. The group decided on a number of specific changes,

including keeping two flights on air alert and warning all units to be aware of

possible repeat air attacks as well as parachute landings. Members of the

command needed little encouragement, and the unit histories are replete with

stories of one immediate response: the digging of slit trenches to protect personnel against air attack.77

Weyland did not want the 368th Fighter Group to make its scheduled

move from Juvincourt to Metz until Ninth Air Force had a third air defense

battery in place at the latter base. After the Metz attack, it became standard

practice for all airfields with two groups assigned to be protected by three air

Air Power for Patton’s Army

216

Damage caused by the Luftwaffe raid on January 1, 1945
defense batteries. As for the lack of adequate warning, he wanted General

Sanders, the 100th Wing commander, to work with the tactical control group

on measures to improve early warning effectiveness.78

How active was the early warning radar on January 1, 1945? At the

beginning of the German offensive, the MEW radar operated at Morhange,

east of Nancy. When Third Army shifted north, however, the radar facility also

moved to Longwy, 12 miles southwest of Luxembourg City, to provide coverage over the Bulge. The site was selected by Weyland and key technical officers using maps and a transit. They even had one of the SCR–584 radars set

up to check permanent echoes. The expert from the operational research section later stated that the new location gave superb low-level coverage of the

target areas and bases, and the command considered it the best of all

microwave radar locations on the continent. Yet this move, which began in late

December 1944, took five days to accomplish; the new site could not be occupied until January 4. Although the MEW radar’s precise status on the morning

of January 1 remains unclear, it is likely that it was not completely operational,

and other radars with less range had to provide coverage.79

Weyland and his staff also addressed a fundamental weakness in the air

defense network. The air commander explained that he wanted to examine the

possibility of incorporating what Third Army called the Mosel inner artillery

zone—the entire army artillery system—into the air force warning net.

Significantly, after this incident coordination through the tactical control group

improved. Yet problems continued, and air force analysts believed the system

could not be entirely effective until all air defense units, including those at the

front, could be brought under air force control. On the basis of postwar analysis of this problem, Weyland seems to have had more success than most air

commanders. An important Ninth Air Force report, for example, described the

controversy between air and ground forces resulting from lack of clear responsibility for AAA in certain areas. It advocated integrating all AAA into the air

force defense system as well as air force control of all air defense components.80

Weyland did not remain content with improving defensive measures.

That evening he urged General Vandenberg to have the Ninth Air Force’s

medium bombers strike German airfields in the southeast with fighterbombers to follow later that night or the next morning. The Ninth Air Force

commander, however, decided that the “time was not ripe” and suggested that

the P–51s be used for the attack as an alternative. He also recommended that

Weyland consider operating 361st Fighter Group P–51s farther east and giving

P–38s more of the bomber escort mission. Unless the P–51s got more shooting, he said, Eighth Air Force wanted them back. Weyland accepted the proposal, and the 367th Fighter Group P–38s flew escort missions on 10 of the

remaining 14 flyable days in January. 

The day after this discussion, the 361st Fighter Group flew fighter

sweeps along the Rhine in addition to an escort mission. The command, howThe Ardennes

217
ever, targeted specific German airfields only on January 5, and the 354th

Fighter Group attacked them with disappointing results. The 361st Fighter

Group may not have had many opportunities to fly fighter sweeps and area

cover missions at that time. It flew escort missions on seven of the remaining

operational days in January, and its interdiction and counterair missions

occurred largely in the same Rhine and Mosel River region rather than farther

east, as Vandenberg had suggested. On the other hand, Eighth Air Force’s criticism might have been muted because much of the XIX TAC escort effort supported Eighth Air Force bombing missions.81

The discussion of P–38 and P–51 roles reflects the command’s concern

for the Luftwaffe threat as well as the dilemma of escort duty. Although the

XIX TAC planned to have the 367th P–38 Group converted to the more

durable P–47D, it was not unhappy with the performance of the P–38s in the

Ardennes Campaign. Almost exclusively flying armed reconnaissance missions outside the breakthrough area, the P–38s avoided the higher flak concentrations in the Bulge. With five aircraft lost in December and three in

January, the group had a lower loss record than any of the command’s P–47

groups, and it was second only to the 361st Fighter Group in this respect.

Ultimately, the command divided the escort mission between the two groups,

while also assigning P–51s to the counterair role and both groups to interdiction missions. Neither flew close support “cooperation” missions until

January 22, when the 367th Fighter Group joined a shoot-out at the Dasburg

bridge.82

Did General Weyland overreact to the surprise attack on January 1,

1945? In hindsight, perhaps yes. At the time, however, air superiority

Air Power for Patton’s Army

218

Radar installation established by XIX TAC Signal Section
remained the key mission priority, and doctrine recommended repeating counterair attacks and maintaining “air defenses in the theater...continuously to

provide security from hostile air operations.”83 Weyland was especially sensitive about the Luftwaffe threat from the time of the Lorraine Campaign, when

raids in Third Army’s area increased, and Ultra and tactical reconnaissance

began observing the buildup at airfields in the Rhine valley. His responsibilities for air defense in the Third Army zone made him particularly anxious to

plug possible holes in the defensive system.

On the other hand, Weyland allowed the German air threat to become a

key focus in command tactical air planning and operations long after it clearly

had become little more than an annoyance. In fact, January 2, 1945, proved to

be the last day for which Third Army reported Luftwaffe raids of any consequence. Beginning on January 5, army records show only reports of V–1 and Me

262 sightings, but no attacks on Third Army positions. For its part, the Luftwaffe

appeared in strength on only two additional occasions during the month, once

on January 14, and again two days later. In both instances, the action occurred

well to the east of the Third Army front, responding to Allied interdiction missions in the Eifel. Moreover, tactical reconnaissance pilots observed the first

signs of German withdrawal from the Bulge as early as January 5, and by the

second week in January, Ultra confirmed that armored forces were being withdrawn and moved eastward to confront the Soviet offensive launched in Poland

on January 12, 1945. In effect, the Luftwaffe could be expected to devote even

less attention to attacks in the Bulge and, especially, in the Allied rear areas.84

Nevertheless, the daily air alert and air defensive patrol missions

remained prominent until the end of January. The 405th Fighter Group began

patrolling on January 2, with 16 aircraft flying in flights of four throughout each

day. Bad weather on all but two of the days from January 3–13, delayed full

implementation of the patrol program, but after January 13, patrols flew every

flyable day until January 26. Although all but one of the P–47 groups participated, the 405th flew the vast majority. Usually flights of four aircraft carried

out the mission, repeating it from three to five times during the day. Seldom did

they return to base with anything to show for their efforts. During this period

the equivalent of twelve, 12-plane squadrons performed aerial patrol duty and

could not be assigned ground support or interdiction missions. Whether these

flights would have made a substantial difference in the interdiction program is

questionable. Nevertheless, frequent bad weather and competing priorities limited interdiction missions in any case, and argued for devoting maximum

emphasis to isolating the battlefield on the few good days available.85

Furthermore, given the concern of Weyland and other air leaders about

the Luftwaffe’s continuing potency, it would seem to have been more profitable

had they redirected much of this defensive patrol effort into offensive operations by attacking airfields in the Rhine valley. Doing so may have helped fill

the gap left by the Eighth Air Force bombardment division, which in the first

The Ardennes

219
week of January 1945, had been withdrawn from supporting Ninth Air Force

to supporting 6th Army Group requirements in its area. Even if the XIX TAC’s

counterair missions proved uneventful, the fighter-bombers could still strike

targets of opportunity. As understandable as General Weyland’s concerns

were, this diversion of scarce aerial resources does little to enhance his reputation as an otherwise highly capable commander. Weyland, like many others

during the Ardennes Offensive, seems to have overcompensated, impelled “by

a nervousness far greater than the transient emergency warranted.”86 Although

AAF doctrine supported taking adequate defensive measures, in this instance

Weyland’s use of combat air patrols unwittingly confirmed another doctrinal

proposition: an “air umbrella in orbit over friendly forces is wasteful.”

Certainly aircraft assigned to defensive patrol responsibilities would have been

more effectively employed elsewhere after early January 1945.87

Consolidating Support Elements and Flight Operations

While providing support to Patton’s troops farther south in the Saar and

flying interdiction missions, the XIX TAC continued supporting Third Army’s

slow, difficult drive to link up with Allied troops in the northern half of the

Bulge. Although the German drive was blunted by the first of the year, the

Allies knew there would be no headlong retreat from the Bulge. Their attention the first week in January 1945, centered on the western Bulge area and the

lower Saar (Map 18). On Third Army’s Bastogne front, VIII Corps continued

its attack from the west, while III Corps widened the corridor to Bastogne and

fought off counterattacks as it slowly pushed northeast farther into the German

flank. On January 3, First Army launched Montgomery’s long-awaited offensive against the northern flank of the salient. The best advance occurred northeast of Vielsalm, where the 82d Airborne Division attacked on a six-mile front.

Like Patton’s drive northward, it made slow but steady progress in the face of

dug-in German armor, horrendous ice and snow, and extreme winter temperatures of nine degrees Fahrenheit.88

Farther to the south, the Germans launched a diversionary attack on 6th

Army Group’s front in Alsace-Lorraine in conjunction with the New Year’s

Day air strike (Map 19). Forewarned by Ultra, General Eisenhower, under

great pressure from French General De Gaulle to hold the city of Strasbourg,

planned to fall back to prepared defenses in the northern sector as French

forces defended the Alsatian city. Despite initial German gains, the Allied

troops held. Soon neither side found itself strong enough to make any significant progress until the Russian offensive forced Hitler to move several German

divisions from the western to the eastern front.89

American reinforcements for General Devers’s 6th Army Group consisted

primarily of increased air support. Ninth Air Force, meanwhile, protested

Air Power for Patton’s Army

220
Map 19

The German Offensive

in Alsace-Lorraine

January 1-30, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 64a, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Air Power for Patton’s Army

222

SHAEF’s decision to direct bombers south from the Eighth Air Force heavy

bomber division, which had been playing a key role bombing targets in the outer

interdiction region, to support operations in the 6th Army Group sector. To analysts at 12th Army Group and Ninth Air Force, “this diversion [to support 6th

Army Group] was of secondary or even minor importance, and it was with dismay...[that we]...saw SHAEF transfer top priority for bombardment to that

area.” From the standpoint of the Ninth Air Force and 12th Army Group, this

diversion seriously threatened the success of their interdiction program. At the

same time, Vandenberg asked Weyland on January 2 what he could spare for XII

TAC, and that day the XIX TAC commander diverted four squadrons to help in

the Saar and Palatinate regions with armed reconnaissance missions.90

The Ninth Air Force air plan continued to target enemy armor and pursue an elaborate interdiction program focusing on bridges and supply centers.

Weyland’s forces had just begun flying intensive interdiction against bridges

on the first two days of January 1945 when freezing drizzle and rain, along

with a 600-foot overcast and 1–2 miles of visibility, shut down operations for

two days. Between January 3 and 14, the XIX TAC pilots could fly on only

two days; they flew 191 sorties on January 5 and 325 on January 10. The

remaining days were socked in. The heavy snow that arrived on January 3

helped make the January snowfall in northern Europe the heaviest in 175

years. All told, the XIX TAC had only seven operational days in the month

compared to 13 for December. Under these conditions it became impossible to

maintain a consistent interdiction effort.91

On January 5, 1945, operations continued with the 362d Fighter Group

supporting III Corps and the 406th Fighter Group backing VIII Corps, while

the command flew four armed reconnaissance missions for XII TAC. That day

also witnessed one of the most spectacular flights of the Ardennes period.

General Patton had been concerned for some time about the XII Corps’ right

flank and the XX Corps’ area opposite Saarburg, in the Merzig-Saarbruecken

region. Reports appeared with increasing frequency that German engineers

had a major bridge-building program underway in this thinly held sector. To

study the strong points and bridges and to assess the severity of the threat, the

Third Army commander asked for photographs of the area.92

Thus a low-level F–5 (P–38) dicing run in a high-threat area was ordered.

Capt. Robert J. Holbury of the 31st Photo Reconnaissance Squadron volunteered to fly the mission despite a ceiling of less than 600 feet of solid overcast.

After a particularly hazardous flight that included flying below 25 feet and

dodging high-tension wires as well as flak, Holbury returned on one engine,

with a vertical stabilizer shot off and with his aircraft peppered by shell holes.

He also returned with 212 superb pinpoint and oblique photos showing three

traditional bridges, a pontoon bridge, and barges strapped together. Although

this threat did not require reinforcing the XX Corps front, Third Army wanted

the German bridgework destroyed whenever the weather permitted.93
The Ardennes

223

After an Ultra briefing on January 9, Patton became increasingly concerned

about Merzig-Saarbruecken as a possible site of another major German offensive,

and General Weyland agreed to have his fighter-bombers attack the region as

soon as weather permitted. Consequently, when the weather improved on January

10, the 362d Fighter Group flew three squadron missions against the bridges,

piers, and barges that had been photographed on January 5. The pilots achieved

only mediocre results, and though claiming one direct hit and a number of

approaches damaged, the bridges remained serviceable. Soon a spirited contest

developed between Weyland’s fighter-bombers and Ninth Air Force medium

bombers to see which group could knock out the heavily defended bridges.94

General Weyland took advantage of the nonflying period to move his

headquarters closer to the action. Procedures called for moving in two stages

in order to maintain communications. Weyland and the initial A headquarters

party arrived in Luxembourg City on January 8 where they set up communications with Third Army and Ninth Air Force headquarters’ command posts

and Weyland’s units early the following morning. Colonel Ferguson, however,

remained at Nancy and maintained control of operations throughout the ninth.

That evening he closed up shop and moved his B party to Luxembourg the

next day. The plan worked to perfection. The absence of flying made the communications transition much easier because there were no flight operations to

handle. Now Third Army and the XIX TAC had their air and ground headquarters again completely collocated.95

On January 11 and 12, 1945, atrocious winter weather forced the command to cancel most missions. During this period Weyland used the time to

good advantage. On January 10, he learned that his command would receive a

radar ground-control approach system by February 1. (His initial request was

made in early October 1944.) One of the specialists, an SCR–584 expert, worried about the command’s slow progress with the two modified SCR–584 systems, termed battle area control units (BACUs), which it had received in late

December. At this time the command’s BACUs functioned only as navigation

devices. Operators of the two systems worked with the air liaison officers

assigned to Third Army’s XII and XX Corps. The system vectored close air

support flights either to a target selected by the liaison officer at corps headquarters or to a point forward where the air control officer operating with the

ground unit took control and directed the attack.96

Only in February 1945 did the command begin what it referred to as lastresort blind bombing with the SCR–584 radar, after it received two additional

sets that had been modified earlier for ground control intercept operations. The

SCR–584, however, proved difficult to operate effectively. As one of the

research technicians assigned to the command stated, “picking up the correct

aircraft formation, locking on and staying locked on, and controlling the aircraft through a good bomb run was difficult and the crews and controllers had

insufficient training to do the job well.”97
After much practice, the system proved useful as both a navigation and

an area blind bombing aid in late February and March, when static conditions

and little movement prevailed. After March 1945, however, fast-paced mobile

conditions would make it impossible for the SCR–584 radar equipment to

keep within range of the bomb line, and Weyland ordered it withdrawn. In fact,

the command continued to prefer the MEW radar, especially after it received

a close-control unit for the system at the end of December 1944. Along with

its ease of transport and longer range, microwave radar procedures proved far

simpler for the controllers to master.98

On January 12, 1945, Weyland accompanied General Gay on a visit to

units of VIII Corps and to the headquarters of both VIII and III Corps.

Weyland and his officers visited army commanders in the field periodically to

discuss air-ground issues, particularly as part of the joint planning process and

to promote good relations. In this instance, Weyland discussed plans for future

operations with Generals Middleton and Milliken, who reported that enemy

counterattacks had diminished amid more signs of withdrawal.99 Indeed, by

January 15, 1945, VII Corps in the north had cut the key St. Vith-Vielsalm

road, and Patton’s forces and First Army units had also severed the St. VithHouffalize road and converged on Houffalize (Map 18). To the east, III Corps

had taken Wiltz and now approached the Clerf River line, while XII Corps still

battled for the town of Echternach and exerted pressure on the German line of

Air Power for Patton’s Army

224

Dicing mission photo of the Saar River
withdrawal. Although German forces fell back on St. Vith, they continued to

counterattack fiercely. Allied forces also confronted the by now customary

impediments of heavy snow and ice, mines, road blocks, and booby traps.

Nevertheless, the outlook appeared promising. Intelligence analysts predicted

that the Germans would attempt to move the armored forces out of the Bulge

for duty in either Alsace or on the eastern front and replace them with infantry

units. If so, the Allies expected to turn the retreat into a rout.100

Clearing the Bulge

During the last half of January 1945, the XIX TAC enjoyed one of its

most successful operational periods of the entire campaign. A month after the

Germans began the Ardennes Offensive, the Allies finally had them on the run.

Although Ultra picked up the first signs of a German retreat on January 8, only

when the weather cleared on January 13, did the Allies fully realize that the

Germans had decided on a general withdrawal from the Ardennes salient.101

The question became whether German delaying tactics and the winter weather could prevent the Allies from isolating substantial parts of the enemy’s

forces before they could withdraw into the Eifel. The retreating Germans had

to travel during daylight hours on main roads that became increasingly congested. Fleeing under these conditions, the Wehrmacht offered ideal targets to

Weyland’s fighter-bombers. Four consecutive days of good flying weather

provided more than one-third of the month’s total claims of 10,525 ground targets destroyed or damaged in operations reminiscent of the previous summer.

In terms of the number of sorties flown, January 14 was, in the words of the

XIX TAC commander, the “biggest day since summer.” His command flew 61

missions and 633 sorties both within and outside the breakthrough area for

what proved to be the second-best claims day of the month. With the 354th and

406th Fighter Groups seeing most of the action in the III and VIII Corps areas,

the remaining groups flew armed reconnaissance missions against bridges and

command posts throughout the Eifel region. The day’s score included 410

motor vehicles, 174 railroad cars, and 45 buildings destroyed.102

Although the command’s claims remained unsubstantiated, the effort

that resulted in them nevertheless contributed significantly to the Allied cause.

The coordination between ground and air that occurred during this four-day

period, and between reconnaissance and fighter-bomber aircraft and artillery

counterflak units, reached a new level of effectiveness. One of the best examples of this teamwork occurred on January 14, 1945. Two F–6 (P–51) pilots of

the 12th Reconnaissance Squadron, flying an artillery adjustment mission at

Houffalize, spotted 50 armored vehicles entering the city. After observing good

results from the artillery fire, they called the tactical control group, which vectored a squadron of 354th Fighter Group P–47s to the scene. The reconnaisThe Ardennes

225
sance pilots then led the fighter-bombers to the targets and directed artillery

counterflak fire on enemy gun positions while the P–47 pilots completed their

bombing runs. During the ground advance, XIX TAC fighter-bombers again

charted the way from village to village in operations reminiscent of the

Lorraine Campaign.103 Although the type of teamwork displayed on January 14

occurred periodically in France and more frequently during the Lorraine fighting, by early 1945 it had become commonplace among all the tactical air and

ground commands. When First and Third Army linked up at Houffalize on

January 16, Third Army gave much of the credit over the previous three days

to the air support of the airborne village destroyers.

The only significant variation in aerial operations appeared in the ordnance loads. By this time 500-lb. incendiary and 100-lb. white phosphorus

bombs had been added to the inventory. The fighter-bombers dropped both

napalm and incendiary bombs in record numbers, especially during the five

days of victory weather in December. Often armorers replaced the fragmentation bomb with a 500-lb. general purpose bomb that was fuzed to detonate

instantaneously. It combined good fragmentation effect with outstanding

shock effect and proved to be the best answer for concealed armor, vehicles,

and personnel. Later, with the enemy on the run in the open, fighter-bombers

flew strafing missions loaded only with .50-caliber ammunition.104

On January 15 and 16, 1945, the command focused on attacking German

front line troops in the Bulge and on any movement along the road and rail networks leading out of the salient. Except for the heavily defended Saar River

bridges, which continued to defy destruction, XIX TAC pilots achieved

impressive results. The overall objective remained to isolate the battlefield and

disrupt any attempt at orderly withdrawal. Colonel Hallett, the command’s

intelligence officer, developed his own interdiction target plan to supplement

the Ninth Air Force target listing. It proved especially useful when aircrews

needed secondary targets to attack.105

The intense effort during the four-day period from January 13–16

brought out the hard-pressed Luftwaffe. With 14 German aircraft claimed

destroyed and 3 more damaged, the sixteenth proved to be the command’s best

day of the month in the air against the Luftwaffe. It lost five of its own in these

encounters, an improvement over the results of two days earlier when it experienced 11 losses in air combat. The 368th Fighter Group, with six losses, suffered the most. On that day, some 50 Bf 109s and FW 190s attacked ten aircraft from the 397th Fighter Squadron returning from an armed reconnaissance

mission near Neustadt. Normally the American fighters managed to out-duel

the Luftwaffe even when severely outnumbered and surprised. During the

Ardennes Campaign, however, American pilots reported Luftwaffe aviators

fought aggressively and often with greater skill in defense of the homeland.

Although these reports referred primarily to the first two weeks of the

Ardennes Offensive, even in mid-January, after the transfer of 300 aircraft to

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226
the Russian front and the increasing use of inexperienced pilots, the Luftwaffe

could still mount an occasional large and dangerous foray. 

In the January 16 incident, 397th Fighter Squadron pilots apparently

became complacent and violated one of Weyland’s cardinal maxims for air combat: “The iron law of a flight is that the element will be maintained, for the lone

bird is the dead bird.” If, as some commentators explained, the enemy air attacks

on January 13 and 16 represented the last desperate flailing of a Luftwaffe in

extremis, they also reinforced Weyland’s belief that Luftwaffe capabilities

required him to retain his air defense patrol missions unchanged. As events transpired, these would be the only occasions during the month when the Luftwaffe

appeared in strength to menace Allied fighter-bombers.106

On January 17, 1945, the XIX TAC historian asserted that the “Belgian

Bulge had been reduced to a mere bump.”107 Although correct, judging from the

map, another week passed before the Allies eliminated the Bulge completely.

The German position admittedly had become desperate. During this last phase

of the battle, German forces made every effort to disengage and withdraw within the Siegfried Line defenses, hoping to hold Allied forces in place in the west

while the Panzer forces shifted to the east. The British, American, and French

forces, of course, remained equally determined to prevent their escape.

After the two U.S. armies met at Houffalize, First Army units pressed on

toward St. Vith. On Third Army’s front, VIII Corps and III Corps forces forged

The Ardennes

227

German Bf 109
228

Troops of the 4th Armored Division in the Ardennes (above); 101st Airborne

Infantry Division troops move through Bastogne towards Houffalize (below);

Enemy tanks and motor vehicles destroyed by Ninth Air Force fighter-bombers

(facing page)
229
ahead toward the Clerf River with their goal the Our River that separated

Luxembourg from the Eifel (Map 20). To create more pressure on the southern shoulder and narrow the escape route at the base of the breakthrough area,

XII Corps started an offensive on January 17 in miserable weather and without the protective shield of air power. Air support for the corps’ right flank

became a major priority, and when the weather cleared on January 19,

Weyland’s forces flew five armed reconnaissance missions in the Echternach

area and three more in the Trier area. By January 20, XII Corps units came

within two miles of Vianden at the international border between Luxembourg

and Germany. Bad flying weather on January 20 and 21, however, once again

restricted the level of air support to two armed reconnaissance squadron flights

near Trier. Meanwhile, as Patton had supposed, XX Corps encountered a

determined German counterattack against the 94th Infantry Division at

Saarlautern. In this situation, corps artillery provided most of the close support

firepower, while the 365th Fighter Group contributed by flying armed reconnaissance along the Saar River from Saarbruecken to Merzig.108

General Weyland spent January 19 and 20 visiting his units before

returning to Luxembourg City the next day. There he discussed current operations and force movements with General Quesada and Maj. Gen. Samuel E.

Anderson. At this meeting, the air leaders decided to transfer the 365th Fighter

Group back to the IX TAC, and the 361st Fighter Group to an Eighth Air Force

wing. This decision to readjust unit strength certainly reflected the confidence

the commanders had in the current state of the air war. Weyland explained to

his colleagues that he also intended to move the 406th Fighter Group farther

forward to replace the 365th Fighter Group at Metz, and likewise, to move the

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Staff, XIX Tactical Air Command
Map 20

The Ardennes Operations:

January 17-February 7, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 63, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Air Power for Patton’s Army

232

367th Fighter Group to St. Dizier to replace the departing 361st Fighter Group.

None of the moves, however, transpired before the end of the month, after the

Ardennes Campaign ended.109

For its part Ninth Air Force sent medium bombers and every fighterbomber available against bridges along the Rhine and Mosel rivers, but especially those over the Our River, at the point of initial German penetration into

Belgium. With the enemy retreat accelerating and Allied ground forces working to narrow the escape routes, the vital Our River bridges became the focus

of Ninth Air Force attention.110 On January 22, medium bombers obliterated

the approaches to the Dasburg bridge, creating a monumental bottleneck for

the Germans, and a magnificent opportunity for Weyland’s fighter-bombers.

An unexpected break in the weather on January 22 enabled the command to

fly 57 missions and 627 sorties primarily against clogged traffic west of the

Our River. At 1:00 p.m., reconnaissance pilots reported heavy transport traffic

in the Bulge in front of XII Corps, and every available fighter-bomber flew to

the area with reconnaissance pilots leading the way. Weyland, on hearing this

news, informed Generals Vandenberg and Patton of the evidence of a general

withdrawal. In the words of the command intelligence officer, “the last remnants of the Ardennes bulge [were] collapsing like a punctured tire.”111

Flying four missions in support of the 4th Infantry Division, the 368th

Fighter Group achieved the day’s best score. It, too, reported that the destruction of the Dasburg bridge had created a massive traffic jam on the west side

of the Our River. Pilots said the congested scene provided a better shooting

opportunity than the one encountered in the final closing of the Falaise Gap.

The 368th Fighter Group was joined by squadrons from all other groups

except the 406th and 361st Fighter Groups that were attacking rail targets near

Trier, and the 365th, which supported the 94th Infantry Division against the

ongoing German counterattack. Only the five planes lost from the 362d

Fighter Group dampened the day’s enthusiasm.112

Aerial claims processed on January 22, 1945, totaled 1,177 trucks, tanks,

and other motor vehicles destroyed and another 536 damaged, twice the figure

for the previous high day on September 1, 1944. The XIX TAC’s record day

for claimed destruction of enemy transportation became a major news story

picked up and broadcast by the BBC and NBC. Congratulatory messages

arrived immediately from Generals Arnold, Spaatz, and Vandenberg.113

General Weyland told his officers and airmen:

For information on who did it, look in your own ops flashes.

Germans claim great strategic withdrawal with only one army

NYR [not yet reported]. Yesterday was [a] beautiful example

of tactical cooperation between recce, fighter control, ground

control and fighters. I am plenty proud of you all.114
The good hunting continued through the morning of January 23, before

snow and low ceilings reappeared. Of the four groups not grounded for

weather, three returned to the scene of the slaughter for even more impressive claims. Because the intensity of the flak in the Dasburg area now proved

to be some of the heaviest in the Bulge fighting, the 354th Fighter Group

reported that it had to bomb at 5,000 feet. Meanwhile, the 365th Fighter

Group again flew in support of XX Corps, conducting armed reconnaissance

in the Trier and Neunkirchen areas and flying two air patrol missions near

Metz.115

A special mission to test the efficacy of a new reconnaissance targetspotting method set up by General Weyland proved less successful. During the

euphoria of January 22, he proposed that his reconnaissance aircraft lead 16

A–26 Invaders to strafe targets at low-level in the Dasburg area of the Bulge.

A replacement airplane for the twin-engine Douglas A–20 Havoc, the Douglas

A–26 medium bomber had arrived in the European theater late in 1944. On

January 23, Lt. Howard Nichols of the 15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron

rendezvoused with the first flight of five bombers at Luxembourg and led them

to the target area 28 miles to the north. The units arrived too late to master the

weather and the flak, and two of the bombers took hits and crashed behind

Allied lines. Nichols returned to lead six more bombers back, but he promptly observed two more shot down and several others severely damaged by flak.

The mission was a disaster. Although officials knew the A–26 should not be

risked in low-level operations against heavily defended targets, Weyland

apparently believed that surprise and good work by his reconnaissance “spotter” aircraft would overcome the problem.116

Even though the experiment of using light bombers on a low-level mission failed in this instance, the reconnaissance pilot performed as planned.

Reconnaissance pilots not only served as the eyes of the ground forces and the

intelligence section, they also functioned as airborne controllers much like the

Horsefly light-plane controller operation that Americans first developed in the

Italian theater. There the largely static front proved more conducive for light

planes employed in this role. In northern Europe, Weyland and his fellow commanders preferred to rely on fighters for tactical reconnaissance and airborne

control operations.117

During the next six days, from January 23–28, 1945, Allied ground forces

slowly overcame tenacious German defenses to close up to the Our River and,

on January 26 created a bridgehead on the east bank inside Germany. The XIX

TAC operations continued with major emphasis on interdiction in the Eifel near

Prum and close air support for XII Corps troops facing German forces attempting to flee across the Sauer River. As usual, inclement weather limited the sortie rate and prohibited operations altogether on January 27.118 On January 28,

American patrols crossed the Our River in force, and General Weyland recorded that the “reduction of the Ardennes was officially completed.” The next day,

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233
he said, XIX TAC would resume the offensive. Four days earlier he with

Patton, his staff, and corps commanders had attended a conference at Third

Army headquarters to discuss forthcoming offensive operations. Together, the

XIX TAC–Third Army team prepared for the final drive.119

Ardennes in Retrospect

Reflecting on the Ardennes Campaign, the Ninth Air Force historian

declared that “here, as never before, was the chance to apply sound principles of

tactical air power.”120 He referred to the demonstrated deployment and employment of tactical air power quickly, in force, in an emergency. General Bradley

echoed these sentiments in a report of his own. “Aircraft claims during that period [Bastogne] are impressive,” he said, “not alone for the havoc created, but

because they demonstrate the potential flexibility which permits the rapid massing on a limited target area.”121 Fighter-bomber response, indeed, proved to be

swift, concentrated, and instrumental in helping first to blunt the offensive, then

to force German troops back, beyond the Our River.

The aerial response, in fact, seemed drawn directly from a textbook and

performed to perfection. The early days of the assault, however, reflect a somewhat less organized reaction to the crisis. With troops overrun or in retreat and

the entire Allied center in danger of collapsing, air leaders faced a dire emergency. They responded on December 16 and 17, 1944, without FM 100–20

(1943) in hand for guidance. The theoretical priorities of air superiority, interdiction, and close air support were set aside in favor of bringing all available

fighter-bombers to bear as quickly as possible in bombing and strafing the

enemy. This is the very essence of tactical air power’s flexibility. If the

Luftwaffe put in an appearance, so much the better. During the course of the bad

weather before December 23, the planners had time to prepare an air plan for

victory and give proper attention to allocating effort among the three missions.

The initial reaction of General Weyland and his command also demonstrated just how much the applied doctrine, organization and procedures, and

experience of the airmen had developed since the North African Campaign. In

the Ardennes’ crucible, Weyland’s forces demonstrated the maturity tactical

airpower had achieved. With hardly a pause, he and his staff redirected command forces from a focus of operations along the Siegfried Line to the

Ardennes region with the smoothness of a well-functioning machine. Airplanes

flew north to cover Patton’s fire brigade and east to harry German supply lines,

while Weyland resurrected his X-Ray liaison command echelon to ensure close

coordination with the ground forces. Meanwhile, he marshaled support elements to make an extraordinary effort in maintaining the air assault. The

urgency of the situation proved sufficient incentive to elicit an outstanding performance from all his forces up and down the line.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

234
Certain problems and constraints could never quite be overcome. The

winter weather made flying impossible at crucial points in the battle and it prevented a consistent harassment of enemy communications. It also delayed the

well-orchestrated interdiction program to isolate the battlefield. Winter weather magnified the major weakness in the Allied tactical air arsenal—the night

fighter force. This small, if heroic group of night flyers simply did not possess

the assets or technology needed to consistently interrupt German movements

of supplies and defensive reinforcements during the long hours of darkness.

Without a significant night operational capability, the Ardennes Offensive was

prolonged and the flak concentrations became the most hazardous of the war

for Allied flyers. Air leaders understood the deficiency, but without sufficient

resources little more could be done before the advent of the all-weather, flyby-wire fighter-bomber of the future.

The winter weather and the urgency of the defensive operation also provoked friendly fire from anxious Allied personnel on the ground and in the

sky. General Weyland acted promptly to improve communications between air

and ground personnel, but better coordination among air defense agencies

could only limit the problem as long as the flying hazards and tension associated with action in the Bulge continued. Even with better coordination,

wartime conditions ensured that the friendly fire problem continued throughout the campaign, if at a lower level of concern.

As always, teamwork and cooperation among leaders of goodwill ultimately prevented any serial recurrence of the worst of the friendly fire incidents, as they did most other problems. Clearly the mutual respect and understanding between Generals Patton and Weyland continued unaltered. From the

start of the battle it was a joint operation and remained so. Weyland or his XRay chief attended every Third Army morning briefing, and the integrated

combat operations staff ensured continued joint planning and operations.

Teamwork and cooperation also occurred in the combined operations office at

corps and division level, as well as in the smooth and effective coordination

that developed among and between reconnaissance and fighter aircraft, ground

controllers, and artillery units. Moreover, Weyland always gave first priority to

air cover for Patton’s army, whether or not formal doctrine favored such extensive measures. Patton, in turn, never interfered with the basic air plan to support his forces in the Bulge and participate in Ninth Air Force’s interdiction

program. Only occasionally did the army commander request special reconnaissance or air support for troops in trouble, and Weyland’s forces always

responded.

Certainly, the XIX TAC could respond to Third Army requests more

effectively with eight fighter-bomber groups instead of four. Unlike conditions

in the Lorraine Campaign, Weyland possessed a force capable of decisive

intervention in the battle zone. Yet, his responsibilities correspondingly

increased, too. While three groups always provided close air support, three

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235
more concentrated on interdiction. This left two groups to fly escort, counterair, defensive patrol, and to strike the pinpoint targets that seemed to need

attention on a regular basis. These six aerial assignments could and did

change, but they limited the concentration of effort the command could apply

to any single one.

Ninth Air Force, of course, continued to decide major force allocations.

In the official recounting of the campaign, its historian reflected on the constant challenge of balancing competing priorities:

There was always the difference of opinion on the tactical

employment of air power. A request might call for immediate cooperation against a close target when overall commitments dictated continuation of a longer-range program.

Many requests were beyond [our] capabilities.122

In hindsight, Ninth Air Force analysts concluded that perhaps too much

initial effort had been devoted to bomber escort duties at the expense of close

support. One might also question whether the airmen, given the intelligence

information at hand, accorded more attention than the threat warranted to

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236

Destroyed self-propelled gun near Dasburg, Germany
potential Luftwaffe attacks after the German drive had been blunted. If the

actions of the XIX TAC commander clearly reflected the conventional wisdom

of contemporary airmen, that wisdom ordered numerous aircraft on air combat patrol that otherwise might have been applied to offensive missions.

Whatever the decisions on air priorities, the Allied tactical air power available

then in northern Europe provided sufficient concentration of force for decisive

intervention on the battlefield. 

The Ardennes

237

Chapter Six

The Final Offensive

The final offensive—which would strike at the Siegfried Line, and, if

successful, press forward across the Rhine River—could be expected to differ

considerably from either the Lorraine Campaign or the Battle for France. First

and foremost, General Weyland’s XIX TAC possessed important advantages

not previously available. Above all, the command could rely on overwhelming air superiority—far more than at any time during operations in Northwest

Europe. Weyland’s aerial force numbered nearly 400 fighter-bombers in this

Third Army sector alone. Intelligence estimated the Luftwaffe possessed at

most only 700 fighters arrayed against all of the Allied armies and air forces

deployed along the German border in the west. (Nazi war records later proved

this Allied estimate to have been remarkably accurate.) Because of severe fuel

constraints and the Luftwaffe’s large-scale redeployment to the eastern front at

the end of 1944, the Germans stationed only 600 single-engine fighters in the

west. Moreover, not until early March 1945, when the Allies pressed their

drive to the Rhine, did the overall German sortie rate increase from the late

January figure of 250 to 300–400 per day, weather permitting. Even a major

effort to protect airfields with turbojet aircraft and overworking Ju 87 aircraft

in missions at night failed to slow the inexorable Allied advance.1 With uncontested air superiority, Weyland could be expected to devote the bulk of his flying effort to the second- and third-priority aerial missions of interdiction and

close air support, respectively. 

The ground situation seemed equally favorable. After the Ardennes

defeat, Third Army intelligence officers learned that units from both General

von Manteuffel’s Fifth Panzer Army and General Brandenberger’s Seventh

Army were moved to reinforce the eastern front and bolster German forces

defending the Cologne area where the main Allied thrust was expected.

General Patton’s intelligence section predicted that enemy forces facing them

in the Eifel region amounted to no more than five American-strength divisions.2 In addition to numerical superiority, the Third Army–XIX TAC airground team also possessed the advantage of experience gained during six

months of combat in all kinds of weather and terrain in northern Europe. It

could be expected to react confidently to the challenges of fighting under conditions of mobile and static warfare, especially against a rapidly weakening

enemy.

Nevertheless, the Siegfried Line defenses of concrete bunkers and pillboxes presented formidable targets for fighter-bombers. The airmen could

239
expect little cooperation from the weather as the Eifel region was noted for its

wretched winters. Weyland also knew, in the event of a breakthrough of the

Siegfried Line, he would again face the formidable tasks of moving supplies

and establishing forward airstrips rapidly enough to maintain pace with Patton’s

armored spearheads. All the while, the air-ground team would contend with an

overarching Allied strategy that assigned only a supporting role to the Third

Army with concomitant priorities in the climactic drive against Nazi Germany.

With the Ardennes emergency officially ended on January 28, 1945,

General Eisenhower and his advisors returned to their grand plan for breaching the Siegfried Line, hurdling the Rhine River barrier and plunging Allied

armor into the heart of Germany.3 The Supreme Allied Commander favored

advancing to the Rhine along a broad front, then holding at the river with a

small force while the British 21st Army Group pressed the main Allied assault

north of the Ruhr industrial area, under the direction of doughty Field Marshal

Montgomery. A secondary attack led by General Patton’s Third Army would

follow to the south in the Frankfurt area. When the British and American chiefs

of staff met on the island of Malta in late January and early February 1945,

they endorsed Eisenhower’s plan, but only after the Supreme Commander

allayed British fears that he might wait to cross the Rhine until the entire west

bank had been cleared. Moreover, to avoid unwanted procrastination mounting

the offensive in the north, General Eisenhower promised to reinforce

Montgomery’s 21st Army Group with sizeable American air and ground units

so it might be ready to cross the Rhine “in force as soon as possible.”4

Although Allied leaders had their eyes on a northernmost Rhine crossing from the Low Countries, the immediate challenge in early February 1945,

was to overcome the still formidable Siegfried Line defenses in the Rhineland.

To achieve this objective, SHAEF developed plans for a series of consecutive

Allied attacks from north to south that would bring the armies to the banks of

the Rhine (Map 21). The main assault, termed Operation Veritable, would be

led by Montgomery opposite the Ruhr. To give the offensive more punch,

Eisenhower gave Montgomery, who had temporary command of General

Simpson’s Ninth Army since the Battle of the Bulge, units from Hodges’s First

and Patton’s Third Armies.

General Bradley received permission to allow Hodges and Patton to

continue attacking in the Eifel region only until February 1. Then priority for

supplies and personnel would again shift to Montgomery’s area to meet

Operation Veritable’s deadline for the attack on the eighth. Once the British

field marshal’s forces reached the Rhine and began preparations for the crossing, General Bradley could resume his Eifel offensive, now termed Operation

Lumberjack. Shortly thereafter, General Devers’s 6th Army Group in the

south would launch an assault in the Palatinate, Operation Undertone.

Despite Eisenhower’s assurance to British leaders that Montgomery would

lead the way, his broad-front strategy, which called for all Allied armies to

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240
Map 21

Eastern France and the Low Countries,

December 16, 1944-February 7, 1945,

and Allied Plan for Rhineland Campaign

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 64b, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
close to the Rhine before attempting to cross that barrier, seemed as much

intact as ever.

Under the SHAEF plan, Montgomery would cross the Rhine to the north

in the Wesel area as soon as possible and proceed along the main invasion

route north of the Ruhr, sweeping across the north German plain (Map 21). He

would be followed by the two American army groups, which would make secondary crossings in the Mainz-Frankfurt region and attack northeast through

the so-called Frankfurt-Kassel Corridor. Once the two Allied forces linked up

east of the Ruhr, Germany’s industrial heartland would be encircled, and all

hope of forestalling the Allied offensive eliminated. Understandably, Hitler

appreciated the vital importance of the Ruhr, and the growing Allied threat

served to reinforce his natural inclination to defend the area west of the Rhine

with fanatical determination. Closing the Rhine would not be easy and the

vagaries of winter weather, short supplies, and contemporary technology complicated the assignment.5

Operational Challenges and New Tactics

The need for improved accuracy in bombing and for bomb damage

assessment was underscored in an incident involving destruction of the Bullay

Bridge over the Mosel River. For months this structure eluded the best efforts

of medium bombers and fighter-bombers to destroy it. Then, on February 10,

1945, a squadron from XIX TAC’s 368th Fighter Group scored direct hits with

several 500-lb. bombs. Despite Ninth Air Force’s initial skepticism, reconnaissance later confirmed that the center span had collapsed into the river. At

this point, an ebullient General Weyland could not resist sending photographs

to General Anderson, commander of the IX Bombardment Division, with a

suggestion that any targets he found too difficult for his medium bombers be

referred to XIX TAC fighter-bombers. In an equally mordant reply, General

Anderson asserted that his bombers had weakened the bridge for Weyland’s

“pea shooters,” and he had photographs to prove it. Operational research specialists, he told the XIX TAC commander, had shown that fighter claims for

bridges and rail cuts were actually inflated 70 percent.6

Later that month Nicholas M. Smith, chief of XIX TAC’s newly formed

operational research section, considered methods employed in the aerial bombing of bridges. He analyzed the probability of destroying double-trussed

bridges with various size bombs and different fuzes. Initially he thought that

bridge targets might require bombs too heavy for fighter-bombers; further

study, however, suggested these aircraft might have better luck with the smaller bombs using different fuzing. Smith’s analysis demonstrated that the probability of destroying trussed bridges with their numerous small redundant

trusses increased with a larger number of smaller bombs fuzed contrary to the

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242
parameters used by the medium bombers. The bridge study was one of several important technical investigations undertaken by Smith and an associate,

radar specialist Arnold C. McLean, to improve the command’s operational performance.7 Two other studies carried out by the command’s operational

research section in the late winter and early spring also deserve special attention. One involved an intensive effort to produce a bomb strike camera, and the

other to develop an accurate blind bombing radar system. Their stories illustrate the promise, as well as the limitations, of technology applied at the front.

The bomb strike camera offered the prospect of improvements in bomb

damage assessment and bombing accuracy, which might end the turmoil over

pilot claims. Ninth Air Force had been interested in such a project since the

late fall when the studies mentioned by General Anderson indicated that fighter-bombers made one rail cut in every eight or nine sorties rather than one in

every three as claimed by the pilots.8 Smith, the XIX TAC research chief,

worked closely with Col. George W. Goddard in Ninth Air Force’s Office of

Technical Service after the Ardennes Offensive to develop more effective

mounting arrangements and test various oblique cameras on P–47 aircraft. The

key problem proved to be finding a workable mounting system. Hanging a

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243

The Bullay Bridge, destroyed by the direct hits of the

368th Fighter Group
K–25 short focal-length, wide-angle, rear-facing camera from a wing support

had to be abandoned after tests by pilots from the 371st Fighter Group showed

that its field of view remained too small. The pilots also complained about the

external mount and the need to fly straight and level after hitting the target. A

belly camera mount experiment proved equally unrewarding, and research and

testing continued throughout the spring.

