DREW

PAPERS

THE

Benjamin W. Bishop

Lieutenant Colonel, USAF

17

Jimmy Doolittle

e Commander behind the Legend
Air University

Steven L. Kwast, Lieutenant General, Commander and President

School of Advanced Air and Space Studies

Thomas D. McCarthy, Colonel, Commandant and Dean
AIR UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF ADVANCED AIR AND SPACE STUDIES

Jimmy Doolittle

The Commander behind the Legend

Benjamin W. Bishop

Lieutenant Colonel, USAF 

Drew Paper No. 17

Air University Press

Air Force Research Institute

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama
ii

Project Editor

Jerry Gantt

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bishop, Benjamin W., 1975–

Jimmy Doolittle, the commander behind the legend / 

Benjamin W. Bishop, Lieutenant Colonel, USAF.

pages cm. — (Drew paper, ISSN 1941-3785 ; no. 17)

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-1-58566-245-6

1. Doolittle, James Harold, 1896-1993—Military leadership. 

2. Generals—United States—Biography. 3. Command of 

troops—Case studies. 4. United States. Army Air Forces. Air 

Force, 8th. 5. World War, 1939-1945—Aerial operations, American. I. Title. 

UG626.2.D66B57 2014

940.54’4973092—dc23

2014035210

Published by Air University Press in February 2015

ISBN: 978-1-58566-245-6 

ISSN: 1941-3785

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Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied 

within are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the official policy or position of the organizations with which 

they are associated or the views of the School of Advanced Air 

and Space Studies, Air Force Research Institute, Air University, 

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iii

The Drew Papers

The Drew Papers are award-winning master’s theses selected for publication by the School of Advanced Air and Space Studies (SAASS), Maxwell 

AFB, Alabama. This series of papers commemorates the distinguished career 

of Col Dennis “Denny” Drew, USAF, retired. In 30 years at Air University, 

Colonel Drew served on the Air Command and Staff College faculty, directed 

the Airpower Research Institute, and served as dean, associate dean, and professor of military strategy at SAASS. Colonel Drew is one of the Air Force’s 

most extensively published authors and an international speaker in high demand. He has lectured to over 100,000 students at Air University as well as to 

foreign military audiences. In 1985 he received the Muir S. Fairchild Award 

for outstanding contributions to Air University. In 2003 Queen Beatrix of the 

Netherlands made him a Knight in the Order of Orange-Nassau for his contributions to education in the Royal Netherlands Air Force.

The Drew Papers are dedicated to promoting the understanding of air and 

space power theory and application. These studies are published by the Air 

University Press and broadly distributed throughout the US Air Force, the 

Department of Defense, and other governmental organizations, as well as to 

leading scholars, selected institutions of higher learning, public-policy institutes, and the media.
Please send inquiries or comments to

Commandant and Dean

School of Advanced Air and Space Studies

125 Chennault Circle

Maxwell AFB, AL 36112-6026

Tel: (334) 953-5155

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saass.admin@us.af.mil

iv
v

Contents

Foreword vii

About the Author ix

Acknowledgments xi

Abstract xiii

Abbreviations xv

 1 Introduction 1

 2 The Shaping of a Commander 9

 3 Operational Effectiveness 35

 4 Tactical and Technical Innovation 59

 5 Leading the Mighty Eighth 81

 6 Conclusions and Implications 97

Bibliography 101

vii

Foreword

Air forces in general, and the US Air Force in particular, place great value 

on the technical proficiency of their officer corps. This penchant has a very 

understandable basis—the raw capabilities in air, in space, and now in cyberspace emanate from machines, and very complex machines at that. Thus, to 

be without cutting-edge technology and leaders who grasp both the potentialities and limitations of such technology would be to place oneself at a severe 

disadvantage. Emerging developments such as remotely piloted aircraft, artificial intelligence, and almost instantaneous global communications networks 

have accelerated this proclivity over the last two decades.