In early May 1945, with the war nearly over, Smith and a XIX TAC intelligence officer exchanged visits with their counterparts in the Mediterranean

theater where fighter-bombers successfully used an oblique camera mounted in

a faired compartment in front of the left bomb pylon. At the same time,

Colonel Goddard began experimenting with 70-mm cameras mounted in split

vertical pairs. They were activated by the bomb release mechanism in order to

obtain photographs in conjunction with the bomb bursts. Although the scientists could not produce an effective bomb strike camera system before the end

of the European Campaign, their work continued and the outlook appeared

promising.

The other major project studied by the operational research section during the last offensive focused on the SCR–584 ground-based blind bombing

system discussed earlier in Chapter 5. According to conventional wisdom,

when modified for close control, the SCR–584 could serve as an effective

blind bombing system during important operations like the Ardennes counteroffensive. Its radar equipment would position the fighter-bomber over the

target with sufficient precision to bomb effectively through cloud cover or at

night.9 Such was not the case, however, and like the search for a good bomb

strike camera, accurate blind bombing remained out of reach throughout the

campaign. As has so often occurred with new technology, the SCR–584 story

is a fascinating tale of a technical system that never quite lived up to the initial predictions of its developers.10

When, in early November 1944, the XIX TAC received the first SCR–584

radar system, a BACU, officials decided to use it mainly as a navigational

device to position aircraft close enough over a target to enable the pilot to

acquire it visually. They assigned this unit and subsequent SCR–584 flying control units to the tactical air liaison officer at army corps headquarters, which had

good land line communications. The system’s first mission did not occur until

December 2, and by December 10 it had controlled only ten missions, all navigational. At that time, a second unit had been installed near Metz, which was

moved north to cover the Bulge in early January 1945. Between December 4,

1944, and January 10, 1945, it controlled a total of 16 separate missions, only

two of which represented blind bombing runs. In fact, of the 26 missions controlled by the SCR–584 during this period, 10 could not be completed because

of controller error; 14 of the remaining 16 proved to be navigational, not blind

bombing, missions. Moreover, the average error in positioning the aircraft

accurately amounted to an unacceptably high 3,500 feet.

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244
In early January 1945, the command decided to employ the MEW and

director post radars for close navigational control and to use the modified

SCR–584 for blind bombing almost exclusively. Ninth Air Force, which strongly supported efforts to improve the system, wanted each tactical air command to

have its scientific-military team work independently to improve system accuracy. It seems that the Ninth Air Force also received motivation from reports compiled by other tactical air forces that indicated better performance than the Ninth

had been able to achieve. General Lee, Ninth Air Force deputy for operations,

became concerned over statements made by General Saville, commander of the

XII TAC. General Lee told General Weyland in a January 5 letter that Saville

claimed aircraft in his command used the SCR–584 to bomb accurately through

overcast within 100 yards of friendly troops without fear of hitting them. Given

the difficulty of achieving this kind of accuracy even in daylight under optimum

conditions, Weyland and his Ninth Air Force colleagues were more than a little

skeptical. Yet the Saville report focused attention on improving the system, and

testing continued from January until the end of the campaign.11

Upon investigation, McLean, the command’s radar expert, determined that

equipment limitations and inadequate controller procedures made it impossible

to develop accurate control of aircraft for blind bombing with great accuracy.

McLean introduced radar siting procedures that called for survey measurements

to obtain proper station grid coordinates and antenna alignment. He also instructed controllers to compute range and bearing information mathematically rather

than rely on large-scale maps. In all, the research technician discovered 12 common problems associated with the two types of plotting boards and three methods of blind-level bombing in use. Most could be minimized through an extensive training program for controllers. Indeed, SCR–584 system accuracy

improved considerably by the time a third control unit arrived on February 27.12

After evaluating all available bombing data, McLean reported an average bombing error of 1,745 feet for the command. He advised Ninth Air Force

that current accuracy and the size of bomb patterns made it unsafe to bomb any

closer than 2,000 yards, or slightly more than a mile from front line troops. In

early May 1945, after collecting reports from the other tactical air commands,

Ninth Air Force research officials concluded, despite Saville’s claims to the

contrary, that it found no appreciable difference among the three commands in

operational techniques and equipment used or in the results attained. As for

other commands, Ninth Air Force consultant R. W. Larson disputed figures

used by the British Second TAF specialists, who asserted that safe blind bombing could be done within a thousand yards of friendly troops. He also reported that Mediterranean theater testing now indicated that accuracies of 500 feet

could be attained, but the authorities there had not yet issued a formal report.13

By war’s end, Ninth Air Force recommended using the SCR–584 only for

navigational purposes, not to direct blind bombing missions. Officials nonetheless expected much progress in future blind bombing through the use of radio

The Final Offensive

245
beacons, or identification friend or foe (IFF) transponders, some already

installed in General Quesada’s aircraft as the fighting came to a close. The

Ninth also directed that controller training continue after the war. Although

important breakthroughs would have to await further developments in technology, the efforts of the airmen, scientists, and engineers represented an important

element in the program to improve combat effectiveness for tactical air power.14

Like the Lorraine experience, static warfare along the Siegfried Line in

February 1945, nonetheless offered XIX TAC several advantages that mitigated poor flying weather and heavily defended targets. The command now could

test the cumbersome, ground-based SCR–584 blind bombing radar system.

Indeed, communications in general remained uniformly excellent throughout

the month and into March because neither the headquarters nor any of the flying groups changed station. In fact, only one fighter group, the 367th (which

subsequently again changed locations on March 15), redeployed from St.

Dizier to Conflans, bringing it 60 miles closer to the Third Army front lines.

Other operational considerations benefitted from the static situation as

well. For example, flying distance from air bases in France to the target areas,

normally less than 50 miles, increased loiter times over selected targets. The

stable front and well-established bases also made it easier for the command to

solve logistic challenges. By mid-February, however, the XIX TAC’s heavy

flying commitment threatened shortages of both 500-lb. general-purpose

bombs and .50-caliber ammunition. Because 500-lb. bomb stocks could not be

replaced immediately, armorers used a substitute, RDX Composition-B, a

British-made, high-explosive bomb consisting of a mixture of TNT and wax.

More popular with the aircrews and ground forces, however, was the M–47

100-lb. white phosphorous bomb, first used by the command at this time. Its

50-foot burst and shower of burning particles made it a superb antipersonnel

incendiary, and its smoke provided airmen a good protective screen against

flak. Although attacks west of the Rhine at Freillingen and Mayen during

February produced excellent results, transportation problems also affected the

supply of white phosphorous bombs, and the command decided to conserve a

minimum for special missions.15

High consumption of the universally used .50-caliber ammunition created greater concern when priorities in ground transport were claimed by

Montgomery’s forces. The command increasingly relied on air resupply to

alleviate the deficit both in February and in March 1945, when the situation

again became acute with the advent of more mobile ground operations. By

mid-March, ammunition stocks were nearly exhausted. On March 18, in fact,

the 371st Fighter Group alone fired a record 300,000 rounds while flying in

close support of XX Corps. In response to the ammunition crisis, the IX Air

Force Service Command flew in 2 million rounds to the 1907th Ordnance

Depot Company. Even though the command stressed conservation of ammunition, it could not hope to reduce strafing operations when the war became

Air Power for Patton’s Army

246
more mobile and fighter-bombers often flew with reduced bombloads.

However, at no time in February 1945 or later did ordnance shortages adversely affect flying operations.16

The relatively static situation in February eased the burden of aircraft conversion for two XIX TAC groups. With earlier experience to follow, the command had no trouble providing the 367th Fighter Group with P–47s in place of

P–38s, and the 354th Fighter Group with P–51s in place of P–47s. In fact, both

conversions occurred faster than the 354th’s conversion from P–51s to

Thunderbolts back in November 1944.17 For some time the command had considered standardizing its fighter-bomber force by reequipping its lone Lightning

group with the more durable P–47s. Despite the P–38’s superior low-level

speed and maneuverability, the command preferred the Thunderbolt for divebombing and close support in the final offensive. The reconversion of the 354th

Fighter Group from P–47s to P–51s no doubt became a consideration as well.

Beginning in December 1944, each of the 367th Fighter Group’s three P–38

squadrons had four P–47s assigned. When no more arrived in January 1945,

group members thought there would be no conversion. But on February 11, the

group’s 392d Fighter Squadron received 13 P–47s and by the sixteenth, was flying combat missions with the new aircraft. The remaining two squadrons

became operational after only four and three days, respectively. By February 26,

the 367th Fighter Group operated as a fully equipped Thunderbolt outfit.18

The 354th Fighter Group’s conversion proved equally speedy, but perhaps more interesting, in view of the problems attendant on its original conversion to P–47s. According to the group historian, when the P–51 news

reached the 354th Fighter Group’s headquarters on February 4, it proved to be

the “signal for the beginning of a celebration unapproached in spontaneity...by any previous reveries of the Group and it lasted unabated for two

days.” The Mustangs began arriving on February 10, and the group celebrated

The Final Offensive

247

P-51 Mustangs of the 354th Fighter Group
its return, or reconversion, to P–51s on February 16 by downing four Bf 109s

over Trier and Oberlahnstein without sustaining a loss.19

The group historian thought the P–51s returned because the command

needed a superior, long-range fighter that could perform counterair and interdiction missions well into Germany. At the same time, however, the AAF in

Europe now had received sufficient P–51Ds to make the conversion possible

and provide needed replacements. Whether the Pioneer Mustang group performed more effectively with P–51s is unclear. Loss rates, for example, were

high if not higher during comparable periods when the group flew P–47s. On

the other hand, comparisons are difficult. In spite of flying close support missions on February 16, the 354th Fighter Group now assumed the more traditional fighter responsibility of fulfilling air superiority and long-range interdiction requirements. With the return of the Mustangs, the group “started right

away to climb back to its own proud place in the sun.”20

Into the Siegfried Line

At the end of the Ardennes operation in late February, the Third

Army–XIX TAC team returned to the question: how best to break through the

Siegfried Line. The theatrical General Patton was not at all content to end his

pursuit and pin down German troops in the Eifel while the cautious Field

Marshal Montgomery claimed center stage in the Allied advance. He preferred

to give “active defense” the widest possible interpretation. Because General

Bradley interpreted General Eisenhower’s order of February 1 as authorizing

Patton’s army to “continue the probing attacks now in progress,” General

Middleton’s VIII Corps could maintain its offensive at the German border

(Map 20).21 Patton increased Middleton’s responsibilities during a meeting on

February 3 with his corps commanders and General Weyland. He explained

that VIII Corps would protect First Army’s right flank as ordered by SHAEF,

and also launch a major assault on the West Wall, or Siegfried Line, with its

objective being the capture of the town of Prum. This would be coordinated

with General Eddy’s XII Corps, which would attack through the Echternach

region, the old southern hinge of the Bulge, on February 6 or 7; cross the Sauer

River; and move northeast to take the major road center of Bitburg. With both

Prum and Bitburg in Third Army hands, Patton hoped to convince Bradley and

Eisenhower to allow Third Army to continue attacking eastward to the Rhine.

By launching the Bitburg Offensive without permission, Patton knew he would

be “taking one of the longest chances of [his] chancy career.” He informed his

corps commanders that the offensive would end four days later, on February 10,

1945, if sufficient progress toward the two towns had not been made.22

Following the February 3 planning conference, General Weyland joined

the other TAC commanders at Ninth Air Force headquarters to allocate the air

Air Power for Patton’s Army

248
effort for the upcoming offensives. To provide Ninth Army with sufficient tactical air support in the Aachen region, General Nugent’s XXIX TAC received

units from the IX and XIX TACs. As a result, on February 8 Weyland lost two

of his longest serving fighter groups, the 405th Raiders and 406th Tiger

Tamers, leaving him with four fighter groups—the 354th, 362d, 367th, and

368th—until February 15, when the 371st Fighter Group returned from the XII

TAC to help support Third Army’s increasingly “aggressive defense.”

Although General Weyland had requested the 358th Fighter Group, the 371st

soon distinguished itself in combat operations as the most efficient in the command.23 To support Third Army’s drive through the West Wall and on to the

Rhine, XIX TAC now had five fighter-bomber groups, totaling 225 aircraft, as

well as the 425th Night Fighter Squadron and the 10th Reconnaissance Group.

Like Third Army, Allied leaders reduced XIX TAC’s forces with the northward shift in their combat priorities.

For both Third Army and XIX TAC, the February 1945 assault on the

Siegfried Line by VIII and XII Corps troops brought back bittersweet memories of the Lorraine Campaign, in which bad weather, formidable terrain,

swollen rivers, reduced forces, and stiff resistance thwarted the progress of the

air-ground team. Both army corps forces had to cross rivers now swollen to

twice their normal widths and press forward into the cliffs of the West Wall

defenses. Moreover, the heavy winter snows not only contributed to the slow

pace of the ground offensive, they also prohibited any air support for the opening assault. Once beyond the initial bridgeheads over the Our and Sauer rivers,

Third Army forces crossed a series of creeks and streams as they attempted to

advance along roads made almost impassable from German use and the winter thaw. Much to Patton’s pleasure, however, during the first week in February

his troops made slow but steady progress.

Air operations in early February also can be characterized by one word:

weather.24 When the 405th and 406th Fighter Groups left the command on the

eighth, they had flown on only two days in February because of poor weather.

Between January 30 and February 8, fog and drizzle prohibited air support

every day except on the second, when the 354th Fighter Group flew four 12-

plane missions for VIII Corps. Although February’s flying weather proved to

be better than January’s, it nevertheless restricted operations on fully 22 days

of the month; 4 more days were totally nonoperational and 3 were limited to

fewer than 40 combat sorties each. The command, however, gave a strong

account of itself by flying a total of 5,749 sorties for an average of 205 per day

in February, 500 more than it achieved in January when it possessed three

more fighter-bomber groups.25

Weather caused the command to adjust flying priorities. The bad weather in the Eifel in early February forced Weyland to modify the command’s toppriority program—interdiction. The basic air plan called for fighter-bombers

to interdict German units attempting to reinforce the Prum-Bitburg area from

The Final Offensive

249
the east. The command historian asserted, however, that bad weather during

the first 12 days of February compelled the fighter-bombers to fly armed

reconnaissance missions farther east in the Rhine valley instead. Even so, XIX

TAC airmen flew nearly half of their armed reconnaissance missions in the

original Eifel target area. Characteristically, Weyland’s pilots often disregarded minimum weather flying conditions to support a Third Army offensive.

Although interdiction was a key priority, the airmen did not neglect close

air support. On February 8, 1945, the day Weyland was promoted to major

general, weather allowed his fighter-bombers to provide close air support to

hard-pressed XII Corps forces precariously holding their Echternach bridgehead across the Sauer River. That day the 362d Maulers and 368th Thunder

Bums each flew seven missions to protect the corps’ bridgehead and ward off

German counterattacks. On the eighth, Third Army’s active defense already

found VIII Corps within a half mile of Prum and III Corps widening its bridgehead beyond the Our River north of Dasburg. Farther south, General Walker’s

overextended XX Corps attacked the heaviest defenses of the entire Siegfried

Line southeast of Trier in what Americans termed the Saar-Mosel Triangle

(Map 22).

Despite the horrid weather, stiff defenses, and additional units transferred

away from his command, Patton’s forces pressed forward. They measured their

success in the number of pillboxes taken each day and in small unit penetrations of the West Wall. Even though bad weather prohibited close air support

on February 12, 17, and 18, fighter-bombers covered Patton’s divisions on

every other day. The 362d Maulers, for example, flew every day in support of

XII Corps units until the troops finally breached the Siegfried Line on February

25. For the other two corps attacks, the 354th and 368th Fighter Groups shared

the close support missions until the seventeenth, when the 354th Fighter

Group, now flying P–51s again, concentrated on armed reconnaissance and

fighter sweeps. Then the 368th and 371st Fighter Groups picked up the army

Air Power for Patton’s Army

250

Ninth Air Force fighters entrenched in snow
Map 22

West-Central Germany

and Belgium, 1945: 

Rhineland Campaign Operations

February 8–March 5, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 65a, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
“cooperation” mission, or what air leaders increasingly termed close air support.26

During the West Wall assault in February, the command followed its

practice of assigning specific fighter-bomber groups to cover specific army

corps. That permitted the aviators to become entirely familiar with the methods of particular ground controllers and with special combat conditions in a

given area. In the Eifel, the 362d Fighter Group normally supported XII Corps

and the 371st Fighter Group covered XX Corps. General Weyland, however,

preferred to retain flexibility in mission assignments. The VIII Corps, for

example, received close air support from all but the 367th Fighter Group,

which generally flew armed reconnaissance missions. Moreover, individual

squadrons from the same group often supported different corps on the same

day, then followed their cooperation mission with armed reconnaissance or

bomber escort flights. In short, the command continued to adjust its priorities

and assignments as rapidly as circumstances dictated.27

Gradually, close air support sorties began to outnumber those for armed

reconnaissance/interdiction. In fact, even during the first 12 days of February,

the command flew the same number of sorties for both close air support and

interdiction missions. Thereafter close air support became the command’s priority program until the breakthrough to Prum on February 25. Although the

statistical record does not always clearly distinguish between mission types,

operational records indicate that from February 12–25, XIX TAC pilots flew

1,494 close air support and 1,315 armed reconnaissance/interdiction sorties.

For the entire month of February, close support outnumbered armed reconnaissance sorties by 1,976 to 1,884. Third Army ground forces’ offensive

requirements meant that close air support, normally last on the doctrinal-mission priority scale, became the first and most important mission in early 1945.28

The high level of close support flying might suggest that Weyland’s

pilots flew many missions against the pillboxes that dominated Germany’s

West Wall defenses. The air commander always considered this type of target

better suited to attack by army artillery or medium and heavy bombers in spite

of earlier evaluations that suggested fighter-bombers armed with at least

1,000-lb. general-purpose bombs stood the best chance against this type of

heavily defended target. How much effort did General Weyland accord West

Wall pillboxes and river defenses? In this period of static warfare, did his fighter-bombers replace artillery against these difficult targets in the immediate battle zone? Records suggest that most close air support targets involved attacks

on troop concentrations, convoys, rail yards, and fortified towns near or at the

front line. In fact, when the 362d Fighter Group reported attacking a pillbox

on February 16, it proved to be the only recorded occasion in the entire

Siegfried Line offensive of February when command fighter-bombers struck

such targets. Although General Weyland willingly gave close support requirements priority during ground offensives, he remained uncompromising about

Air Power for Patton’s Army

252
what he deemed proper targets for his forces and Patton invariably supported

him. Pillboxes and casemented guns never appeared on General Weyland’s list

of approved targets—unless the ground forces faced an emergency situation.

He much preferred to leave these to Third Army’s artillery batteries and special assault teams. Relying on previous experience in Lorraine, the airmen

concentrated on repelling enemy counterattacks and protecting bridgeheads.29

In February the weakened state of the Luftwaffe encouraged Weyland to

experiment with new tactics. Indeed, the Luftwaffe seldom appeared during the

February attack on the Siegfried Line. During the first 12 days of the month,

fighters destroyed only one plane in the air and ten on the ground. From that

time until February 25, even better weather did not bring out the Luftwaffe in

force. As a result, command claims were a modest 18 aircraft destroyed in the

air and four on the ground. The Luftwaffe’s relative inactivity convinced

Weyland to forego squadron-sized missions and initiate four-plane close air

support flights, the command’s major tactical adjustment for the spring of

1945. On February 20, the 371st Fighter Group flew four-plane sweeps over

XX Corps divisions continuously from first light to sunset. Although the small

flights had been flown occasionally in the past in lieu of the normal eight- or

twelve-plane squadron mission, the 371st Fighter Group began what immediately became common practice for all close air support flying during the next

three and a half weeks.30

General Weyland considered conditions especially good for using the

four-plane flight. The modest Luftwaffe threat meant that the command could

risk low-level bombing and strafing runs without the protection of a top cover

flight. Flying close to the home base allowed tactical control radars to monitor

the area and alert the flights should Luftwaffe aircraft suddenly appear. In late

February, Weyland also expected the ground action to become more fluid.

Under Third Army’s incessant pressure, retreating enemy forces would be

forced into the open, where they would become excellent targets for the airmen. In short, four-plane missions now could be flown safely and profitably.

Moreover, they proved popular with airmen and field troops alike. From the air

side, it meant that each flight had more time to concentrate on ground targets

because they lost no time coordinating two flights working together. Then, too,

the smaller formation gave new pilots practice flying as mission leaders. As for

Patton’s ground forces, they enjoyed what amounted to the proverbial, albeit

doctrinally proscribed, air umbrella as they came and went throughout the day.

Although the airmen considered the four-plane missions more productive than the larger formations, the statistical record is not entirely clear on the

issue. Indeed, the whole question of tactical air power’s effectiveness as it was

applied in this manner remains next to impossible to determine with precision.

The ground force elements receiving this air support, however, harbored no

doubts whatsoever. They judged XIX TAC aircraft as having played a crucial

role in the spring offensive. Nearly every day, the flying command’s intelliThe Final Offensive

253
gence reports referred to complimentary messages from ground units that

received “excellent cooperation” and “splendid support” from XIX TAC fighter-bombers that blunted counterattacks or destroyed enemy positions. General

Weyland, too, never entertained second doubts over his decision to supply this

kind of air coverage at this point in the war. By February 20, 1945, he could

look forward to mobile warfare in the near future. From previous experience

in the Battle for France, he knew Patton’s artillery would have difficulty

advancing rapidly and providing front line coverage by itself. Command of the

air permitted Weyland to take liberties with tactical air doctrine, a doctrine that

favored concentrated use of air power and frowned on penny-packet combat

air patrols. Use of the four-plane flight, however, demonstrated the inherent

flexibility of tactical air power and the ability of the airmen to adapt to changing needs and circumstances. Although Weyland’s airmen believed the small

formations represented the most productive and efficient method of flying in

February, a stronger enemy would have required squadron- or group-sized

missions with perhaps a corresponding decline in efficiency. In short, battle

conditions guided the XIX TAC commander’s actions and determined the

command’s aerial operations.31

Through the Eifel to the Rhine

While the aircraft conversions took place in mid-February, operationally

the command continued to support Third Army’s slow movement through the

Siegfried Line. On February 20, 1945, with the 371st Fighter Group providing

continuous four-plane coverage, XX Corps’ divisions began clearing the SaarMosel Triangle in earnest. In two days of stiff fighting against the Wehrmacht’s

weakened Army Group G, Third Army troops secured the area, and Patton’s

troops poised themselves for the final drive toward Trier. Meanwhile, the 362d

Fighter Group attacked convoys, tanks, and gun positions in the VIII Corps

zone, where General Middleton’s forces finally cleared Dasburg and eliminated the Vianden Bulge (Map 22).

On February 21, the 368th Fighter Group led the command in achieving

a new five-group record of 504 sorties. It divided its 25 missions between XII

Corps’ 5th Infantry Division and units of VIII Corps just to the north, then

making the Third Army’s fifth complete breakthrough of the West Wall. The

group also added two armed reconnaissance missions in the Rhine valley for

good measure. As for the other groups, the 362d and 367th Fighter Groups

flew armed reconnaissance/interdiction missions east of the Rhine as far as

Wuerzburg, while the 371st Fighter Group continued its support of XX Corps’

mopping up operation southwest of Trier.

February 22 proved to be a more important flying day, even though

morning fog grounded General Weyland’s aircraft until midday and limited the

Air Power for Patton’s Army

254
command to 33 missions and 358 sorties. On this day the command participated in Operation Clarion, one of the greatest air shows of the war. For

Clarion, SHAEF planned a massive, theaterwide air assault on Germany’s key

rail and water transportation network launched in conjunction with Operation

Grenade, Ninth Army’s two-week delayed drive to the Rhine. On the twentysecond, more than 8,000 Allied aircraft dropped 8,500 tons of bombs on more

than 200 German targets. The day’s claims included 15 locomotives, 404 railroad cars, 16 barges, 44 buildings, 18 marshaling yards, 78 rail cuts, and 65

Luftwaffe aircraft shot down.32 In Clarion, XIX TAC escorted 25 formations of

medium bombers attacking bridges and marshalling yards east and west of the

Rhine in front of Third Army. At the same time, Weyland ensured Patton’s

The Final Offensive

255

Dicing shot of Saarburg, Germany
front line ground units received sufficient air cover. The 368th Fighter Group

flew just one squadron-sized mission for VIII Corps, while the 362d Fighter

Group flew two missions for XX Corps and one for XII Corps. The fighterbombers also flew armed reconnaissance in conjunction with the bomber

escort missions, once they made sure their big brothers were safe.

Allied planners hoped that the disruption produced in one day by

Operation Clarion would overwhelm German railway repair capabilities and

force the enemy to rely temporarily on motor transport. Their assessment

proved absolutely correct. German vehicles clogged the roadways on February

23, making themselves ideal targets for the fighter-bombers. While the 368th

and 371st Fighter Groups provided what Third Army leaders termed splendid

air cooperation, the other three groups flew armed reconnaissance in the Rhine

region and eastward along key communications routes. A final total of 269

tanks and armored vehicles and 1,308 railroad cars represented a command

record for the number of enemy vehicles claimed destroyed or damaged in a

single day. The total of 527 sorties flown surpassed the month’s previous high

set just two days earlier.33

A few days later, on February 25, 1945, Third Army forces were completely through the Siegfried Line; on the twenty-sixth Bitburg fell to XII

Corps’ 4th Armored Division. With the West Wall defenses breached, the time

had arrived for General Patton to exploit his position, provided he could convince reluctant superiors that a Third Army offensive had the best chance

against the enemy. Yet Allied attention in late February still focused on the

northern sector where, under Montgomery’s command, General Simpson’s

Ninth Army had crossed the Roer River and began the drive to the Ruhr (Map

31). The Eifel remained a secondary front. Patton wanted to drive his army

forward, seizing every opportunity that promised rapid gains. His immediate

objective became the city of Trier. In Versailles, General Eisenhower remained

unconvinced that a major thrust should occur in the Eifel. Then, on February

25, General Bradley arrived at Third Army’s Luxembourg City headquarters

and notified Patton to cease attacking and prepare to designate and hold one

infantry and one armored division as SHAEF reserves. Appalled, General

Patton, his corps commanders, and his air commander importuned Bradley otherwise. Weyland expressed the frustration felt by all in his diary that evening:

If this episode could be truly written up, it would be a remarkable historical occasion. An Army commander, Tactical Air

Commander, and 3 corps commanders pleading for permission to continue to fight against the German Army they had

defeated!34

Their entreaties caused Bradley to relent and, perhaps contrary to the

orders he received, to allow Patton to proceed against Trier, but under severe

Air Power for Patton’s Army

256
time limits for use of the 10th Armored Division. Originally assigned to

SHAEF reserve, the division was on loan to Patton only until that day,

February 25. During the conference at Luxembourg City, Bradley agreed to

extend the loan of the 10th Division for another 48 hours. Meanwhile, 4th

Armored Division spearheads, which led the way, were gaining up to ten miles

a day as pressure mounted on both Bitburg and Trier. Three days later, at the

end of February, Bitburg was cleared, and elements of the 76th Infantry

Division were within three miles of Trier. Direct air support for the offensive

continued to come primarily from the 368th and 371st Fighter Groups, while

the other groups flew armed reconnaissance along the Rhine.35

With Third Army returned to mobile operations at the end of February

1945, the airmen looked forward to propelling its troops on to the Rhine River.

Yet bad weather and the rapidity of the ground advance eventually conspired

to limit the effectiveness of the air arm. During the first three days of March,

however, with good weather, the 368th and 371st Fighter Groups provided

excellent cooperation to XII Corps’ 76th and 5th Infantry Divisions near

Bitburg and to XX Corps’ 10th Armored Division, which spearheaded the

drive on Trier from the southwest (Map 22). On each of the three days close

air support accounted for over half of the missions flown, and the 368th Fighter

Group established a new record for the command with 124 close air support

sorties on March 3. Ground forces continued to shower XIX TAC pilots with

praise.

By March 3, 1945, Trier had fallen and the XX and XII Corps joined

forces at the Mosel River. General Patton now planned an VIII Corps attack

across the Prüm River and a strike for the Rhine at Brohl, with the 11th

Armored Division in the lead. The major thrust, however, would come from

XII Corps, which would attack from its Kyll River bridgehead and send the 4th

Armored Division racing along the north bank of the Mosel to intersect the

Rhine at Andernach. Meanwhile, XX Corps would send one division north

along the Mosel as far as Bernkassel while consolidating its positions around

Trier (Map 22).36

Unfortunately for the XIX TAC, the next five days repeated those of early

February. Low overcast, drizzle, snow showers, and generally poor visibility

grounded the air arm almost completely and Third Army began its offensive

toward the Rhine without air support. Weather for the remainder of March

proved generally good and, compared with February’s weather, certainly offered

much better flying conditions. In fact, the command flew a total of 12,427 sorties in March, the highest monthly figure for the entire campaign.37

With Operation Veritable proceeding in the north, Third Army resumed

its drive to the Rhine as a part of Operation Lumberjack, which involved a

coordinated assault by First and Third Armies. Lumberjack called for First

Army’s VII Corps, which had been protecting Ninth Army’s right flank in late

February, to turn toward Cologne. Once there, part of its forces would wheel

The Final Offensive

257
southeast and head for the Rhine near its junction with the Ahr River, then continue south to meet Patton’s forces (Map 23). On March 5, 1945, VII Corps

forces entered the bombed-out city of Cologne and XII Corps jumped off in

force on a solid 15-mile front with 4th Armored Division in the lead. Late on

March 7, it was poised on the last ridge before Andernach, while remnants of

nine German divisions scrambled to escape south of the Mosel or across the

Rhine. The poor roads and rugged countryside now presented a greater problem to Patton’s troops than did enemy resistance. On March 8, the day after

First Army troops made the first Allied crossing of the Rhine at Remagen, elements of the 4th Armored Division reached Andernach, culminating an

advance of 52 miles in 58 hours!38 Sidelined by the weather, the airmen compared the swift drive through the Eifel to the Brittany Blitz of the previous

summer. With the enemy disorganized and in rapid retreat, Patton’s armor

could advance rapidly without benefit of air cover.

On March 9, 1945, shortly after he returned from a week’s rest on the

French Riviera, General Weyland met with General Patton and his staff to discuss the course ahead. Although the Third Army commander did not hide his

eagerness to cross the Rhine, he decided against taking undue risks. Ultra data

indicated that the Germans expected him to attempt a Rhine crossing between

Niederlahnstein and Ruedesheim. As a result, after first securing the West

Bank, he planned to cross the Rhine 20 miles farther south, after crossing the

Mosel above Trier and ensuring protection of his supply lines. He also requested that Weyland’s fighter-bombers protect XII Corps’ right flank, especially

along the Mosel. The air commander immediately passed these instructions to

his reconnaissance officer and Colonel Ferguson.39

Meanwhile, the 4th Armored Division continued south along the west

bank of the Rhine and moved on Coblenz in conjunction with VIII Corps

forces. Infantry formations from the two corps, which had been left far behind,

continued to mop up and secure territory north of the Mosel. The XIX TAC

now concentrated on column cover for the armored spearheads, but it provided little cover for the infantry. The rapid pace of the armored advance created

a “series of pockets too small to permit employment of air power” to support

infantry units. Without air liaison officers or a clear separation between

Patton’s troops and the enemy’s, Weyland chose not to fly close air support for

the infantry. Instead, the fighters focused on armed reconnaissance, while tactical reconnaissance P–51s kept a close watch on the Mosel River. Although

infrequent in the XIX TAC–Third Army experience, instances like this help

explain why officers serving in armored divisions generally expressed much

more satisfaction with XIX TAC air support than did infantry officers.40

With the ground assault gathering momentum in March, Weyland prepared to test the mobility of his command once again. He considered using

Trier’s airfield for two fighter-bomber groups, but that required extending the

runway on both ends with pierced steel planking to achieve the needed fightAir Power for Patton’s Army

258
Map 23

West-Central Germany

and Belgium, 1945:

The Rhineland Campaign 

Operations March 6–10, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 65b, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
er-bomber length of 5,000 feet. It is unclear whether the time needed to prepare

a longer runway caused the air commander to change his mind. In any event,

he altered course immediately and earmarked the airfield for the 10th Photo

Reconnaissance Group, whose lightly loaded aircraft did not require the longer

runway. The first tactical reconnaissance squadron arrived on March 15 to provide coverage of the Mosel flank. The remainder of the group arrived on the

twenty-ninth. Weyland had no immediate plans for additional airfields west of

the Rhine, but he already had his sights on bases farther east in the Frankfurt

area.41 Indeed, by March 12, 1945, Third Army forces had eliminated all organized resistance along the western bank of the Rhine. They now prepared for a

new operation that would create a disaster for Gen. Hans Felber’s Seventh

German Army, Operation Undertone, which centered on a drive by General

Patch’s Seventh Army from the Siegfried Line near Saarbruecken to the Rhine

at Mainz.

In early March 1945, General Patton passed to General Bradley an even

more audacious plan, one that gave to Third Army a larger role predicated on

the position achieved in its recent gains. In this plan, the 4th Armored Division

would continue south along the Rhine to sever German communications and

eventually link up with U.S. Seventh Army units, while other XII Corps forces

would attack southeast across the lower Mosel from Coblenz to Trier. To complete the trap, XX Corps would swing southeast of Trier and strike the German

First Army troops, still in the Sigfried Line defenses, from the rear. That would

ease pressure on Seventh Army troops attempting to force their way through

the West Wall and destroy the bulk of the German forces remaining west of the

Rhine (Map 24).

In deciding in favor of this plan, both Generals Bradley and Patton recognized that the greater operational commitment for the Third Army would

prevent its transfer either to Field Marshal Montgomery’s 21st Army Group in

the north or to General Devers’s 6th Army Group in the south. Moreover, it

was a bold, well-designed plan. If it worked, the entire German First and

Seventh Armies, then positioned west of the Rhine, would be trapped between

the Saar, Mosel, and Rhine rivers. Weyland hoped the good weather would

permit maximum support from his fighter-bombers.42

Springing the Saar-Mosel-Rhine Trap—and

Across the Rhine River

On March 13, 1945, Patton launched his offensive with the 4th Armored

Division attacking across the Mosel toward Mainz, while VIII Corps’ divisions moved on Coblenz. From its Trier bridgehead, XX Corps assaulted West

Wall defenses with three divisions. What the Allies termed the Saar-MoselRhine trap began to close on the German First and Seventh Armies almost at

Air Power for Patton’s Army

260
Map 24

West-Central Germany

and Belgium, 1945:

The Rhineland Campaign

Operations, March 11–21, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 66a, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
once. Blessed with a series of good weather days for a change, the XIX TAC

also began what became perhaps the most outstanding ten-day period in the

command’s history. Relying on proven fighter-bomber-tactical reconnaissance

coordination, it would provide wall-to-wall air support that seemed limited

only by the difficulty of keeping pace with the ground forces. At the same time

it suffered exceedingly high aircraft losses.43

Once the morning fog cleared on March 13, the 371st Fighter Group

covered the XX Corps’ front near Trier throughout the day with 16, 4-plane

close support missions, while the 362d Fighter Group supported both the VIII

Corps and XII Corps sectors with six 8-plane and two 16-plane armed reconnaissance missions throughout the afternoon and early evening. This left the

remaining three groups available to provide armed reconnaissance, to fly

escort and leaflet missions, and to strike pinpoint interdiction targets. The following day, the same pattern prevailed with the 362d and 371st Fighter Groups

each flying 20 close air support missions for XII and XX Corps, respectively,

yet able to fly armed reconnaissance as well.

Third Army’s sudden advance unhinged the entire German defensive line

south of the Mosel from Trier to Coblenz. Realizing Patton’s intentions, the

Wehrmacht began a frantic mass evacuation to escape the rapidly closing trap.

The resultant congestion of surface traffic reminded airmen of similar turkey

shoots that had occurred in France and again late in the Ardennes Battle. In the

words of one XIX TAC official, it was a “fighter-bomber’s paradise.” Tactical

reconnaissance aircraft continued the well-established practice of spotting

retreating columns and calling in fighter-bombers, then leading them to the targets. For the first time in the war, German columns, often consisting of as

many as 1,000 closely packed vehicles, preferred to pull over, show the white

flag, and surrender rather than risk further strafing attacks. Pilot claims of

German transport destroyed were understandably high. Because the retreating

columns contained little armor, the pilots normally abandoned bombs and

napalm in favor of strafing and rocket attacks. Mindful of the Brittany

Campaign the previous summer, they also realized that any bombs dropped

would only crater the roads and slow the Allied advance. Vehicles destroyed

by strafing, however, could be quickly pushed aside. The 362d and 368th

Fighter Groups shared honors as “the rocket groups,” and they had a “field

day” against the German massed withdrawal in the XII Corps zone.44

On March 15, 1945, Weyland proudly announced that his forces had

compiled the highest mission rate ever attained for a five-group command in a

single day. Of the 101 missions (involving 643 sorties) flown, fully 58 were in

direct support of the ground forces. Although the command did not surpass the

101 mission figure to the rest of the campaign, the daily sortie rate for a fivegroup command continued to climb and break existing records. On March 18,

for example, the command achieved a record 714 sorties and claimed 1,022

vehicles destroyed in what Third Army officers called magnificent air cooperAir Power for Patton’s Army

262
ation. On that day alone, the 371st Fighter Group flew 144 close support sorties, while the 362d Fighter Group, which the 4th Armored Division requested by name, flew 178. Such high figures proved typical of operations from

March 15–23, as German forces struggled to escape the trap. By March 18,

VIII Corps had nearly cleared Coblenz, while rampaging columns of the 4th

Armored Division neared Mainz and Worms and sliced through the Palatinate

farther west.45

With the remaining German forces west of the Rhine facing annihilation,

XIX TAC prepared to counter any effort mounted by the Luftwaffe. About onethird of the approximately 400 daily Luftwaffe sorties were directed against the

Remagen bridgehead. Earlier, on March 7, elements of General Hodges’s 9th

Armored Division reached Remagen just south of Bonn in time to prevent

German demolition teams from destroying that bridge across the Rhine. This

span permitted the first Allied bridgehead on the East Bank and compelled

General Eisenhower to reconsider his original plan that conceded the main

thrust in northern Germany to Montgomery’s forces.46 Despite the Luftwaffe’s

focus on the Remagen bridgehead, Third Army continued to report German air

activity, and General Weyland’s pilots eagerly sought out encounter missions.

The 354th Fighter Group’s P–51s gained the lion’s share of enemy aircraft

destroyed, but poorly piloted Luftwaffe aircraft proved no match for the P–47s

either. On March 16, for example, the 354th and the 362d Fighter Groups

accounted for 13 enemy aircraft shot down in air combat.

The command lost only one aircraft to enemy air action from March

13–24, yet its heavy air commitment during the Third Army Rhine Offensive

led to a loss of 59 for the month. Only December’s toll was higher, and in that

The Final Offensive

263

Troops of the 90th Infantry Division crossing the Mosel River
month the Ardennes Offensive was at its height. The command lost 34 of these

59 aircraft in the effort to spring the Saar-Mosel-Rhine trap; most were downed

by flak. This is not surprising because more light flak units now joined the

retreating convoys. Although the command and Ninth Air Force took great care

to report aircraft losses accurately, only half of the March total is identified with

flak. “Unknown” is the category cited for most of the remaining half. Other

losses were incurred due to crashes and a midair collision. One must presume

that enemy flak claimed the majority of aircraft lost to “unknown” causes.47

In relating losses to particular mission types, unit records show that XIX

TAC lost more than twice as many aircraft on close air support missions than

it did on armed reconnaissance/interdiction missions. Air force doctrine

judged Priority III Close Air Support missions to be the most dangerous and

least cost-effective in terms of results and losses. Pilots on armed reconnaissance and close air support missions, however, attacked remarkably similar

targets, most of them trains, marshaling yards, and road convoys. In any event,

low-level strafing represented the common denominator for both missions.

Here the fighter-bomber was the most effective but also the most exposed to

enemy surface defenses and likely to suffer high losses.48

Loss figures should be used with care when measuring the success or

effectiveness of particular fighter groups. The 362d Maulers provide an

example. Long considered one of the command’s top groups, the Maulers

Air Power for Patton’s Army

264

A tank destroyer of the 4th Armored Division crossing a treadway bridge over

the Mosel River.
were showered with praise in the last three months of the war for their outstanding work with XII Corps’ 4th Armored Division. Unfortunately, the

group also lost 21 airplanes in March, one of the more unhappy records of the

campaign. Little in the documentary record explains the 362d Fighter

Group’s high losses. Operational reports cite a variety of causes, with

“unknown” and “flak” recorded approximately equally. Although the group

flew close air support missions for the most part, so too did the 371st Fighter

Group, which lost a mere four aircraft in March. On the other hand, former

371st Fighter Group pilot Lieutenant Burns recalled that the Maulers had a

reputation for aggressive, if not occasionally reckless, flying. Its commanders, he recalled, allowed 362d pilots great latitude in flying operations.

Commanders of the 371st, on the other hand, demanded that pilots avoid

excessive risks. Despite the Maulers’ loss rate, nothing suggests that the command viewed this group with less confidence or more concern. However high

its losses, the 362d Fighter Group also claimed more unit and individual

records than any other.49

The command counted aircraft losses per 1,000 sorties as its unit of measure. During February, March, and April 1945, a XIX TAC average of 5.2 aircraft lost per 1,000 sorties was the lowest for the entire campaign. If losses

appear high, the command also had a high sortie rate. Colonel Hallett’s

Intelligence Flak Section continued to publicize all known flak locations in special reports and the daily intelligence summaries. His section also distributed

photographs of flak sites, took care to brief this information to pilots, and recommended attack headings to minimize the threat. Even so, XIX TAC command lost nearly as many aircraft in April when it targeted heavily defended

Luftwaffe airfields for a knockout blow against the remaining German air

force.50

By mid-March 1945, the fast-moving U.S. First and Third Armies at the

Rhine River dominated Allied discussion and planning. As Third Army’s

advance across the Mosel and down the West Bank of the Rhine gained

momentum, Allied leaders reassessed the roles first planned for the 12th and

6th Army Groups. In a meeting with General Eisenhower at Seventh Army

headquarters in Luneville on March 17, General Devers, commander of the 6th

Army Group, agreed that Patton’s troops could cross his group’s boundary line

in their quest for maximum destruction of the enemy. Patton, however,

remained obsessed with crossing the Rhine before either Montgomery in the

north or Devers in the south. Earlier, Eisenhower authorized only Devers’s 6th

Army Group to establish Rhine bridgeheads in the south, a decision that rankled Patton. With his army advancing rapidly, a Rhine crossing had become a

real possibility, especially when it would upstage the slow-moving, methodical preparations of Field Marshal Montgomery in the north. On March 19,

Patton got the word he wanted: General Bradley ordered him to take the river

on the run. Two days later the Supreme Commander confirmed Bradley’s

The Final Offensive

265
266

Thunderbolt hits on trucks

and railroads
The Final Offensive

267

injunction, authorizing both Third and Seventh Armies to cross whenever the

opportunity presented itself. These directives, along with Ultra’s confirmation

of weak German defenses, were all that Patton needed.51

On March 20, 1945, while Third Army continued to harry the enemy and

insured that bridging equipment would be ready for a crossing, General

Weyland directed flying cooperation missions to attack German convoys frantically fleeing eastward toward Speyer, the only West Bank crossing point

remaining to the enemy. That day the 362d and 371st Fighter Groups, assisted

by two squadrons from the 367th Fighter Group, turned the attack on surface

forces into a slaughter. Next day, on March 22, Weyland accompanied General

Patton on a jeep tour that extended from Saarburg eastward well beyond

Kaiserslautern. The XIX TAC commander described the enormous destruction

of surface convoys from air action as “terrific,” and commented on the thousands of refugees and unarmed Germans that now clogged the roads. One of

the most vivid scenes occurred along the Bad Durkeim–Frankenstein road east

of Kaiserslautern. Here, XX Corps headquarters reported that Allied officials

witnessed the remains of an entire German division “massacred by the Air

Corps.” The “twisted mass of death and destruction...is so enormous that the

mind cannot measure it!”52

Patton’s mobile operations once again challenged the tactical air forces

to keep pace with a swiftly advancing ground offensive, a challenge accentuated by the increasing distance from the flying fields. By the third week in

March, the flying distance to Rhine valley targets required an hour’s time in

each direction for aircraft flying armored column cover, and longer for armed

reconnaissance flights east of the Rhine. The tactical control center’s radar

Generals Patton, Eisenhower, and Devers
found it increasingly difficult to keep these flights on the radar scopes, and

land line communications had to be abandoned in favor of FM radio links.