James Harold “Jimmy” Doolittle would seem to be a poster child for the 

technologically proficient Air Force leader—and in many respects he was. In 

1922, while still a young officer, he made America’s first coast-to-coast flight 

of less than 24 hours, a feat made possible by a number of technical modifications he made to his De Havilland DH-4B aircraft. As a master’s student at 

MIT, his investigations into the relationship of in-flight acceleration, or “gloading,” on aircraft structures provided valuable data not only to the Army 

Air Service, but also to the wider aviation community. His 1925 studies of the 

effects of wind velocity gradients on aircraft performance earned him one of 

the nation’s first doctorate degrees in aeronautical sciences. And the technical 

modifications he had made to the B-25B Mitchell bomber enabled the 18 

April 1942 raid on Japan that made Doolittle, then a lieutenant colonel, a national hero.

The genius of the present study, however, is to look behind the legend to 

discover the commander whose leadership of the “Mighty Eighth” Air Force 

as the American instrument of the Combined Bomber Offensive against Germany has been largely obscured by his daring raid launched from the deck of 

the USS Hornet. The author, Lt Col Benjamin Bishop, concludes that while 

Doolittle’s technological knowledge was important in his command of the 

Eighth Air Force, his moral qualities of courage, boldness, and humility were 

vital. This finding confirms an oft-stated truth that character is the great arbiter of military leadership, and it is one the Air Force would do well to heed.
viii

Colonel Bishop’s Jimmy Doolittle: The Commander behind the Legend

received the First Command Financial Planning Award for best SAASS 

leadership or ethics thesis of 2012. It is a persuasive exemplar for those 

who believe that military thought and practice are enhanced through 

inspired scholarship.

Harold R. Winton, PhD 

Professor of Military History and Theory

School of Advanced Air and Space Studies
ix

About the Author

Lt Col Benjamin Bishop entered the Air Force as a distinguished graduate of the Reserve Officer Training Corps program at Purdue University, 

where he was awarded a bachelor of science degree in computer and electrical engineering. He also holds a master of engineering degree in space operations from the University of Colorado and a master of science degree in 

cyber warfare from the Air Force Institute of Technology. Lieutenant Colonel 

Bishop is a senior pilot with more than 1,900 fighter hours in the F-15E and 

is a graduate of the US Air Force Weapons School. Following graduation 

from the School of Advanced Air and Space Studies (SAASS), he assumed 

the position of director of operations, 422nd Test and Evaluation Squadron, 

Nellis AFB, Nevada.

xi

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my sincere appreciation to several people without 

whose assistance I might never have succeeded in this endeavor. First, I thank 

Dr. Richard Muller for providing the impetus for this project. Next, I thank 

Col Timothy Schultz for allowing me to travel to Dallas, Texas, and Washington, DC, to conduct research. I would also like to thank Col C. V. Glines, 

USAF, retired, Dr. David Mets, and Dr. Richard Hallion for their time spent 

mentoring my research efforts. I am most appreciative to Paul Oelkrug and 

the helpful staff of the Special Collections Department of the McDermott 

Library at the University of Texas at Dallas, whose time and effort helped 

tremendously. I also commend the efforts of Dr. Alex Roland in helping me 

complete this thesis by providing valuable advice and feedback. I am extremely thankful to my thesis advisor, Dr. Harold Winton, whose thoughtful 

wisdom and seemingly unlimited patience made this thesis possible. 

Most importantly, I want to express my sincere appreciation to my wife and 

children for their love, patience, and prayers during the long hours devoted to 

writing this thesis. Their support is what ultimately made this work possible. 

Benjamin Bishop

Lieutenant Colonel, USAF

xiii

Abstract

This study evaluates Jimmy Doolittle’s performance as an operational air 

commander. As one of the most well-known Airmen of the twentieth century, 

Doolittle is the subject of a significant number of books and articles. Despite 

their many virtues, these efforts have largely overlooked a very important 

portion of his life—his command of the Eighth Air Force. This study seeks to 

fill that gap. It draws upon multiple sources, including the mature body of 

biographical literature, archival documents, and Doolittle’s personal and military records.