Even though the command believed that an emergency supply of long-range

fuel tanks solved the air support problem, it is clear that shorter en route distances would have permitted significantly more loiter time in the target area.

Although the fighter-bombers achieved great success interdicting a retreating

enemy, if even more effort had been devoted to this mission, air power might

have prevented more of the Wehrmacht’s First and Seventh Armies from

escaping across the Rhine.53

As Third Army forces approached the Rhine on March 21, General

Weyland executed a well-prepared air plan to support a successful crossing.

For several days, both reconnaissance aircraft and fighters flying armed reconnaissance missions kept the potential crossing area near Mainz under close

observation to monitor any buildup or defensive construction. Beginning on

the twenty-first, Weyland altered the reconnaissance plan to permit constant

reconnaissance of the front lines. This included six missions along the

Darmstadt-Frankfurt-Aschaffenburg route and five on either flank.54 At the

same time, armed reconnaissance/interdiction, performed primarily by the

368th and 367th Fighter Groups, focused on communications centers east of

the river that might be staging sites for potential reinforcements. Although targets included important motor transportation facilities and ordnance and supply depots, the fighter-bombers targeted the railroad system in particular. The

368th and 367th Fighter Groups flew 29 squadron-sized rail-cutting missions

in an arc from Limburg south to Mannheim. Claims for the two days totaled

an impressive 112 rail lines severed (Map 25). To preclude any interference

from the Luftwaffe, Weyland directed continuous day and night air patrols on

March 22 and 23. Command P–51s flew 19 patrol missions on March 22 and

31 area cover missions on March 23, while P–61 Black Widows provided the

same coverage at night. Moreover, beginning on March 21, an Allied air

assault against German airfields took place all along the front, which rendered

many Luftwaffe bases unserviceable.

Patton’s forces indeed hit the river on the run, and the 5th Infantry

Division crossed the Rhine near Oppenheim on the night of March 22, 1945,

meeting only token opposition. The following day the Luftwaffe did mount a

serious effort to destroy this Third Army bridgehead. Although it flew an

impressive 150 fighter sorties on March 23 the Germans lost 22 aircraft in the

attacks. Unlike the Rhine crossing next day, on the evening of the twenty-third,

by Field Marshal Montgomery’s enormous force to the north in Operation

Varsity, the XIX TAC–Third Army team needed no massive air or artillery barrage preparations. Third Army’s rapid offensive had destroyed any significant

opposition that might have defended on the east bank of the Rhine, while fighter-bomber attacks against German forces on land and in the sky “gave General

Patton confidence that no dangerous force could be brought against him.”55

Air Power for Patton’s Army

268
Map 25

Germany: Crossing 

the Rhine, Operations,

March 22-28, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 68, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
Once More: “Blitz Warfare U.S. Style”

On March 21, 1945, the day before the 5th Infantry Division crossed the

Rhine and established a bridgehead at Oppenheim, General Patton told his air

commander that the XIX TAC and the Third Army “have again been committing treason in reverse as we did so happily in August and September. By this

I mean that instead of giving aid and comfort to the enemy, we have been giving him pain and discomfort, and doing it in a big way. Let us keep it up!”56

General Weyland relayed Patton’s words to his air units, adding, “XIX

TAC–Third Army again is showing the world what a perfectly coordinated

fighting air-ground team can do. I knew that you would be with me to a man

when I assured General Patton that we would ‘keep it up’ with the Third

Army.” By the spring of 1945, the cooperative spirit established in France had

spread from the leadership throughout the lower echelons of the air-ground

team.57

Like the rapid dash across France, the planned drive into the heart of

Germany promised to stretch the lines of communication and again challenge

Weyland’s forces to keep pace with the swift ground offensive. Armored column cover and armed reconnaissance would certainly be the primary missions

against lucrative enemy targets on the roads. General Weyland knew that the

speed of the advance once again would likely require air cover for Third

Army’s exposed flanks and greater reliance on reconnaissance. The air commander also realized, without the pernicious distraction of a Brittany, that the

airmen did not have to protect an extended front expanding in opposite directions. Moreover, the Allies were better supplied to confront an enemy that,

despite fighting on his homeland, seemed on the brink of collapse. Perhaps

most important, air and ground forces both brought months of combat experience to the final offensive.

On the evening of March 23, 1945, while Field Marshal Montgomery

initiated Operation Varsity in the north, featuring two entire airborne divisions

leading the air assault portion of his highly publicized and elaborately prepared Rhine crossing, General Patton readied his forces for an advance from

the Oppenheim bridgehead on the Rhine to the Main River, 30 miles to the

northeast. The next day armored columns of the hard-driving 4th Armored

Division bypassed Darmstadt and dashed toward Hanau and Aschaffenburg.

On March 25, they seized bridgeheads at both of these sites on the Main River,

while other XII Corps forces closed on Frankfurt. Further north, VIII Corps

units made two additional Rhine crossings south of Coblenz on the twentyfifth and moved toward Limburg on the Lahn River. General Walker’s XX

Corps troops crossed two days later, then moved north to join VIII Corps units

and encircle Wiesbaden before driving toward Giessen and a planned link-up

with First Army (Map 25).

Air Power for Patton’s Army

270
The speed and relative ease of the ground advance now owed as much to

the air support provided by General Weyland’s fighter-bombers as it did to

enemy collapse. Good weather prevailed until March 29, when Third Army

had all three army corps across the Rhine and well on their way northeast.

Following past practice, General Weyland assigned a specific air group to support each of the army corps. The 367th Fighter Group’s P–47s provided

armored column cover for General Eddy’s XII Corps pacesetters exclusively,

and drew rave reviews from the corps commander. The VIII and XX Corps

crossings and breakouts received air cover from the 368th and 362d Fighter

Groups, respectively.

With the 367th Fighter Group leading the way, the 371st, 362d, and

368th Fighter Groups flew armed reconnaissance in front of the advancing

troops as far east as Giessen and Schweinfurt. The fighter-bombers found the

roads congested with German convoys fleeing eastward as Third Army’s

rapidly moving armored forces allowed no time for the German Seventh

Army to organize defenses. On March 27, in spite of restrictive flying weather, the airmen claimed more than 1,000 motorized vehicles destroyed or

damaged. Claims for March 23–28, before bad weather set in, were impressive: 3,100 vehicles, 211 locomotives, and 2,954 railroad cars. Yet the pilots

eagerly looked ahead to the following month when longer days and the

weatherman’s promise of better weather offered prospects of the campaign’s

best flying.

The command’s Mustangs had an equally important role. The 354th

Fighter Group’s P–51s flew eight-plane area cover missions over the Rhine

The Final Offensive

271

Third Army crossing the Rhine River
and Main bridgeheads, readily accepting any Luftwaffe challenge. Although

the enemy directed its primary effort against Montgomery’s forces threatening

the Ruhr industrial region, its 150 sorties flown against the Oppenheim bridgehead on March 23 represented an impressive effort. It could not, however, sustain that level of response. Heavy casualties restricted its attack to 60 sorties

on March 24 and all Luftwaffe opposition along the Rhine ended when Third

Army troops overran its bases in the Frankfurt area on March 25.58

Anticipating a wide front and extremely fluid situation in the weeks

ahead, the XIX TAC’s 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group introduced an

important reconnaissance key system on March 28 to uncover potential

enemy attacks. Group and Army intelligence personnel plotted 33 squares,

each representing 20 square miles of territory. Planners gave each square a

name, and the key allowed them to change the air-ground reconnaissance plan

daily by combining two or more squares into the desired area. Once Third

Army overran the squares, a new base line would be established and the key

moved over it. Coverage could be changed merely by a telephone call. The

key system eliminated the need for providing the corps new reconnaissance

overlays every day and gave tactical reconnaissance planners much greater

flexibility.59

In the air-ground arena, fighter-bomber and reconnaissance pilots

achieved new levels of coordination with ground forces through their tactical

air liaison officers. To respond rapidly to the changing situation, tactical reconnaissance aircraft, on March 24, received permission to talk over fighterbomber channels directly with the division air liaison officer, rather than with

his counterpart at corps headquarters. The tactical control center only monitored the VHF transmissions. This procedure enabled a division to request

reconnaissance directly from the pilots and, after receiving the reports, immediately divert fighter-bombers in the vicinity to any reported targets.

In this change, which decentralized air-ground operations even further,

air leaders advanced another step down the road of providing dedicated air

support for ground forces. To be sure, AAF air liaison officers retained operational control of the aircraft, but the change meant that fighter-bombers could

be diverted by controllers at the front rather than by those in the tactical control center where the information was often outdated. It also became common

practice for fighter-bombers on armed reconnaissance missions to first check

with the corps air liaison officer to learn of any immediate targets before flying his assigned route. Such were the needs of mobile warfare and the pragmatic solutions that tactical air officers adopted to meet the problems they

faced. Although such procedures might have proved of value in static situations, air leaders in those circumstances preferred to rely on more traditional

methods of centralized control.60

While Weyland, in late March 1945, considered the challenge of moving

his aircraft to bases farther forward, he became aware of a Third Army operaAir Power for Patton’s Army

272
tion that proved to be one of the most controversial of General Patton’s career.

On March 27, a security blackout affected all activities concerning the 4th

Armored Division which, as Weyland recorded in his diary, had sent a combat

team of more than 300 men 50 kilometers east of Aschaffenburg to a POW

camp. Rather than send a large, heavily defended force, Patton elected to send

a small task force far behind enemy lines to liberate a camp near Hammelburg

that Allied intelligence knew contained many Americans, including, most likely, Patton’s son-in-law, Col. John Waters. Unfortunately, a German observation plane spotted the American force as it approached the camp. Shortly after

liberating many prisoners and setting out on the return journey, German forces

cut off and decimated the rescue force. Critics ever since have charged that

Patton, for personal reasons, recklessly jeopardized the main task force in a

very risky operation of questionable value.61

Whatever the validity of these accusations, given the impressive airground coordination in evidence by late March 1945, one must ask why Third

Army planners failed to provide for air support in this operation? Intended as

a highly secret, quick-strike mission, no ground controller was assigned to the

task force to call on F–6s and P–47s in case of emergency. Even the bad weather on March 29–30 would not have prevented Weyland from sending his aircraft to help. One can only speculate whether air-ground coordination would

have been sufficient to save the mission. Such a contingency seems not to have

been considered by Patton, who apparently planned and executed the operation without consulting his air commander. 

While General Patton dealt with the abortive rescue mission, his three

rampaging armored divisions pushed northeastward deeper into Germany.

Typically, 4th Armored Division led the assault. By March 31, its forward elements approached the Fulda River, more than 100 miles northeast of their

Rhine bridgehead. Indeed, by the end of the month, Third Army had cleared

the Rhein-Main triangle and had linked up with First and Seventh Armies on

its flanks. Meanwhile, after crossing the Rhine in force, Montgomery prepared

to lead the Allied assault to the Elbe, then on to Berlin. To his profound displeasure, Eisenhower decided to shift the main effort in the north from

Montgomery’s to Bradley’s group, thereby de-emphasizing the drive toward

Berlin. By month’s end, the unhappy field marshal would lose Simpson’s

Ninth Army to Bradley’s 12th Army Group and occupy a supporting role

guarding Bradley’s northern flank (Map 26).62

As the Third Army advance continued, General Weyland acted promptly to bring his own command forward. When Third Army moved its command

post on March 27, from Luxembourg City to Idar-Oberstein, 30 miles east of

Trier, the air commander sent along his X-Ray liaison detachment, again

directed by Weyland’s chief of staff Colonel Browne. In this manner, the air

arm maintained close coordination with General Patton until the XIX TAC

advance headquarters arrived. This occurred shortly thereafter, when Weyland

The Final Offensive

273
Map 26

Germany, 1944: 

Encirclement of the Ruhr, 

Operations, March 29–April 4, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 69, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
sent the advance elements to Oberstein in two echelons to maintain communications and operational continuity. By the end of the month, advance headquarters operated from Oberstein, and rear headquarters personnel began moving from Chalons to Luxembourg City.63

Moving the flying groups forward proved more difficult. At the Third

Army morning briefing on March 26, General Weyland learned that the

ground forces had already liberated several airfields in the Frankfurt area. He

acted promptly to claim them for XIX TAC. That same day he conferred with

his chief of staff for operations, Colonel Ferguson, and his chief engineer,

Colonel Smyser, who continued as commander of the IX Engineer

Command’s 2d Brigade. Weyland had an experienced team facing a familiar

challenge.64 Both the engineers and the operations officers wanted to base the

groups in a cluster of airfields, which would maximize command and control

and ease the burden of maintenance and supply. On the other hand, in view of

the speed of the ground offensive, the engineers decided that they would

improve existing German sod and hard-surfaced airfields rather than build new

ones. General Weyland willingly accepted the use of British steel-meshed

track for surfacing instead of the heavier American pierced steel-plank to

accelerate the conversion of German fields.65

Indeed, Weyland tried to operate from fields east of the Rhine the very

next day (March 27), even though the city of Frankfurt remained unsecured.

He realized the futility of his effort when he visited two of the airfields and

examined the condition of the runways. The Rhein-Main field south of

Frankfurt had been damaged the most, and engineers optimistically estimated

that at least two weeks of work would be required before flying groups could

move in. General Weyland contented himself with making sure the three

Frankfurt sites would go to XIX TAC. On the morning of March 27, after first

clarifying the rapidly changing army group boundaries to make sure the airfields remained within Third Army’s jurisdiction, he called General

Vandenberg to protect his “air interests.” The next day, Ninth Air Force

approved the three airfields in the vicinity of Frankfurt for use by the XIX

TAC, and by month’s end, the mobility planners were hard at work preparing

for the imminent move.66

Defeat of the Luftwaffe

Once General Eisenhower decided, on March 28, 1945, to shift the locus

of the Allied thrust to General Bradley’s 12th Army Group’s central position,

the forces of Bradley and Montgomery had encircled and overrun the Ruhr.

This change meant downgrading the priority assigned to Montgomery’s area,

much to the dismay of the British field marshal, and it bespoke Eisenhower’s

The Final Offensive

275
commitment to a broad-front offensive all along the line. Third Army forces

continued to advance at a breakneck pace, out in front of the other Allied

armies: they cleared Gotha, Kassel, and Mulhausen on April 4 and Eisenach

and Meiningen on the fifth. Supported by its tactical air force, Third Army’s

thrust into Germany in early April reminded the XIX TAC historian of the

sweep through France the previous August (Map 26).67 Eisenhower’s broadfront strategy, however, did not mean an offensive free-for-all. Now, with his

armor moving into good tank country on the Thuringian plain, Patton had to

rein in his army and hold his forces in position, at least until General Hodges’s

First Army troops caught up. If, in the north, the British field marshal resented Eisenhower’s strategy, in the south, the Third Army commander chafed

under restrictions that held him in place (Map 27).68

During the drive northeast in early April, General Weyland maintained

his close air support assignments. For the first eight days of the month, the

367th Fighter Group flew 87, eight-plane missions (including 513 sorties) in

support of XII Corps despite bad weather on three of the days. With the exception of two missions on April 6 for VIII Corps troops clearing Eisenach, the

367th Fighter Group flew every mission for General Eddy’s troops. Likewise,

the 362d Maulers flew every day during the period exclusively for General

Walker’s XX Corps. The 362d Fighter Group played a key role in blunting the

only serious German counterattack of the final weeks at Mulhausen.69 On

April 5, armored elements of XX Corps’ 6th Armored Division cleared the

town of Mulhausen, 20 miles north of Eisenach, freeing 4,000 British POWs

in the process. Then German forces counterattacked two days later, and for

two days the fighting raged fiercely.

In the emergency, General Weyland elected to maintain dedicated support for the XX Corps and armed reconnaissance in advance of the forward

elements, which meant that the 362d Fighter Group alone dealt with the

German counterattacking forces. During a two-day period, it flew 22 close

air support missions (including 264 sorties) for the corps, achieving impressive results. On April 7, for example, corps officers on the scene credited the

362d with destroying 69 armored and 173 motorized vehicles. The best measure of its achievement, however, came from Maj. Gen. Robert W. Grow,

commander of the 6th Armored Division, who claimed his division received

the “finest air cooperation in its history.” The Mulhausen counterattack

proved to be the only significant effort the Wehrmacht mounted against Third

Army in April.70

Luftwaffe remnants, too, reeled under the constant pressure of the air and

ground assault. The XIX TAC set the tone for the month on April 1, when two

fighter groups, the 367th and 371st, attacked two German airfields and

claimed 39 enemy aircraft destroyed on the ground and another 38 damaged.

Next day, two P–51s on a weather reconnaissance mission dispersed a formation they estimated at more than 90 FW 190s and Bf 109s after shooting down

Air Power for Patton’s Army

276
Map 27

Germany, 1944: Reduction of Ruhr

Pocket & Advance to Elbe & Mulde

Rivers, Operations, April 5-18, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 70, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
two with no losses to themselves. Together with other air encounters the next

day, XIX TAC fighters claimed a total of 17 Luftwaffe planes destroyed and

five damaged with a loss of only one P–47.

General Weyland considered the final destruction of the Luftwaffe in the

Third Army operational area the command’s major achievement during April.

During the month his fighters engaged the Luftwaffe every day but one, while

simultaneously maintaining consistent assaults on Luftwaffe bases. As the

month progressed, the Luftwaffe found itself unable to find a safe haven for its

aircraft. Third Army units continued to overrun airfields at an alarming rate

on the ground, and in the air Weyland’s fighter-bombers left no airfield free

from attack. Together with the ever-growing shortage of aviation fuel, the

Luftwaffe, which after the first of April had declined to 400 serviceable flying

machines on the western front, often could mount no more than 150 sorties

daily.71

The command’s aggressive pilots sought combat with the Luftwaffe in

traditional aerial encounters whenever possible. Weyland, however, became

unhappy with the growing number of encounters that involved reconnaissance

aircraft. Despite an existing policy that directed them to avoid combat, on

April 8 reconnaissance pilots claimed ten enemy planes shot down on what the

command historian touted as a “banner day.” General Weyland thought otherwise, responding with terse messages to the 12th and 15th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadrons directing pilots to avoid unnecessary combat. One reconnaissance pilot even came close to a court-martial for participating in a dog

fight. Despite the injunction, however, reconnaissance pilots seemed unable to

avoid air combat as Luftwaffe pilots sought, in particular, to thwart their missions. Although the high incidence of air combat is borne out by the statistical

record for April, these claims should be used with caution. The 10th Photo

Group claimed 41 enemy aircraft destroyed, four probably destroyed, and nine

more damaged for the confirmed price of five of its own lost.72

As part of the Allied air plan in April, General Weyland designated the

Luftwaffe the command’s primary target, with destruction of Germany’s transportation system running a close second. While the 367th and 362d Fighter

Groups provided close air support to ground units, all fighter groups participated in the effort to destroy the Luftwaffe. The 354th, 368th, and 371st Fighter

Groups specialized in daily interdiction missions against a desperate, retreating enemy. Although the April figure of 9,325 motorized vehicles destroyed

fell short of the 9,869 claimed in March, the figures for locomotives and railroad cars were much higher. The command considered this especially significant because of the cumulative effect on the enemy’s rapidly disintegrating

transportation system.73

While his forces continued to lead the way for Third Army’s armored

spearheads at the beginning of April 1945, Weyland oversaw the move of XIX

TAC aircraft to the Frankfurt bases. On April 1, following a meeting with

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Third Army officials on the ground plan, he outlined his movement plan. His

command met this timetable for the most part:74

Group Location Proposed Date Actual Date

10th P/R Ober Olm (Y-64) ASAP Apr 3

371st Eschborn (Y-74) ASAP Apr 4

354th Ober Olm after Apr 15 Apr 9 

362d Rhein-Main (Y-73) Apr 8 Apr 16

368th Rhein-Main Apr 15 Apr 16

367th Eschborn Apr 10 Apr 10

Rhein-Main airfield proved to be the only problem. Its concrete runway,

severely damaged in a campaign to decimate bases housing turbojet aircraft,

required constant maintenance to remain operational. The air commanders soon

preferred the sod strips for their efficient drainage and consistent operation, but

only after they acquired a layer of square-mesh track.

On April 3, Weyland reviewed logistic requirements for the move with

Colonel Thompson, commander of the rear headquarters. They decided to

request maximum airlift, which they calculated to be 100 C–47 transports for

a ten-day period. That same day Weyland chaired a conference with his communications and operations officers concerning the best locations for the

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Winners and losers: P-51 of the Pioneer Mustang Group, the first plane to be

serviced east of the Rhine, at a field in the Frankfurt area, in the background,

destroyed FW 190 in the foreground.
Air Power for Patton’s Army

280

ground radars. They decided to position the forward director post radars to

ensure coverage of the airfields as well as Third Army’s exposed left flank. In

this regard, they chose to locate the tactical control group and the MEW radar

in the vicinity of Hersfeld, over 125 miles northeast of the Frankfurt area. The

distance, however, did not prove to be a problem and the command maintained

good communications links throughout April.75

On April 4, 1945, General Weyland flew to Luxembourg City for

another meeting on the status of the airfields. Ninth Air Force officials assured

him first priority on movement and stocking the new fields. Yet, General

Weyland received only five C–47s for each group for three days. Once again

airfield movement required ground transport. The IX Service Command chief

arranged for 60 trucks to supplement the command’s vehicles. Unfortunately,

during the move 27 broke down and replacements could not be found. As the

368th Fighter Group historian recounted, unit personnel used whatever transportation could be requisitioned, including captured German vehicles.76

Although this movement occurred with far less difficulty than similar

moves the previous summer, supply bottlenecks and front line shortages on

April 12 convinced Ninth Air Force to prohibit further movement of aerial

units to the Frankfurt airfields until it gave formal approval. By then, howevGenerals Patton; Spaatz, Commanding General, USSTAF; Lt. Gen. James

Doolittle, Commanding General, Eighth Air Force; Lt. Gen. Hoyt S.

Vandenberg, commander, Ninth Air Force (behind Doolittle); and Weyland.
er, only the Rhein-Main airfield remained unoccupied.77 With arrangements

for the move to new airfields in hand, General Weyland stayed over in

Luxembourg City on the fourth and the next day flew—not to Oberstein but to

Frankfurt—to join the initial A party of his advance headquarters. This became

the first of three headquarters moves in April. By April 10, General Weyland

had his forces positioned to provide Third Army effective support when it

altered its line of advance from the northeast to a more easterly direction, and

headed for a bridgehead on the Elbe River and a rendezvous with Soviet

forces. With his groups now operating from the Frankfurt area, Weyland

already had his sights set farther east, on Nuremberg, as the next basing area

for his command.78

Advance to the Mulde River

Despite the impressive gains for Third Army and the XIX TAC during the first 10 days of April, both commanders chafed under the restraints

placed on their offensive. On April 10, Patton’s Third Army attacked east on

a broad front with all three Corps in line (Map 27). In the center, VIII Corps

headed toward Plauen and Chemnitz. On the left, XX Corps drove toward

Jena and Dresden, while XII Corps on the right flank moved southeast in the

direction of Hof and Bayreuth. Taking advantage of good flying weather,

fighter-bombers supported the offensive from first to last light, and the

armored forces made sweeping gains all along the front. By the thirteenth,

Weyland’s pilots reported the 4th Armored Division to be on the outskirts of

Chemnitz, while the 6th Armored approached Altenburg and the 11th neared

Bayreuth.

On April 11, 1945, Generals Eisenhower and Bradley arrived at Third

Army headquarters to view captured gold reserves and visit Ohrdruf, the first

concentration camp overrun by Patton’s troops. Conditions at the camp

shocked and disgusted Weyland and the army officers. A XIX TAC officer

declared afterward that the obvious evidence of Nazi atrocities gave the airmen added incentive to redouble their efforts. At a meeting the following day

Eisenhower explained to a bewildered Patton that the Third Army drive would

not continue to Berlin. Berlin, Eisenhower observed, had no tactical or strategic value, and its capture would burden American troops with responsibility to

care for overwhelming numbers of people. Patton objected, but he would obey.

Later that evening he heard a radio broadcast that reported President Franklin

Roosevelt’s death. At the morning briefing on April 13, Patton told his staff

that the SHAEF commander had ordered Third Army to change course and

move south after securing its present objectives.79

The halt line described by General Eisenhower extended generally along

the Mulde River from Leipzig to Chemnitz (Map 27). This had been the

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281
boundary line established for reconnaissance flights on April 10 by SHAEF at

the start of the eastward drive. On that day, Ninth Air Force told General

Weyland that tactical air would be restricted to a line running along the Mulde

River from Leipzig through Chemnitz to Prague, because of “possible conflict

with Russian air.” Weyland, too, objected. His tactical reconnaissance aircraft

had been patrolling east of the front lines every day in early April to observe

possible German moves to reinforce their troops with forces drawn from the

eastern front. He called General Vandenberg immediately to recommend that

the area be extended eastward to the Torgau-Dresden-Prague axis, which he

considered absolutely essential for reconnaissance. In this instance, the XIX

TAC commander was successful in his quest.80

Operationally, good weather on the first three days of the drive east

found the first fighter-bombers taking off into darkness before the last night

fighter had landed. Continuing the same basic air support assignment pattern,

the 371st and 362d Fighter Groups provided the majority of column cover missions for the armored forces, while the three remaining groups concentrated on

interdiction targets. On April 10, the command claimed 1,075 railroad cars and

455 motor vehicles destroyed, and figures for the next two days were nearly as

impressive. Even three days of restricted weather, from April 13–15, failed to

halt the wholesale destruction of German transportation facilities and equipment. 

The aerial assault also continued against the Luftwaffe. During the

three-day period from April 15–17, the command targeted 18 remaining airfields in central Germany and Czechoslovakia and broke the back of the

remaining Luftwaffe. The best results occurred on April 16, when the 367th

and 368th Fighter Groups claimed 107, setting a new command record with

84 enemy aircraft destroyed and 74 damaged on the ground. The Luftwaffe

also lost an estimated 21 that were destroyed in air combat, mostly to the

354th Pioneer Mustangs. April 16 was a big day against the Luftwaffe all

along the front as Allied claims totaled 50 destroyed and 9 damaged in air

combat and 1,000 destroyed and 581 damaged on the ground. The command

also had one of its best missions involving coordination between fighter and

reconnaissance aircraft. On April 16, a reconnaissance pilot led P–47s from

the 371st Fighter Group to eight different targets: six trains and two marshaling yards.81

By mid-April, fighter-bombers flying close air support were normally

armed only with .50-caliber ammunition for strafing. Although the low stocks

of 500-lb. general-purpose bombs doubtless contributed to this choice, the

shortage of bombs in April proved less severe than it did in March. In any case,

just half of the fighter-bombers on close support missions carried one 500-lb.

bomb, while aircraft flying armed reconnaissance received two 260-lb. fragmentation bombs. The central problem became ensuring that sufficient .50-

caliber armor-piercing incendiary ammunition remain available. Once again

Air Power for Patton’s Army

282
emergency resupply, this time by rail to Frankfurt, alleviated the potential

shortfall.82

By April 16, 1945, with his last two fighter-bomber groups consisting of

90 aircraft in place at Frankfurt’s Rhein-Main airfield, General Weyland began

preparations to secure airfield sites in the vicinity of Nuremberg. He asked

General Patton, who left for a meeting at SHAEF that day, to protect “our

interest” in the Nuremberg airfields. In what now was routine procedure, he

met with key staff members and his group commanders to work out the details

of the next move as well as the next ground offensive. On April 17, Weyland

attended an important conference at Third Army headquarters. He and Patton

discussed the new army–air plan that called for an attack south in the direction

of the so-called German National Redoubt, with the objective of isolating

German resistance and linking up with Soviet forces advancing from Vienna,

Austria (Map 28).83

The new axis of attack required conference attendees to discuss boundaries and force realignments. Third Army relinquished VIII Corps to First

Army; in return it received III Corps, commanded by the aggressive Maj. Gen.

James A. Van Fleet. This redeployment also involved the air command,

because a portion of the command’s 39 tactical air liaison officers needed to

be shifted, as well. Moreover, General Weyland requested Ninth Air Force

send him two additional fighter-bomber groups and another tactical reconnaissance squadron, to be based closer to the expected route of advance on

Nuremberg. Although the XIX TAC commander received the units he requested, the fighter groups did not arrive until near the end of the campaign, after

General Quesada could be confident he no longer needed them in the north.

Their late acquisition had little impact on XIX TAC operations. The 162d

Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, on the other hand, arrived from XII TAC

on April 24, and helped considerably in meeting reconnaissance requirements

during the drive down the Danube valley (Map 28).

Down the Danube Valley to Austria

The last phase of the XIX TAC’s operations against an all but defeated enemy involved effective, if routine, cover for the fast-moving ground

forces and superb coordination between reconnaissance and fighter-bomber

aircraft. At last, on April 17, Third Army received top priority from SHAEF

for its offensive. While its newly acquired III Corps regrouped southeast of

Nuremberg, XII and XX Corps, positioned between Hof and Nuremberg,

jumped off toward the southeast on April 19 (Map 28). Aided by good air

cover, the 11th Armored Division led the dash down the Naab River Valley

toward Regensburg, 40 miles to the southeast. In three days’ time, XII Corps,

now commanded by Maj. Gen. S. Leroy Irwin, was across the Czech border

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283
Map 28

Central Europe, 1944:

End of the War, Final Operations,

April 19–May 7, 1945

SOURCE: Vincent J. Esposito, ed., West Point Atlas of American Wars, V. 2, Map 71, (New York: Praeger, 1960)
and had captured Asch. The XII Corps received support throughout this drive

from its own 362d Fighter Group, while on its right, the 367th Fighter Group

covered XX Corps’ advance to the Danube at Regensburg. Patton’s offensive

proceeded rapidly against a disorganized and dispirited enemy, by now able to

do little more than mount roadblocks and ambush rear echelons.84 At the same

time, General Weyland’s fighter-bombers continued their merciless assault on

German transport and especially, airfields. They bombed seven airfields on

April 19 and ten the next day—their offering on Hitler’s 56th birthday.

Afterward the command’s intelligence section estimated that the Allies had the

Luftwaffe remnants confined largely to the Regensburg, Munich, and Prague

areas, which now became key targets.85

On April 21, Patton announced that the following day the Third Army

would begin a new phase of the offensive, with all three corps attacking

southeast and south. Given the state of enemy defenses, he was unconcerned

that only two armored divisions would lead the advance. Third Army’s command post would move to Erlangen on April 22, to be closer to the action.86

At the same briefing General Weyland explained his air plan to support the

ground offensive, calling for armored column cover and protection of XII

Corps’ exposed left flank in Czechoslovakia. As it did in the watch on the

Loire during the Battle of France, the command’s 10th Reconnaissance

Group provided the flank-cover mission. To handle the wide front and fluid

situation, the group revised the key system it had introduced the previous

month. Now, smooth coordination between reconnaissance aircraft, fighterbombers, and air liaison officers was routine. In effect, the improved flexibility of the reconnaissance program enabled the 10th to provide rapid and

accurate coverage 50 miles deep within Czechoslovakia along a 120-mile

front.87

The 10th Reconnaissance Group’s mission became easier when it relocated to Fuerth, near Nuremberg. Officially, the XIX TAC declared it operational at the new base on April 28, but its tactical reconnaissance flight echelons had begun flying with the newly arrived 162d Tactical Reconnaissance

Squadron four days earlier. From Fuerth, reconnaissance aircraft could fly 50

rather than 36 missions daily nearly 100 miles closer to the front lines. In addition, during the drive down the Danube valley, the 31st Photo Squadron’s F–5s

(P–38s) using a new nose-mounted oblique camera mapped all of the Bavarian

Redoubt region in addition to filling normal pinpoint requests and providing

river reconnaissance missions.88

Only once did a possible threat emerge on Third Army’s left flank, and

reconnaissance pilots reacted quickly. At 8:00 a.m. on April 29, while rain and

sleet limited most operations, they spotted and radioed the position of a convoy estimated at 1,000 vehicles and 30 tanks located approximately 40 miles

southwest of Prague. At the Third Army briefing that morning, General

Weyland declared this convoy to be the top fighter-bomber priority and

The Final Offensive

285
promised to “attack with all forces as long as weather permits.” Three groups

answered the call and flew more than 200 sorties in the Pilsen area against the

convoy, the remnants of which sought cover, and against other targets in the

region. At the end of the day, they claimed nearly 500 vehicles destroyed and

reported that no more moving vehicles could be found. General Weyland

recorded cryptically, “threat to Army flank considered wiped-out.”89 The very

next day, in an underground Berlin bunker, with Red Army artillery shells raining down on the city in a fitting Goetterdaemmerung, Reich’s Chancellor

Adolf Hitler put the barrel of a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Germany’s thousand-year Third Reich had ended in little more than one one

hundredth of the allotted time promised by its demented Führer.

By the end of April, German opposition was essentially nonexistent. It

soon became apparent that the National Redoubt was no more than emotional

propaganda. Now Third Army numbered 540,000 men—its largest force in the

European campaign—and continued to move south at will. Its forces drove

across the Danube and Isar rivers on April 30. Ninety miles from Third Army’s

front lines XIX TAC reconnaissance pilots now reported Russian columns

moving in their direction from Vienna (Map 28). The mobile offensive continued into May, while the XIX TAC put the destructive finishing touches on

the German transport system in its zone of operations. Between April 18–30,

the command claimed as destroyed or damaged a total of 3,308 motorized

vehicles, 633 locomotives, and 3,730 railroad cars. Most of the attacks

occurred along the Straubing-Linz and Pilsen-Prague armed reconnaissance

routes, where pilots routinely reported good scores against little opposition.

The Luftwaffe was impotent, unable to mount more than 150–200 sorties

daily throughout the entire European theater. Most occurred in Third Army’s

southern area as the other Allied armies gradually ended offensive operations.

The command’s best results occurred on April 25 and 26. On the twenty-fifth,

the 371st Fighter Group attacked several remaining German-controlled airdromes clogged with aircraft. When the fighter-bombers finished, command

claims totaled 55 aircraft destroyed on the ground and 65 more damaged. The

next day the Luftwaffe mounted its last significant attack in the west against

Third Army forces. Pilots of XIX TAC reported they lost 18 aircraft in air

combat and an additional 9 damaged, at a cost of 52 German aircraft claimed

destroyed on the ground and a further 39 damaged. Ground claims for the

entire Allied front were only 61 destroyed and 61 damaged. By this time, surviving Luftwaffe pilots seemed less intent on combat than on flying their

planes to American bases in the west to escape the approaching Russians. In

April, XIX TAC as a whole claimed 214 enemy aircraft vanquished in air

combat, 722 destroyed on the ground, and 767 more probably damaged,

against 59 losses of their own, for a total of 1,703 enemy aircraft destroyed or

damaged—a number eight times greater than the March figure, previously the

command’s highest.90

Air Power for Patton’s Army

286
Yet the command bled in the process. On April 25, for example, XIX

TAC lost 8 aircraft, and during Third Army’s drive south, between April

18–31, its losses numbered 21 aircraft. Why so high a loss rate flying against

a foe that was all but beaten? The command attributed this to an increasing

concentration of flak batteries at the few remaining German airfields. The

record does reflect more aircraft lost on airfield target missions as the enemy

moved to reinforce its existing defenses. For the month, at least 16 XIX TAC

losses can be directly associated with attacks on airfields. On the other hand,

many occurred during armed reconnaissance missions against road and rail

transportation targets. In such situations, it seems likely that light flak weapons

became a part of the retreating convoys and, together with the traditional menace of flak rail cars, continued to pose a significant threat to the fighterbombers. Indeed, the command’s loss total for April reached 59, only 2 fewer

than the previous month’s total.

By late April, General Weyland’s groups were operating 200 miles from

their Frankfurt bases and once again facing the challenge of providing sufficient

support in the target areas. Ninth Air Force solved part of the problem by assigning to Weyland’s command an additional group. The 405th Fighter Group

rejoined the command on April 28 and flew armed reconnaissance missions

from its base at Kitzingen. A second group, the 48th Fighter Group, joined on

May 1. Like the 405th, it operated from the Nuremberg area, closer to the front

lines. The command continued its preference for using auxiliary fuel tanks on

long missions rather than resorting to disruptive staging operations at the

Nuremberg bases.

Despite the additional support, Weyland planned to bring his fighter

groups forward to the Nuremberg area as quickly as possible. His advance

headquarters had followed Third Army’s forward command post from

Hersfeld to Erlangen, 12 miles north of Nuremberg, on April 24. Three days

earlier, Weyland and his operations chief, Colonel Ferguson, had visited eight

airfields in the vicinity of Nuremberg to decide on suitable sites. During the

remainder of April, the XIX TAC followed the same planning that had worked

so well in the Frankfurt move. With the exception of the 10th Photo

Reconnaissance Group, however, the command could not schedule a move of

the Frankfurt-area fighter groups until early May. With the war clearly at an

end, one can ask why the air commander remained intent on deploying forward once again when he could provide sufficient support in spite of the long

flying distance? The available evidence suggests that SHAEF and Ninth Air

Force looked ahead to securing the best deployment for a postwar occupational air force, and decided in favor of American bases located farther east 

Besides overseeing operations and redeployment of his command, as the

senior airman General Weyland interviewed all captured high-ranking

Luftwaffe officers and Allied airmen who had reached Third Army lines after

escaping from POW camps. Although the German officers provided interestThe Final Offensive

287
ing impressions of the effectiveness of Allied air power, they did not offer

intelligence of value for current operations. The American airmen proved different. Weyland viewed his discussions with former POWs as important both

for the morale of the individuals concerned and for the information they provided on current POW locations. Many Allied prisoners had been moved farther east, and the air commander made it a point to have his tactical reconnaissance crews track down every rumor. He wanted all his pilots to be on the lookout for POW camps. He especially enjoyed sending fighters to buzz known

locations, such as the Moosburg camp located near Munich. On April 18, the

command had sent a P–38 escorted by P–51s from the 354th Fighter Group on

a photo mission of the camp and it became a primary objective for the advancing ground forces. On April 28, Weyland dispatched four P–51s purposely to

perform slow rolls over the camp, which Third Army liberated the following

day. This camp contained some 27,000 American airmen, including many XIX

TAC pilots.91

The end of April found both Patton and Weyland in euphoric moods—

Patton because of Third Army’s record-setting campaign, and Weyland

because of the smooth functioning of the air-ground team. On only one occasion in the final stages of the conflict did the two commanders differ over the

use of air power. On April 28, Patton asked his air commander to cut major

bridges over the Danube at Passau to help isolate enemy forces and prevent

possible reinforcements from crossing. General Weyland objected to a mission

he considered impractical for fighter-bombers. In his opinion the four large

bridges and the adverse terrain made them too difficult to destroy. General

Patton deferred to his air commander, who, in turn, promised to have his reconnaissance pilots closely monitor the Passau area for potential trouble.92

The personal and professional relationship between these two commanders remained excellent. As the campaign neared completion, General Patton

pondered the future with Weyland and liked nothing better than to praise the

XIX TAC–Third Army team before distinguished visitors. On April 28, for

instance, AAF Generals Spaatz, Doolittle, and Vandenberg visited Patton’s

headquarters and “received [the] full Third Army treatment.” This included

not only a review of the team’s battlefield prowess, but also a briefing on the

importance of keeping the air-ground team together for transfer to the ChinaBurma-India theater once the Germans surrendered.93 Although General

Patton often spoke to his air commander about taking on the Japanese, General

Weyland recalled that, in a moment of candor, Patton confided privately, both

he and General MacArthur were showmen, and the Far East had room for only

one.94

Air Power for Patton’s Army

288
Victory

The final eight days of the European war proved to be little more than

a victory parade for both air and ground forces. After Hitler’s suicide on April

30, 1945, and despite his orders to German commanders to continue the war,

Nazi forces simply were in no position to resist much longer. The month of

May opened with Third Army units driving rapidly southeast through Austria

and east toward Prague, Czechoslovakia. On May 4, when other Allied armies

stood down, Patton’s forces accepted the surrender of the entire 11th Panzer

Division and at their commander’s direction continued pressing southeast

along a front that now extended more than 290 miles. White flags announcing

the surrender of German forces appeared on every hand, every day. On May 8,

V–E Day, ground operations ended with Third Army spearheads seven miles

from Prague and 30 miles southeast of Hitler’s birthplace, Linz, Austria, where

appropriately, they met the Soviet Third Ukranian Army.

For XIX TAC the final days in May proved anticlimactic. Bad weather curtailed flying. On May 2 the 386th Thunder Bums got only 16 sorties near

Straubing while all sorties had to be canceled on May 5 and 6. For the remaining five days the command averaged well below 200 sorties per day. Moreover,

few enemy armored vehicles and gun positions remained to attack and most

missions involved strikes against routine targets such as motor transport and

marshaling yards. At least the reconnaissance pilots could cover activity in the

Brenner Pass, monitor the Russian advance, and search for POW camps.

On May 4, the command’s fighter-bombers responded to reconnaissance

reports of several thousand enemy vehicles heading eastward, away from the

battle area near Linz in northern Austria. Subsequent attacks resulted in claims

of 425 motorized transport and 42 horse-drawn vehicles destroyed or damaged. Action continued even after the surrender document was signed on May

8. In separate dogfights over Regensburg and near Pilsen that day, tactical

reconnaissance pilots reported downing five enemy aircraft in what amounted

to the last aerial combat of the war.

During the final week of the war, General Weyland continued to supervise the movement of his groups from the advance headquarters at Erlangen to

the Nuremberg area. Although General Patton’s command post had moved to

Regensburg, Weyland remained at Erlangen and sent Colonel Browne’s X-Ray

detachment instead. The XIX TAC commander considered the course ahead

too uncertain to warrant moving the advance headquarters again. On May 8,

General Weyland flew to Wiesbaden for a conference among senior airmen to

discuss redeployment, disarmament, and the occupational air force. At this

meeting, he learned that he would assume command of the Ninth Air Force

when General Vandenberg left for Washington later in the month.95 The next

day, May 9, he joined General Patton in signing victory messages to the offiThe Final Offensive

289
cers and men. Each recounted the exploits of the Third Army–XIX TAC team.

Patton complimented the airmen, “our comrades...by whose side or under

whose wings we have had the honor to fight.” General Weyland paid tribute to

the “aggressiveness of our great comrade-at-arms.” Each commander gave

special thanks to the men of his command. If Patton’s words were the more

inspiring, the air commander’s were equally appropriate. Weyland concluded

with an expression of appreciation to his airmen for “all that each of you has

done to make possible this victory. Your prowess and devotion are a credit to

our country—and there is no higher praise.”96

Throughout the final offensive, Weyland’s aerial forces demonstrated

unusual ingenuity and flexibility in support of Third Army’s record-setting

offensive. Although Weyland would acknowledge official AAF doctrine that

decreed priorities, his priorities met Patton’s needs of the day. With air superiority in hand, interdiction and close air support requirements clearly prevailed

at this stage of the war. The air plan worked. During the final offensive,

Weyland and his airmen introduced four-plane flights after the Siegfried Line

breakthrough, and in March they introduced the reconnaissance key system,

examples of the innovation that continued to characterize air-ground operations. Most importantly, General Weyland willingly stretched doctrinal pronouncements in terms of command and control. When the air-ground team

faced more fluid conditions after the Rhine crossing, air controllers and their

army counterparts devised new means to decentralize control of armed reconnaissance and close air support missions in the field.

The final offensive of mobile armored warfare demanded increasingly

decentralized aerial operations, unlike static positional warfare which favored

more centralized command and control of air assets. It also underscored the

fundamental importance of air superiority to success in military operations of

this nature. The sheer size of the Allied air forces allowed Weyland to take liberties with air force doctrine to support Patton’s ground forces better, liberties

that included assigning specific fighter groups to cover specific army units.

Indeed, the decentralized close air support orchestrated by the XIX TAC in the

spring of 1945 went far toward providing Third Army corps and divisions with

their own air arm. That kind of close air support far exceeded the prescriptions

laid down by the aerial authors of FM 100–20 (1943).

Weyland’s new procedures provided ground commanders with a very

rapid response from the air arm. Weyland unquestionably considered the benefits in improved air-ground operations well worth the doctrinal compromise.

Moreover, by this stage of the war he could rely on the experience, trust, and

confidence of the air-ground team from the leaders at the top to the lowest echelons of command. As did most other commanders of tactical air forces in the

Second World War, General Weyland remained ever the pragmatist. The XIX

TAC’s performance in the final offensive demonstrated the soundness of his

approach to providing air power for Patton’s Army. 

Air Power for Patton’s Army

290
Chapter Seven

An After Action Assessment

At the close of hostilities in Europe, General Weyland could look back

on the preceding nine months and eight days with great satisfaction. In the

euphoria of victory, he told his officers and men that the XIX TAC–Third

Army team had brought “air-ground cooperation to new heights of combat

efficiency and beaten the enemy at every turn.”1 The air commander was right.

Through four challenging campaigns, Weyland’s tactical air forces demonstrated the soundness of their organization and operations, as well as their ability to minimize the limitations of air power. 

During the first campaign in France, the command proved tactical air

forces both operationally mobile and capable of employing new and effective

tactics such as responsive cover to armored forces. At the same time, the pace

of the ground advance and competing priorities prompted Weyland to conduct

extremely decentralized operations on widely separated fronts. Attacking

every challenge, his forces found it difficult to concentrate with sufficient

force against the enemy in eastern France because of commitments 300 miles

away in Brittany, where a large fighter-bomber force confronted heavily fortified port facilities, targets long considered unsuitable for fighter-bombers in

close air support operations.

The battle in France provided Third Army and the XIX TAC the opportunity to mold a first class fighting team. After besting the enemy, the airground team entered the inhospitable region of Lorraine to confront a very

different situation. Here, static warfare characterized by stiff defenses, bad

weather, and serious materiel shortages hobbled tactical air power’s key

advantage: the ability to swiftly concentrate forces against targets. Although

proximity to the front eliminated many problems presented earlier in France,

Weyland’s forces, under conditions similar to those of World War I, proved

unable to blast a path for Patton’s army through the Siegfried Line. If

Weyland appeared overly optimistic about the capabilities of his air arm at the

outset of the Lorraine Campaign, he soon realized that his light tactical aerial force required help from medium and heavy bombers to crack the Siegfried

Line.

Inexorably, the challenge of operating in Lorraine compelled closer joint

planning between air and ground force officers to use their limited resources

to maximum advantage. This proved to be one of the central developments in

air-ground cooperation. Responding to Lorraine’s challenges, Weyland and his

291
fellow officers adopted a flexible approach in solving problems associated

with the three tactical mission elements—air superiority, interdiction, and

close air support—prescribed by AAF doctrine. Weyland, however, neither

abandoned doctrine nor operated with absolute control of his forces outside the

framework of established Army structure. His treatment of doctrine as a guide

rather than as dogma merits praise. Flexibility rather than rigid priorities

became the major ingredient of successful tactical air operations in Lorraine

and would come to characterize the entire campaign in Northwest Europe. 

In the Ardennes Campaign, the third major operation for the XIX TAC,

tactical air power came closest to affecting enemy movement by itself.

Assigned a counterattack role, General Weyland showed that, with sufficient

forces, tactical air power could rapidly concentrate to first blunt and then help

repel a powerful enemy assault. His forces achieved this in spite of weather

delays, a small night fighter force, and heavy enemy flak defenses. At the same

time, Ninth Air Force units slowly, but effectively, isolated the Ardennes battlefield from the German supply base. 

The final offensive, which carried the Third Army–XIX TAC team

through the Siegfried Line and into Germany, combined elements from earlier

mobile and static operations. Here, Weyland’s experienced forces continued to

improve procedures for better reconnaissance and air-ground coordination,

relying more extensively on decentralized command and control arrangements. Strongly supported by ground logistics elements, XIX TAC pilots

showed that air power had become an effective and important ingredient in

propelling and maintaining the Third Army’s offensive momentum.

Considering XIX TAC’s achievements in four major campaigns, it

remains difficult to measure the effectiveness of tactical air power with precision. Postwar evaluators concluded that air power successfully achieved and

maintained general air superiority and isolated the battlefield effectively from

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292

P–47s with occupation stripes during the postwar period
enemy aircraft, but without sufficient night fighters, it was somewhat less

effective if measured in terms of preventing resupply. They also declared—

perhaps over enthusiastically—that close air support operations were “individually and collectively, both deadly and decisive in their effectiveness.”2

Beyond these general assertions, the basic question remains one of determining how to accurately judge the contribution of tactical air power in specific campaigns or battles. In the Ardennes, for example, air power certainly

played a key if not decisive role in blunting the German drive in the Bulge area

and later in isolating the battlefield through intensive interdiction operations.

It is also possible to point to air power’s support in specific bridgehead operations, such as XX Corps’ desperate fight to hold its Saarlautern bridgehead in

the Lorraine Campaign. During mobile operations, tactical air power also

helped generate momentum and permit greater tactical mobility. Yet a more

precise attempt to measure performance in these operations invariably raises

the problem of using statistical or equivocal evidence and argument.

As with other commands in the European theater, XIX TAC had a statistical control section that kept a running account of aircrew and aircraft performance. Although its records provide useful data about the command’s operations, when applied to performance or effectiveness such data must be interpreted with caution. Further obscuring the issue, little or no distinction is drawn

between operational effectiveness and operational efficiency. Efficiency can be

measured precisely in terms of sortie rates, accident statistics, quantity of bombs

dropped, and other operational categories. Efficient operations, however, may

not necessarily be effective operations. Effectiveness should be evaluated from

the standpoint of air power’s impact on the enemy, which is usually subjective

and unquantifiable, thus beyond the pale of assured statistical analysis.

Did the XIX TAC become more efficient over the course of the campaign? One might assume so, but the record is unclear. For example, during the

three months from February–April 1945, the command averaged an aircraft

abort rate of 2.8 percent of all aircraft dispatched. Although this represented

the lowest figure for any three-month period, much of the difference resulted

from the relatively few flight cancellations in the spring because of improving

weather. On the other hand, a comparison of August 1944 and March 1945, the

two months of mobile warfare with the most sorties flown, shows the command with a one-third lower aircraft abort rate in March. In this case, the command cited mechanical problems nearly 70 percent more often in August, only

60 days after D-Day, than it did in March 1945. Although improved logistics

and aircraft maintenance practices likely made the command more efficient by

March, this cannot be determined from command maintenance reports or

available statistical evidence.3

Not surprisingly, the issue of aircraft accidents also turns on weather

conditions. During March and April 1945, the command averaged the low figure of one operational accident per 100 flying hours. While the two-month

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average suggests efficient operations, the low number represents the result of

better flying weather in the spring, not the culmination of a steady trend. In

fact, during comparably good weather in August and September 1944, the statistics show a lower accident rate. As expected, the accident rate remained consistently higher during the winter months.

Similarly, statistics for aircraft losses point to February, March, and April

1945, as the XIX TAC’s best months. Their average of 5.2 aircraft lost per

1,000 sorties was significantly lower than comparable figures for the previous

summer. Weather proved much less of a factor in this instance. Although the

winter months show a higher loss per sortie ratio, the low figure also reflects

the more intense flying associated with the Ardennes Operation. Cautiously,

one might conclude that pilots proved themselves more efficient under mobile

warfare conditions in the spring of 1945, than they did in similar circumstances

the previous summer. Nevertheless, comparisons are difficult given the many

variables, and the statistical evidence can only be suggestive.

Measuring operational effectiveness in terms of target destruction is

much more challenging because this data is difficult to correlate with specific

enemy action, especially when the data itself is not always verifiable. Indeed,

most of what the command termed battle or bomb damage assessment information came from pilot reports that normally could not be substantiated. Even

the clearest examples are difficult to interpret with precision. In March 1945,

for example, XIX TAC claimed 267 enemy planes destroyed which, up to that

point, had been exceeded only by the August 1944 figure of 293. Then, in April

1945, the command’s claims skyrocketed to 1,703! Likewise, in April it

reached an all-time high of 24,634 ground targets claimed as destroyed, damaged, or probably destroyed. What do the figures mean? Even though the numbers cannot be confirmed, they do not seem wholly unrealistic in view of the

enemy’s condition late in the spring. However, it remains difficult, if not impossible, to determine the specific impact of these losses on the German forces.

They demonstrate only that command pilots operated efficiently and attacked

an all-but-defeated enemy at will.

General Weyland confronted the issue of pilot reporting accuracy early

in the campaign, but it remained a controversial subject throughout the nine

months of operations. From his standpoint, critics questioned the integrity of

his pilots on the basis of unreasonable reporting expectations. The issue

became a subject of major concern throughout Ninth Air Force in the winter

of 1945. In early February, SHAEF planners expressed concern about the

accuracy of fighter-bomber claims of armored vehicles destroyed during the

Ardennes Campaign. Understandably, the planners found it difficult to design

operations against an enemy whose strength in armor either had been eliminated or could not be verified. Despite the fact that General Vandenberg

responded immediately by affirming the “almost impossible task of obtaining

accurate confirmation of our claims by actual count in captured or overrun terAir Power for Patton’s Army

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ritory,” he asked his tactical air commanders to report on their approach to the

problem.4

In his response, General Weyland reviewed current reporting directives

and the measures his pilots and intelligence officers took to encourage the

greatest possible accuracy. In fact, he argued, his command’s emphasis on

objective reporting resulted not only in the most accurate claims possible in

light of “inherent difficulties,” but in conservative figures as well. For example, because of the earlier practice of claiming half-tracks along with armored

vehicles, he directed his pilots to claim “no results observed” when they

bombed concealed armor concentrations in woods, even when they observed

smoke rising from the target area afterward.5

Weyland identified the inherent difficulties of all claims reporting.

Investigation on the ground, he reminded SHAEF, had been unable to distinguish between armor destroyed by air or ground action or by enemy demolition. Moreover, the enemy worked an impressive salvage system that would

distort claims. Finally, information gleaned from POWs seldom proved credible. Weyland argued that:

[t]he credibility of P/W [prisoner of war] statements is

doubtful and, although a thorough study has been made of all

available P/W reports of the effect of air action on tanks and

armored vehicles so many discrepancies have existed that

again neither conclusive proof nor disproof of claims has

been forthcoming.6

Weyland concluded by referring to ground forces that “take credit

for...vehicles that were actually knocked out by air attack.” In this instance,

he told his staff that General Patton “stated informally that as 3rd [sic] Army

advances, they also claim the tanks and vehicles destroyed by [fighterbombers].” If this had no bearing on the veracity of air claims, he said, it nevertheless made it difficult for SHAEF planners to maintain accurate estimates

for enemy armored forces. In the end, authorities must accept the integrity of

the claims or conclude that his pilots were “deliberately falsifying” them. For

Weyland, the latter was unthinkable.7

General Quesada agreed. His command analyzed various factors that

would influence an accounting, including smoke and fire in the target area, aircraft performance, and the diversity of weapons used. It determined that pilot

claims were “not excessive, but if anything...underestimates of the actual

damage inflicted.” Significantly, Quesada’s report argued that the major problem involved the reporting system itself, which required accurate numbers

under all circumstances. The IX TAC recommended that the planners forego

their insistence on numbers and be willing to accept estimates and agree to a

pilot confidence factor for accuracy. This did not happen.8 The problem of airAn After Action Assessment

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crew reporting accuracy serves as a useful reminder about the tyranny of numbers. The predilection for specific numbers as the standard for combat effectiveness proved as fallible in the Second World War as it did a generation later

in the Vietnam conflict. Even then, bomb strike cameras did not end the difficulty of verifying aircrew claims.

In the final analysis, ground forces are often the best judge of tactical air

power’s effectiveness. In response to an AAF Evaluation Board questionnaire,

army officers agreed that fighter-bombers consistently assisted ground operations, even when bad weather forced them to fly interdiction missions beyond

the army’s front line positions.9 General Walker, XX Corps commander, wrote

General Weyland in mid-April 1945, that “without your efficient and well

planned operations we would have suffered far greater casualties and taken a

much longer time to reach our objectives.”10 He did not need statistical evidence for his conclusion; with the assistance of General Weyland’s aircraft he

was there and had seen his ground forces achieve their objectives.

If it is fair to conclude that tactical air power proved effective in

Northwest Europe, the question of its decisiveness remains to be considered.

Might air power have achieved more decisive results if it had been employed

differently in that locale? General Quesada, for one, thought that a massive,

long-range fighter-bomber assault on key strategic targets in the German

homeland during the winter of 1944–1945 would have brought Germany to

her knees. Others have suggested more conventional proposals, such as more

efforts devoted to interdiction or close air support.11

The question of air power’s decisiveness relates to the army’s effectiveness. One authority has argued that military leaders created an “army of mobility at the expense of power.” Materiel superiority, for example, did not translate into heavy firepower and better equipment to confront the Wehrmacht’s

lumbering Tiger tanks and 88-mm flak/antitank guns. Paradoxically, while

leaders committed the U.S. Army in Northwest Europe to “a power-drive strategy of head-on assault,” they did not use its mobility to create offensive concentrations rapidly, preferring instead the broad-front approach in its advance

on Germany. Consequently, the war may have been prolonged.12

Might tactical air power have been used differently and concentrated at

crucial points like the Seine and Rhine rivers to prevent sizeable German

forces from escaping? General Weyland certainly did not oppose the idea.

After all, doctrine prescribed this application and he relished the opportunity to show off air power’s ability to concentrate forces to secure an objective. At the same time, his command could seldom expect decisive aerial

results in major battles because of competing air priorities and various operational restrictions, such as foul weather. Tactical air power, like air power

in general, was first and last a supporting or, as air leaders increasingly

referred to during the last years of the war, a cooperating arm of the airground team.

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There is every indication that the U.S. Army relied on tactical air power

to provide extra firepower and to shield ground forces. General Bradley said

as much in his postwar report on air power. In a letter to General Spaatz, he

asserted:

I know that I do not need to tell you the tremendous importance which I have attached to tactical air co-operation for

my armies. In this campaign, the recurring process of massing our divisions, forcing a breakthru [sic], and the subsequent exploitation of our mobility to encircle and defeat the

enemy demanded almost complete air superiority to overcome our sensitiveness in supply, reserves, and the necessity

for full use of road and rail communications.13

He might also have added that the U.S. Army had been structured in this

way precisely to allow for tactical air power’s additional firepower. Similarly,

air superiority may have produced an overdependence by the army on air

power at the expense of ground action. During the North African Campaign,

General Eisenhower warned against the negative effects of an air umbrella on

ground forces. Although air leaders pointed out that tactical air forces represented a limited asset, the division commander, blessed with close air support

on most good-weather days, might not agree. As the campaign progressed, it

is fair to question whether the ground forces depended on unnatural levels of

air superiority. A few years later, more limited wars in Korea and Vietnam

would also be characterized by Allied air superiority—and perhaps an overreliance on air power as a substitute for ground firepower.

General Patton, hailed as a proponent of mobile rather than positional

warfare, emerged in World War II as the Allied commander most likely to produce swift, decisive military results. The Ardennes Operation to relieve

Bastogne represents one demonstration. Yet, for the most part, until late in the

war the Third Army moved on a secondary front in the theater. It is tempting

to speculate whether the XIX TAC–Third Army team, if given higher priority

in forces and supplies, might have carried out the concentrated offensive and

bold exploitation of position as urged by Patton, with a resultant shortening of

the European war. In any event, tactical air power was, as always, intimately

connected with the Army’s objectives and plan of advance. Tactical air forces

appeared, in that sense, only as capable as their ground counterparts.

The success of tactical air power well-employed in the European campaign was made possible by the timely convergence of four important developments: (1) the maturation of tactical aviation doctrine; (2) effective organization and procedures; (3) a technical revolution in equipment, and above all;

(4) the presence of pragmatic men of goodwill who made the system work.

General Weyland typified the practical leader who came to dominate tactical

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air operations in the European theater. At no time in his day-to-day operations

during the campaign in Europe did Weyland adhere formally to FM 100–20 or

any other War Department declaration regarding tactical air power doctrine.

This did not mean that the XIX TAC commander ignored aerial mission priorities. Rather, he relied on a practical approach to the employment of tactical

air power and a solid relationship with army officers. Using doctrine as a loose

guide and not an inflexible dogma, Weyland addressed each situation in terms

of its demands. A pragmatist by nature, he would not need to wave an AAF

flag or FM 100–20. Mutual trust, respect, and a close relationship with General

Patton and other Third Army leaders meant that Weyland never had to resort

to formal doctrinal pronouncements to support his position on questions of

employing tactical air assets. Moreover, because the Allies possessed general

air superiority—their number-one air objective at the start of land combat on

the continent—attention could be devoted to conducting armed reconnaissance/interdiction and close air support operations in much the way Weyland

and his XIX TAC planners intended.

In view of Weyland’s conduct of air operations throughout the campaign,

it appears surprising at first to find him in the immediate aftermath of the war

reaffirming the importance and doctrinal validity of Command and Employment

of Air Power (FM 100–20 of 1943). The experience of his command through

nine months of intensive air operations in collaboration with General Patton’s

army, he said, showed the manual’s concepts “to be basically sound.” He

declared that XIX TAC followed the order of priority prescribed by the manual when planning and flying combat missions. First in importance was the

achievement of air superiority and measures taken to maintain it. Next came

interdiction or isolation of the battlefield. “Close air cooperation with ground

units in combat” completed the triumvirate. Mindful of his audience, senior airmen, Weyland carefully used the words “cooperation with” in place of the earlier phrase, “support of” Third Army. Looking ahead to institutional independence, AAF leaders had become especially sensitive over any connotations that

might reflect subordinate status, and Weyland well understood the need to validate FM 100–20, especially in terms of command arrangements. Postwar politics seemed to be a driving force for many airmen involved with evaluating

their wartime experiences. Nevertheless, whatever Weyland felt about the manual, in practice he, like many others, proved anything but a servant of rigid doctrine or its prescribed order of mission priorities.14

In response to a request from the AAF Evaluation Board assigned to the

European theater in the summer of 1944 to study the role of air power, General

Weyland compiled a report on combat operations of the XIX TAC. In early

1945, the War Department directed the AAF Evaluation Board to focus on the

effectiveness of close-in air cooperation, what the board termed Phase III operations. In March 1945, the board solicited responses from Ninth Air Force, the

First Tactical Air Force, and from the ground units to a 39-point questionnaire.

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Although many individual units replied well before the end of hostilities,

Generals Bradley and Devers submitted their views together in mid-May. The

board issued its Phase III report in August 1945. Meanwhile, during the previous month General Bradley and his 12th Army Group Air Effects Committee

used much of the information from the questionnaire to prepare their own

report, The Effect of Air Power on Military Operations. Along with the reports

from General Weyland’s command, these two major studies provide a comprehensive analysis of tactical air doctrine and operations in the European theater during World War II.15

These postwar evaluation reports show that army commanders in the

theater understood and appreciated the importance of air superiority. If the

questions asked of them seemed weighted toward a validation of FM 100–20,

they nevertheless provided candid answers that reflected most ground element

leaders’ views on the important issues surrounding the use of tactical air

power. Although officers at Headquarters Army Ground Forces in Washington

in late 1945 might challenge the assertion that supremacy in the air must be a

prerequisite for successful ground operations, officers leaving the field in

Northwest Europe had no such doubts. In the words of the AAF Phase III

report, “too much emphasis cannot be laid on the advantage to the Allied cause

of having virtually unchallenged supremacy in the skies above the European

continent throughout the campaign.”16

Army leaders knew that air superiority provided their forces nearly unrestricted movement and unhindered resupply on the battlefield. Free from significant enemy air attack, ground forces could, among other activities, regroup

rapidly, maintain uninterrupted supply channels, and devote less attention to

camouflage and air defenses. Moreover, Army leaders did not have to worry

about the morale of their troops who surely would have suffered as did their

German counterparts under heavy, consistent aerial assault. Indeed, the ground

forces overwhelmingly concluded “air superiority can and must be the first

priority task, not only of the air forces but of all military and economic forces

which are directing their efforts to final victory.”17

General Weyland agreed completely that air superiority was essential for

success on the ground. As the tactical air commander, he ensured local air

superiority on Third Army’s front, and he worked diligently in all four campaigns to carry out this function. Like his fellow pilots, he enjoyed nothing

more than to report his command’s success against the Luftwaffe. During the

campaign, his forces devoted approximately 18 percent of their sorties to priority one, or air superiority requirements. This was slightly below the figures

for his sister tactical air commands in Ninth Air Force.18 It also fell well below

the effort accorded interdiction and close air support, which amounted to 40

and 42 percent of all missions flown, respectively. 

Even so, on several occasions General Weyland—and Ninth Air Force

planners—seemed overly focused on the threat from a struggling Luftwaffe,

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given the intelligence data available to them on the state of the enemy’s air

arm. This happened in the Lorraine Campaign and also in the Ardennes, during the last phase of the counteroffensive in January 1945. Although his

Pioneer P–51 Mustang group flew the bulk of these counterair missions, his

P–47 groups also flew bomber and transport escort and area cover missions. A

good portion of these missions proved uneventful and might well have been

more profitably flown as armed reconnaissance along known, highly-traveled,

surface traffic routes. Weyland’s actions are more defensible for the period

before January 1, 1945, when Ultra and his reconnaissance pilots reported

extensive Luftwaffe redeployment. After the New Year’s Day raid, Ultra provided data on Luftwaffe movements away from the Third Army front along

with relative inactivity for units that remained. As it transpired, the campaign

showed that air superiority could be assured with Weyland’s fighter-bombers

and reconnaissance aircraft flying assigned interdiction and close air support

missions. 

The Luftwaffe, in fact, posed a consistent, albeit minor, threat only at

night. Neither General Weyland nor any other air commander could entirely

prevent enemy air attacks on friendly ground forces—or the isolated bombing

of a friendly base. Once the XIX TAC command began its assault on remaining German airfields in April 1945, the nighttime threat became insignificant.

Had it been otherwise, the Allies would not have dared reorient much of their

night fighter force from defensive patrol to intruder interdiction missions.

Allied air superiority allowed airmen to focus their attention on interdiction

and close air support missions. 

Army commanders also understood the value of interdiction, the isolation of the battlefield. Without referring specifically to air force doctrine,

General Bradley concluded that interdiction did rank second to control of the

air in terms of tactical air achievement. “The outstanding contribution of the

fighter-bombers,” he declared, “aside from helping to attain and maintain air

superiority, was their continuous armed reconnaissance missions to isolate the

battlefield to the front and flanks of the ground forces.”19

Once again, General Weyland would concur, although he might quibble,

with the word continuous. The main problem he and his colleagues faced

throughout the campaign was maintenance of a consistent interdiction program in the face of other demands. As the Lorraine experience showed, tactical planners, like their strategic forces counterparts at that time, at first had difficulty deciding on the right targets. Only well into the fall buildup facing the

Siegfried Line did Ninth Air Force planners conclude that primary bridges represented absolutely the best targets to attack to disrupt all German surface

transport, therefore rendering enemy resupply and defensive efforts chaotic.

Bridges, however, proved extraordinarily difficult targets for fighter-bombers

not only to hit, but also to bring down. Even when employed against targets

judged proper for their use, bad weather could intervene to negate their effecAir Power for Patton’s Army

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tiveness. After the Normandy invasion, daylight armed reconnaissance missions forced the Wehrmacht to move supplies and personnel largely at night.

During the long nights from late fall to early spring, a small tactical night

fighter and reconnaissance force proved unable to detect and seriously disrupt

enemy nighttime operations.20

Factors other than bad weather, darkness, and a small night fighter force

hampered General Weyland’s flyers. Competing priorities made it next to

impossible to concentrate his force sufficiently on armed reconnaissance targets to execute a continuous, fully successful interdiction plan in the short run.

Even during the Ardennes Campaign when he commanded an eight-group

force, interdiction sorties amounted to less than 40 percent of the command’s

effort. Nevertheless, General Bradley and the airmen were certainly correct in

declaring that air forces eventually isolated the Ardennes battlefield. It is

tempting to speculate whether reallocating aerial assets from priority one to

armed reconnaissance missions—ad hoc interdiction—might have hastened

Allied success. It seems unlikely. Given the problems that prevented airmen

from mounting consistent interdiction programs, it is doubtful that additional

interdiction sorties would have significantly altered the outcome. Allied experience with interdiction demonstrated that tactical air power represented neither an unlimited resource nor a decisive force in and of itself. Little has

changed since the Second World War to suggest altering this basic assessment

of the interdiction mission.21

The doctrine of the tactical air force’s third mission, close air support,

underwent the greatest change during the campaign. Air Force theorists considered aerial attacks on enemy ground forces in the contact zone to be the

most difficult to mount because of the danger of striking friendly troops and

the most expensive in terms of operational efficiency and in losses to enemy

defenses. They also could be the least effective if employed against inappropriate targets, such as hardened defenses or dispersed troops. Traditional airmen wanted these targets reserved for army artillery. The test of a proper aerial target usually began with the criterion, beyond artillery range. Indeed, tactical air forces seemed destined to fight primarily beyond the immediate surface battle zone except in rare emergency conditions.22 All this had changed

by the end of the campaign, largely because Allied air superiority provided the

environment for pragmatic commanders like Weyland to adjust their techniques as circumstances warranted. Although the number of sorties do not represent priorities in all cases, clearly air superiority in the Northwest Europe

campaign and improved communications and air control practice resulted in

an unforeseen emphasis on close air support missions, missions that often

operated in close proximity to Patton’s troops.

The prominence of close air support missions flown in Europe during

World War II, however, cannot be discerned in the AAF Evaluation Board’s

classic description of the air planning process, that is, the process that allocatAn After Action Assessment

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ed air effort at the level of the army–tactical air command combined-operations center. Board members decided that tactical air-ground planners had

actually allocated missions in the following sequence:23

1. Special targets or escort missions directed by Air Force headquarters.

2. Requirements to maintain air superiority.

3. Armed reconnaissance to prevent movement of enemy supplies and 

troops into the battle area.

4. Armored column cover missions.

5. Army requests or close air support missions.

This idealized scheme, which purported to describe the actual planning of

wartime air missions, doubtless confirmed long-standing army suspicions

about what third-priority air support meant for its troops in future combat. 

In practice in the field, General Weyland followed neither this nor any

other established sequence. Indeed, he affirmed that XIX TAC covered

armored columns first. The record suggests, however, that except in highly

unusual circumstances, such as the fluid conditions in the Eifel, he also

invariably provided air support for infantry divisions in combat. Weyland’s

experience suggests that perhaps the AAF’s aerial allocation sequence was

suspect from its conception. The determining factor for close support allocation became the rate of advance. For relatively stable situations, as occurred

during much of the Lorraine fighting, Patton’s artillery could and did handle

most front line targets. That allowed Weyland’s fighter-bombers to focus on

armed reconnaissance. For mobile operations, on the other hand, close support requirements received top priority in the form of armored column cover

and attacks on defended towns and strong points, with remaining aerial forces

assigned armed reconnaissance routes after minimum air superiority requirements had been met. Again, Weyland’s air planners adjusted the aerial effort

to meet the requirements of Patton’s ground offensive, not to satisfy doctrinal pronouncements or some other formal planning arrangement.24

If the AAF Evaluation Board’s description of the World War II air allocation process strains the credibility of army and air liaison officers fresh from

the field, the board’s claim that close air support of the army normally did not

exceed 15 percent of the tactical air forces available can be legitimately disputed.25 This board figure is often cited as at least indicative of, if not the last

word on, overall World War II close air support commitments. This is patently incorrect. One must look beyond the broad percentage of forces allocated

and consider the actual number and percentage of sorties flown on close air

support missions. 

On these points, General Bradley’s own report is much more revealing

because it is based on operational summaries describing actual targets attacked.

Significantly, among Ninth Air Force tactical air commands, only the XIX

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302
TAC flew more close air support sorties than it did interdiction sorties during

the campaign. It devoted 42 percent of its sorties to close air support and 40

percent to interdiction. The close air support and interdiction figures for

General Quesada’s IX TAC totaled 27 and 46 percent, respectively, and for

General Nugent’s XXIX TAC, they were 33 and 47 percent, respectively. In

fact, armed reconnaissance outnumbered close support sorties for Weyland’s

forces only during the spring offensive following the Ardennes Campaign.

Then, in the final drive through Germany, when the enemy facing Patton’s

armored columns became progressively weaker, Weyland felt free to shift priorities to armed reconnaissance targets and airfields. Is it any wonder that

Patton considered Weyland his favorite airman? Or that ground force officers

considered the Patton–Weyland relationship as something special?26 If Third

Army could claim 42 percent of XIX TAC aerial sorties at the front, close air

support sorties for all three American armies together averaged 33 percent of

the total sorties flown during the Northwest European campaigns. Although

this figure is more than twice as high as the 15 percent allocation figure offered

by Air Force advocates, it is far more realistic.

The most controversial aspect of close air support operations during the

campaign concerned what airmen deemed proper targets for fighter-bombers.

As a general rule, Army officers did not believe that tactical aircraft should

avoid attacking targets within the range of artillery. Weyland agreed that targets within artillery range remained suitable for his aircraft in mobile operations, because artillery normally moved up slowly. Yet, army evaluators also

believed close air support bombing necessary and effective in static operations, too. As General Bradley’s analysis noted, aircraft with 500-lb. generalpurpose bombs and 250-lb. fragmentation bombs often proved more destructive than any artillery preparation using much less destructive warheads.27

General Bradley also cautioned against rules of thumb that early in the campaign had excluded defended villages, for example. In winter, many villages

were filled with troops and made excellent targets for fighter-bombers attacking, first with general-purpose bombs and napalm, and then strafing exposed

personnel. He argued that targets should be examined from both ground and

air points of view. This, in fact, is what occurred in the combined operations

system, and by the spring of 1945 fighter-bombers attacked most front line targets routinely.

One target, however, seldom appeared on the airmen’s target list. As

General Weyland repeatedly stated, he did not consider fixed, well-defended

fortifications appropriate targets for fighter-bombers. Was he wrong? Some

Army officers thought so. As one explained:

[P]ill boxes under attack are always surrounded by troops in

strong points who do not fall back in the pill box until the

Infantry actually assaults. Air attack causes considerable

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casualties amongst troops manning strong points outside pill

boxes and materially reduces their will to fight. We understand that ordinary bombing will not destroy pill boxes, but

we do consider pill boxes excellent targets.28

Some AAF officers also might have rejected Weyland’s argument, noting that

analysis showed fighter-bombers loaded with 1,000-lb. bombs could have a better chance of causing major damage. Others pointed to the indirect effect

achieved by attacking pillboxes and casemented guns in which fighter-bombers

served to neutralize these emplaced weapons until advancing ground forces

could overwhelm them. General Weyland remained unconvinced, granting

exceptions only in emergencies. Bespeaking his opposition, XIX TAC aircraft

reported only one pillbox attacked during the entire assault on the Siegfried Line

from the end of January to February 25, 1945. In this case, Weyland’s stubbornness might very well have interfered with useful air support. On the other

hand, his aversion to this type of target did not prevent his fighter-bombers from

striking nearly everything else German within the artillery zone.29

In short, by the spring of 1945, close air support had devolved far beyond

the stilted, theoretical confines of FM 100–20. Although the manual claimed

Phase III operations to be the most expensive, most difficult to control, and

least effective of all missions, in many instances operations in Northwest

Europe proved otherwise. One is reminded that 1943’s FM 100–20 emerged

from the North African experience, where much of the time the Allies did not

enjoy air superiority and often possessed few aerial resources. These conditions had changed markedly by 1944 and 1945. Moreover, improved technology in the form of radio communications and radar normally made possible

effective control and coordination between ground controllers and fighter and

reconnaissance pilots. As for cost, XIX TAC’s experience suggested that

armed reconnaissance and cooperation missions were equally expensive in

terms of planes and pilots lost. Finally, the relatively high percentage of close

air support missions flown for Patton’s forces and other armies in the 12th

Army Group suggests that air support of army forces within the artillery zone

achieved good results—and not just in emergency situations. As an 11th

Armored Division spokesman explained for the AAF Board: 

From our point of view, these [cooperation] missions are

easy to control, are inexpensive in so far as loss of friendly

aircraft is concerned, and usually show profitable results.

Losses to friendly troops as a result of this type mission

when controlled by experienced air corps personnel are nil.30

The record bears him out and suggests once again the fundamental importance

of Allied air superiority.

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Like other tactical air commanders, General Weyland took liberties with

formal tactical air mission priorities when the situation warranted, which

underscored his pragmatic approach to doctrine that characterized air-ground

operations during the combat in Northwest Europe. In Weyland’s hands, doctrine served the forces, rather than the reverse, and with air superiority, he

could adjust priorities according to need rather than theory. Weyland and his

fellow airmen, however, never compromised on one issue. Besides designating mission priorities, FM 100–20 dealt with authority and control of air

resources. Control of air assets, it stated, should be centralized and their command vested in an Air Force commander. If aircraft were separated and

attached to ground units, air forces would be used improperly, nor would it be

possible to recombine and concentrate the force when necessary. The XIX

TAC commander reacted swiftly and strongly to any perceived infringement

of his control. Such incidents were few and quickly settled by General

Weyland within local channels—with solid support from General Patton and

his staff, if necessary. 

If Weyland exercised the control he wanted during the last few months

of the campaign, decentralized operations became the order of the day. In late

February 1945, XIX TAC supplied a second VHF radio to corps tactical air

liaison officers and authorized them a separate channel for more direct and

efficient communication between reconnaissance aircraft, other liaison officers, and (by extension) the army corps fire-direction center. Now liaison officers could request and receive information directly from the reconnaissance

aircraft overhead without first communicating with the tactical control center.31 This decentralization of control at the combat front preserved ultimate air

force authority while providing the army corps its organic reconnaissance.

Technology made possible this more efficient use of resources and General

Weyland embraced it as long as his prerogatives remained unaffected. He

always believed that the tactical air doctrine dealing with command and control, if applied effectively, would assure the army the support it needed. Air

officers during a campaign might decentralize operations or massage mission

priorities according to need, but they remained uncompromising in adhering to

the principle that the ultimate control of air forces rested with air commanders.

In postwar analyses, army officers also recognized and accepted the need for

centralized control of air power, even if this point was appreciated more at the

corps and army level than at the division level.

Tactical air doctrine also prescribed the organization and procedures for

conducting air-ground operations. On assessment and on balance, these organizational prescriptions proved sound. In a letter to General Spaatz in May

1945, General Bradley praised the effectiveness of joint air-ground operations.

Essential “joint planning at the appropriate command levels,” he said, was

obtained first by “the close physical association of headquarters and second by

the operational linking up of ground and staff personnel in your various air

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headquarters. The latter [innovation] is original within this theater and has

thoroughly justified itself.”32 One might differ with the 12th Army Group

commander’s claim to originality. The much maligned FM 31–35 (April

1942), Aviation in Support of Ground Forces, established the procedures and

practices for air-ground operations that airmen first introduced in North

Africa, and then further developed in the Italian theater. Yet no one could

doubt the effectiveness of joint operations in the European theater, which

stressed the collocation of air and ground headquarters, establishment of combined operations centers, and exchange of air and ground liaison officers within air and surface units.

Despite an almost obsessive concern for centralized control of air forces,

Weyland and his colleagues permitted far more initiative and latitude for

action at lower echelons than anyone could have foreseen. As he and his command demonstrated, operational decentralization became key to successful

joint operations during the campaign. His separate headquarters elements were

a case in point. So, too, was the coordination that evolved among forces in the

field. The airmen realized, for example, that accurate and timely field intelligence required tactical reconnaissance pilots to communicate directly with the

air liaison officers at corps and, sometimes, at division level without first

communicating with the higher headquarters tactical control center. By the

spring of 1945, Weyland’s fighter-bomber pilots routinely monitored reconnaissance radio channels and reacted promptly to attack targets of opportunity. In such instances, the tactical control center often performed only a monitoring function.33

During the final three months of the European war, fighter-bombers flying armed reconnaissance increasingly contacted corps or division headquarters to learn of any immediate targets before flying their assigned routes.

Responses to the AAF Evaluation Board’s questionnaire, however, indicated

that not all air-ground teams followed this procedure; some followed it only

occasionally. Third Army’s XX Corps, for example, declared, regretfully, that

this did not happen on their front, but General Walker’s XX Corps staff might

have responded to the board’s questionnaire in March rather than in May,

when the practice appeared to be more common throughout the XIX

TAC–Third Army team.34 Also, as the 6th Armored Division’s response indicated, although armed reconnaissance flights might not check in with the corps

or division, the daily reconnaissance program, whereby tactical reconnaissance pilots flew assigned routes for the different Army corps, made it possible for the pilots to obtain immediate air cooperation for the ground units. If

the demands of mobile warfare predictably required flexible operational procedures at lower echelons, the commanders also resorted to these practices

during static warfare in the fall and winter months.35

By 1945, decentralized air-ground operations and procedures often provided local army units with what amounted to an air umbrella, one that air force

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306
doctrine abhorred as a misuse of air power. Although air force representatives

retained control of the air assets, army commanders often had essentially their

own aircraft supporting their units in all but name. In such cases, the Allies’

overwhelming air superiority and the growing weakness of German defenders

made it increasingly possible to take liberties with doctrine in the name of better and more effective operations. The XIX TAC experience shows that this

kind of air support provided to ground forces was directly proportional to the

air resources available for that particular function. Unlike in North Africa,

where relatively few resources translated into limited to modest air support, an

abundance of resources in Northwest Europe at the end of 1944 enabled Allied

air forces to provide formidable, if sometimes inconsistent, air support.

Two key technical developments during the war also contributed mightily to the success of tactical air operations. One was the appearance of the

well-armored, long-range fighter-bomber as the primary aircraft for close air

support. The other involved a revolution in communications that made efficient coordination, command, and control at all echelons possible. Effective

air-ground procedures would hardly have been as successful without the timely arrival of the turbo-supercharged, air-cooled, radial engine, P–47

Thunderbolt fighter-bomber as the premier ground support aircraft in the

European theater. Taking advantage of Allied air superiority in 1944, the P–47

made close air support far more effective than the authors of air force doctrine

had imagined possible a year earlier. Without Allied air superiority in North

Africa, not the P–39 Airacobra, the P–40 Warhawk, nor the A–20 Havoc light

bomber proved capable of accurate, low-level bombing in Phase III operations

without unacceptable losses. 

By the time General Weyland arrived in England in early 1944, the AAF

had three new candidates for the fighter-bomber role. The Thunderbolt was

joined by the P–38 Lightning and the P–51 Mustang that mounted liquidcooled, in-line engines. All three models were initially developed as pursuit,

or fighter, aircraft for air combat at altitude against opposing fighters. When

airmen added racks to carry bombs and rockets, however, all three proved

highly adaptable to the tactical bombing mission. Likewise, they usually bested enemy fighters even against considerable odds. Fortunately for Ninth Air

Force, Eighth Air Force selected the more agile P–51, rather than the P–47 as

its main fighter aircraft for bomber escort work. Despite the latter’s good

speed, range, bomb-carrying capacity, and firepower, authorities preferred the

P–51 for Priority I fighter missions, and withdrew the P–38 from fighterbomber operations entirely. Both proved more vulnerable to flak at low altitudes because of the extensive radiator plumbing that served their liquidcooled engines. On the other hand, they performed superbly as reconnaissance

planes and served as such throughout the campaign.36

General Weyland’s command preferred the rugged Thunderbolt

unequivocally for fighter-bomber operations. Its sturdy frame, ease of mainteAn After Action Assessment

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nance, and capacity to carry a large bomb or rocket load, combined with an aircooled, radial engine that could take a licking and still keep on running, made

the P–47 the natural choice for close air support operations. Moreover, with or

without bombs and rockets, eight wing-mounted .50-caliber machine guns

gave to this flying engine of war enormous fire power in support of ground

forces. In its report to the AAF Evaluation Board, the XIX TAC submitted a

list of characteristics for the ideal fighter-bomber, which the board accepted

without change. Confining itself to its experience in the European theater, the

XIX TAC preferred the armament of the P–47, but it favored the more efficient

performance capabilities of the P–51. Although not commenting on engine

characteristics, the command no doubt favored the radial-type air-cooled

engine that helped make the P–47 better able to withstand hits from enemy flak

and continue flying. In light of German turbojet aircraft that had appeared in

combat, however, it is surprising that the American airmen did not project

beyond familiar, propeller-driven airplanes to include jet aircraft as they identified characteristics of their ideal fighter-bomber.37

With the arrival of the P–47 and improved communications, close air

support or Phase III missions could no longer be considered the most expensive, least effective, and most difficult to control. Equipped with external fuel

tanks, fighter-bombers could also meet the range challenges of mobile warfare. Even so, General Weyland was quick to remind General Patton and his

staff of the limitations of modern fighter-bombers. Despite the impressive

technical performance, their pilots could not operate them effectively in bad

weather or darkness. Army planners understood these problems. Nevertheless,

if Patton’s ground commanders always included air support in joint operational plans, they seldom postponed an offensive because weather conditions

prohibited the fighter-bombers from flying. General Weyland frequently permitted pilots to violate weather minimums in declared emergencies, but not for

sustained offensive drives. Third Army’s XX and XII Corps assaults on the

Siegfried Line in February 1945, for example, began without air cover in spite

of strong enemy defenses and rugged terrain. Normally, Third Army offensives would not be rescheduled unless they required medium or heavy

bombers. Even then, individual circumstances might convince the commander

to move forward without air support since medium bombers required two days

to schedule, or to reschedule. Army commanders widely criticized the Army

Air Force’s inability to provide medium bomber support on short notice.38

Bad weather and darkness probably had a greater effect on fighterbomber efforts to isolate the battlefield than they did on close air support operations. German troops invariably moved the bulk of their troops and supplies

to and from the front lines during bad weather or after sundown, when Allied

aircraft harassed them the least. Similarly, German transports could move at

night almost at will because of the small Allied night fighter force. Although

initially designed for night interception operations, the P–61 Black Widow

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308
became a more effective fighter-bomber after acquiring napalm ordnance and

rockets to complement its four 20-mm cannons in early 1945. Despite the limitations associated with the Black Widow’s armed reconnaissance missions,

however, the XIX TAC valued the twin-engine, humpbacked P–61, which presented a frightening presence at night, more for its effect on enemy morale and

less for its bombing statistics. The command simply had too few P–61s.

Except for the Ardennes emergency, Weyland’s night fighter force never

amounted to more than a single squadron of 12–15 Black Widows.39

In its evaluation of air operations, the AAF Evaluation Board highlighted the weakness of Allied night flying efforts. In truth, that weakness had been

painfully obvious to all from the beginning of the drive across France. “The

absence of adequate night fighters and fighter-bombers,” the report stated,

“was found to be probably the most serious handicap to the air forces throughout the war.”40 When taken together, bad weather and darkness gave the

Germans a degree of freedom for movement and clearly enabled them to prolong the war.

A second major development involving technology offered the promise

of overcoming the fighter-bomber’s fundamental visibility problem when flying in poor weather and at night. Radio communications and the use of radar

as an offensive weapon had progressed a long way in this direction by 1944.

Together, they provided command and control of fighter-bombers and were

basic in the first attempts to develop a capability to bomb accurately in close

air support operations. General Weyland, for example, communicated directly

with General Vandenberg at Ninth Air Force headquarters and other key officers over the Redline communications system. Four communications networks

and five methods of communicating tied XIX TAC units together, even under

conditions of extreme mobility. Good VHF radio equipment met the challenge

of creating air-ground coordination. Also during the winter months, groundbased radar became increasingly important for accurate navigation and bombing of targets beyond the bomb safety line. Indeed, any useful flying at night

and during winter would have been impossible without these developments.

In this area, too, limitations affected the impressive capabilities of new

technology. Allied forces turned to the scientists and engineers of the operational research offices at the various command levels for solutions to overcome technical constraints. By early 1945, the XIX TAC had become deeply

involved in this research, which included methods to improve aircraft control

procedures and determine optimum bomb size and fuze types, in addition to

the study of bridge destruction by aircraft. The most attention, however,

focused on producing an effective bomb strike camera and the accurate blind

bombing radar system, SCR–584. 

Despite major efforts throughout the spring of 1945, improvements in

both systems fell short of hopes. The SCR–584 blind bombing system and

bomb strike camera projects serve as valuable reminders that, wherever new

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technology is involved, initial expectations often go unfulfilled. Such overestimation of technical potentials would become commonplace in a later age.

Altogether, Allied scientists did far better than their Axis counterparts in recognizing the potential of such systems and working to make them fulfill their

promise. Moreover, though the war proved to be a catalyst for advances in technology, radar and radio communications were still in their infancy. Solutions

for blind bombing and bomb damage assessment would have to await more

sophisticated technical developments that lay farther in the future than most

supposed.

Cooperation was the final ingredient that contributed to the success of

tactical air-ground operations. Cooperation, not confrontation, characterized

army and air force relations in Northwest Europe far more than anyone could

have imagined during the difficult days in North Africa in late 1942. Ninth Air

Force analysts at war’s end correctly assessed the effectiveness of the airground team at the army–tactical air command level. “The principle of establishing a separate, autonomous tactical air command to operate in an indissoluble operational partnership with each army proved sound and successful in

combat.”41 Although no one would deny the importance of doctrine, in large

part the personal element proved crucial. In his letter to General Spaatz,

General Bradley concluded by emphasizing this most important factor. “I think

that one of the most effective measures to insure good cooperation,” he said,

“has been the excellent personal relationship between air and ground commanders which we have enjoyed during this campaign and which has been

highly gratifying to me.”42 He certainly had in mind the excellent personal rapport he developed with air colleagues in joint headquarters, first with General

Quesada, then with General Vandenberg. Cooperation and trust, together with

an abundance of airplanes, served to diminish the importance of organizational principles and mission priorities.

The air-ground partnership reflected both personal and professional considerations. The team of Patton and Weyland, perhaps more than any other,

illustrated the professional respect and understanding that proved absolutely

vital for good air-ground relations. It would be difficult to imagine two such

different personalities: the flamboyant, theatrical, implacable “man of destiny”

from California, and the soft-spoken but determined Texan. Colonel Ferguson,

XIX TAC operations officer, recounted later that General Weyland made sure

well before the Normandy invasion that the two commanders understood each

other and the capabilities and limitations of their forces. “There was such good

rapport established early on about what one could and could not do that there

were no serious difficulties.”43 As a one-star, Weyland remained the responsible subordinate rather than a coequal commander envisioned in FM 100–20.

Regardless, he had the three-star army commander’s confidence from the

beginning. He could always call on Patton to help convince higher headquarters to provide additional air units or change target priorities, and Patton would

Air Power for Patton’s Army

310
do so, vigorously. Furthermore, Patton was never known to override General

Weyland when, on occasion, his air commander declined to have fighterbombers attack targets he judged unsuitable.

Above all, Patton knew that he could count on the XIX TAC commander to support Third Army efforts to the maximum. Apparently, for others, that

kind of aerial support could be considered excessive at times. Looking back on

the air-ground experience of World War II from another perch, Ninth Air Force

officials warned future tactical airmen:

[It] was demonstrated repeatedly that the commander of a tactical air command, deeply engrossed in and intimately associated with the ground campaign, is subject to many strong

influences to insure the maximum amount of close air cooperation in his area of responsibility at the possible expense of

the proper employment of the air force as a whole in the combined air and ground battle.44

Although the evaluators did not name General Weyland’s XIX TAC in

this instance, they doubtless knew that Third Army received more close air

support sorties than had been provided to the First and Ninth Armies by the

other two tactical air commands in Ninth Air Force. Moreover, General

Patton’s reputation as a strong leader might have suggested to them that he had

ridden roughshod over his air commander to extract so much close air support

for his forces.

This was not the case. General Weyland always spoke for air interests

whenever he thought necessary. General Patton, on his part, did not interfere

in the overall air plan, and he let the air commander run the air side of operations. He backstopped Weyland and supported his requests at higher headquarters, knowing full well that in return he would receive all possible aerial

support, given the vagaries of weather and other priorities. Throughout the

campaign Patton publicized the air-ground team’s performance at every opportunity. Although comparatively obscure, one reference in particular captures

the confidence he had in his air commander’s determination to support the

Third Army. On January 15, 1945, with the Germans in full retreat from the

Bulge, he wrote to his wife, “we have had three nice clear days and hope that

our air has done half as much as it says. However, they do try, especially

Weyland and his fighter-bombers.”45

Following the campaign, the two former comrades-in-arms corresponded several times before Patton’s death in December 1945. In September, Patton

sent the first three chapters of his manuscript, War As I Knew It, to a dispirited Weyland, who after his European exploits, instead of receiving an operational assignment, had been named Assistant Commandant of the Army’s

Command and General Staff School. In reply to Weyland’s letter of thanks,

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Patton told him that the students would benefit enormously from his experience “because I am sure that now everyone realizes that the phenomenal success of the combined operations of the XIX TAC and Third Army was due primarily to your forethought and breadth of understanding.” Offering further

encouragement and perhaps the greatest possible compliment, Patton wrote,

“As you know, I told General Eisenhower during the campaign that I would be

perfectly happy to have you as a Corps Commander, at any time.”46

At the end of the war Allied leaders did seek to preserve the lessons

learned in the cooperative air-ground effort. Yet they faced the formidable

challenge of somehow institutionalizing the unusual personal and professional relationships that often proved so successful. In later years, once the experience levels declined and professional relationships forged in combat disappeared, it would prove difficult to rely only on a shared wartime background.

Eisenhower, SHAEF Commander and a strong proponent of air-ground cooperation and centralized control of air power, took the first steps in May 1945,

when he convened a meeting among commanders of the key air-ground teams

in the European theater at General Bradley’s headquarters. General Weyland

recalled that the group unanimously reaffirmed centralized control of air

power as prescribed by FM 100–20 (1943), but not before General Hodges,

U.S. First Army commander, proposed that the individual army headquarters

be authorized direct control of all reconnaissance aircraft.47

The reports from army field units made it clear that General Hodges’s

suggestion would be welcome in some Army circles. Weyland found this

expression of sentiment familiar. Both he and General Vandenberg spoke out

forcefully against Hodges’s plan, and they were supported strongly by General

Weyland’s “collaborator,” General Patton. As Weyland remembered the incident, the Third Army commander explained to those assembled that although

his intelligence officer had first favored Third Army control of reconnaissance,

he realized that reconnaissance had other responsibilities, in addition to those

for his army. Weyland recalled, “Old Patton was a believer.”48

Eisenhower and his colleagues had good reason for concern about preserving the lessons of tactical air power. In the European theater, individual

army commanders had long expressed reservations about command and control arrangements for tactical air forces. Many remained convinced that the

U.S. Army needed its own air force and would in the future continue to advocate a strong army air arm. Normally, these officers held command positions

below corps level, where they would be less likely to appreciate air power’s

larger responsibilities. Moreover, while Eisenhower and his commanders met

at Luxembourg City, Army Ground Forces headquarters published a preliminary report compiled by its Equipment Review Board under the chairmanship

of Maj. Gen. Gilbert R. Cook. Army Air Forces leaders became alarmed as

soon as they learned that its conclusions entirely opposed the precepts of FM

100–20 and the air-ground experience in Europe.49 The so-called Cook Board

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312
report recommended that the army have “ground support aviation organic to

and operated by ground forces...,” and that the aircraft procured for this purpose be of the “flying artillery and flying tank type” for exclusive support of

ground forces.

Characteristically, air leaders mobilized to refute the findings of the

Cook Board. In response to their expressions of concern, the War Department

established a committee, with air force representation, to gather information

pertaining to the Cook Board’s findings. After the committee completed its

investigation in the fall, the War Department convened an Equipment Board in

December 1945, under the chairmanship of Gen. Joseph W. Stilwell, to hear

testimony from key air and ground forces officers. General Weyland was

among those airmen called to testify in December. Like his colleagues, he had

access to the records at AAF headquarters in Washington and at the AAF

Tactical Center’s library at Orlando, Florida, before appearing for a “coordinating rehearsal” of all air force testimony. Weyland’s views reflected his own

experience and partnership in the most successful air-ground team of the war.

In response to the report’s view that there must be one team with one commander, Weyland affirmed the AAF’s view that the theater commander is the

single commander. Moreover, “all offensive combat aircraft must be under

unified air control to permit flexibility of employment.” He referred to his own

interview with German Field Marshal von Rundstedt, who had agreed that aircraft dispersed to corps and divisions could never be concentrated to support

one corps or an army at the expense of another. As for the army’s “flying

tank,” he argued that this represented nothing more than the kind of divebomber that had been shot out of the sky and abandoned in Europe. The fighter-bomber had been developed to meet Army needs, he declared, and it was

“found by actual experience to be better than the slow planes especially

designed for army support.” Any aircraft designed for a single purpose loses

flexibility that is essential for successful air operations. He also cited the experience of the Third Army–XIX TAC team as an example of how army support

could be attained and maintained. Moreover, on the sensitive issue of air force

interest in flying close air support, he asserted that U.S. Army ground forces

had “misinterpreted” the meaning of “third priority.” Despite the implications

of formal tactical air doctrine, close air support should not be considered third

in importance, but must follow air superiority and interdiction missions so that

ground forces “enter [the] battle with hope of success without disproportionate

losses.”50

The War Department’s own Equipment Review Board eventually decided against the Cook Board’s recommendations. Instrumental in its decision,

General Eisenhower and key army and corps commanders supported AAF’s

views. They agreed that air-ground support in Europe had been more than sufficient to defeat the Germans without a “duplicate air organization for ground

cooperation.”51 While the War Department considered the merits of views preAn After Action Assessment

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sented by the army ground forces, its evaluation boards completed their studies of air power’s impact in the various theaters. These studies also confirmed

the essential importance of joint operations and cooperation between air and

ground forces, and they recommended that the doctrine and procedures that

had proved so successful be updated accordingly. 

General Arnold directed the AAF Evaluation Board to revise FM 31–35

to incorporate the lessons of World War II. The new manual updated sections

of the 1942 version, Aviation in Support of Ground Forces, and incorporated

Air Power for Patton’s Army

314

Field Marshal von Rundstedt (right) reviews his troops.
portions of FM 100–20, Command and Employment of Air Power, which the

War Department chose not to rescind. The new manual, however, did not have

FM 100–20’s stridency; in fact, the authors gave to the revised manual a new,

more neutral title, Air-Ground Operations. Headquarters Army Ground Forces

now was commanded by General Devers, an experienced veteran of the

European theater and sympathetic supporter of air-ground cooperation.

Indeed, the new manual received swift approval from the War Department and

both headquarters, and it was published in August 1946.52

Yet would a revised manual and sound doctrine be sufficient to preserve

the lessons of air-ground cooperation of World War II in the absence of goodwill? To be sure, in the postwar period of rapid and massive demobilization

goodwill did not prevail in the competition for declining budgets, lobbying for

an independent Air Force, and a growing emphasis on the strategic nuclear

mission to confront the Soviet Union in the Cold War. In later years interservice rivalry among military leaders would lead to precisely the kind of aerial

duplication that other leaders in the euphoria of victory after the Second World

War argued against. The future would see separate tactical aviation organizations grow and evolve in the U.S. Army, Navy, and Marine Corps, in addition

to the Air Force.53

General Bradley called the victory in Europe a victory for combined

arms and joint operations. Though correct, command of the air proved the key

to the campaign. In a sense, everything else flowed from the fundamental fact

that the Allies achieved and maintained air superiority and their enemy had

not. General Weyland realized this as much as any airman. A few years later,

when he assumed command of Far Eastern Air Forces and directed air operations in Korea, few could match his level of tactical air experience and competence. Yet even Allied air superiority and his impressive background in tactical aviation did not guarantee effective air-ground operations. In fact,

Weyland faced enormous problems in coordinating air-ground operations and

centralizing control of the Air Force, Navy, and Marine air. At the same time,

he struggled to convince the U.S. Army to abandon a traditional view that it

should control its own air forces. As Weyland’s official report on the war

observed, “an astounding facet of the Korean War was the number of old

lessons that had to be relearned.”54 That same refrain would be repeated during the Vietnam War.

The lesson, of course, is that air superiority by itself does not ensure

either centralized control of air assets by airmen or a proper balance between

interdiction and close air support efforts. Although doctrine may serve well in

principle, no air-ground program can succeed without the cooperation and

goodwill of air and ground commanders and their staffs. Given sufficient

resources, people who will work together toward a commonly shared goal can

turn theory into effective practice. Assessing a later war, General Quesada put

it succinctly: “You can have all the doctrine you want, but unless you have

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people, commanders, to implement those doctrines, you might as well throw

your doctrines away.”55 Generals Weyland and Patton knew this. Theirs was a

partnership founded on mutual trust, respect, and a common mission-directed

interest. That is the basic lesson from the Second World War for tactical air

power. It is a lesson worth remembering. 

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1. On general doctrinal development during the interwar period, see Robert F. Futrell,

Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine: Basic Thinking in

the United States Air Force, vol 1,

1907–1964 (Maxwell AFB: Air University,

reprint 1989), pp 1–110; Thomas H. Greer,

The Development of Air Doctrine in the

Army Air Arm, 1917–1941, USAF Historical

Studies No. 89 (Maxwell AFB: 1955; Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History,

reprint, 1985), passim; Richard G. Davis,

Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe

(Washington, D.C.: Center for Air Force History, 1993), pp 180–193; Daniel R. Mortensen, “A Pattern for Joint Operations: World

War II Close Air Support in North Africa,”

Historical Analysis Series (Washington,

D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1994), pp

6–13; Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea

Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World

War II, vol 1, Plans and Early Operations,

January 1939 to August 1942 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1948; reprint,

Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History 1984), pp 17–74; John F. Shiner,

Foulois and the US Army Air Corps,

1931–1935 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1983), pp 43–75, 212–235;

William A. Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine

and AAF Close Air Support in the European

Theater, 1944–45,” Aerospace Historian

(Mar 1980), pp 35–49.

2. The Army normally delineated the contact zone by what it called the bombline, a

line close to its own forces beyond which

aircraft could attack enemy targets without

coordinating with ground commanders.

Despite the confusion that subsequently

would occur in the use of statistical measurements to determine tactical air power’s effec317

tiveness during the World War II, officials

found the bombline a good means to distinguish between air interdiction and close air

support targets. Only much later, during the

Vietnam era, would planners introduce the

concept of battlefield air interdiction, which

became accepted as a subset of air interdiction. When first introduced, the term battlefield air interdiction referred to the component of the air interdiction mission that supported army ground forces beyond the range

of their own artillery. See the discussion in

Robert F. Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine:

Basic Thinking in the United States Air

Force, vol 2, 1961–1984 (Maxwell AFB:

Air University, reprint 1989), pp 551–555.

3. For the best revisionist interpretation

that legitimately downplays Air Corps

antipathy for close air support operations,

see Daniel R. Mortensen, “Tactical Aviation

Technology Tested in World War II: Keeping Doctrine Abreast of Equipment,” chap. 3

in “The Low Road to Independence: From

Origins to the Codification of Modern Tactical Aviation in World War II,” unpublished

manuscript, Air Force History and Museums

Program, Washington, D.C. See also Wesley

Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The

Army Air Forces in World War II, vol 6, Men

and Planes (Chicago: University of Chicago

Press, 1948; reprint, Washington, D.C.:

Office of Air Force History 1984), pp

212–214; Greer, Development of Air Doctrine, pp 52–57.

4. Greer, Development of Air Doctrine,

pp 49–52; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint

Operations, pp 6–7.

5. Davis, Spaatz, pp 180–181; Greer, Development of Air Doctrine, pp 40–43; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, p 7.

Notes

Chapter 1
6. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 11–13; Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine,” pp 182–184.

7. A later manual, FM 100–5, “Operations,” dated May 22, 1941, established mission priorities and stressed the basic importance of air superiority as a prerequisite for

effective ground operations. Kent Roberts

Greenfield, Army Ground Forces and the

Air-Ground Battle Team, Including Organic

Light Aviation, U.S. Army Study No. 35

(Washington, D.C.: Historical Div, Department of the Army, 1948), pp 1–5; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 11–13;

Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine,” pp 182–184.

8. Riley Sunderland, Evolution of Command and Control Doctrine for Close Air

Support (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1973), pp 7–9; Davis,

Spaatz, pp 185–186; Greenfield, Army

Ground Forces, pp 5–12. Organizationally,

Air Force Combat Command replaced

GHQ Air Force in June 1941.

9. Interwar air board reports had shown

that air support commands should support

field armies because the range of their

fighter-bombers could be expected to cover

the frontage of a field army. See War

Department, FM 31–35, “Aviation in Support of Ground Forces,” 9 Apr 1942, paras.

5–9; see also Greenfield, Army Ground

Forces, pp 3–5; Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine,” pp 38–39; Davis, Spaatz, pp

186–189; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint

Operations, pp 20–24.

10. FM 31–35, para. 26(b).

11. Ibid., para. 6.

12. Ibid., para. 31; David Syrett, “Northwest Africa, 1942–1943,” in B. Franklin

Cooling, ed., Case Studies in the Achievement of Air Superiority (Washington, D.C.:

Center for Air Force History, 1993), p 6.

13. FM 31–35, para. 10.

14. Davis, Spaatz, p 189.

15. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 47–56; Syrett, “Northwest

Africa,” p 10.

16. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 47–56; Wesley Frank Craven and

318

Notes to pages 3–11

James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces

in World War II, vol 2, Europe: Torch to

Pointblank, Aug 1942 to Dec 1943 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949;

reprinted, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1984), pp 50–66.

17. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 2,

Europe: Torch to Pointblank, pp 56–62.

For the ground campaign, see George F.

Howe, Northwest Africa: Seizing the Initiative in the West, [U.S. Army in World War

II, Mediterranean Theater of Operations]

(Washington, D.C.: Office of Chief of Military History, 1957).

18. Howe, Northwest Africa, pp 62–69.

The British Western Desert Air Force, with

headquarters in Egypt, was not a component

of the Allied Air Force headquartered in

Algeria.

19. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 2,

Europe: Torch to Pointblank, pp 136–145.

The Luftwaffe maintained a close air support strength of 300–330 aircraft from early

January to mid-April 1943. See Air Ministry (Great Britain), The Rise and Fall of

the German Air Force, 1933–1945 (Old

Greenwich, Conn.: WE Inc., 1969), p 250.

20. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, p 69.

21. Germany’s Field Marshal Erwin

Rommel, the “Desert Fox,” mounted a surprise attack in central Tunisia against II

Corps positions first in Faid Pass on February 14, 1943 and then at Kasserine four

days later. Although the Allies rallied and

pushed back the German advance on February 23, the Axis offensive wrecked Allied

plans to divide German forces by thrusting

eastward into Tunisia. Inexperienced

American troops suffered more than 6,000

casualties compared with 989 German and

535 Italian casualties. See Howe, Northwest Africa, pp 438–481; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 153–161;

Sunderland, Evolution, pp 11–12.

22. Vincent Orange, Coningham: A

Biography of Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham (Washington, D.C.: Center for Air

Force History, 1992 reprint), chap. 10;
Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations,

pp 72–73. Kuter continued to serve in the

command as Coningham’s deputy.

23. The incident provoked a crisis in

Allied and joint relations. Apparently the

theater commander, General Eisenhower,

threatened to resign over the issue. For additional discussion of this affair, see George S.

Patton, Diary Entries, Apr 1–4, 1943, Patton

Collection, Box 3, Manuscript Division

(MD), Library of Congress (LC). The diary

account in the collection includes the official messages. See also Martin Blumenson,

ed., The Patton Papers, vol 2 (Boston:

Houghton Mifflin, 1974), pp 203–208;

Orange, Coningham, pp 146–147; Laurence

S. Kuter, “Goddamit Georgie: North Africa,

1943: The Birth of TAC Doctrine,” Air

Force Magazine vol 56 (Feb 1973), p 55;

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 2, Europe: Torch

to Pointblank, pp 174–175; Mortensen,

Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 84–85.

24. A.F. Hurley and R.C. Ehrhart, eds.,

“The Perceptions of Three Makers of Air

Power History,” Air Power and Warfare,

proceedings of the 8th Military History

Symposium, United States Air Force Academy, 18–20 October 1973 (Washington,

D.C.: Office of Air Force History and the

United States Air Force Academy, 1979), p

109; Syrett, “Northwest Africa,

1942–1943,” pp 153–192; Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 4–5.

25. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 2,

Europe: Torch to Pointblank, pp 113–115,

161–165.

26. “Some Notes on the Use of Air

Power in Support of Land Operations,

Introduced by B.L. Montgomery, Dec

1944,” USAFHRA, 168.6006–137; see

also Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham,

“The Development of Tactical Air Forces,”

Journal of the Royal United Service Institution vol 91 (May 1946), p 215; Davis,

Spaatz, p 311.

319

Notes to pages 11–20

27. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, p 85; Davis, Spaatz, p 321.

28. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, p 86; Craven and Cate, eds., Europe:

Torch to Pointblank, vol 2, pp 166–206.

29. Memo, Brig Gen L.S. Kuter, Dep

Comdr, Northwest African Tactical Air

Force, to H.H. Arnold, CG AAF, Subject:

“Organization of American Air Forces,”

May 12, 1943, USAFHRA, 614.201–1; for

events, see Craven and Cate, eds., Europe:

Torch to Pointblank, vol 2, pp 47–56.

30. Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp 47–56.

31. Memo, Kuter, “Organization of

American Air Forces.”

32. Davis, Spaatz, pp 312–315.

33. War Department, FM 100–20, “Command and Employment of Air Power,” July

21, 1943, paras. 3, 9(e); Jacobs, “Tactical

Air Doctrine,” pp 39–40.

34. FM 100–20, paras. 1, 2, and 3. The

manual at no time used the word “support”

to characterize the AAF’s role in airground operations. Instead, it termed the air

element “coordinate” forces that must not

be distributed among or subordinated to

ground elements. Although the manual permitted one exception, a theater situation in

which “GROUND FORCE UNITS ARE

OPERATING INDEPENDENTLY OR

ARE ISOLATED BY DISTANCE OR

LACK OF COMMUNICATION,” tactical

air operations in Northwest Europe

required far more decentralized command

and control arrangements than the manual’s

authors envisioned.

35. Ibid., para 2.

36. Ibid., para 16.

37. Ibid.

38. Davis, Spaatz, p 322.

39. Ibid., pp 312–314; Greenfield, Army

Ground Forces, pp 47–50.

40. For example, Memo, Kuter, “Organization of American Air Forces.”
1. The description of Patton’s career that

follows is based for the most part on

Claude S. Erbsen, “Old Blood and Guts,”

Weekly Philatelic Gossip (Nov 21, 1953),

pp 366–368; and “Biographical Notes on

Gen George S. Patton, Jr.,” in the Patton

Collection, Box 5, Chronological File, MD,

LC. See also Martin Blumenson, Patton:

The Man Behind the Legend, 1885–1945

(New York: William Morrow, 1985); and

Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers.

2. U.S. Third Army (hereafter cited as

US3A), “After Action Report, Aug 1,

1944–May 9, 1945,” vol 2: Staff Section

Reports, Part 4: “G–3 Section Report”; Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p 407. On

Operation Fortitude, see Alfred D. Chandler,

ed., The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower: The War Years, vol 3 (Baltimore: Johns

Hopkins University Press, 1970), pp 1789,

1978–1979, 2035; and Chester Wilmot, The

Struggle for Europe (New York: Harper &

Row, 1952), pp 199–201, 332–333. See also

Charles Cruickshank, Deception in World

War II (New York: Oxford University Press,

1979), pp 170–189, 235–236.

3. “84th Fighter Wing” lineage and honors history in Maurer Maurer, ed., Air

Force Combat Units of World War II

(Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force

History, 1983), pp 407–408. On Weyland’s

career, see Intvw, Gen O.P. Weyland by

James C. Hasdorff, Nov 19, 1974,

USAFHRA, K239.0512–813; Ninth AF

(hereafter cited as 9AF), “Biographies,”

1944, USAFHRA, 533.293, 1944–45;

“Biographical Sketch,” n.d., USAFHRA,

168.7104–103; XIX TAC, “History of XIX

Tactical Air Command,” Dec 4, 1943–Jun

30, 1944, USAF-HRA, 537.01, 1943–44.

4. Blumenson, Patton: Man Behind Legend, especially the preface and chaps. 1

and 10.

5. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp,

354–355; Blumenson, Patton: Man Behind

Legend, p 216.

320

Notes to pages 21–29

6. Thomas J. Mayock, “Notes on the

Development of AAF Tactical Air Doctrine,” Military Affairs vol 14 (Winter 1950),

p 187.

7. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974, p 140. 

8. Intvw, Gen James Ferguson by Lyn R.

Officer and James C. Hasdorff, May 8–9,

1973, USAFHRA, K239.0512–672, p 129.

9. George S. Patton, Jr., War As I Knew

It (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1947), p 99.

10. William C. Stancik and R. Cargill

Hall, “Air Force ROTC: Its Origins and

Early Years,” Air University Review vol 35

No. 5 (Jul–Aug 1984), p 42.

11. For the background of Operation

Overlord, see Gordon A. Harrison, CrossChannel Attack, [U.S. Army in World War II:

Mediterranean Theater of Operations]

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of

Military History, 1951); John Keegan, Six

Armies in Normandy (New York: Viking

Press, 1982); Carlo D’Este, Decision in Normandy (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1983); Thomas E. Griess, ed., vol 1, The Second World

War: Europe and the Mediterranean (Wayne,

N.J.: Avery Publishing Group, 1984), pp

253–281; Charles B. MacDonald and Martin

Blumenson, “Recovery of France,” in Vincent J. Esposito, ed., A Concise History of

World War II (New York: Praeger, 1964), pp

70–85; and Charles B. MacDonald, The

Mighty Endeavor: The American War in Europe (New York: Quill, 1986), pp 269–284.

12. HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of

Ninth Air Force in the European Theater of

Operations (Washington, D.C.: Office of

Air Force History, 1984), pp 49–55; Wesley

Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The

Army Air Forces in World War II, vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, January

1944–May 1945 (Chicago: University of

Chicago Press, 1951; reprint, Washington,

D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983), pp

107–121; Rpt, Col H.J. Knerr, Dep, Air Support Command (ASC) to CG, AAF, “Report

on Manpower and Shipping Requirements,”

Chapter 2
prepared by Bradley Committee, Jun 23,

1943, USAFHRA, 612–201A.

13. Rpt, Col Philip Cole et al., VIII ASC

to HQ, 8AF, “Observers Report: Air Operations in Support of Ground Forces in

North West Africa, March 15–April 5,

1943,” Jul 1, 1943, USAFHRA, 650.03–2

[hereafter cited as Rpt, 8AF, “Observers

Report” (1943)]. I am indebted to Edgar

Raines for pointing out that the range of aircraft provided the air-ground organization

with the logic for pairing tactical air commands with field armies, numbered air

forces with army groups, and strategic air

forces under the theater commander. The

interwar Air Board reports made this clear,

and air and ground leaders established this

standard for World War II. Accordingly,

evaluators deemed the range of a tactical air

command’s fighter-bombers sufficient to

cover a field army’s frontage, and they tested this concept in the 1941 air-ground

maneuvers. Memo, Edgar R. Raines, Historian, Army Center of Military History, May

20, 1991. See also HQ AAF, Condensed

Analysis of Ninth AF, p 50; John F. Ramsey,

Ninth Air Force in the ETO, Oct 16, 1943 to

Apr 16, 1944, USAF Historical Studies No.

32 (Washington, D.C.: AAF Historical

Office, 1945), pp 1–29, 49–65, and appendix 1, pp 198–208.

On doctrinal and organizational analyses

during the interwar period, see Futrell, Ideas,

Concepts, Doctrine, vol 1, 1907–1960, pp

1–110; Greer, Development of Air Doctrine,

passim; Davis, Spaatz, pp 180–193;

Mortensen, Pattern for Joint Operations, pp

6–13; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 1, Plans

and Early Operations, pp 17–74; Shiner,

Foulois, pp 43–75, 212–235.

14. Rpt, 8AF, “Observers Report”

(1943), p 37.

15. Ibid., p 40.

16. Ibid., p 4.

17. Ibid., pp 20, 40. In organizing the crucial air-ground support effort and in establishing the procedures for its practice in that

theater, the experience already acquired in

combat proved far more significant in shap321

Notes to pages 29–32

ing action than did the doctrinal pronouncements from army headquarters in Washington, D.C., important as the latter might be.

Despite the publication of FM 100–20

(1943), army air and ground leaders in the

field relied on what worked, on common

sense, and on the more practical FM 31–35

(1942) when ordering their cooperative

air–ground operations. For air operations in

Sicily and Italy, see Alan F. Wilt, “Allied

Cooperation in Sicily and Italy, 1943–45,” in

B. Franklin Cooling, ed., Case Studies in the

Development of Close Air Support (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History,

1990), pp 193–236; Harry L. Coles, Participation of the Ninth and Twelfth Air Forces in

the Sicilian Campaign, USAF Historical

Studies No. 37 (Washington, D.C.: AAF

Historical Office, 1945); Carlo D’Este, Bitter Victory: The Battle for Sicily, 1943 (New

York: E. P. Dutton, 1988); and Craven and

Cate, eds., vol 2, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, pp 415–596. For Patton’s comments,

see Memo, Lt Gen Carl Spaatz, CG, NAAF

to Maj Gen Barney Giles, C/S, AAF, Sep 12,

1943, Arnold Collection, File 1938–46,

370.2 (Africa) (34), Box 104, MD, LC.

Although Ninth Air Force pilots preparing

for the invasion of France benefited from

observing air operations in Italy, they considered most innovations like the Rover Joe

land-based air force controller system less

applicable for the mobile operations they

expected in Northwest Europe. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974; Ltr, Maj Gen Robert L.

Delashaw, 405th FG Comdr, to author, Aug

21, 1989.

18. HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of

Ninth AF, p 50; Ramsey, Ninth Air Force, pp

1–29, 49–65; and appendix 1, pp 198–208.

19. W. A. Jacobs, “Air Command in the

United Kingdom, 1933–44,” Journal of

Strategic Studies, vol 11 (Mar 88), pp

51–78; D’Este, Decision in Normandy, p

213.

20. Jacobs, “Air Command,” pp 62–64;

Lewis H. Brereton, The Brereton Diaries

(New York: William Morrow, 1946), pp

213–276.
21. HQ 12th Army Group, “Brief of

Joint Operations Plan—U.S. Forces for

Operation Overlord (revised May 8,

1944),” in RG 331, Records of Allied

Operational and Occupation Headquarters,

WWII, File 1943–45, 370.2, Box 85, NA.

22. For the often bewildering array of

organizational changes from December

1943 to May 1944, see XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–Jun 30, 1944; Ramsey,

Ninth Air Force, appendix 1, pp 198–208;

and John Schlight, “Elwood R. Quesada:

TAC Air Comes of Age,” in John L. Frisbee, ed., Makers of the Modern Air Force

(Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force

History, 1987), pp 177–198.

23. Schlight, “Elwood R. Quesada,” pp

177–198.

24. XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944; War Department: The Adjutant General’s Office, Official Army Register, Jan 1, 1945 (Washington, D.C.: U.S.

Government Printing Office, 1945).

25. Eugene M. Greenberg, XIX TAC

Signal Office, “Signals: The Story of Communications in the XIX Tactical Air Command up to V–E Day,” Jun 15, 1945,

USAFHRA 537.901; XIX TAC, “A Report

on the Combat Operations of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” May 30, 1945, pp

18–23, USAFHRA, 537.02, 1945; George

R. Thompson and Dixie R. Harris, The Signal Corps: The Outcome, Mid-1943

through 1945 [U.S. Army in World War II]

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of

Military History, 1966), chap. 4.

26. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Operations in

Europe: A Report on Employment of FighterBombers, Reconnaissance and Night Fighter

Aircraft by XIX Tactical Air Command,

Ninth Air Force, in Connection with the

Third US Army Campaign from 1 August

1944 to VE Day 9 May 1945,” May 19, 1945,

pp 39–41, USAFHRA, 537.04A, 1945;

Blanche D. Coll, Jean E. Keith, and Herbert

H. Rosenthal, The Corps of Engineers:

Troops and Equipment, [U.S. Army in World

War II] (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military

History, 1958), chap. 14, pp 25, 56, 60.

322

Notes to pages 33–38

27. XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944; 9AF, “Annual Statistical

Summary, 1944,” USAFHRA, 533.3083,

1944. 

28. XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944. See also the monthly histories of the individual flying groups for precise manning and aircraft statistics. 

29. Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO,

“Effectiveness of Third-Phase Tactical Air

Operations in the ETO, 4 May 1944 to 8

May 1945,” pp 305–308, USAFHRA,

138.4–36, Aug 1945 (hereafter cited as

AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air

Ops”); U.S. Forces, European Theater, Battle Studies, vol 2: Air Operations, No. 14:

“Fighter-Bomber Cooperation” (USFET,

n.d.), US Army Military History Institute

(MHI).

30. Ninth Air Force’s procurement problem worsened initially when General Quesada, among others, agreed to have projected P–51s sent to the Eighth Air Force

where they could be better used as fighter

escorts for the heavy bombers in the struggle for air supremacy. Until late spring, the

Ninth had to make do with the Eighth’s

cast-off P–47 “clinkers.” By D-Day, however, the Ninth began receiving the D25

and D27 Thunderbolts, which had paddleblade propellers, bubble canopies, and larger fuel tanks. These Thunderbolt models

became famous in the battle for France.

Likewise, new P–51Ds arrived in late

spring, and this model, with its teardrop

plexiglass canopy and extra gun in each

wing, proved more than a match for the

German FW 190 and Bf 109 aircraft. Supply procedures in Britain called for common user items to be sent to units through

Army supply channels, while specialized

air forces’ items were supplied through air

forces channels but under USSTAF auspices. In practice, both channels broke

down and supply officials often resorted to

informal cooperation. See XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–Jun 30, 1944; Craven

and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to

V–E Day, pp 631–664; Rpt, IX Fighter
Command, A–4, n.d., Quesada Collection,

Box 3, MD, LC; Memo, 9AF, Jan 29, 1944,

USAFHRA, 168.6005–1033; Intvw, Lt

Gen Elwood R. Quesada by Steve Long

and Ralph Stephenson, May 1975,

USAFHRA, K239.0512–838.

31. XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944.

32. Ibid.

33. Ramsey, Ninth Air Force, pp 91–94,

101–107; XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4,

1943–Jun 30, 1944; IX TAC, “Unit History,” Apr 1944, USAFHRA, 536.02, Apr

1944, May 1944; Intvw, Lt Gen John J.

Burns, USAF (Ret) by the author, Jan 7,

1992. General Quesada’s range program set

the stage for extensive collaboration with

civilian technicians on the continent. Ultimately, each tactical air command possessed an Operational Research Section

that applied scientific and engineering

expertise to tactical air power problems.

34. 9AF, “Weekly Intelligence Summaries” (hereafter cited as “Weekly

Intsum”), Nov 3, 1943–Jun 1, 1944, USAFHRA, 533.607, 1944–45; 9AF, “Operational Statistics,” Jan 1, 1944–Jun 1, 1944,

USAFHRA, 533.3082, 1944.

35. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, chap. 2; Air Ministry

(Great Britain), German Air Force, chap.

13; MacDonald, Mighty Endeavor, pp

266–268.

36. 9AF, “Weekly Intsum”; 9AF, “Operational Statistics”; IX TAC, “Unit History,”

Apr 1944, p 4; XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4,

1943–Jun 30, 1944. Ninth Air Force leaders successfully promoted a vigorous program to upgrade the status of fighterbomber achievements in the Northwest

European campaign. After the invasion,

combat experience found the fighterbomber employed far more often as a

bomber than as a fighter, significantly altering the fighter-bomber pilot’s image.

37. Robert H. George, Ninth Air Force,

Apr to Nov 1944, USAF Historical Studies

No. 36 (Washington, D.C.: AAF Historical

Office, 1945), pp 30–49.

323

Notes to pages 39–45

38. George, Ninth AF, pp 52–60; AAF

Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp

48–49; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 139–140.

39. XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944. By mid-April, XIX TAC was

deployed at the following airstrips in Kent:

Unit Location

100th Ftr Wing Lashenden ALG

354th Ftr Gp Lashenden ALG

358th Ftr Gp High Halden ALG

362d Ftr Gp Headcorn ALG

363d Ftr Gp Staplehurst ALG

303d Ftr Wing Ashford ALG

36th Ftr Gp Kingsnorth ALG

373d Ftr Gp Woodchurch ALG

406th Ftr Gp Ashford ALG

40. Ibid. 

41. Schlight, “Elwood R. Quesada,” p

189.

42. HQ AAF, AAF Ltr 80–3, “Air

Employment Terminology,” Nov 16, 1944,

Arnold Collection, File 1938–46, Box 104,

MD, LC.

43. See for example, XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,” May 30, 1945, introduction. 

44. IX TAC, “Unit History,” Apr 1944,

p 4.

45. Cooperative efforts between the First

Army and IX TAC fell short of collocating

their headquarters. For details on the lecture

program, see Ramsey, Ninth Air Force, p

104; Rpt, IX Fighter Command, A–3, n.d.,

Quesada Collection, Box 3, MD, LC; IX

ASC, “Reference Guide on Tactical Employment of Air Power Organization and Control

Channels of Tactical Units, Prepared Oct 29,

1943, revised Feb 24, 1944,” USAFHRA,

168.6005–103A, Feb 25, 1944.

46. US3A, “After Action Report, Aug 1,

1944–May 9, 1945,” vol 2: Staff Section

Reports, part 3: “G–2 Section Report,” pp

4–5; XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944.

47. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 5–7.
48. Rpt, IX Fighter Command, A–3.

49. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974, pp

64–76; XIX TAC, “History,” Dec 4, 1943–

Jun 30, 1944.

50. Patton, Diary Entries, May 26, 27,

1944.

51. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p 30.

52. Rpt, HQ Seventh Army, “Notes on

the Sicilian Campaign,” Oct 30, 1943.

53. Ibid., p 6.

54. Ibid., p 12.

55. Ibid., Annex, p 2.

56. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974, pp

67, 76.

57. Memo, Raines, May 20, 1991.

58. Ltr, Gen Sir B.L. Montgomery to Lt

Gen George S. Patton, Jr., May 4, 1944,

Patton Collection, Box 14, MD, LC.

59. Ltr, Lt Gen George S. Patton, Jr., to

Gen Sir B.L. Montgomery, May 7, 1944,

Patton Collection, Box 14, MD, LC.

60. Omar N. Bradley, A Soldier’s Story

(New York: Henry Holt, 1951), p 249.

Despite Bradley’s understandable irritation,

Brereton did not refuse joint training

because he preferred other missions before

close air support. His background in tactical

operations, his experience with the British

in the Middle East, and his offer to conduct

such training in May argue to the contrary.

Moreover, he assigned Major General

Ralph Royce, his deputy commander, to

serve as Ninth Air Force liaison officer with

General Bradley on board the USS Augusta

command ship during the invasion. Later,

Royce would accompany Bradley ashore

when the First Army commander established his Normandy command post. See

Rpt, Col Philip Cole, “Air Planning for

Overlord,” Aug 8, 1944, USAFHRA,

248.411–16, 1944.

61. For narrative and analysis of the

landing and Normandy campaign, see Harrison, Cross-Channel Attack; Martin Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit, [U.S. Army

in World War II: European Theater of

Operaions] (Washington, D.C.: Office of

the Chief of Military History, 1965);

D’Este, Decision in Normandy; Griess, ed.,

324

Notes to pages 45–58

vol 1, Second World War, pp 253–281;

MacDonald, Mighty Endeavor, pp

241–319.

62. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 65–75; Craven and Cate, eds.,

vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

185–199; George, Ninth AF, pp 76–81.

63. HQ 12th Army Group, “Joint Operations Plan”; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase

Tactical Air Ops,” pp 62–63; 9AF, “Weekly

Intsum”; 9AF, “Operational Statistics.” See

also W. A. Jacobs, “The Battle for France,”

in Cooling, ed., Close Air Support, pp

237–293; Col E.L. Johnson, G–3 (Air),

FUSA to AGF (Army Ground Forces)

Board, HQ ETOUSA, “Information Regarding Air-Ground Joint Operations,” Jul 16,

1944, RG 337, Entry 29, Box 51, NA.

64. IX TAC, “Unit History,” June 1944,

p 2, USAFHRA, 536.02, Jun 1944; AAF

Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,”

pp 65–75; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

185–199; George, Ninth AF, pp 76–81.

65. IX TAC, “Unit History,” Jun 1944;

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air

Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part

2, Operations Narrative, USAFHRA,

537.01, 1944–45; George, Ninth AF, pp

97–98.

66. For the Cherbourg campaign, see

George, Ninth AF, pp 101–108; AAF Eval

Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp

75–76; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

199–204; and Memo, Brig Gen D. M.

Schlatter, Dep C/S-Opns, 9AF, to CG,

USSTAF, “Report on Cherbourg Attack,

Jul 21, 1944,” Spaatz Collection, Box 164,

MD, LC.

67. Memo, Brig Gen Schlatter, to

USSTAF, “Report on Cherbourg Attack.”

68. This analysis is based on Rpt, Col E.

L. Johnson, G–3 (Air), FUSA to AGF Board,

HQ ETOUSA, “Information Regarding AirGround Joint Operations,” Jul 16, 1944, RG

337, Entry 29, Box 51, NA (hereafter cited as

“Johnson Report,”). See also First Army

(hereafter cited as US1A) G–3 (Air), “Air
Support Report, 6 Aug 1944,” USAFHRA,

533.4501–3, May–Aug 1944. Military designations for Army air specialists were G–2

(Air), Army air intelligence, and G–3 (Air),

Army air operations. For the airmen, intelligence was termed A–2 and operations A–3,

except at the squadron level, which used S–2

and S–3, respectively.

69. “SCR” designated a Signal Corps

Radio. For air support party liaison communications, Weyland’s command relied

primarily on the long-range SCR–399, a

400-watt mobile HF set paired with a

SCR–624 VHF set operating on 110 volts.

Half-tracks transported the equipment with

armored divisions, while 21⁄2-ton trucks

operated with the infantry. The SCR–399

100-mile range radio replaced the less

durable SCR–299 early in the campaign,

while the SCR–624, an adaptation of the

SCR–522 for ground use, provided a 130-

mile line-of-sight range from ground to

plane. The command used ground force

land lines with the HF radio for standby

during static situations, but it relied on HF

sets for mobile operations for requesting

air missions, passing bomblines, field

orders, weather reports, and operations

results. The VHF radio remained the mainstay for contacting aircraft, adjusting

artillery fire, and receiving immediate

“flash” reconnaissance reports. See also

Greenberg, “Signals”; XIX TAC, “Combat

Operations,” May 30, 1945, pp 18–23;

Thompson and Harris, Signal Corps, chap.

4.

70. IX TAC, “Unit History,” Jul 1–31,

1944, pp 12–13, USAFHRA, 536.02, July

1944.

71. Ibid.; 9AF, “Reconnaissance in the

Ninth Air Force: A Report on Reconnaissance Operations During the European

Campaign,” pp 21–27, n.d. [May 9, 1945],

MHI; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Ops,” pp 346–350.

72. See FM 100–20, para 16. See also

FM 31–35, para 10.

73. Johnson Report.

325

Notes to pages 58–64

74. IX TAC, “Unit History,” July 1944,

p 14; Rpt, IX TAC, A–3, n.d., Quesada

Collection, Box 3, MD, LC.

75. IX Engineer Command completed

six airfields in June. See George, Ninth AF,

pp 99–101; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase

Tactical Ops,” p 67; 9AF, “Progress

Report, Airfield Construction,” July 24,

1944, USAFHRA, 168.7104–83.

76. IX TAC, “Unit History,” July 1944,

p 7; Thompson and Harris, Signal Corps,

pp 102–104, 433–435. See also Thompson

and Harris chap. 4, pp 174–176, for a discussion of the modified SCR–584 introduced by Weyland’s command in the fall

of 1944.

77. IX TAC, “Unit History,” July 1944,

pp 7–8.

78. Ibid., p 8; 513th Fighter Sqdn, “Unit

History Report for Period Ending Jul 31,

1944,” USAFHRA, GP–406–HI.

79. George, Ninth AF, chaps. 3, 4; XIX

TAC, “History,” July 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, pt. 2.

80. In June 1944 planners reshuffled

reconnaissance units to support the larger

visual and photographic requests. The

newly designated 10th Photo Reconnaissance Group sent two of its four photo

squadrons to the 67th Tactical Reconnaissance Group in return for the 12th and 15th

Tactical Reconnaissance Squadrons. Each

group now had two photo and two reconnaissance squadrons. On June 16, the 10th

joined the XIX TAC, but remained under

IX TAC control until after XIX TAC

became operational with Third Army. See

IX TAC, “Unit History,” June 1944. See

also Thomas G. Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance: The 10th Photo Recon Group in

World War II (Fallbrook, Calif.: Aero Publishers, 1981), pp 37–38; Ltr, Brig Gen

Russell A. Berg, USAF (Ret) to author, Sep

6, 1989.

81. George, Ninth AF, p 91.

82. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Ops,” p 1. See also chapter 1 in “Third

Phase Tactical Ops” for a discussion of the
more contemporary concept of Battlefield

Air Interdiction.

83. Rpt, 8AF, “Observers Report” (1943).

84. George, Ninth AF, p 149.

85. 9AF, “Report on Activities of the

Ninth Air Force, period Jun 6–Aug 28,

1944,” p 9, USAFHRA, 533.306–2, 1944.

86. For Weyland’s awareness of the

problem, see XIX TAC, “Twelve-Thousand

Fighter-Bomber Sorties: XIX Tactical Air

Command’s First Month of Operations in

Support of Third US Army in France,” Sep

30, 1944, “Recapitulation,” USAFHRA,

168.7104–69.

87. Memo, Brig Gen Schlatter to

USSTAF, “Rpt on Cherbourg Attack,” p 5.

88. George, Ninth AF, p 118.

89. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, pt 2; US3A, “After Action

Rpt,” vol 2, part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp

8–9; Cmd, p 2; G–3, p 11.

90. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 8.

91. Ibid., p 9; II, Cmd, p 2; II, G–3, p 9;

Rpt, IX TAC, G–3 (Air), n.d., Quesada

Collection, Box 5, MD, LC.

92. On Operation Cobra, see D’Este,

Decision in Normandy, part 3; Blumenson,

326

Notes to pages 65–73

Breakout and Pursuit, part 3; Russell F.

Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants: The

Campaigns of France and Germany,

1944–45 (Bloomington: Indiana University

Press, 1981), chap. 8; Bradley, Soldier’s

Story, chap. 17.

93. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 85–94; Craven and Cate, eds.,

vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

228–238; IX TAC, “Unit History,” July

1944, pp 2–5; Rpt, 12th Army Group, Air

Effects Committee, “Effect of Air Power on

Military Operations, Western Europe,” 15

July 1945, pp 102–105, MHI (hereafter

cited as Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect

of Air Power”).

94. Intvw, Quesada, May 12, 1975; IX

TAC, “Unit History,” July 1944, pp 2–5;

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 238–243; Schlight,

“Elwood R. Quesada,” pp 177–198.

95. US1A “Air Support Report,” Aug 6,

1944, pp 10–11; 9AF, “Weekly Intelligence

Summary,” Jul 24–31, 1944; 9AF, “Operational Statistics,” Jul 24–31, 1944.

96. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, pt. 2; Blumenson, ed., Patton

Papers, pp 489–493.

1. Weyland began a daily diary on July

29, 1944, which is indispensable to an

understanding of XIX TAC operations. See

Otto P. Weyland, “Diary, Jul 29, 1944–May

18, 1945,” USAFHRA, 168.7104–1,

1944–45. For an overview of the campaign

in France, see Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants; Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit;

D’Este, Decision in Normandy; Craven and

Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E

Day, chap. 8.

2. This discussion of the drive across

France is based in large part on the Weyland

diary and the following: US3A, “After

Action Rpt,” vol 1, Aug and Sep Ops; XIX

TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties” Sep 30, 1944;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 2; Blumenson, ed., Patton

Papers, pp 494–560; US3A, “After Action

Rpt,” vol 1, Aug 1, 1944; and Weyland,

“Diary,” Aug 1, 1944. The fighter groups

seem to have been assigned on the basis of

their location and current operational commitment.

3. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Aug

1, 1944; Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 1, 1944.

4. For a discussion of XIX TAC’s communication systems, see XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,” pp 18–22; Greenberg,

“Signals”; XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,”

Chapter 3
May 30, 1945, pp 18–23; and Thompson and

Harris, Signal Corps, chap. 4.

5. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 1, 1944; XIX

TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug 1, 1944.

The first week was a transitional period

marked by a gradual buildup of forces. See

XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Aug

8–Sep 30, 1944, USAFHRA, 537.306A,

Aug–Sep 1944.

6. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, part 2; XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp 1–6. Normally, the fighter control

center (later renamed the tactical control

center), or the ground controller, would provide new bombline information to pilots.

7. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974, p 143.

Air liaison officers assigned to ground units

were initially called Air Support Party Officers, and later Tactical Air Party Officers.

8. Criticism of Patton’s generalship is

found in Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 243–245.

9. For Weyland’s views, see XIX TAC,

“Combat Operations,” p 43; On the air

umbrella concept, see FM 100–20, sec 3

para 16a (3)b.(1), p 11.

10. The phrase is the XIX TAC historian’s. 

11. 9AF, “Schedule of Operations, Aug

2, 1944,” USAFHRA, 533.3082, Aug 1944.

12. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp

1–6. Lt John J. Burns, a 371st Fighter

Group pilot, recalled that pilots served as

air liaison officers with the ground units,

but only exclusively after the drive east. In

Brittany, his main air control officer was a

former armor officer. Lieutenant Burns

considered the air control officer, who

eventually was killed at Brest, an outstanding air-ground liaison officer. See Intvw, Lt

Gen John J. Burns by Hugh N. Ahmann,

Jun 5–8, 1984, and Jan 1986, reel no.

41509, USAFHRA, K239.0512–1587, pp

21–27; Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

13. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp

1–6; Intvw, Burns, Jun 5–8, 1984, p 14;

Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

14. XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,” pp

27–31, 38–40; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Oper327

Notes to pages 73–86

ations in Europe, pp 39–41; AAF Evaluation

Board, ETO, “HQ Ninth AF, Report on Tactical Air Cooperation, Organization, Methods

and Procedures with Special Emphasis on

Phase III Operations,” Jul 31, 1945, pp

327–361, USAFHRA, 138.4–34, 1945.

15. “Prepared Hessian surfacing” is the

British term for prefabricated bituminized

surfacing, the ready-made, tarred canvas,

or Hessian-type material, used for aircraft

runways, taxiways, and storage areas in

World War II.

16. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1, pp 114–126;

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, p 132; Roulement is a

French term meaning “rolling” (forward).

17. In this regard, Patton agreed with

Bradley, who told him privately that Brest

had to be taken to uphold the view that the

U.S. Army could not be beaten. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p 532.

18. 36th FG, “Unit History,” Jul–Sep

1944, USAFHRA, GP–36–HI.

19. For Weyland’s early views on statistical problems, see XIX TAC, “12,000 FB

Sorties,” p 1.

20. Keegan, Six Armies; D’Este, Decision

in Normandy; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, chaps. 14, 15; MacDonald and

Blumenson, “Recovery of France,” in

Esposito, Concise History, pp 91–103; MacDonald, Mighty Endeavor, pp 331–376.

21. Von Kluge replaced von Rundstedt on

July 5, after the latter advised Hitler to abandon Caen’s defense. Later, von Kluge

assumed direct command of Army Group B

after British fighter-bombers severely

wounded its commander, Rommel, on July

17. Although von Kluge and other senior

Wehrmacht officers questioned Hitler’s strategy, they dared not oppose the Fuehrer, especially after the abortive plot of July 20, 1944.

22. HQ 9AF, “Operations Journal,” Aug

6, 1944, USAFHRA, 533.305, Apr–Dec

1944. For most of the campaign in France,

the 100th Wing controlled the 354th, 358th,

371st, and 405th Fighter Groups, and the

10th Photo Reconnaissance Group; the
303d Wing controlled the 36th, 373d, and

406th Fighter Groups.

23. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 11–12; Ivie,

Aerial Reconnaissance, pp 54–56; Patton,

Diary Entry, Aug 6, 20, 1944.

24. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

7, 1944; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Operations in Europe,” pp 16–17.

25. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 16, 1944;

Thompson and Harris, Signal Corps, chap.

4; Rpt, Ninth Air Force, “Tactical Air Operations, Jun 6–Aug 28, 1944,” p 16, USAFHRA, 533.306–2, 1944.

26. Ltr, Dr. David Griggs, Member,

Advisor Specialist Group, USSTAF, to E. L.

Bowles, Expert Consultant to Secy War,

Oct 17, 1944, Quesada Collection, Box 5,

MD, LC. In late September the command

renamed the fighter control center the tactical control center (TCC) and decided to

locate it near the advance headquarters

rather than in the rear, between the wing and

the operational groups. In this instance, the

civilians seemed most concerned with fixed

interdiction targets, while Weyland’s chief

worry centered on the Luftwaffe threat.

27. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

7–8, 1944; XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,” Aug 8, 1944.

28. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 6, 1944. 

29. Ibid., Aug 6, 9, 1944. On direct

orders from General Arnold on January 25,

1945, Brigadier General Grandison Gardner, Eglin Field commander, conducted

extensive tests under strict security against

simulated Crossbow targets using a variety

of weapons and attack methods. After completing their report on March 1, General

Gardner and his team briefed their findings

to commanders at every major headquarters

in England. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 97–99.

30. XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,”

Aug 10–11, 1944.

31. D’Este, Decision in Normandy, pp

418–460; Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit, pp 479–589; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, pp 336–338.

328

Notes to pages 86–96

32. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, chap. 2; Air

Ministry (Great Britain), German Air

Force, pp 333–339, 354, 365–367; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 2, August Operations.

33. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

17, 1944. On German losses see D’Este,

Decision in Normandy, pp 431–432,

437–438; and AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase

Tactical Air Ops,” p 121.

34. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 13, 1944;

XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Operations in

Europe,” p 17. The name “X-Ray” appears

to have been given to the liaison detachment after the summer campaign.

35. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 4: “G–3 Section Rpt,” p 12.

36. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 16, 1944.

37. Ibid., Aug 14, 1944. In France the

command’s forward directional post radars

consisted of British Type 15 and 11 radars.

Thompson and Harris, Signal Corps, pp

151, 639. In an intriguing incident at this

August 14 meeting, General Vandenberg

proposed in the event First and Third Armies

reversed their areas of operations, that Quesada and Weyland should exchange fighterbomber groups as well. Weyland did not

concur. Although such a move might also

demonstrate tactical air power’s flexibility

and mobility, Weyland clearly believed that

his units should remain under his control to

maintain the integrity of the command.

38. Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, pp

54–61.

39. XIX TAC comments on the Y-service focus on its importance in the

Ardennes Campaign rather than in the battle of France. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air

Operations in Europe,” p 31; Weyland,

“Diary”; Rpt, 9AF, “Tactical Air Operations, Jun 6–Aug 28, 1944,” p 16,

USAFHRA, 533.306–2, 1944.

40. XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,”

Aug 10, 11, 13, 1944.

41. XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,”

Aug 15, 16, 17, 1944; XIX TAC, “12,000

FB Sorties,” Aug 17, 1944.
42. Geoffrey Perret, There’s a War to Be

Won: The United States Army in World War

II (New York: Random House, 1991), chap.

6; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

chaps. 1 and 2.

43. MacDonald, Mighty Endeavor, pp

320–327; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 218–237; Griess, ed., vol 1,

Second World War, pp 347–350.

44. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

20, 1944.

45. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 243–245; US3A, “After Action Rpt,”

vol 1, Aug 23–24, 1944; Blumenson, ed.,

Patton Papers, pp 526–528.

46. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 118.

47. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp

1–6; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 305–309.

48. XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,”

Aug 20–24, 1944; XIX TAC, “12,000 FB

Sorties,” Aug 20–24, 1944. The command

favored the small, high-velocity rockets

before bombs because of their flexibility of

use in combat and because they added little

to an airplane’s weight and did not appreciably effect an airplane’s speed.

49. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

24, 1944; 371st FG, “Unit History,” Aug

1944, USAFHRA, GP–371–HI, Aug 1944.

50. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Aug 26, 1944; Blumenson, ed., Patton

Papers, p 547; Blumenson, Breakout and

Pursuit, pp 664–670.

51. XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,”

Aug 25, 1944; XIX TAC, “12,000 FB

Sorties,” Aug 25, 1944; 354th FG, “Unit

History,” Aug–Sep 1944, USAFHRA

GP–354–HI(FI).

52. Memo, Lt Col Charles H. Hallet,

AC/S, to CG, XIX TAC, “Air Support of

Third Army’s Drive to the East,” Aug 23,

1944, USAFHRA, 168.7104–85; Weyland,

“Diary.” Weyland also discussed the urgent

need for air base defenses because of Third

Army’s departure from the Le Mans area.

53. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug

30, 1944.

329

Notes to pages 97–104

54. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Aug 30, 1944. See Memo, untitled, undated,

on IX Troop Carrier supply flights to Third

Army, USAFHRA, K110.7006–2. For a

concise analysis of Third Army’s supply

dilemma, see Martin L. Van Creveld, Supplying War: Logistics from Wallerstein to

Patton (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1977), chap. 7.

Third Army’s low supply priorities even

extended to communications equipment.

Early in the campaign, its radios consisted

of one set each for the entire army of the following short-range (less than 25 miles) sets:

SCR–300, the celebrated FM walkie-talkie,

SCR–508 portable radio, and SCR–510

(like the 508, but vehicle-mounted), and

eight SCR–511 portable cavalry guidon

sets. See Thompson and Harris, Signal

Corps, pp 151, 638–639.

55. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, pp 583–585; Intvw,

Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

56. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Aug 30, 1944. See Memo, on IX Troop

Carrier supply flights; Van Creveld, Supplying War, chap. 7.

57. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 52.

58. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties.” See

also, HQ AAF, “Air-Ground Teamwork on

the Western Front: The Role of the XIX Tactical Air Command during August 1944,”

Wings at War Series, No. 5, USAFHRA,

537.04C, Aug 1944; XIX TAC, “Planes

Over Patton: XIX Tactical Air Command’s

Support of Third Army in Its Swift End-Run

Through France,” Sep 30, 1944, USAFHRA, 168.7104–86, Sep 30, 1944. The

command’s exploits are also highlighted in

“U.S. Tactical Airpower in Europe,” in

Impact, vol 3, No. 5 (May 1945), USAFHRA, 168.7104–92, May 1945.

59. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 1, Sep 1944, p 4.

60. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, p

52; XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,” Sep

1–16, 1944. Memo, National Security

Agency (hereafter cited as NSA), “Ultra
and Its Use by XIX TAC,” May 30, 1945,

in “Reports by U.S. Army Ultra Representatives with Army Field Commands in the

European Theater of Operations,” part 2,

XIX TAC, pp 104–109, NSA, Special

Research, History–023. For a discussion of

Ultra’s role with Third Army and the XIX

TAC, see chap. 4, p 186.

61. 36th FG, “Unit History,” Sep 1944;

XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” Aug 24,

1944; 371st FG, “Unit History,” Aug 1944.

62. General Weyland needed the A–20

Havoc (F–3) for daytime reconnaissance,

and Ninth Air Force agreed to its use until

the night program got underway. As Colonel

Berg later recalled, however, the squadron

became available for daylight operations,

not because of modest requirements for

night photography during mobile operations, but because it lacked night navigation

aids at the time. In any event, it proved to be

a valuable if vulnerable reconnaissance

asset. Ltr, Brig Gen Berg to author, Sep 8,

1989; Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, p 68.

63. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945; 406th FG, “Unit History,”

Jun 1, 1944–May 1, 1945, USAFHRA,

GP–406–HI, 1944–45.

64. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 9–11, 1944.

65. Air Force chief, General Arnold, sent

his congratulations, adding he thought it

“most appropriate that the Air Force Tactical Commander was present with the Army

Commander at the surrender ceremony.”

XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” p 5; 9AF,

“Rpt on Activities, Jun 6–Aug 28, 1944”;

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 265–266.

66. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Operations

in Europe,” p 1.

67. Ibid.

68. Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit,

chap. 30.

69. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 22, 1944,

Sep 2, 1944.

70. For operational information on the

command’s role in the Brittany assault in

September, see XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Sep 3–18, 1944. Although a single

330

Notes to pages 104–112

mission normally involved three 12-plane

squadrons, variations to match needs

occurred frequently.

71. On the Third Army buildup for the

Mosel Offensive, see US3A, “After Action

Rpt,” vol 1, Sep 1–5, 1944. Characteristically, Weyland met personally with Third Army

leaders on the proposed offensive. Although

this meeting took place on the eve of the

attack, both his command’s proven flexibility and the X-Ray detachment’s liaison work

offset potential problems that might otherwise have arisen on such short notice.

72. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Sep 4–5, 1944. For the Third Army’s offensive, see Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 327–344; Blumenson, Breakout

and Pursuit, chap. 32.

73. B.H. Liddell Hart, History of the

Second World War (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970), p 557.

74. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 113–114.

75. For the air role, see AAF Eval Bd,

“Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp

113–118; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

262–265; XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,”

pp 55–57; XIX TAC, “History,” Sep 1944.”

76. Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit,

chap. 30.

77. Weyland, “Diary,” Aug 22, 1944,

Sep 2, 1944; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase

Tactical Air Ops,” pp 113–114.

78. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, Sep 1944; AAF Eval Bd,

“Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp

113–118; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2, pp 172–173; XIX TAC,

“Combat Operations,” pp 9–10; XIX TAC,

“Tactical Air Operations in Europe,” pp 5–8.

79. XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,” p

56. See also Third Army’s similar assessment in US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Aug Ops, p 52, and vol 2, part 4: “G–3 Section Rpt,” p 16.

80. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 8, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Sep 8,

1944.
81. This analysis of tactical air support at

Brest is based primarily on XIX TAC,

“Morning Summaries,” Sep 3–16, 1944;

9AF, “Weekly Intsum,” Sep 3–16, 1944; and

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, pp 7–25. See also 358th FG, “Unit

History,” Aug–Sep 1944, USAFHRA,

GP–358–HI; 358th FG, “Operational

Reports,” Aug–Sep 1944, USAFHRA, GP–

358–SU–OP–S, Aug–Sep 1944; 362d FG,

“Unit History,” Aug–Sep 1944, USAFHRA, GP–362–HI; 362d FG, “Operational

Reports,” Aug–Sep 1944, USAFHRA, GP–

362–SU–OP–S, Aug–Sep 1944.

82. Appropriately, the 362d Fighter

Group appeared for the finale at Brest.

With the 358th, it had flown in support of

VIII Corps in Brittany nearly every day

since August 1, 1944. Their efforts intensified from August 25, and after September

10, these two groups normally flew against

Brest targets daily. After the fortress surrendered on September 18, both groups

immediately began flying armed reconnaissance missions in Germany from their new

bases in eastern France. See 358th FG,

“Unit History,” Aug–Sep 1944; 358th FG,

“Operational Rpts,” Aug–Sep 1944; 362d

FG, “Unit History,” Aug–Sep 1944; 362d

FG, “Operational Rpts,” Aug–Sep 1944.

83. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 6, 1944.

84. Ibid. For airfield construction programs, see XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,”

pp 1–6; Intvw, Burns, Jun 5–8, 1984, p 14;

Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, pp 77–82.

85. XXIX TAC received the 36th and

373d Fighter Groups on October 1, 1944,

and September 29, 1944, respectively. The

371st Fighter Group was transferred to the

XII TAC. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 7–8,

1944; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, pp 77–82.

86. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 10, 1944; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Sep 21, 1944.

87. The worsening supply situation is

recorded in the daily ops analyses and summaries. See also US3A, “After Action

Rpt,” vol 1, Aug–Sep 1944.

331

Notes to pages 112–118

88. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, pp 121–124. Unit movements are also described in the group histories for August and September 1944. For

unit movements, the command used its

own trucks, but it always needed assistance

from Ninth Air Force and Third Army for

necessary additional transportation.

89. 36th FG, “Unit History,” Aug–Sep

1944; 354th FG, “Unit History,” Aug–Sep

1944.

90. Bad weather in September forced the

aviation engineers to lay heavier piercedsteel planking, also known as Marston Mat,

for its runways. See chap. 4, pp 188–189, and

36th FG, “Unit History,” Aug–Sep 1944;

354th FG, “Unit History,” Aug–Sep 1944.

91. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 17, 1944.

92. XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,”

Sep 19–25, 1944; 9AF, “Weekly Intsum,”

Sep 19–25, 1944; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul

1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945; 9AF, “Operational

Statistics,” Sep 19–25, 1944.

93. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 20–21, 1944.

Weyland, to his credit, rarely imposed with

requests for this kind of assistance, and

then only on command matters he judged

critical. General Wood did not appear especially preoccupied with bureaucratic minutia at this time, although Patton would

relieve him during the Lorraine Campaign

because of combat stress.

94. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 24–25, 1944;

XIX TAC, “Morning Summary,” Sep

24–25, 1944; 405th FG, “Unit History,”

Sep 1944, USAFHRA, GP–405–HI(FTR),

Sep 1944. Regarding weather conditions,

the command normally required a 3,000-

foot ceiling with broken clouds and at least

three miles of visibility. Takeoff minimums

were a 1,000-foot ceiling and three miles of

visibility. However, as Weyland readily

admitted, “in cases of great urgency,” like

the 4th Armored Division crisis, he sent his

crews out when the target areas had weather down to 1,500 or 1,000 feet. XIX TAC,

“Combat Operations,” p 37.

95. Ltr, Lt Gen George S. Patton, Jr., CG,

Third Army, to Corps Commanders and CG,
XIX TAC, “Letter of Instruction Nr 4,” Sep

25, 1944, in XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, appendix 8, USAFHRA, 537.01, 1944–45. See also US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Sep 25, 1944.

96. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp

5–6. By the end of August, as Weyland

noted, his command operated on fronts 350

miles apart. By mid-September 1944, however, the distance separating operations in

Brittany and Patton’s forward elements in

eastern France totaled nearly 500 miles.

97. XIX TAC, “Combat Operations,” p 53.

98. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” pp

3–5. The command possessed an average

of 439 and 429 operational aircraft during

August and September 1944, respectively.

332

Notes to pages 118–123

99. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, appendix 10: Statistical Summary; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944– Feb

28, 1945, part 1, pp 99–126, 193–194; XIX

TAC, “Combat Operations,” pp 4–5. Ninth

Air Force had no official policy on fighter

pilot combat tour length. The XIX TAC normally rotated pilots to the continental United

States after 200 combat hours; however, to

maintain fitness, the command found that

pilots required frequent leave and rest periods before accumulating 200 combat hours.

100. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 1, pp 99–126; XIX TAC,

“Combat Operations,” pp 4–5.

101. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974,” p

140.

102. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 23, 1944.

1. For land and air action during the campaign, see H.M. Cole, The Lorraine Campaign [U.S. Army in World War II: European Theater of Operations] (Washington,

D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, 1950); Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 327–346, 385–401; Blumenson,

ed., Patton Papers pp 536–591; Craven and

Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E

Day, pp 595–635; HQ AAF, Condensed

Analysis of Ninth AF, pp 31–39; Griess, ed.,

vol 1, Second World War, chap. 15; Charles

B. MacDonald and Martin Blumenson,

“Defeat of Germany,” in Brig Gen Vincent

J. Esposito, USA (Ret), ed., A Concise History of World War II (New York: Praeger,

1964), pp 97–105; MacDonald, Mighty

Endeavor, pp 366–387; and Christopher R.

Gabel, “The Lorraine Campaign: An

Overview, September–December 1944” (Ft

Leavenworth: US Army CGSC, 1985).

2. Almost a half-century afterward, the

Combat Studies Institute at the United

States Army’s Command and General

Staff College and the Army War College

made the Third Army’s Lorraine Campaign the centerpiece of its military courses. From the perspective of Army educators, this campaign represented a well-documented, modern, complex military operation that permitted officers to evaluate a

wide variety of arms and branch activities

at different organizational levels, from

company to corps. Ltr, Col Donald P.

Shaw, USAMHI, to Lt Gen DeWitt C.

Smith, Jr., USA (Ret.), “Study of the Lorraine Campaign at USMAWC,” Feb 11,

1982; Ltr, Jerold E. Brown, USACGSC,

Combat Studies Institute, to author, Mar 8,

1990; Gabel, “Lorraine Campaign.” 

Unfortunately the Lorraine Campaign

has been mostly ignored by airmen. The

aerial phase of this campaign generally has

been viewed as an unhappy experience in

which bad weather, hardened targets, and

limited achievements offered few lessons

for tactical air power. Most students of air

power have instead fixed on the glorious

days of armored column cover in August

1944, the exciting December counterattack

in the Ardennes, or the strategic bombing

campaign and struggle for aerial supremaChapter 4
cy high over Fortress Europe. For them, the

Lorraine Campaign has offered little drama

or instruction. In the official Army Air

Forces account of air action in Northern

Europe during World War II, for example,

tactical operations are submerged entirely

in the coverage of the strategic bombing

campaign and special operations. See

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 595–635.

3. Gabel, “Lorraine Campaign,” pp

1–10; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 327–328; Cole, Lorraine Campaign,

chap. 1. This analysis of land operations is

based on the works listed in note 1, supra.

Allied forces in the north faced similar, if

larger, river obstacles in their path leading

to the Ruhr industrial region of Germany.

4. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 57–64;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 18,

1945, part 2: Sep, Oct 1944.

5. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, pp 336–341, 365–381; Ralph

Bennett, Ultra in the West: The Normandy

Campaign 1944–1945 (New York: Charles

Scribner’s Sons, 1979), pp 175–185. 

6. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

18, 1945, part 5: Statistical Summary.

7. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp

552–553. Patton called September 23 “one

of the bad days of my military career.

Bradley called me to say that higher authority had decided that I would have to give up

the 6th Armored and also assume a defensive attitude, owing to lack of supplies.”

Patton, War as I Knew It, p 130.

8. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, part 1, pp 82–88; XIX TAC,

“Combat Ops,” pp 57–64; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Sep,

Oct 1944. Although XIX TAC officers complained about their smaller force, if pressed

they also admitted that their ground support

responsibility lessened because of Third Army’s reduction to two corps along a narrow

front. For a description of XII TAC, see HQ

AAF, Condensed Analysis of Ninth AF, p 72. 

9. The analysis of communication operations that follows is based on Rpt, J.E.

333

Notes to pages 123–133

Faulkner, “Operational Employment of

Radar in the XIX Tactical Air Command,”

Advanced Science Base Laboratory, British

Branch Radiation Laboratory, MIT, n.d. [ca

1945], USAFHRA, 537.906, 1945, and on

9AF, “MEW Operations in XIX Tactical

Air Command,” ORS Report No. 65, Nov

20, 1944; XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp

19–23; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 16–29; and Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Tactics and Techniques

Developed by the United States Tactical

Air Commands in the European Theater of

Operations,” Mar 11, 1945, USAFHRA

138.4–33, 1945, pp 39–48.

10. XIX TAC, “12,000 FB Sorties,” p 2.

11. Thompson and Harris, Signal Corps,

chap. 4 and appendix: “Signal Corps

Equipment, World War II”; XIX TAC,

“Tactical Air Ops in Europe,” pp 16–31;

AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air

Ops,” pp 370–373; XIX TAC, “Signals:

The Story of Communications in the XIX

Tactical Air Command Up to V–E Day,”

Jun 15, 1945, USAFHRA 537.901.

12. See Rpt, Faulkner, “Operational

Employment of Radar”; Thompson and

Harris, Signal Corps.

13. Weyland, “Diary,” Sep 27, 1944;

XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 25–26; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

Sep–Oct 1944; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase

Tactical Air Ops,” pp 384–385.

14. Ltr, David Griggs, Member, Advisor

Specialist Group, USSTAF, to Brig Gen

O.P. Weyland, Oct 3, 1944, USAFHRA

537.l01, 1944.

15. Ibid. The staff correspondence consists of various routing sheets, dated October

10 and 17, 1944, and filed under XIX TAC,

“History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, appendix 8, USAFHRA 537.01, 1944.

16. Cole, Lorraine Campaign, pp 1–255;

Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

253–319; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World

War, pp 360–365.

17. Charles B. MacDonald, The Siegfried

Line Campaign, [U.S. Army in World War

II: European Theater of Operations] (Wash-
ington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military

History, 1963), pp 119–206.

18. Bernard Montgomery received his

fifth star and Field Marshal’s baton effective September 1, 1944, just before the

debacle of Market Garden. With the additional star he outranked the Supreme Allied

Commander, General Eisenhower. To be

sure, American authorities were not far

behind and promoted Eisenhower to General of the Army on December 20, 1944.

19. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 350–355; Richard Lamb, Montgomery

in Europe, 1943–1945: Success or Failure?

(New York: Franklin Watts, 1984), pp

252–262. Eisenhower realized, certainly by

September 23, 1944, when at his direction

Bradley instructed Patton’s Third Army to

assume a defensive posture, that the Allies

could not continue major offensive operations without supplies unloaded at the Belgian port of Antwerp.

20. Ltr, Lt Gen Patton to Corps Commanders and CG, XIX TAC, “Letter of

Instruction,” Sep 25, 1944, in XIX TAC,

“History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

appendix 8, USAFHRA, 537.01, 1944–45;

see also US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Sep 25, 1944.

21. See Mary H. Williams, Chronology,

1941–1945, United States Army in World

War II: Special Studies (Washington, D.C.:

Office of the Chief of Military History, 1960).

22. The framework for this discussion of

the Lorraine Campaign is based in large

part on the Weyland diary and on US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1: Sep, Oct, Nov,

Dec Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; 9AF, “Summary of Operations,” Sep 25–Dec 16,

1944, USAFHRA, 533.3082, 1944 (hereafter cited as “Ops Summary”); XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944,

USAFHRA, 537.606, 1944 (hereafter cited

as “Daily Intsum”); Kit C. Carter and

Robert Mueller, compilers, The Army Air

Forces in World War II: Combat Chronology, 1941–1945 (Washington, D.C.: Office

of Air Force History, 1973); XIX TAC,

334

Notes to pages 133–140

“History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2:

Sep, Oct, Nov, Dec 1944.

23. Rpt, Lt Col Charles H. Hallet, AC/S, to

CG, 9AF, “Use of Napalm Bombs,” Oct 3,

1944, USAFHRA, 537.453, Oct–Nov 1944.

24. See also XIX TAC, “Report on

Bombing of Metz Forts,” Sep–Nov 1944,

USAFHRA, 537.453, 1944; Rpt, “Use of

Napalm Bombs,” Oct 3, 1944; Rpt, AAF

Eval Bd, ETO, “The Effect of Air Power in

the Battle of Metz,” Jan 19, 1945, USAFHRA, 138.4–30.

25. Cole, Lorraine Campaign, p 241.

Army Air Forces records indicate that the

attacks Cole refers to on September 28 actually occurred on September 29, 1944.

26. On the Ninth Air Force’s autumn rail

interdiction program, see Craven and Cate,

eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day,

pp 613–623.

27. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 3, 1944; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 2: Oct 1944.

28. Americans fighting in the Lorraine

Campaign would readily concede that the

French military engineers deserved their

high reputation for building effective fortifications.

29. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 2, 1944.

30. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1:

Sep, Oct, Nov, Dec Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944;

9AF, “Ops Summary,” Sep 25–Dec 16,

1944; XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Sep

25–Dec 16, 1944; Carter and Mueller,

Army Air Forces in World War II; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 2: Sep, Oct, Nov, Dec 1944.

31. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Oct 1944.

32. Weyland, “Diary”; Hallet appears to

have understood the importance of Ultra

data much sooner, or have felt less threatened by its special access channel through a

lower ranking officer, than did Koch. Irving

mistakenly asserts that Patton did not have

access to Ultra. David Irving, The War

Between the Generals (New York: Congdon

& Lattes, 1981). See Thomas Parrish, The
Ultra Americans: The U.S. Role in Breaking

the Nazi Codes (New York: Stein and Day,

1986), pp 189–228, and the two National

Security Agency Reports: Memo, NSA,

“Ultra and the Third Army,” May 28, 1945

in NSA, Special Research, History–023,

“Reports by U.S. Army Ultra Representatives with Army Field Commands in the

European Theatre of Operations,” part 1:

Third Army, pp 22–26; and Memo, NSA,

“Ultra,” in Ibid. part 2: XIX TAC, pp

104–109. Along with Patton and Colonel

Koch, the following Third Army officers

received Ultra briefings: Maj Gen Hobart R.

Gay, Chief of Staff, Col Paul D. Harkins,

Dep Chief of Staff, Brig Gen Halley G.

Maddox, G–3 (Operations), Col Robert S.

Allen, Asst G–2. In the XIX TAC, Weyland’s executive officer, Lieutenant Col

Walter E. Bligh was the only other officer

authorized to receive Ultra intelligence.

Apart from the German counterattack in

early August 1944 and one in the spring of

1945, the National Security Agency reports

do not elaborate on Ultra’s impact on specific air or ground events.

33. Richard H. Kohn and Joseph P.

Harahan, eds., Air Superiority in World

War II and Korea (Washington, D.C.:

Office of Air Force History, 1983), p 57;

Air Ministry (Great Britain), German Air

Force, pp 336–341, 365–381; Bennett,

Ultra in the West, pp 175–185.

34. Although Ultra information confirmed a sizeable Luftwaffe recovery and

buildup in October and November 1944,

the Ultra intercepts did not indicate the purpose of the Luftwaffe actions. Memo, Lt

Col Charles H. Hallet, AC/S, to A–3, XIX

TAC, Oct 6, 1944, USAFHRA, 537.306A,

Oct 1–15, 1944.

35. Weyland, “Diary,”; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1,

124–133; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 39–41; Richard K. Smith,

“Marston Mat,” in Air Force Magazine

(Apr 1989), pp 84–88.

36. Weyland, “Diary”; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1,

335

Notes to pages 140–148

124–133; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 39–41; Smith, “Marston Mat,”

pp 84–88.

37. Weyland, “Diary,”; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1,

124–133; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 39–41.

38. Weyland, “Diary,”; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1,

124–133; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 39–41.

39. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

29, 1945, part 2: Oct, Nov 1944; Weyland,

“Diary,” Dec 10, 1944; XIX TAC, “History,”

Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1, 124–133.

40. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Oct Ops.

41. XIX TAC’s attack against the dam

was the first attempt by P–47s against such

a target. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 18, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Oct 18,

1944.

42. Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

43. 362d FG, “Unit History,” Oct 1944;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 2, pp 11–14.

44. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2, pp 11–14.

45. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Oct 18, 1944.

46. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 1944; Rpt,

XIX TAC, A–3, “Operation Madison: Air

Plan in Support of Third U.S. Army,” Nov

3, 1944.

47. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Oct Ops. See also Cole, Lorraine Campaign, pp 296–310; Weigley, Eisenhower’s

Lieutenants, pp 383–431; Bradley, Soldier’s Story, pp 430–450.

48. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 27, 1944.

49. Memo, Brig Gen O.P. Weyland, CG,

XIX TAC, to Lt Gen G.S. Patton, CG,

US3A, Oct 28, 1944, USAFHRA, 537.01,

1944; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, appendix 8.

50. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 29, 1944;

Patton, Diary Entry, Oct 29, 1944.

51. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Oct 1944. See
also AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” part 2 for analysis of equipment

effectiveness.

52. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Oct 30, 1944.

53. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 1–2, 1944;

Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p 567.

54. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 2, 1944; Van

Creveld, Supplying War, chap. 7.

55. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 1944; Rpt,

“Operation Madison,” Nov 3, 1944.

56. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 1944; Rpt,

“Operation Madison,” Nov 3, 1944.

57. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 19–20; Ivie,

Aerial Reconnaissance, pp 80, 92.

58. XIX TAC “Combat Ops,” p 32. General Weyland believed that two tactical

reconnaissance squadrons and one photo

squadron adequately met the needs of his

command and Third Army’s two corps, but

only without including requirements from

higher headquarters. This had become an

issue in October because Ninth Air Force

requests took priority over those of Third

Army until October 25. Not until that date

did XIX TAC and Third Army convince the

requesters that the urgency of Operation

Madison required moving Army requests to

the top of the priority list. Like its photo

squadron, Colonel Russell Berg’s 10th Photo

Group played an increasingly important role

in the fall. Despite the fact that the weather

deteriorated considerably in November, the

group flew 831 sorties, or 138 more than it

did in October. Much of the increase can be

attributed to the ground offensive early in

the month and reconnaissance requirements

for the major assault planned for early

December. Ltr, Brig Gen Russell A. Berg,

USAF (Ret), to author, Oct 24, 1989.

59. Weyland, “Diary,” Oct 31, 1944.

60. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 5, 1944;

Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, p 597. The new air force

would support the operations of Lieutenant

General Jacob Devers’ 6th Army Group.

61. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 1, 1944; XIX

TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 27–30; XIX TAC,

336

Notes to pages 149–158

“Tactical Air Ops in Europe,” pp 24–29.

Although Weyland would continue to have

problems coordinating air defense in Third

Army’s area of operations, he and his army

colleagues avoided the sometimes bitter

dispute between ground and air authorities

over command and control of air defense

components. The AAF argued for air force

control. See HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis

of Ninth AF, pp 100–101.

62. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p

570; 405th FG, “Unit History,” Nov 1944;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 2: Nov Ops, p 6. See appendix 3

for pilot claims for November 8, 1944.

63. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 8, 1944; XIX

TAC, “Combat Ops,” p 37; 362d FG, “Unit

History,” Nov 1944.

64. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 9, 1944; AAF

Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp

156–165. Although good reasons beyond

Patton’s friendship with Spaatz and Doolittle

dating from North Africa existed for employing heavy bombers in tactical operations,

using them in a tactical role violated established Army Air Forces doctrine. Yet the

record shows that Weyland and his fellow

tactical airmen did not concern themselves

with this issue. If the heavy bombers might

help the army move, they argued for employing them and welcomed their support.

65. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Bombing Metz

Forts,” Sep–Nov 1944; Rpt, “Use of Na-palm

Bombs,” Oct 3, 1944; Rpt, AAF Eval Bd,

“Air Power in Battle of Metz,” Jan 19, 1945.

66. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 165.

67. Ibid., pp 166–175. Cobra, with its

short bombing, continued to haunt Allied

planners until the spring campaign and the

return to mobile warfare.

68. Gabel, “Lorraine Campaign,” pp

24–25.

69. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 60–62.

According to Richard K. Smith, napalm’s

effectiveness in World War II did not match

later, more deadly versions because the earlier variety did not have a barometric proximity fuze which detonated the container
approximately 100 feet above ground.

Because this type of fuzing was unavailable

in 1944–1945, the weapon did not produce

the lethal 360-degree spread of fire.

Richard K. Smith, “Manuscript Comments”

to the author, Apr 21, 1992. For a discussion of the ethical concerns of airmen, see

Conrad C. Crane, Bombs, Cities, and Civilians: American Airpower Strategy in World

War II, (Lawrence, Kan.: University of

Kansas Press, 1993).

70. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German Air Force, pp 336–341, 365–381;

Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp 175–185.

71. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 8–15, 1944.

72. XIX TAC, “Operational Statistics,”

1944–1945; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; 9AF, “Ops

Summary,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; XIX

TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Sep 25–Dec 16,

1944; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Nov, 1944.

73. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Nov, Dec 1944; Rpt,

Faulkner, “Operational Employment of

Radar”; 9AF, “MEW Ops in XIX TAC,”

Nov 20, 1944; XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,”

pp 19–23; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 16–29; Rpt, AAF Eval Bd,

“Tactics and Techniques,” pp 39–48.

74. 354th FG, “Unit History,” Nov 1944.

75. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 1944; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 1, 133–147.

76. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 1944; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 1, 133–147.

77. Ltr, CG, XIX TAC, to CG, 9AF,

“Authorized Aircraft in Fighter Groups,”

Nov 14, 1944, USAFHRA, 537.01, appendix 8, 1944–45; Weyland, “Diary,” Nov

1944; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1, 133–147.

78. Ltr, HQ 9AF to CG, XIX TAC, Nov

25, 1944, in USAFHRA, 537.01, appendix

8, 1944–45.

79. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 14, 1944.

80. 362d FG, “Unit History,” Nov 1944.

The 362d’s air echelon moved by surface

337

Notes to pages 158–169

transportation from Prosnes near Reims to

Rouvres near Verdun on November 5,

1944. The ground echelon followed later

over a three-day period, November 19–21,

while the flight echelon arrived on November 19.

81. 405th FG, “Unit History,” Nov 1944.

82. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 15, 1944.

83. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 17, 1944;

Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp 575,

586. See comments from U.S. ground force

officers in AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” part 1, sec D.

84. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Nov 1944, pp 12–14,

appendix.

85. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, appendix 10: Statistical Summary; XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” p 41; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 1, pp 28–33; Rpt, “Conference between

General Patton, General Weyland and Third

Army Correspondents,” Dec 9, 1944,

USAFHRA, 168.7104–101, 1944; Cole,

Lorraine Campaign, p 415.

86. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 25–61;

XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in Europe,” pp

3–4. Like so many European theater firsts,

this counter-flak measure was used first in

the North African campaign, and then the

Allies subsequently employed it in the Italian theater, well before its rediscovery and

adoption in Northwest Europe.

87. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” p 61;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2, part 3:

“G–2 Section Rpt,” p 23.

88. Gabel, “Lorraine Campaign,” pp

32–37; Cole, Lorraine Campaign, pp

417–519; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 383–401.

89. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, pp

144–145.

90. Patton, Diary Entry, Nov 21, 1944. 

91. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, pp

144–145.

92. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 19, 1944;

XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” p 62. Although

the Merzig bombing was second among the

four joint operations in Lorraine, both XIX
TAC and Third Army considered it less significant than the other three, the abortive

Operation Tink.

93. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp 62–63.

94. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 29, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Nov 29,

1944.

95. Weyland, “Diary,” Nov 30, 1944;

9AF, “Operational History of the Ninth Air

Force, Bk I, Battle of the Ardennes: Dec 1,

1944–Jan 1945,” sec 1: pp 11–21, USAFHRA, 533.01–2; Patton, Diary Entry, Nov

30, 1944.

96. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 402–431; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, pp 362–365.

97. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 1, 1944. See

also Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

397–401, 437–441.

98. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 2, 1944.

99. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” pp

11–21.

100. XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” pp

62–63; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops, pp 2–4; XIX

TAC, “Operational Summary,” Dec 2, 1944;

9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” pp 11–21.

101. The fighter-bombers seemed unable

to suppress the enemy defenses using regular bombs.

102. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 23, 26–27.

103. XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,”

Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; 9AF, “Ops Summary,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Sep 25–Dec 16, 1944; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 2: Nov, 1944.

104. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 5, 1944.

105. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 6, 1944;

XIX TAC, AC/S, A–3, “Operation Tink:

Air Plan in Support of Third US Army,”

Dec 17, 1944, USAFHRA, 537.205A,

1944; XIX TAC, “Combat Ops,” p 63.

106. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 7–8, 1944.

The inner artillery zone represented a defined

airspace under army control in which all aircraft, hostile or friendly, would be fired on by

antiaircraft artillery. See chap. 5.

338

Notes to pages 169–184

107. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec 1945; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec 1944.

108. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec 1945.

109. The hectic activity is recorded in

Weyland’s diary for this period. See also

Patton, Diary Entry, Dec 10, 1944.

110. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 1944; Patton, Diary Entry, Dec 10, 1944.

111. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 16, 1944.

The only problem that surfaced was

whether XV Corps would receive air support at the expense of XII Corps. General

Eddy apparently had reversed an earlier

agreement that provided XV Corps the air

support in question. Weyland wisely sidestepped the matter, explaining that Third

Army should notify XV Corps because it

was not an air force matter. In any event,

Operation Tink, his plan to break through

the Siegfried Line, was to proceed as originally designed.

112. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec 1944, pp 11–12.

113. XIX TAC, “Operation Tink,” Dec

17, 1944.

114. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 18–19,

1944.

115. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 19–20,

1944.

116. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers,

pp 588–589. Lorraine has been valued for

its ore deposits for centuries, and with

these words Patton masked his own displeasure in the outcome of the Lorraine

Campaign.

117. Although the weather and the size

of his force limited the XIX TAC the most,

the situation would have been far worse

had the Allies not benefited from a shortening of the logistic tail that, before the port

of Antwerp became available, led all the

way back to Brittany.

118. Cole, Lorraine Campaign, p 598.

119. Rpt, “Conference Between Gen Patton, Gen Weyland and Third Army Correspondents,” Dec 9, 1944.

120. Ibid.
1. On the land campaign, see Hugh M.

Cole, The Ardennes: Battle of the Bulge

[U.S. Army in World War II: European

Theater of Operations] (Washington,D.C.:

Office of the Chief of Military History:

1965); John S.D. Eisenhower, The Bitter

Woods (New York, Putnam: 1969); Charles

B. MacDonald, A Time for Trumpets: The

Untold Story of the Battle of the Bulge

(New York, William Morrow: 1985); and

Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

445–566. This account of the ground campaign is based on the works cited above, on

Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World War, chap.

16; and on 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF.”

2. Eisenhower had the benefit of available Ultra information on the Germans’

logistics situation when he chaired the December 19 meeting. See Bennett, Ultra in

the West, pp 210–211.

3. For the air contribution, see 9AF, “Op

History of Ninth AF”; Col William R.

Carter, “Air Power in the Battle of the

Bulge: A Theater Campaign Perspective,”

in Airpower Journal (Winter 1989), pp

10–33; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 672–711.

4. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, chap. 16; 9AF, “Op History of

Ninth AF”; Cole, The Ardennes, pp 1–74;

Eisenhower, Bitter Woods, pp 105–161.

5. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, p 673. On Luftwaffe

and air doctrine, see 9AF “Op History of

Ninth AF,” sec 4, pp 38–39; and Carter,

“Air Power in Battle of the Bulge.”

6. Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World War,

pp 375–377; Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp 673–682;

Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

456–464. Hitler actually intended to begin

the German assault in late November, but

weather and supply mobilization delays

forced postponement to mid-December. See

Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp 188–227.

339

Notes to pages 185–194

7. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, pp 673–682; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

part 1: Dec Ops 1944; US3A, “After

Action Rpt,” vol 2, part 3: “G–2 Section

Rpt”, pp 23, 26–27. German communications security helped prevent Ultra from

providing sufficient information of enemy

intentions if not his preparations, while

Allied planners assumed the Wehrmacht

would not follow the same Ardennes attack

route it did when it invaded France in

1940.

8. Blumenson, ed. Patton Papers, p 582;

Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp 188–204.

9. Cole, The Ardennes, p 63.

10. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, chap. 16; Cole, The Ardennes,

pp 33–74; Eisenhower, Bitter Woods, pp

217–257.

11. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 175–191.

12. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

2, pp 5–6.

13. Carter, “Air Power in Battle of the

Bulge,” p 28. The author discusses the

reversal of second- and third-priority missions as prescribed in FM 100–20.

14. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

2, pp 5–6.

15. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops 1944,

pp 11–12, appendix.

16. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

2, pp 32–34; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops 1944,

pp 11–12, appendix.

17. XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 17,

1944. One of the aircraft was lost when it

collided with a P–38.

18. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 19, 1944;

9AF, “Ops Summary,” Dec 17–22, 1944.

19. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, chap. 16; Cole, The Ardennes,

Chapter 5
pp 75–106; Eisenhower, Bitter Woods, pp

261–304.

20. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 18, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec 18,

1944.

21. See especially, Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 496–501; and Griess,

ed., vol 1, Second World War, pp 381–383.

22. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp

599–600.

23. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 19, 1944.

24. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

2, pp 8–16.

25. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 20, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec 20,

1944.

26. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 20, 1944.

27. Ibid.; Rpt, Faulkner, “Operational

Employment of Radar.”

28. For accounts of Field Marshal Montgomery’s troubles with his American colleagues, see Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 20,

1944; Rpt, Joseph A. Wyant, 9AF Historian to Brig Gen. R.C. Candee, “Material in

Response to Telephone Request of Sept 28,

1945 Concerning Allied Air Effort During

the Battle of the Bulge,” n.d. [1945], part 1,

Dec 1, 1944–Jan 26, 1945, USAFHRA,

533.4501–5; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1,

Second World War, chap. 16; and Cole, The

Ardennes, pp 48–74, 423–444.

29. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 21, 1944.

30. Ibid., Dec 22, 1944. Although it certainly was in Patton’s best interest to support Weyland’s proposal, the Third Army

commander never refused Weyland’s

requests to intervene with higher authorities. “Spitfire” and “Lucky” were the XIX

TAC and Third Army call signs, respectively.

31. Ibid.; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1, pp 88–91.

32. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 23, 1944.

The transfer of the Eighth Air Force fighter

group proved the exception to the general

rule of speedy transfers. The delay in

preparing the Metz airfield seems to have

been the main reason for this exception. 

340

Notes to pages 194–200

33. Ibid., Dec 20–23, 1944; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 2, part 3: “G–2

Section Rpt,” appendix, pp 26–27.

34. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Dec 22, 1944.

35. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second

World War, chap. 16; Cole, The Ardennes,

pp 423–444; Eisenhower, Bitter Woods, pp

261–346.

36. 406th FG, “The 406th Occupier,”

Sep 28, 1945, p 16, USAFHRA, GP–406–

SU–NE, Sep 45.

37. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Dec 23, 1944. This Third Army report

dryly recorded that “the Army Commander’s prayer for fair weather was followed

in a few days by a break in the lowering

skies that had prevented full air support by

XIX Tactical Air Command.”

38. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops, pp

14–15. The framework for discussion of

the Ardennes Campaign is based in large

part on the Weyland diary and the following sources: US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol

1, Dec, Jan Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning

Summaries,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945;

9AF, “Ops Summary,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan

31, 1945; XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec

16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; Carter and Mueller,

Army Air Forces in World War II; and XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

vol 2: Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops, and appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

39. See the preceding note for the statistical record, and Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, p 108.

40. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 27; Cole, The

Ardennes, p 468. For good measure, the

354th also scrambled two planes on December 23 to intercept “bogies” in the XX

Corps zone. None were found.

41. See US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol

1, Dec, Jan Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning

Summaries,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945;

9AF, “Ops Summary ,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan

31, 1945; XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec
16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; Carter and Mueller,

Army Air Forces in World War II; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

vol 2: Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops, and appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

42. Memo, A.C. McLean, XIX

TAC/ORS to A–3, “Analysis of Attacks on

Targets of Opportunity, Dec 15, 1944 to Jan

31, 1945,” Feb 16, 1945, USAFHRA,

537.01; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, appendix 7: 1944–45.

43. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

3, pp 16–17; Carter and Mueller, Army Air

Forces in World War II.

44. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan

Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops

Summary,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945;

XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–

Jan 31, 1945; Carter and Mueller, Army Air

Forces in World War II; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, vol 2: Dec

1944, Jan 1945 Ops and appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

45. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German Air Force, pp 374–381; Bennett, Ultra

in the West, p 216.

46. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, pp 374–381; 9AF, “Op History of

Ninth AF,” sec 3, pp 8–16, 57–61. The

author of a recent article suggested that the

Luftwaffe committed the classic mistake of

failing to make air superiority the first priority for the assault, and instead divided its

attention between support for its ground

assault force and attacking the medium and

heavy bombers that were striking key airfields and communications targets. Perhaps

this resulted from the inappropriate nature

of the air forces assembled for the operation,

when Hitler and his advisors thought that

interceptor pilots would have little trouble

flying ground attack missions. German leaders realized they stood little chance of wresting control of the air from the Allies and,

apart from doctrinal reasons, decided they

had a better chance of supporting the ground

341

Notes to pages 200–205

assault in the Ardennes directly rather than

attempting to render Allied air forces ineffective. On the other hand, the Germans’

one chance may have been their planned

massive air assault on Allied bases in the

forward area that bad weather prevented

them from carrying out on the eve of the

battle. Indeed, the Luftwaffe’s later raid on

Allied airfields on January 1, 1945, would

suggest the success such a gamble might

have produced at the start of the Ardennes

assault. In any event, the Luftwaffe would

remain a major focus of interest for Weyland and his fellow airmen. See Carter, “Air

Power in Battle of the Bulge,” pp 27–29.

47. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops, appendix

10: Statistical Summary; Air Ministry

(Great Britain), German Air Force, pp

378–379. During the period December

23–27 the Luftwaffe fought well. After the

Bastogne period, pilot inexperience and

poor maintenance began to take their toll.

48. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec, Jan Ops, pp 2–3.

49. XIX TAC, “Op Statistics,” 1944–45,

USAFHRA, 537.391, 1944–45; XIX TAC,

“History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2:

Dec Ops; US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Dec, Jan Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF,

“Ops Summary,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

1945; XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; Carter and Mueller,

Army Air Forces in World War II; XIX

TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945,

vol 2, Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops.

50. XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 23,

1944; Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

51. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” pp

38–39; Smith, “Marston Mat,” pp 84–88.

52. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 24, 1944;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 1, 88–91.

53. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 24, 1944;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 1, pp 88–91.

54. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops;
US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan

Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops

Summary,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945;

XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–

Jan 31, 1945; Carter and Mueller, Army Air

Forces in World War II; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 18, 1945, vol 2: Dec

1944, Jan 1945 Ops, appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

55. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

3, p 35; MacDonald, Time for Trumpets, p

522; U.S. Forces, European Theater, Battle

Studies, vol 2: Air Operations, ca 1945, No.

21: “Air Resupply, Ardennes CounterOffensive (Dec 16, 1944–Feb 21, 1945),”

USMHI. Although the loss rate of 2 percent

might appear high, especially when compared with Eighth Air Force statistics for

the same period, much of the Luftwaffe

force normally assigned to defend against

the heavy bombers had been operating in

the Ardennes region.

56. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 26, 1944.

57. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” p 31.

58. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” pp

31–34; Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, p 115;

Rpt, 10th Photo Group, to HQ 9AF,

“Employment of Reconnaissance Aircraft,

Tactics and Techniques,” Feb 10, 1945,

USAFHRA, 537.628, 1945.

59. Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect

of Air Power,” p 151.

60. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 26–27, 1944;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec

26–27, 1944.

61. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World

War, chap. 16; 9AF, “Op History of Ninth

AF”; Cole, The Ardennes, pp 606–648; MacDonald, Time for Trumpets, Book 6.

62. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan Ops;

XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

342

Notes to pages 205–213

1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, vol 2, Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops,

appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

63. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

4, pp 6–9, 31–45; Craven and Cate, eds.,

vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

701–711; Bennett, Ultra in the West, p 216.

64. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan Ops;

XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, vol 2, Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops,

appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

65. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

Dec 23–31, 1944.

66. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, p 699; XIX TAC,

“Rpt on Combat Ops,” pp 25–26; AAF

Evaluation Board, ETO, “Tactics and Techniques Developed by the United States Tactical Air Commands in the European Theater of Operations,” Mar 1, 1945, pp 21–23,

USAFHRA, 138.4–33, 1945; Rpt, Faulkner,

“Operational Employment of Radar.”

67. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 1: pp 88–91. One must

remember that not only did the night fighters do a good job with the resources available, their avionics technology was more

complex than most military aircraft of the

day and hence prone to reliability problems.

68. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 26–29; XIX TAC, “Rpt on

Combat Ops,” pp 27–30.

69. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 26–29; XIX TAC, “Rpt on

Combat Ops,” pp 27–30.

70. See the file entitled XIX TAC,

“Reports of Attacks by Friendly-Type Aircraft,” Dec 1944–Jan 1945, USAFHRA,

537.599. Most incidents were attributed to

pilots flying with other commands, such as

Eighth Air Force, who were less familiar

with terrain and flying conditions in Third

Army’s area of operations.
71. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 30–31, 1944;

Intvw, Gen Robert M. Lee, USAF (Ret) by

author, Sep 22, 1989.

72. Weyland, “Diary,” Dec 30–31, 1944;

Intvw, Lee, Sep 22, 1989.

73. Patton, Diary Entry, Dec 31, 1944.

74. See the file entitled, XIX TAC,

“Attacks by Friendly-Type Aircraft”; Davis,

Spaatz, p 535.

75. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, pp 379–381; Bennett, Ultra in

the West, pp 218–219; Weyland, “Diary,”

Jan 1, 1945; US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol

1, Jan 1, 1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops; 9AF,

“Op History of Ninth AF,” sec 4, pp 20–21,

38–41; Patton, Diary Entry, Jan 1, 1945.

76. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, pp 379–381; Bennett, Ultra in

the West, pp 218–219; Weyland, “Diary,”

Jan 1, 1945; US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol

1, Jan 1, 1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops; 9AF,

“Op History of Ninth AF,” sec 4, pp 20–21,

38–41; Patton, Diary Entry, Jan 1, 1945.

77. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 1, 1945. On

reaction by command personnel, see for

example, 362d FG, “Unit History,” Jan

1945.

78. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 1–2, 1945.

79. Rpt, Faulkner, “Operational Employment of Radar.”

80. XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 26–29; XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” pp 27–30. Coordination improved

greatly when XIX TAC supplied Third Army

controllers better FM radio (FM 1498) sets.

The TCC also began continuous broadcasts

via SCR–399 radio, and controllers became

more proficient. See HQ AAF, Condensed

Analysis of Ninth AF, pp 100–101.

81. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 1–2, 1945; see

also XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops; US3A, “After

Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan Ops; XIX

TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

343

Notes to pages 213–222

1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, vol 2: Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops,

appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

82. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 1, pp 88–91; 361st FG,

“Unit History,” Dec 1944–Jan 1945, USAFHRA, GP–361–HI–FI, 1945; 367th FG,

“Unit History,” Dec 1944–Jan 1945, USAFHRA, GP–367–HI, 1944–45.

83. FM 100–20, para 9.

84. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1:

Jan Ops; 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,”

sec 4, pp 30, 46–48; Bennett, Ultra in the

West, p 219.

85. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan Ops;

XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, vol 2, Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops,

appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

86. Bennett, Ultra in the West, p 221.

87. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

10, p 7. Although the command attempted

to use its more battle-weary aircraft for

combat air patrols, these aircraft also could

have seen better action if used against interdiction targets.

88. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 445–566; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World

War, chap. 16; 9AF, “Op History of Ninth

AF”; Cole, The Ardennes, pp 606–648.

89. See especially, Griess, ed., vol 1,

Second World War, pp 386–388; Weigley,

Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 550–556.

90. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

5, p 7; Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 2, 1945. This

kind of flexibility in aerial assignment had

become routine by this stage of the war.

91. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, vol 2, Jan Ops.

92. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 31–32.

93. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, pp 6–7; Ivie,

Aerial Reconnaissance, pp 121–122.
94. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 9–10, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 2: Jan Ops, pp 6–7.

95. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 8–10, 1945.

96. Ibid., Jan 10, 1945; Rpt, Faulkner,

“Operational Employment of Radar.” The

GCA radar was unidirectional unlike the

MEW, whose omnidirectional capability

also enabled it to provide good navigational assistance. David R. Mets, “Manuscript

Comments,” May 15, 1992.

97. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 10, 1945; Rpt,

Faulkner, “Operational Employment of

Radar.”

98. Ibid.

99. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 12, 1945.

The command also encouraged its pilots to

visit Third Army units and meet their personnel whenever flying commitments permitted.

100. 9AF, “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

4, pp 1–5, sec 5, pp 1–7.

101. Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp 219–220.

102. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 14, 1945.

103. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, p 10; XIX

TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” p 64.

104. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,”

pp 6–12; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in

Europe,” pp 5–13. The command was most

critical about the absence of a good marker

bomb in the inventory.

105. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, p 11; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 2, part 3: “G–2

Section Rpt,” p 31; XIX TAC, “History,”

Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1: pp

22–28.

106. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, vol 2: Jan Ops, p 2; XIX

TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” p 47.

107. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, p 12. The

evening of January 17 General Patton

appeared as guest of honor at a special XIX

TAC senior officers’ dinner in Luxembourg

City to help the airmen celebrate their

recent successes and consider the path

ahead. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 17, 1945.

344

Notes to pages 223–238

108. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1,

pp 15–22.

109. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 21, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 1: pp 88–91.

110. 9 AF “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

5, pp 17–19.

111. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 22, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, part 2: Jan Ops, pp 14–16.

112. 368th FG, “Unit History,” Jan

1945, USAFHRA, GP–368–HI, 1944–45.

113. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, pp 14–16;

Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 22–23, 1945.

114. XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–

Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Jan Ops, p 16.

115. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops; US3A,

“After Action Rpt,” vol 1, Dec, Jan Ops;

XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,” Dec 16,

1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC,

“Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31,

1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb

28, 1945, part 2: Dec 1944, Jan 1945 Ops,

appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

116. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 22–23,

1945; Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, p 126.

117. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” p 373.

118. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec Ops;

US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 1: Dec, Jan

Ops; XIX TAC, “Morning Summaries,”

Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945; 9AF, “Ops

Summary,” Dec 16, 1944–Jan 31, 1945;

XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Dec 16, 1944–

Jan 31, 1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1,

1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 2: Dec 1944, Jan

1945 Ops and appendix 10: Statistical

Summary.

119. Weyland, “Diary,” Jan 24, 28, 1945.

120. Rpt, “Allied Air Effort During Battle of the Bulge.”

121. Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect

of Air Power,” p 63.

122. 9AF “Op History of Ninth AF,” sec

5, p 18.
345

Notes to pages 239–246

1. XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Feb 2,

1945; Air Ministry (Great Britain), German Air Force, pp 389–392.

2. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2, part

3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 34. German troop

strength in the Eifel was uncertain, complicated by a Wehrmacht policy of constantly

shifting troops out of the line. By the end of

the Eifel Campaign in late March 1945,

Third Army analysts estimated German

forces had dwindled to about the size of

one American division, approximately

16,000 troops. See Charles B. MacDonald,

The Last Offensive [U.S. Army in World

War II: European Theater of Operations]

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of

Military History, 1973), p 16.

3. For the land campaign, see MacDonald, Last Offensive; Bradley, Soldier’s Story,

pp 490–554; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 567–730; Williams, Chronology, pp 365–534; MacDonald, Mighty

Endeavor, pp 455–569; and Griess, ed., vol

1, Second World War, pp 393–410.

4. On U.S. Army weaknesses, see Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 567–574.

Allied military leaders chose Malta for their

discussions because it had been selected as

the site for a meeting between Churchill,

Roosevelt, and their advisors, on their way to

the Yalta conference.

5. MacDonald, Last Offensive, pp

55–69; Bradley, Soldier’s Story, pp

490–554; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 567–730; MacDonald, Mighty

Endeavor, pp 455–569; Griess, ed., vol 1,

Second World War, pp 393–395.

6. 368th FG, “Unit History,” Feb 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Feb 1945, pp 16–17.

For the air war, see Craven and Cate, eds.,

vol 3, Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

756–808; HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of

Ninth Air Force, pp 43–48. The discussion

and chronological format for this discussion of the campaign is based in large part

on the Weyland Diary and the following

sources: XIX TAC, “History,” Feb, Mar,

Apr, May, 1945; XIX TAC, “Morning

Summaries,” Jan 28–May 8, 1945; XIX

TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Jan 28–May 8,

1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,” Jan 28–May

8, 1945; and Carter and Mueller, Army Air

Forces in World War II.

7. XIX TAC, “History,” Jan–May 1945,

appendix 8: Operational Research Data.

Ninth Air Force established the Operational Research Section at XIX TAC on

January 13, 1945, although General Weyland’s interest in the project dated from

early October 1944. See XIX TAC, “History,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28, 1945, part 1, p

205.

8. XIX TAC, “History,” Jan–May 1945,

appendix 8: Operational Research Data.

9. Carter, “Air Power in Battle of the

Bulge,” pp 26–27.

10. XIX TAC, ORS, Rpt No. 91, “Operational Testing of SCR 584 Blind Bombing

Procedure,” Apr 7, 1945; XIX TAC, ORS,

Memo No. 79, “SCR 584 Blind Bombing

in XIX TAC Command,” Apr 20, 1945,

USAFHRA, XIX TAC, “History,” May

1945, sec 2: Annexes.

11. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 33.

12. XIX TAC, “Operational Testing of

SCR 584 Blind Bombing Procedure,” Apr

7, 1945; see also XIX TAC, “SCR 584

Blind Bombing,” Apr 20, 1945.

13. Ibid.; 9AF, ORS, Rpt No. 85,

“Operational Accuracy of the Modified

SCR 584 in Controlling Tactical Air Coordination Missions,” May 8, 1945, USAFHRA, XIX TAC, “History,” May 1945, sec

2: Annexes.

14. XIX TAC, “SCR 584 Blind Bombing,” Apr 20, 1945.

15. XIX TAC, “History” Feb 1945, pp

4–5; XIX TAC “History” Mar 1945, pp

105–108; XIX TAC, “Ordnance-Armament Handbook for Tactical Air Liaison

Officers,” Mar 1945, USAFHRA, XIX

Chapter 6
TAC, “History,” May 1945, sec 2: Annexes. More powerful than TNT, the British

RDX could be considered the “original

plastic” explosive.

16. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, pp 756–808; HQ

AAF, Condensed Analysis of Ninth AF, pp

43–48; Weyland, “Diary,” Mar, 1945; XIX

TAC, “History,” Mar 1945; XIX TAC,

“Morning Summaries,” Jan 28–May 8,

1945; XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Jan 28–

May 8, 1945; 9AF, “Ops Summary,” Jan

28–May 8, 1945; Carter and Mueller, Army

Air Forces in World War II.

17. Weyland “Diary,” Feb 4, 1945. On

February 4, the day after General Weyland

discussed reinforcing General Nugent’s

command, he announced to his staff that

the 354th would convert back to P–51s,

while the 367th would replace its P–38

Lightnings with Thunderbolts.

18. 362d FG, “Unit History,” Feb 1945.

19. 354th FG, “Unit History,” Feb 1945.

20. Ibid.

21. For Patton’s operations in the Eifel,

see especially MacDonald, Last Offensive,

pp 55–69, 84–115.

22. Ibid.

23. The 371st Fighter Group transferred

to XII TAC on September 29, 1944. In the

spring of 1945 it boasted the fewest number

of pilots and aircraft lost, and the lowest

aircraft abort rate in the command.

24. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3, Europe:

Argument to V–E Day, pp 756–808; HQ

AAF, Condensed Analysis of Ninth AF, pp

43–48; Weyland, “Diary,” Feb, Mar, Apr,

May, 1945; XIX TAC, “History,” Feb, Mar,

Apr, May, 1945; XIX TAC, “Morning

Summaries,” Jan 28–May 8, 1945; XIX

TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Jan 28–May 8, 1945;

9AF, “Ops Summary,” Jan 28–May 8,

1945; Carter and Mueller, Army Air Forces

in World War II.

25. XIX TAC, “History,” appendix 10:

Statistical Summary (see appendix 4).

26. Patton lost an infantry division and

his III Corps headquarters to General Simpson’s Ninth Army.

346

Notes to pages 246–257

27. Squadrons seem to have supported

different corps on the same day, less from

proximity to the target area than to needs of

the particular ground element. Siegfried

Line fighting often saw artillery assume

primary responsibility for close support.

28. 9AF, “Ops Summary,” Feb 1–25,

1945. Tactical air power’s flexibility also

applied to priorities, which in this case found

close air support becoming most important.

29. Ibid. The special assault teams are

described in MacDonald, Last Offensive, p

111. Weyland never mentioned earlier AAF

tests that suggested fighter-bombers might

have the best chance against pillbox-type

targets. On the other hand, Third Army

leaders seem to have preferred their assault

team tactics rather than face the coordination problems required for fighter-bomber

attacks against potential flak traps close to

friendly troops in bad weather.

30. For discussion of four-plane flight

operations, see XIX TAC, “Tactical Air

Ops in Europe,” p 3, and 362d FG, “Unit

History,” Mar 1945. Four-plane missions

had been flown in North Africa, but the tactic received criticism from airmen, albeit

under very different circumstances.

31. To be sure, in mid-March 1945,

when the front moved far to the east and the

Luftwaffe began to contest the Allied

advance to the Rhine River more seriously,

Weyland returned to the larger eight-plane

close support formation.

32. Craven and Cate, eds., vol 3,

Europe: Argument to V–E Day, pp

732–735; AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical Air Ops,” pp 195–196; Rpt, Air

Effects Committee, “Effect of Air Power,”

pp 64–65. Allied losses included only

seven of 1,411 heavy bombers, which

bombed at exceptionally low altitudes. The

XIX TAC lost two P–51s in this operation. 

33. General Bradley’s report downplays

Clarion’s impact because his evaluators

considered it too isolated an operation.

34. Weyland, “Diary,” Feb 25, 1945.

35. Ibid., Feb 28–Mar 7, 1945; XIX

TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in Europe,” p 35.
General Weyland, who was promoted to

major general on February 6, 1945, decided to spend a week in Cannes on the Riviera at the Hotel Martinez, popularly

known as Flak House. In his absence, chief

of staff Colonel Roger Browne assumed

command. Opened in early 1945 for Ninth

Air Force personnel, the Hotel Martinez

had 50 beds reserved weekly for XIX TAC

personnel. The command invariably filled

its quota and viewed the rest-area policy as

a major factor in reducing combat fatigue

and preserving high morale. As for General Weyland, the vacation was his first of

the campaign and gave him a chance to

celebrate his recent promotion in pleasant

surroundings.

36. MacDonald, Last Offensive, pp

196–197.

37. XIX TAC, “History,” appendix 10:

Statistical Summary.

38. MacDonald, Last Offensive, pp

185–207; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 619–622.

39. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 9, 1945;

Bennett, Ultra in the West, p 242.

40. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” p

68. See also the “Statements from Allied

Ground Forces” in AAF, “Third Phase Tac

Air Ops,” pp 215–254, and the report compiled under General Bradley’s direction,

Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect of Air

Power,” Annex 1.

41. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 9, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Mar 1945.

42. See especially, Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 633–639.

43. On the Saar-Mosel-Rhine Trap, see

Ibid., pp 633–639; XIX TAC, “Rpt on

Combat Ops,” pp 68–70; and MacDonald,

Last Offensive, pp 185–207.

44. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,”

pp 68–70.

45. Mission rates varied considerably

with the combat conditions. With smaller,

four-plane missions, the rate was relatively high. Sortie rates, by contrast, refer to

the number of individual airplane flights

during a given amount of time.

347

Notes to pages 257–270

46. MacDonald, Last Offensive, chap.

11; Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, p 389.

47. XIX TAC, “Casualties, Mar 1944–

May 1945,” USAFHRA, 537.391, 1944–45.

48. Many close air support targets

appear to have been what might be termed

battlefield air interdiction targets. Such aircraft were normally assigned to a corps for

cooperation missions, then released for

armed reconnaissance-interdiction flying.

XIX TAC, “Casualties, Mar 1944–May

1945.”

49. 362d FG, “Unit History,” Mar 1945;

Intvw, Burns, Jan 7, 1992.

50. XIX TAC, “History,” Mar, Apr,

1945, appendix 10: Statistical Summary.

51. Eisenhower, it must be said, was

unwilling to cater any longer to Bernard

Montgomery’s crushing ego. Indeed, his

public carping a few weeks earlier during

the Battle of the Bulge nearly cost the

Field Marshal his job. When he learned he

was about to be sacked, only an obsequious letter to Eisenhower, wherein he

pledged to the Supreme Commander his

future support as a subordinate in all matters, saved him his European command in

World War II. For this episode, see

Bradley, Soldier’s Story, pp 509–522; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

641–644; and Bennett, Ultra in the West, p

242.

52. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 20–22,

1945; XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” pp

69–70.

53. Without a better means of forestalling German movement at night, tactical

air power could not prevent some degree of

German escape. See XIX TAC, “History,”

Mar 1945; Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World

War, pp 399–400.

54. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 39.

55. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” p

70; Air Ministry (Great Britain), German

Air Force, p 390.

56. XIX TAC, “History,” Mar 1945, sec

2, Annexes.
57. XIX TAC, “History,” Mar 1945; Air

Ministry (Great Britain), German Air

Force, p 390.

58. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 39.

59. Ibid., p 45.

60. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 27, 1945. For

details on the Hammelburg incident, see

Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp 664–676;

Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp

654–657; and MacDonald, Last Offensive,

pp 280–284.

61. Griess, ed., vol 1, Second World War,

pp 404–405.

62. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 23–31, 1945.

63. Ibid, Mar 26, 1945.

64. 9AF, “Report on Tactical Air Cooperation, Organization, Methods and Procedures with Special Emphasis on Phase III

Operations,” Jul 31, 1945, USAFHRA,

N138.4–34, 1945, pp 37–43. Although easier to transport, the British mesh track

could prove troublesome on site and, once

broken, would require considerable time

and effort to repair. Smith, “Marston Mat,”

pp 84–88.

65. Weyland, “Diary,” Mar 27–31, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Mar 1945.

66. XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945.

67. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp

680–681; Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants, pp 681–687.

68. XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945;

362d FG, “Unit History,” Apr 1945.

69. Ibid.

70. Air Ministry (Great Britain), German Air Force, pp 391–392.

71. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 8, 1945; XIX

TAC, “History,” appendix 10: Statistical

Summary; Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, pp

151–157.

72. XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945.

348

Notes to pages 270–290

73. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 1, 1945; XIX

TAC, “History,” Apr 1945; XIX TAC,

“Tentative Moving Schedule,” Apr 5, 1945,

USAFHRA, 537.391, Aug 1944–Mar

1945.

74. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 3, 1945.

75. 368th FG, “Unit History,” Apr 1945.

76. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 12, 1945. 

77. Ibid, Apr 4–10, 1945.

78. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 11–13, 1945;

Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, pp 683–685;

and MacDonald, Last Offensive, pp

379–384.

79. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 10, 1945.

80. See Air Ministry (Great Britain),

German Air Force, pp 391–392.

81. XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945, pp

101–103.

82. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 16–17, 1945;

Patton, Diary Entry, Apr 17, 1945.

83. XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945.

84. XIX TAC, “Daily Intsum,” Apr

19–20, 1945.

85. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 21, 1945.

86. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” pp 39, 45.

87. Ibid.

88. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 29, 1945.

89. XIX TAC, “History,” appendix 10:

Statistical Summary; Ivie, Aerial Reconnaissance, pp 151–157.

90. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 18–30, 1945;

XIX TAC, “History,” Apr 1945.

91. Weyland, “Diary,” Apr 28, 1945.

92. Ibid.

93. Intvw, Weyland, Nov 19, 1974, p

157.

94. Weyland, “Diary,” May 1–8, 1945.

95. US3A, “Gen Order No. 98,” and

XIX TAC, “Gen Order No. 34,” both May

9, 1945, in XIX TAC, “History,” May

1945, sec 2: Annexes, USAFHRA, 537.01.
1. US3A, “GO 98,” and XIX TAC, “GO

34,” both May 9, 1945.

2. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” Aug 1945, p 38.

3. XIX TAC, “History,” appendix 10:

Statistical Summary; XIX TAC, “Op Statistics,” 1944–45. An aborted sortie refers

to a combat sortie in which the airborne aircraft returns to its base or flies toward

another friendly base before completing the

scheduled mission for reasons other than

enemy action (e.g., engine trouble).

4. Ltr, Brig Gen Robert M. Lee, Dep CG

for Ops, 9AF, to Maj Gen O.P. Weyland,

CG, XIX TAC, Mar 5, 1945, USAFHRA

537.01, 1945, appendix 8.

5. Rpt, Maj Gen Weyland to CG, 9AF,

“Tank and Armored Vehicle Claims,” Mar

17, 1945.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid. Authorities also allowed for reporting constraints based on a pilot’s abbreviated view while operating a 300-mph airplane.

8. Rpt, IX TAC, “Assessment of FighterBomber Claims,” Apr 15, 1945, Quesada

Collection, Box 5, MD, LC.

9. The questionnaire, responses, and

correspondence among key commanders

are found as an untitled Board report, AAF

Evaluation Board, ETO, 1945, USAFHRA, 138.36A, 1945. This information

was used to prepare the Board’s report on

Phase III operations (USAFHRA, 138.4–

36, 1945), which included extracts entitled

“Statements from Allied Ground Forces on

the Effectiveness of Air Cooperation.” The

Board’s report resulted from the initiative

of Lieutenant General Barney Giles, AAF

Deputy Commander, in late January 1945,

who wanted an assessment of close air

support procedures, operations, and effectiveness from both ground and air viewpoints. Army Major General Jacob E.

Fickel served as president of the board,

whose members included three air officers

349

Notes to pages 291–298

and one ground officer, supported by a

staff of one ground and four air officers.

Board members visited 18 major air and

ground headquarters in the European theater, including those of Third Army and

the XIX TAC. After its European survey,

the board convened at Orlando Army Air

Base, Florida, assigned to the AAF’s Tactical Center. The report was issued on

August 20, 1945.

10. Ltr, Maj Gen Walton H. Walker, CG,

XX Corps, US3A to Maj Gen O.P. Weyland, CG, XIX TAC, Apr 16, 1945, USAFHRA 537.01, 1945, sec 2: Annexes. Like

most of his fellow airmen in tactical aviation during World War II, Weyland did not

discuss his views on air power at great

length. Quesada, who did speak out, left the

Air Force. Later, when Weyland served as a

four-star general and commander of the

Tactical Air Command, he often expressed

himself on the nature of tactical air power.

His theme remained that of FM 100–20,

centralized control of air assets at the theater level with air and ground elements

directing their own forces.

11. Gen Quesada’s winter assault plan is

discussed in Ltr, Dr. David Griggs to E.L.

Bowles, Oct 17, 1944.

12. Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants,

pp 727–730. Whatever difficulty one might

have with the logic of Weigley’s argument,

Patton always argued that mobility and

superior numbers and tactics prevailed

against the heavier-gun German weapons.

See for example, “Transcript of Conference

between Lt Gen G.S. Patton, Jr, and Third

Army Correspondents,” Sep 7, 1944, in Patton Collection, Box 15, Chronological File,

MD, LC.

13. Ltr, Gen O.N. Bradley, CG, 12th

Army Group, to Gen Carl Spaatz, CG,

USSTAF, May 17, 1945, USAFHRA,

138.4–36A, 1945.

14. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,”

Introduction.

Chapter 7
15. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 38; Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect of Air Power,” pp 151.

16. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 1. On the relations between

U.S. Army Ground Forces and U.S. Army

Air Forces headquarters and on postwar

tactical air power developments, see Caroline F. Ziemke, “In the Shadow of the

Giant: USAF Tactical Air Command in the

Era of Strategic Bombing, 1945–1955”

(PhD diss, Ohio State University, 1989), pp

1–75. In late 1945 General Devers, then

commanding general of Army Ground

Forces, could be expected to support the

AAF view on air superiority as prerequisite

for ground action.

17. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 25.

18. See the statistics and charts in Rpt,

Air Effects Committee, “Effect of Air

Power,” plates 1, 2.

19. Ibid., p 193.

20. Despite Ninth Air Force’s outstanding record flying against the Seine and

Loire bridges prior to D-Day, planners initially focused on destroying enemy road

and rail convoys in the fall of 1944, before

deciding to concentrate air power against

bridge targets.

21. On the subject of air interdiction, see

Richard H. Kohn and Joseph P. Harahan,

eds., Air Interdiction in World War II,

Korea, and Vietnam (Washington, D.C.:

Office of Air Force History, 1986).

22. FM 100–20, Introduction and para

16 b.(3); Jacobs, “Tactical Air Doctrine,”

pp 35–49.

23. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 342.

24. Ibid., pp 341–343; XIX TAC, “Tactical Air Ops in Europe,” p 1.

25. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 1.

26. Memo, Raines, May 20, 1991.

27. Rpt, Air Effects Committee, “Effect

of Air Power,” p 43. The 105- and 155-mm

howitzers, the most widely used American

artillery pieces, fired projectiles weighing

350

Notes to pages 299–306

approximately 30 and 100 pounds, respectively. See MacDonald, Last Offensive, p

12; and Roland G. Ruppenthal, Logistical

Support of the Armies, vol 2 [U.S. Army in

World War II: European Theater of Operations] (Washington, D.C.: Office of the

Chief of Military History, 1989), pp

524–543; also, Department of the Army,

The Army Almanac (Washington, D.C.:

U.S. Government Printing Office, 1950),

pp 123–126.

28. Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO,

“Questionnaire for Army Officers, 1945,”

USAFHRA, 138.36A, 1945, response to

question #2.

29. The fact remains that P–47s with

standard 500-lb bombs normally could do

little damage to pillbox-type targets. As H.

M. Cole described a three-squadron air

attack during the Lorraine Campaign, “the

planes hit their targets, but the 500-pound

bombs carried by the P–47’s had little

effect on reinforced concrete.” Cole, Lorraine Campaign, p 154.

30. Rpt, AAF Eval Bd, “Questionnaire for

Army Officers,” response to question #14.

31. US3A, “After Action Rpt,” vol 2,

part 3: “G–2 Section Rpt,” p 39, 45.

32. Ltr, Gen Bradley to Gen Spaatz, May

17, 1945.

33. Despite the laudatory emphasis on

individual initiative in air-ground operations in western Europe, clearly future technology would enable commanders of Weyland’s generation to centralize control more

effectively and by so doing constrain junior

officer initiative. Advanced technology for

command and control eventually would

give to less-disciplined leaders far from the

scene the ability to micro-manage events on

the battlefield, and along with that, a corresponding decrease in the delegation of

authority to leaders on the scene (though

responsibility for the outcome remained

securely tied to the field commanders). By

the time of the Vietnam War in the 1960s,

this trend had captured the President of the

United States in the Oval Office! How

might General Eisenhower, Supreme Com-
mander of Allied Expeditionary Forces,

have responded at the eleventh hour to

imprecations from President Franklin Roosevelt for a delay of D-Day?

34. Rpt, AAF Eval Bd, “Questionnaire

for Army Officers,” response to questions

#23 and #36.

35. Ibid., response to question #23.

36. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 305–309. To be sure, the

effectiveness of Allied fighters against the

Luftwaffe’s Bf 109 and FW 190 aircraft

depended on more than technology alone.

Piloting skills and experience, among other

considerations, also proved crucial.

37. XIX TAC, “Rpt on Combat Ops,” p 5.

38. Rpt, AAF Eval Bd, “Questionnaire

for Army Officers,” response to questions

#20 and #21.

39. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” pp 384–385; XIX TAC, “Rpt on

Combat Ops,” pp 25–26.

40. AAF Eval Bd, “Third Phase Tactical

Air Ops,” p 33.

41. HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of

Ninth Air Force, p 105.

42. Ltr, Gen Bradley to Gen Spaatz, May

17, 1945.

43. Intvw, Gen James Ferguson, USAF,

Jun 14, 1988, videotape on file at Air University television studio, Maxwell AFB,

Alabama.

44. HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of

Ninth AF, p 121.

45. Blumenson, ed., Patton Papers, p 624.

46. Ltr, Patton to Weyland, Sep 21,

1945, Box 32, Personal and Professional

Correspondence, Patton Collection, MD,

LC.

351

Notes to pages 306–316

47. Gen O.P. Weyland, “Interview,” Nov

19, 1974, pp 151–152, USAFHRA,

K239.0512–813; see also Kohn and Harahan, eds., Air Superiority, pp 68–69.

48. Weyland, “Interview,” Nov 19, 1974,

pp 151–152.

49. AGF, “Report of the Army Ground

Forces Equipment Review Board,” Jun 20,

1945, and subsequent correspondence and

reports, including Weyland’s notes, in

Weyland Papers, USAFHRA,

168.7104–89, 1945. Cook had been XII

Corps commander briefly under General

Patton during the first half of August 1944,

before blood and circulatory problems

forced his reassignment and return to the

United States. Had he served a longer tour

with the air-ground team, perhaps his views

on air support would have been more in

accord with his former commander’s.

50. Ibid.

51. Ibid.

52. See Kohn and Harahan, eds., Air

Superiority, p 68; Futrell, Ideas, Concepts,

Doctrine, pp 74–75, 165; Ziemke, “In the

Shadow of the Giant,” pp 1–30; War

Department FM 31–75, “Air Ground Operations” (Aug 1946).

53. For postwar developments, see

Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine; Ziemke,

“In the Shadow of the Giant.”

54. The official report in two volumes is

in the Weyland Papers, USAFHRA,

168.7104–53, 1954. On tactical air problems in Korea, see especially, Allan R. Millett, “Korea, 1950–1953,” in Cooling, ed.,

Close Air Support, pp 345–405.

55. Kohn and Harahan, eds., Air Superiority, p 72.

Sources

The study of close air support for Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr.’s,

army is based mainly on primary materials located in two superb government

repositories. The United States Military History Institute at Carlisle Barracks,

Pennsylvania, maintains an important World War II collection of air-ground

records and invaluable after action reports prepared by the U.S. Third Army.

The comprehensive archival collection of the United States Air Force

Historical Research Agency at Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama, provided

the bulk of the primary sources on tactical aviation’s role in general and of the

XIX Tactical Air Command’s support of Third Army operations in particular.

Among these records, the XIX Tactical Air Command file, General O. P.

Weyland’s personal papers, and the XIX Tactical Air Command’s unit histories proved especially rewarding. The materials at both repositories can be

examined in their original hard copy forms. Specific archival listings cited

below also identify other valuable records examined for this history.

United States Government

Archives

USAF Historical Research Agency, Maxwell AFB, Alabama

Class 138: AAF Evaluation Board

Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “The Effect of Air Power in the Battle of

Metz,” Jan 19, 1945 (K138.4–30).

Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Tactics and Techniques Developed by the

United States Tactical Air Commands in the European Theater of Operations,” Mar 11, 1945 (138.4–33, 1945).

Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “HQ Ninth AF, Report on Tactical Air Cooperation, Organization, Methods and Procedures with Special Emphasis on Phase III Operations,” Jul 31, 1945 (138.4–34, 1945).

Rpt, Ninth AF, “Report on Tactical Air Cooperation, Organization, Methods

and Procedures with Special Emphasis on Phase III Operations,” Jul 31,

1945 (138.4–34, 1945).

Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Effectiveness of Third Phase Tactical Air

Operations in the ETO, May 4, 44 to May 8, 45” (138.4–36, May 19,

45).

Rpt, AAF Evaluation Board, ETO, “Questionnaire for Army Officers, 1945”

(138.36A, 1945).

353
Ltr, Gen. O. N. Bradley, CG, 12th Army Group to Gen. Carl Spaatz, CG,

USSTAF, May 17, 1945 (K138.4–36A, 1945).

Class 168: Papers of Retired Officers

Weyland Papers

Weyland, Maj. Gen. Otto P. “Diary, Jul 29, 44–May 18, 45” (K168.7104–1,

1944–1945).

Lecture, “Air Power and Its Application,” Sep 21, 1955 (168.7104–46, 1954).

Diary, “Korea, Dec 1, 1951–May 31, 1952” (168.7104–52, 1951–52).

FEAF, “Report on the Korean War” 2 Vols, 1954 (K168.7104-53, 1954).

“Twelve-Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties: XIX Tactical Air Command’s

First Month of Operations in Support of Third US Army in France,” Sep

30, 1944 (168.7104–69).

“Progress Report, Airfield Construction,” Jul 24, 1944 (168.7104–83).

“Planes Over Patton: XIX Tactical Air Command’s Support of Third Army in

its Swift End-Run Through France,” Sep 30, 1944 (168.7104–86, Sep

30, 44).

“Ziegenburg Hq Attack,” Mar 19, 1945 (168.7104–87, 1945).

Cook Board Correspondence, 1945 (K168.7104-89, 1945).

HQ AAF, “Impact: U.S. Tactical Airpower.” Vol 3, No. 5 (May 1945)

(168.7104–92, May 45).

Intvw, Rundstedt, Field Marshal Gerd von, with Maj. Gen. O. P. Weyland, Jul

2, 1945 (168.7104–95).

“Conference between General Patton, General Weyland and Third Army Correspondents,” Dec 9, 1944 (168.7104–101, 1944).

Weyland/XIX TAC Photo Album (168.7104–114, 1944–45).

Miscellaneous Reports

IX Air Support Command, “Reference Guide on Tactical Employment of Air

Power Organization and Control Channels of Tactical Units,” Prepared

Oct 29, 1943, revised Feb 24, 1944 (168.6005–103A), Feb 25, 1944).

“Some Notes on the Use of Air Power in Support of Land Operations, Introduction by B. L. Montgomery,” Dec 1944” (168.6006–137)

Class 520: Eighth Air Force

Rpt, “Report on Manpower and Shipping Requirements Prepared by Bradley

Committee,” Jun 23, 1943 (K520.122–1, 1943).

“Statistical Summary of Eighth Air Force Operations, Aug 17, 42–May 8, 45”

(520.308–1l, 1942–45). 

Air Power for Patton’s Army

354
Class 533: Ninth Air Force

Studies and Statistics

Ninth AF, “Annual Statistical Summary, 1944” (K533.3083, 1944).

“Operational History of the Ninth Air Force, Bk I, Battle of the Ardennes: Dec

1, 1944–Jan 26, 1945” (K533.01–2).

“Operational Statistics, Jan 1, 44–Jun 1, 44” (K533.3082, 1944).

“Operations Journal, Aug 6, 1944” (K533.305, Apr–Dec 1944).

“Schedule of Operations, Aug 2, 1944” (K533.3082, Aug 1944).

“Weekly Intelligence Summaries, Nov 3, 43–Jun 1, 44” (K533.607, 1944–45).

Reports

First Army G–3 (Air), “Air Support Report, Aug 6, 44” (K533.4501–3, May–

Aug 1944).

“Report on the Activities of the Ninth Air Force, period 6 Jun–20 Aug 1944”

Sep 27, 1944 (533.306–2, 1944).

“Fighter-bomber Control: A Compilation of Procedures Used by the Ninth Air

Force during Operations on the European Continent” (Brig. Gen. Robert

M. Lee, Chief of Staff) (533.503–1, 1945).

“ORS Report No. 65, MEW Operations in XIX Tactical Air Command,” Nov

20, 1944.

“Reconnaissance in the Ninth Air Force: A Report on Reconnaissance Operations During the European Campaign,” n.d. (May 9, 1945).

Joseph A. Wyant, Ninth AF Historian to Brig. Gen. R. C. Candee, “Material

in Response to Telephone Request of Sep 28, 1945 Concerning Allied

Air Effort During the Battle of the Bulge,” n.d. [1945] (533.4501–5).

ORS Rpt No. 85, “Operational Accuracy of the Modified SCR 584 in Controlling Tactical Air Coordination Missions,” May 8, 1945 (XIX TAC

Hist/May/Annexes).

“Air Force Operations in Support of Attack on Cherbourg, Jun 22 thru Jun 30,

1944,” File 536: IX Tactical Air Command.

“IX TAC in Review: Organization, Personnel, Equipment, Maintenance, Operations, Costs,” Nov 43–May 45 (536.01, 1945).

IX TAC, “Unit History, Apr, May, Jun, Jul 1944” (536.02)

Class 537: XIX Tactical Air Command

Studies and Histories

XIX TAC, “History of XIX Tactical Air Command,” Dec 4, 1943–Jun 30,

1944 (537.01, 1943–44).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, Part 1: “Administrative Narrative, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

Sources

355
XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, Part 2: “Operations Narrative, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 1: “General Orders, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 2: “Special Orders, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 3: “Memoranda, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 4: “Movement of Troops Orders, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 5: “Assignment/Attachment Orders, Aug 44–May 45”

(537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 6: “Twelve-Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties, Aug 44–May

45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 7: “Operational Research Data, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 8: “Correspondence, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 9: “Periodic Staff Reports, Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “History of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” Jul 1, 1944–Feb 28,

1945, App 10: “Statistical Summary of the XIX Tactical Air Command,

Aug 44–May 45” (537.01).

XIX TAC, “Signals: The Story of Communications in the XIX Tactical Air

Command up to V–E Day,” Jun 15, 1945 (537.901).

Reports

“Reports of Attacks by Friendly-Type Aircraft,” Dec 1944–Jan 1945.

(537.599).

“Report on Bombing of Metz Forts,” Sep–Nov 1944.

“A Report on the Combat Operations of the XIX Tactical Air Command,” May

30, 1945 (537.02).

10th Photo Gp, to HQ Ninth AF, “Employment of Reconnaissance Aircraft,

Tactics and Techniques,” Feb 10, 1945 (537.628, 1945).

Faulkner, J. E., Advanced Science Base Laboratory, British Branch Radiation

Laboratory, MIT, “Operational Employment of Radar in the XIX

Tactical Air Command,” n.d. [1945] (537.906, 1945).

ORS Rpt No. 91, “Operational Testing of SCR 584 Blind Bombing

Procedure,” Apr 7, 1945.

ORS Memo [Rpt] No. 79, “SCR 584 Blind Bombing in XIX Tac Command,”

Air Power for Patton’s Army

356
Apr 29, 1945 (Hist/May/Sec 2: Annexes).

A–3, “Operation Madison: Air Plan in Support of Third U.S. Army,” Nov 3,

1944 (537.4501, 1944).

A–3, “Operation Tink: Air Plan in Support of Third U.S. Army,” Dec 17, 1944

(537.205A, 1944).

Weyland, Maj. Gen. to CG, Ninth AF, “Tank and Armored Vehicle Claims,”

Mar 17, 1945 (XIX Hist, App 8).

“Immediate Report No. 41 (Combat Observations),” ca 1945 (537.01, 1945).

Hallett, Lt. Col. Charles H., AC/S to CG, Ninth AF, “Use of Napalm Bombs,”

Oct 3, 1944 (537.453, Oct–Nov 44).

“Tactical Air Operations in Europe: A Report on Employment of FighterBomber, Reconnaissance and Night Fighter Aircraft by XIX Tactical Air

Command, Ninth Air Force, in Connection with the Third U.S. Army

Campaign from Aug 1, 1944 to V–E Day, May 9, 1945.” (537.04A,

1944–45).

HQ AAF, “Air–Ground Teamwork on the Western Front: The Role of the XIX

Tactical Air Command during Aug 1944 [Wings at War Series, No. 5]

(537.04C, Aug 44).

Correspondence

Ltr, Dr. David Griggs, Member, Advisor Specialist Group, USSTAF, to Brig.

Gen. O. P. Weyland, Oct 3, 1944 (K537.101, 1944).

Ltr, CG, XIX TAC to CG, Ninth AF, “Authorized Aircraft in Fighter Groups,”

Nov 14, 1944 (537.01, App 8, 1944–45).

Ltr, Maj. Gen. Walton H. Walker, CG, XX Corps, U.S. Third Army to Maj.

Gen. O. P. Weyland, CG, XIX TAC, Apr 16, 1945 (537.01, Apr, 1945,

Sec 2: Annexes).

Ltr, “Tentative Moving Schedule,” Apr 5, 1945 (537.391).

Ltr, Brig. Gen. Robert M. Lee, Dep CG for Ops, Ninth AF to Maj. Gen. O. P.

Weyland, CG, XIX TAC, Mar 5, 1945 (537.01, 1945, App 8).

Memo, Brig. Gen. O. P. Weyland, CG, XIX TAC to Lt. Gen. G. S. Patton, CG,

U.S. Third Army, Oct 28, 1944 (537.01, 1944).

Memo, Lt. Col. Charles H. Hallet, AC/S, to CG, XIX TAC, “Air Support of

Third Army’s Drive to the East,” Aug 23, 1944 (168.7104–85).

Memo, Lt. Col. Charles H. Hallet, AC/S to A–3, XIX TAC, Oct 6, 1944

(537.306A, Oct 1–15, 1944).

Memo, A. C. McLean, XIX TAC/ORS to A–3, “Analysis of Attacks on

Targets of Opportunity, Dec 15, 1944 to Jan 31, 1945,” Feb 16, 1945

(537.01, App 7).

Memo, No. 100–25B, “SOP, Tactical Air Communications,” Apr 29, 1945.

“Ordnance-Armament Handbook for Tactical Air Liaison Officers,” Mar 1945

(537.01, Mar 1945, Sec 2: Annexes). 

Sources

357
Statistics

“Daily Intelligence Summaries (Intsum),” Aug 9–May 8, 1945 (537.606,

1944–45).

“Morning Summaries,” Aug 8, 1944–May 8, 1945 (537.306A).

“Operational Statistics,” Aug 8, 1944–May 9, 1945 (537.3800–3900, 1944–45).

Class 612: Northwest African Air Forces

Rpt, Col. H. J. Knerr, Dep, ASC to CG, AAF, “Report on Manpower and Shipping Requirements Prepared by Bradley Committee,” Jun 23, 1943

(K612.201A).

Class 614: Northwest African Tactical Air Force

Memo, Brig. Gen. L. S. Kuter, Dep Comdr/Allied Air AF to CG, AAF, subj:

Organization of American Air Forces, May 12, 1943 (614.201–1).

Class 626: Mediterranean Allied Tactical Air Force

Rpt, HQ, MASAAF, “XXII Tactical Air Command’s Close Support of the

Fifth Army” (K626.4501–1, 1944).

Class 651: XII Air Support Command

Rpt, AEAF, “Notes on Air Power Taken During a Visit to Fifth Army Front

Between the 5th to 20th of Feb 1944.” (K651.152, Feb 5, 1944).

Unit Histories

36th Fighter Group (GP–36–HI/Apr–Sep 44).

354th Fighter Group (GP–354–HI/Nov 43–May 45).

358th Fighter Group (GP–358–HI/Feb–Nov 44).

361st Fighter Group (GP–361–HI/Dec 44–Jan 45).

362d Fighter Group (GP–362–HI/Jan 44–May 45).

367th Fighter Group (GP–367–HI/Dec 44–Feb 45).

368th Fighter Group (GP–368–HI/Dec 44–Feb 45).

371st Fighter Group (GP–371–HI/Mar–Sep 44; Feb–May 45).

405th Fighter Group (GP–405–HI/Apr 44–Feb 45).

406th Fighter Group (GP–406–HI/Feb 44–Feb 45).

“The 406th Occupier: Special Historical Issue,” (GP–406–SU–NE/Sep 45)

Miscellaneous Reports

Rpt, Philip Cole, et al., VIII Air Support Command to HQ, Eighth AF, “Observers Report. Air Operations in Support of Ground Forces in North

West Africa Mar 15–Apr 5, 1943,” Jul 1943 (K650.03–2).

Air Power for Patton’s Army

358
Rpt, George S. Patton, HQ, Seventh Army, “Notes on the Sicilian Campaign,”

Oct 30, 1943. 

U.S. Army Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania

U.S. Third Army, “After Action Report,” Aug 1, 1944–May 9, 1945, Vol 1:

Operations; Annex No. 3: “XIX Tactical Air Command,” Regensburg,

1945.

———, “After Action Report,” Aug 1, 1944–May 9, 1945, Vol 2: Staff Section Reports, Part 1: “Command Section Report.” Regensburg, 1945.

———, “After Action Report,” Aug 1, 1944–May 9, 1945, Vol 2: Staff Section Reports, Part 3: “G–2 Section Report,” Regensburg, 1945.

———, “After Action Report,” Aug 1, 1944–May 9, 1945, Vol 2: Staff Section Reports, Part 4: “G–3 Section Report” Regensburg, 1945.

12th Army Group, Air Effects Committee, “Effect of Air Power on Military

Operations, Western Europe,” Jul 15, 1945.

———, “Answers to Questionnaire for Key Commanders on the Effects of

Strategic and Tactical Air Power on Military Operations, ETO,” 1945.

———, “Answers to AAF Evaluation Board Guide Questions on Air–Ground

Cooperation.” May 11, 1945.

———, “Destruction of the German Armies in Western Europe, Jun 6, 1944–

May 9, 1945.” ca 1945.

U.S. Army Ground Forces, Observer Board, European Theater, “Reports of

Observers,” 3 Vols, Bad Nauheim, Germany, 1944–46.

U.S. Forces, European Theater. Battle Studies, Vol 2: Air Operations, ca 1945:

No. 2: “Army Air Forces Logistical Summary (During WWII in ETO).”

No. 5: “Tactical Development of Fighters in the European Theater.”

No. 14: “Fighter-Bomber Cooperation.”

No. 15: “AAF Tactical Reconnaissance in the European Theater.”

No. 19: “The Battle for Metz and the Surrounding Forts, 1500 Years–15

Days.”

No. 21: “Air Resupply: Ardennes Counter-Offensive (Dec 16, 1944–Feb

21, 1945).”

No. 22: “Air Force Participation in the Battle of the Ardennes (Dec 16,

1944–Jan 16, 1945).”

No. 29: “Employment of the Air Forces in the European Theater During

WW II and the Role of Fighter Aviation.”

U.S. Forces, European Theater, General Board, “The Utilization of Tac Air

Recce Units of the Army Air Forces to Secure Information for Ground

Forces in the European Theater.” Study No. 19, ca 1945–46.

General Board. “Liaison Aircraft with Ground Force Units.” Study No. 20, ca

1945–46.

Sources

359
———, General Board, “Organization, Operations and Equipment of Air–

Ground Liaison in All Echelons from Divisions Upwards.” Study No.

21, ca 1945–46.

———, General Board, “Air Power in the European Theater of Operations.”

Study No. 54, ca 1945–46.

———, General Board, “The Control of Tactical Aircraft in the European

Theater of Operations.” Study No. 55, ca 1945–46.

———, General Board, “The Tactical Air Force in the European Theater of

Operations.” Study No. 56, ca 1945–46.

Ninth Air Force. “Reconnaissance in the Ninth Air Force: A Report on Reconnaissance Operations During the European Campaign,” May 9, 1945.

Library of Congress (LC), Washington, D.C.

Henry H. Arnold Collection

HQ, AAF, AAF Ltr 80–3, “Air Employment Terminology,” Nov 16, 1944, File

1938–46, Box 104, MD, LC.

Memo, Lt. Gen. Carl Spaatz, CG, NAAF to Maj. Gen. Barney Giles, C/S,

AAF, Sep 12, 1943. Arnold Collection, File 3 1938–46,

(370.2/Africa/34), Box 104, MD, LC.

George S. Patton, Jr., Collection

Chronological File: Miscellaneous Correspondence, 1944–1945, Boxes

14–16, MD, LC.

Diaries and Correspondence, 1942–1945, Boxes 2–4, MD, LC.

Photo Albums, 1944–1945, Boxes 111–113, MD, LC.

Elwood R. Quesada Collection

Ltr, Dr. David Griggs, Advisory Specialist Group, USSTAF, to Dr. E. L.

Bowles, Expert Consultant to the Secretary of War, Mar 17, 1944, Box

5, MD, LC.

Rpt, IX Fighter Command, A–3, n.d., Box 3, MD, LC.

Rpt, IX Fighter Command, A–4, n.d., Box 3, MD, LC.

Rpt, IX TAC, G–3 (Air), n.d., Box 5, MD, LC.

Carl A. Spaatz Collection

Rpt, IX TAC, “Assessment of Fighter-Bomber Claims.” Apr 45, Box 5, MD, LC.

Memo, Brig. Gen. D. L. M. Schlatter, Dep C/S-Opns, Ninth AF, to CG,

USSTAF, “Report on Cherbourg Attack, Jul 21, 44,” Box 164, MD, LC.

Air Power for Patton’s Army

360
National Archives, Washington, D.C.

RG 331: Records of Allied Operational and Occupation Headquarters, WWII

HQ, Twelfth Army Group, “Brief of Joint Operations Plan—U.S. Forces for

Operation Overlord” (revised May 8, 1944), File 1943–45 (370.2), Box

85, NA

RG 337: Records of the Army Ground Forces

Rpt, Col. E. L. Johnson, G–3 (Air), U.S. First Army to AGF Board, HQ

ETOUSA, “Information Regarding Air–Ground Joint Operations,” Jul

16, 1944, RG 337, Entry 29, Box 51, NA

National Security Agency Reports

Memo, NSA, “Ultra and the Third Army,” May 28, 1945, in NSA, Special

Research, History–023.

Rpt, NSA, “Reports by U.S. Army Ultra Representatives with Army Field

Commands in the European Theater of Operations,” parts 1 and 2, in

NSA, Special Research, History–023

Books and Studies

Department of the Army. The Army Almanac. Washington: U.S. Government

Printing Office, 1950.

HQ AAF, Condensed Analysis of the Ninth Air Force in the European Theater

of Operations. Washington, 1946. repr, Washington, 1984.

Air Ministry (Great Britain). The Rise and Fall of the German Air Force,

1933–1945. Old Greenwich, Conn: WE Inc., 1969.

Beck, Alfred M., Abe Bortz, Charles W. Lynch, Lida Mayo, and Ralph F.

Weled. The Corps of Engineers: The War Against Germany [United

States Army in World War II: The Technical Services]. Washington:

Center of Military History, 1985.

Blumenson, Martin. Breakout and Pursuit [United States Army in World War

II: The European Theater of Operations]. Washington: Office of the

Chief of Military History, 1965.

Boog, Horst. Die Deutsche Luftwaffenfuehrung, 1935–1945. Stuttgart:

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Air Power for Patton’s Army

370
advanced landing ground (ALG): 41, 62

air umbrella: 46, 49, 76, 111, 220, 253,

297, 306

Aircraft: 4, 38, 77, 143, 192, 199–203,

293, 307

A–20: 2, 95, 162, 233, 307

A–26: 233

B–17: 2

B–26: 200, 201

Bf 109: 99, 100, 148, 213, 215, 

216, 226, 248, 276

C–47: 102, 116, 141, 199, 200, 

204, 279

F–3: 95

F–5: 60, 61, 95, 222

F–6: 60, 95, 104, 206, 226

FW 190: 54, 155, 157, 192, 203, 

226, 227, 276, 279

L–1: 205

L–5: 120

Mosquito: 48, 211

P–38: 60, 95, 151, 192, 196, 206, 

217, 222, 247, 285, 288, 307

P–39: 2, 307

P–40: 2, 26, 307

P–47: 23, 37, 38–40, 46, 55, 56, 

63, 64, 70, 73, 74, 77, 81, 84, 

85, 86, 89, 90, 96, 98, 99, 110, 

111, 118, 120, 143, 146, 160, 

172, 192, 193, 200–203, 208, 

213, 214, 215, 218, 219, 226, 

243, 247–248, 263, 271, 273, 

282, 300, 307–308

P–47/D–30: 143

P–51: 38, 40, 46, 60, 77, 84, 87, 

95, 98, 99, 100, 104, 141, 142–

143, 160, 162, 172, 196, 200, 

203, 206, 213, 217, 218, 226, 

247–248, 250, 258, 263, 268, 

271, 276, 288, 300, 307–308

371

P–51D: 248

P–61: 79, 127, 130, 162, 210, 

268, 308–309

P–70: 162

Air Forces (numbered):

Sixth: 26

Eighth: 29, 30, 35, 36, 38, 40, 65, 

137, 143, 149, 158, 159, 174, 

177, 180, 195, 196, 199, 200, 

201, 212, 217, 218, 220, 222, 

232, 307

Ninth: 29, 30, 31, 32–33, 34, 35, 

36, 38, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 48, 

52, 55, 64, 65, 75, 77, 79, 81, 

85, 88, 91, 100, 109, 111, 114, 

115, 119, 121, 135, 137, 138, 

139, 141, 143, 148, 152, 162, 

163, 164, 170, 172, 190, 195, 

201, 203, 208, 211, 212, 216, 

222, 230, 232, 236, 237, 242, 

243, 245, 250, 255, 263, 264, 

275, 280, 282, 283, 287, 289, 

294, 298–300, 302, 307, 309, 

310, 311

Twelfth: 7, 9

Fifteenth: 40

Allied Expeditionary Air Force (AEAF):

30, 32–33, 41, 52

Ancon,USS: 52–53, 54, 70

AN/CPS–1: 129, 131

Anderson, K.A.N.: 10, 14

Anderson, Samuel E.: 232, 242–243

Andrews, Frank M.: 17

Antiaircraft Artillery (AAA): 212, 217

Ardennes: 123, 133, 180, 181, 183, 185–

238, 292–294, 297, 300, 301, 303, 310

Argentan Trap: 90

Argentan-Falaise gap: 90

Armies (numbered):

First: 21, 34, 41, 48, 49, 54–55, 

Roles and Missions

Index
56, 59, 61, 66, 67, 68, 77, 86, 

90, 97, 102, 114, 132, 133, 

146–147, 148, 149, 155, 179, 

180, 185, 189, 192, 196, 208, 

215, 220, 225, 230, 248, 258, 

260, 270, 276, 283, 312

Third: 1, 21, 27, 34, 36, 41, 43, 45,

47, 56, 62, 66–67, 69–71,73, 

75, 79, 81, 86, 89, 90, 91, 94, 

97, 100, 102, 109–112, 115, 

118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 

127, 132, 140–141, 144, 145, 

146–149, 150, 157, 159, 163, 

166, 167, 168, 169–177, 180, 

183, 185, 195, 197, 199, 204, 

205, 207, 208, 210, 212, 214, 

215, 217, 219, 223–224, 226, 

240, 248, 249–250, 253, 254, 

255, 256, 257, 260, 262, 263, 

267–270, 271, 272, 273, 275, 

276, 280, 281, 283, 285, 288, 

291, 292, 297, 298, 299, 300, 

303, 306, 308, 311, 312, 313

Fifth: 7, 21

Seventh: 25, 97, 99, 104, 127, 

137, 163, 174, 177, 179, 186, 

239, 260, 265

Ninth: 107

Army Air Corps: 1–3

Army Air Forces (AAF): 4, 6, 15, 16, 18,

22, 26, 27, 30, 32, 37, 43, 65, 66, 69,

90, 94, 98, 110, 111, 120, 211, 215,

220, 248, 272, 288, 290, 292, 296,

298, 299, 301, 302, 304, 306, 307,

308, 309, 314, 314

Army Ground Forces (AGF): 67

Arnold, Henry H.: 2, 3, 4, 14, 16, 26, 43,

44, 233, 314

Bastogne: 180, 185, 186, 193, 194, 195,

198, 199, 200, 203–215, 220, 234, 297

battle area control unit (BACU): 224, 244

Bayfield, USS: 52, 53

Berg, Russell A.: 95

Black Letter Day: 160

blank check: 212

Blitz warfare: 70–86

372

Air Power for Patton’s Army

blitzkrieg: 3, 25, 69, 75, 121

Blumenson, Martin: 24

Bradley, Omar N.: 21, 22, 34, 48, 51, 59,

67, 68, 70, 86, 90, 102, 106, 123, 127,

133, 147, 148, 149, 155, 172, 181,

194, 196, 213, 214, 234, 240, 248,

256, 257, 260, 267, 273, 275, 281,

297, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 305,

310, 312, 315

Brandenberger, Eric: 186, 239

Brereton, Lewis H.: 15, 16, 30, 32, 48,

49, 55, 71, 73

bridge too far 132

broad-front strategy: 97, 98

Browne, Roger: 128

Bulge, Battle of the: 185, 225–234

Burns, John J.: 39, 79, 265

Byers, Robert C.: 35

Candee, Robert C.: 29

Casablanca: 12, 15, 24, 28, 44

Chandler, Berry: 206, 213

Chief of Staff to Supreme Commander

(COSSAC): 29

chief warrant officer (CWO): 212

Churchill, Winston: 28

Clark, Mark W.: 21

Cole, Philip: 29, 30, 35, 37

Coleman, Glenn C.: 35, 195 

Colmar pocket: 171

Commands (numbered):

VII Air Support: 29, 30

IX Tactical Air: 34, 36, 37, 38, 

41, 43, 53, 54–55, 59, 63, 64, 

66, 68, 71, 73, 77, 79, 86, 87, 

88, 109, 115, 131, 132, 147, 

172, 180, 196, 197, 206, 211, 

232, 295, 303

XII Air Support: 7, 10, 29

XII Tactical Air: 29, 30, 127, 137,

147, 148, 152, 153, 163, 174, 

177, 179, 222, 249, 283

XIX Tactical Air: 1, 23, 27, 30, 

33–43, 45–46, 47, 48, 49, 54, 

55, 56, 62, 64, 66, 67, 68, 69, 

70, 71, 73–75, 77, 79–88, 89, 

90–95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 
102, 103, 104, 106, 107, 108, 

109, 112, 113, 115, 116, 117, 

118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 125, 

127, 130, 132, 133, 135, 137, 

138, 139, 141, 143, 144, 146, 

147, 148, 152, 153, 155, 160, 

161, 163, 166, 169, 173, 174, 

177, 180, 183, 185, 189, 195, 

196, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 

203, 204, 208, 210, 211, 212, 

215, 218, 220, 222, 224, 225–

234, 236, 239, 242, 244, 246, 

248, 249, 255, 257, 258, 262, 

268, 270, 273, 275, 276, 208, 

281, 282, 283, 285, 286, 287, 

288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 

293, 294, 297, 298, 300, 302, 

303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 

309, 311, 312, 313

XXIX TAC: 96, 104, 114, 148, 

172, 199, 249, 303

Coningham, Arthur: 7, 17, 196

Cook, Gilbert R.: 314

Corps (numbered):

First Armored: 24

II: 10, 11, 25, 29

III: 194, 195, 199, 205, 206, 207, 

208, 220, 222, 224, 225, 230, 

250, 283

IV: 46

V: 197

VI: 97

VII: 70, 257, 258

VIII: 55, 67, 68, 70, 73, 77, 80, 81,

91, 96, 99, 100, 104, 108, 109, 

110, 112, 179, 180, 185, 189, 

190, 193, 194, 195, 199, 205, 

206, 207, 208, 220, 222, 224, 

225, 230, 248, 249, 250, 252, 

254, 256, 257, 258, 260, 262, 

263, 270, 271, 276, 281, 283

XII: 70, 91, 96, 100, 110, 115, 117,

133, 134, 137, 143, 144, 146, 

153, 154, 163, 166, 167, 170, 

173, 174, 175, 177, 180, 192, 

193, 194, 195, 199, 208, 215, 

373

Index

222, 224, 225, 230, 232, 234, 

248, 249, 250, 252, 254, 256, 

257, 258, 260, 262, 265, 270, 

271, 276, 281, 283, 285, 308

XV: 68, 70, 77, 80, 86, 89, 90, 91,

96, 110, 137, 153

XX: 70, 76, 77, 87, 91, 96, 100, 

103, 110, 115, 136, 137, 138, 

146, 153, 154, 163, 166, 167, 

170, 173, 174, 175, 177, 192, 

195, 208, 215, 222, 223, 224, 

230, 233, 246, 250, 252, 253, 

254, 256, 257, 260, 262, 267, 

270, 271, 276, 281, 283, 285, 

293, 296, 306, 308

Craig, Howard A.: 10

D-Day: 22, 37, 39, 41, 44, 45, 51–53, 54,

61, 293

De Gaulle, Charles: 220

Devers, Jacob L.: 171, 174, 194, 222,

240, 260, 265, 267, 299, 315

Dietrich, Sepp: 186, 188, 189, 198

Ding Bat 1: 172

Ding Bat 2: 172

Direction Finder (D/F): 129

Divisions (numbered):

3d Infantry: 25

4th Armored: 76, 77, 79, 89, 117, 

193, 195, 198, 207, 228, 256, 

258, 260, 262, 264, 265, 270, 

273

5th Infantry: 135, 137, 138

6th Armored: 166, 277

9th Armored: 263

10th Armored: 166, 194, 257

11th Armored: 283

26th Infantry: 146

83d Infantry: 106

90th Infantry: 138, 177, 263

95th Infantry: 167, 170, 172

101st Airborne Infantry: 193, 

194, 198, 206, 207, 228

Doolittle, James: 156, 174, 175, 214,

215, 280, 288

Dragon’s Teeth: 169

Earnest, Herbert L.: 77
Eddy, Manton S.: 123, 133, 137, 153,

166, 248, 271, 276

Eisenhower, Dwight D.: 7, 9, 10, 12, 15,

21, 22, 25, 29, 32, 33, 40, 51, 86, 90,

96, 97, 98, 102, 123, 132, 133, 163,

174, 181, 185, 193, 194, 195, 220,

240, 248, 256, 263, 265, 267, 273,

275, 276, 281, 297, 312, 313

Elster, Botho: 107, 108

Fall Gelb: 186

Faulkner, J. E.: 132

Felber, Hans: 260

Ferguson, James: 27, 35, 87, 91, 94, 113,

117, 118, 120, 139, 147, 151, 153,

195, 207, 212, 213, 224, 258, 275,

287, 310

Field Manual (FM): 3

FM 1–5: 4

FM 31–35: 4, 6, 7, 14, 16, 18, 29,

30, 56, 306, 314

FM 100–20: 16, 18, 43, 44, 54, 

76, 234, 290, 298, 299, 304, 

305, 310, 312, 315

firebombs: 112

fireman: 102, 118

five minute alert: 216

Foltz, Howard F.: 35

Frankfurt-Kassel corridor: 242

Fw 190: 54, 155, 192, 203, 226, 276

Gaffey, Hugh J.: 79, 86, 89, 90, 91, 94,

110, 112, 116, 117, 119, 137, 171, 215

Galland, Adolph: 215

Gay, H. R.: 94, 112, 115, 117, 119, 171,

224

General Headquarters (GHQ): 2

General Headquarters Air Force: 2

German National Redoubt: 283

Goddard, George W.: 243, 244

Griggs, David: 131

ground-controlled approach (GCA): 131

ground-controlled intercept (GCI): 130

Groups (numbered):

6th Army: 126, 133, 171, 194, 

222, 240, 260, 265

10th Photo Reconnaissance: 52, 

87, 95, 99, 103, 115, 127, 141, 

374

Air Power for Patton’s Army

142, 151, 160, 178, 199, 206, 

207, 249, 260, 272, 285

12th Army: 29, 67, 73, 98, 100, 

123, 126, 172, 175, 194, 208, 

273, 304

21st Army: 52

36th Fighter-Bomber: 62, 81, 89, 

96, 116

67th Tactical Reconnaissance: 60

303d Fighter: 91, 94

354th Fighter: 38, 46, 64, 66, 127,

141, 142, 148, 152, 160, 180, 

192, 218, 247, 248

358th Fighter: 73, 81, 127, 141, 

148, 153, 163

361st Fighter: 196, 200, 210, 218

362d Fighter: 46, 89, 141, 144, 

155, 160, 163, 175, 177, 199, 

203, 205, 206, 207, 213, 214, 

252, 265, 271, 276

363d Fighter: 104

363d Tactical Reconnaissance: 77, 

104

367th Fighter: 197, 204, 218, 247,

271

368th Fighter: 216, 226, 232, 243,

254, 257, 271

371st Fighter: 79, 99, 100, 246, 

249, 253, 254, 263, 271

405th Fighter: 73, 117, 135, 137, 

139, 144, 146, 152, 156, 166, 

172, 175, 177, 202, 205, 207, 

214, 219

406th Fighter: 63, 86, 102, 104, 

141, 166, 169, 172, 179, 198, 

204, 205, 206, 207

Grove, Harry M.: 140

Grow, Robert W.: 276

Haislip, Wade H.: 70, 110

Hallett, Charles H.: 35, 100, 107, 135,

140, 141, 151, 174, 226, 265

Harkins, Paul D.: 148, 171

Hart, B. H. Liddell: 110

Helfers, Melvin C.: 140

Herbstnebel: 185, 186–190

Hessian: 78
Hitler, Adolf: 51, 86, 127, 141, 186, 215,

220, 242, 285, 286, 288, 289

Hodges, Courtney H.: 21, 34, 97, 133,

146, 147, 240, 263, 276, 312

Hoefker, John H.: 192

Holbury, Robert J.: 222, 223

Horsefly: 233

indentification friend or foe (IFF): 246

Iron Men: 167, 170

Irwin, S. LeRoy: 138, 283

Johnson, Edwin L.: 61

Johnson, Leo H.: 212

Ju 87: 239

key system: 272, 285, 290

Kiljauczyk: 117

Kluge, Guenther von: 86

Koch, Oscar W.: 140

Kuter, Laurence S.: 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16,

18, 43

Laughlin, Joseph: 144, 146

Lee, Robert M.: 211

Leigh-Mallory, Trafford: 32, 33, 52

Lorraine: 123–184, 192, 194, 197, 204,

208, 221, 226, 246, 253, 291, 292,

300, 302

Luxembourg City: 256, 257, 273, 275,

280, 281, 312

M–47: 246

MacArthur, Douglas: 288

Macon, Robert C.: 106, 107

Maginot line: 123, 135, 169

Mainz-Frankfurt: 242

Malmedy-Liege axis: 186

Manteuffel, Hasso von: 186, 188, 198, 239

Marshall, George C.: 16, 24, 139

marschgruppe: 108

Mayhew, Donald: 153

McGuire, George F.: 170

McLean, Arnold C.: 243, 245

McNair, Lesley J.: 4, 67

Me 109: 99, 100, 148, 213, 215, 216,

226, 248, 276

Me 262: 219

Merzig: 199, 222, 223, 232

microwave early warning (MEW): 88,

89, 129, 130, 131, 132, 159, 195, 211,

375

Index

217, 224, 245, 280

Middleton, Troy H.: 70, 108, 109, 190,

225, 248, 254

milk run: 87

Milliken, John: 206, 225

Montgomery, Bernard L.: 7, 9, 12, 14,

16, 25, 29, 48, 86, 97, 106, 109, 123,

132, 133, 147, 195, 196, 208, 220,

240, 242, 246, 248, 256, 260, 263,

265, 267, 268, 270, 272, 273, 275

Morgan, Frederick E.: 27

Northwest African Air Forces (NAAF):

12

Northwest African Tactical Air Force

(NATAF): 11, 12

Nichols, Howard: 233

Nugent, Richard E.: 94, 107, 113, 114,

147, 247, 303

Ohrdruf: 281

Operations:

Anvil: 97

Clarion: 255, 256

Cobra: 67, 74, 81, 102, 152, 157, 

211

Dagger: 177

Dragoon: 97

Fortitude: 22, 41

Grenade: 255

Hi-Sug: 125, 169, 170, 171, 172, 

173, 174, 175, 183

Husky: 47

Lumberjack: 240, 257

Madison: 125, 146, 147, 148, 153, 

155, 158, 159, 160, 180, 183

Market Garden: 132, 133, 198

Neptune: 52

Overlord: 22, 29, 30, 33, 43, 44, 

51

Pointblank: 30, 33

Queen: 147, 155, 157, 174

Tink: 125, 177, 179, 180, 181, 

182, 183, 192, 193, 194, 195

Torch: 6, 7–14, 19, 24, 47

Undertone: 240, 260

Varsity: 268, 270

Veritable: 240, 257
Patch, Alexander: 97, 104, 127, 177,

179, 260

Patton, George S.: 11, 12, 21–28, 34, 37,

41, 44–48, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 73, 74,

75, 76, 80–81, 86–96, 97–98, 102,

103, 104, 109–110, 112, 113, 115,

117, 118, 119, 122, 123, 125, 127,

133, 135, 138–140, 144, 146, 147,

148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 156, 159,

167, 169, 170, 171, 172, 174, 177,

179, 180, 181, 183, 185, 189, 193,

194, 195, 196, 207, 208, 213, 214,

215, 222, 223, 230, 232, 234–236,

239, 248, 249, 253, 256, 257, 258,

260, 262, 265, 267, 270, 273, 276,

281, 283, 285, 288, 289, 290, 295,

297, 298, 303, 305, 308, 310, 311,

312, 316

penny-packet: 254

Pershing, John J.: 24

pillbox: 252, 253

prisoner of war (POW): 65

Quesada, Elwood R.: 16, 23, 33–34, 36,

37, 39, 43, 54, 55, 59, 63, 67, 73, 76,

77, 87, 88, 113, 140, 185, 194, 196,

197, 232, 246, 281, 295, 296, 310, 315

RDX Composition-B: 246

Redline: 71

Reserve Officers Training Corps

(ROTC): 25, 35

Ripsaw: 216

Rommel, Erwin: 10, 51

Roosevelt, Franklin D.: 28, 282

roulement: 62, 80, 95, 98, 99, 100, 102,

104, 113, 117, 118

Royal Air Force (RAF): 7, 16, 29, 30,

32, 39, 40, 41, 89, 177, 180, 197, 211

Royce, Ralph: 73, 79, 152, 153, 155, 174

Rundstedt, Gerd von: 51, 186, 189, 313, 314

Russian High: 199

Saarlautern: 293

Saar-Mosel: 255

Saar-Mosel-Rhine trap: 250, 254, 260–270

Saunders, Homer (“Tex”): 147

Saville, Gordon P.: 137, 138, 147, 163,

177, 179, 245

376

Air Power for Patton’s Army

Schlatter, David M.: 73

Schwartzberg, Samuel L.: 212

SCR–284: 53

SCR–399: 53, 58

SCR–522: 59, 67, 74

SCR–584: 62, 131, 159, 217, 224, 244,

245, 246, 309

Siegfried Line: 102, 110, 123, 125, 144,

146, 149–158, 167, 169, 170, 171–

181, 182, 186, 194, 230, 235, 240,

246, 248–254, 256, 260, 290, 291,

293, 300, 304, 308

Simpson, William H.: 106, 107, 240,

256, 273

Skorzeny, Otto: 188

Smith, Nicholas M.: 242, 243, 244

Smyser, Rudolf E.: 36, 80, 94, 203, 275

Spaatz, Carl A: 9, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 32,

43, 90, 146, 156, 174, 175, 177, 214,

215, 233, 280, 288, 297, 305, 310

Spitfire X-Ray: 196

Stilwell, Joseph W.: 313

Stimson, Henry L.: 181

Strickland, Auby C.: 17

Student, Kurt: 133

Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Forces (SHAEF): 173, 177,

181, 195, 196, 222, 230, 240, 242,

248, 255, 256, 257, 281, 282, 283,

287, 294, 295, 312

Tactical Air Force (TAF): 29

Tedder, Arthur: 12, 90

Third Reich: 127, 132, 286

Thompson, James F.: 35, 91, 195, 279

Thunder Bums: 250, 289

Tiger Tamers: 192, 249

Tiger tanks: 296

Tindal, Larry N.: 53

Torgau-Dresden-Prague axis: 282 

Twelve Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties:

103

Ultra: 104, 105, 140, 158, 187, 207, 217,

220, 223, 225, 258, 267, 300

United States Strategic Air Forces

(USSTAF): 30, 32, 174

V–1: 88, 90, 128
Vandenberg, Hoyt S.: 71, 94, 107, 108,

109, 113, 114, 139, 143, 147, 155,

162, 174, 175, 179, 181, 194, 196,

197, 201, 213, 214, 217, 218, 222,

230, 232, 233, 275, 280, 282, 288,

289, 294, 309, 310, 312

Van Fleet, James A.: 284

V-E Day: 291

victory weather: 199–203, 207, 210, 226

Virginia Military Institute (VMI): 24

Walker, Walton H.: 70, 87, 123, 135,

175, 177, 250, 270, 276, 296, 306

watch on the Loire: 87, 91, 104, 112, 285

Waters, John K.: 273

Weyland, Otto P.: 4, 18, 21, 22, 23–28,

33–36, 37, 39, 55, 64, 68, 73, 76, 79,

86–90, 91, 93, 98, 102, 106, 107, 108,

109, 112, 113, 114, 115, 118, 119,

120, 122, 125, 127, 128, 130, 131,

135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 143,

377

Index

144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 152,

155, 158, 160, 162, 163, 166, 169,

170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177,

179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 185, 192,

194, 195, 196, 201, 203, 204, 206,

208, 211, 212, 213, 214, 216, 217,

219, 222, 223, 224, 227, 230, 232,

233, 234, 235, 236, 240, 242, 245,

248, 249, 250, 252, 253, 254, 256,

258, 260, 267, 268, 270, 272, 273,

275, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283,

285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291,

292, 294, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299,

300, 302, 303, 304, 305, 308, 310,

311, 312, 313, 315, 316

Wood, John S.: 76, 77, 117, 166

Wood, Leonard: 24

X-Ray: 35, 93, 115, 120, 195, 213, 235,

273, 289

Y-service: 96, 128, 140