The study reveals that in January 1944, prior to his assumption of command of the Eighth Air Force, Doolittle lacked the administrative skills and 

bureaucratic experience typical of most senior officers. His legendary raid on 

Tokyo had, however, demonstrated his technical expertise, courage, and 

strong personal leadership. In evaluating Doolittle’s operational effectiveness 

as Eighth Air Force commander, the study assesses his efforts to gain air superiority in Western Europe, manage aircrew rotation, and improve the effectiveness of bombing in close proximity to friendly forces. It concludes that 

Doolittle’s aggressive, yet mature, command demeanor placed effectiveness 

above efficiency and extracted the “highest profit” from his forces in their effort to defeat the enemy. The evaluation progresses with an appraisal of 

Doolittle’s influence on tactical and technical innovation. In this arena, he 

had mixed success innovating technically, but his tactical initiatives significantly enhanced the air offensive against Germany. The final portion of the 

study explores Doolittle’s leadership, examining his command environment, 

his leadership approach, and the measures he took to sustain the morale of his 

command. The analysis reveals that Doolittle adroitly managed his force’s morale, while remaining steadfast in his determination to defeat the Luftwaffe.

The overall conclusion is that behind Jimmy Doolittle’s daring and dashing 

façade was a measure of humility that fostered his growth as a general officer. 

Although his technical expertise forged trails in aviation history, it was 

Doolittle’s moral qualities that most significantly hastened the demise of the 

Luftwaffe. This finding suggests that while it is indeed prudent to foster the 

technical education of future senior leaders, it is even more important to nurture leaders of courage, boldness, and humility.

xv

Abbreviations

AAF Army Air Forces

ACTS Air Corps Tactical School

AFHRA Air Force Historical Research Agency

B.T.O. bombing through overcast

CBO Combined Bomber Offensive

EAC Eastern Air Command

g g-force (italicized to distinguish from “gram”)

JP Joint Publication

MIT Massachusetts Institute of Technology

mph miles per hour

NAAF Northwest African Air Forces

NACA National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

OES Operational Engineering Section

R&R rest and recuperation

T.I. target indicator

USSTAF US Strategic Air Forces in Europe

1

Chapter 1

Introduction

James Harold “Jimmy” Doolittle was one of the most influential Airmen of 

the twentieth century. He is the only individual to have been awarded both 

the Medal of Honor and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America’s highest military and civilian honors, respectively. His accomplishments include 

pioneering instrument flight, setting multiple aviation speed records, and 

leading the daring raid on Tokyo that bears his name. Doolittle, however, led 

more than airstrikes in World War II. Following his “thirty seconds over Tokyo,” this reserve officer rose in less than two years from lieutenant colonel to 

lieutenant general and commanded one of the largest air armadas ever assembled—the Eighth Air Force.1

 As leader of the “Mighty Eighth,” Doolittle 

oversaw the most extensive bombing campaign ever conducted. Historians 

have treated his performance in command favorably, and he is widely considered to have been an “outstanding combat leader.”2

 But it is important to note 

that this glowing reputation had already been established by the time Doolittle took command of the Eighth Air Force. For example, in 1943, in the first 

of many Doolittle biographies, Carl Mann claimed, “this is the man of simplicity and courage” whose men attest that they “will go any place he wants to 

lead . . . any time!”3

This feeling was not, however, universal in the Army Air Forces (AAF) at 

the opening of World War II. Some officers resented the fact he had left the 

service for a high-paying civilian position during the interwar period to 

“feather his nest.”4

 Others viewed his years as a world-renowned air racer as 

inadequate preparation for the responsibilities of higher command.5

 Furthermore, there was a strong impression among his peers that Doolittle’s meteoric 

rise in rank in World War II was due to his close personal relationship with 

Gen Henry “Hap” Arnold. As one of Arnold’s favorites, Doolittle was perceived by some as enjoying special privileges.6

 Finally, although the raid on 

Tokyo was a significant accomplishment, it did not necessarily reflect an aptitude to command at the operational level of war.7

 Gen Dwight Eisenhower 

was initially unimpressed with Doolittle and only reluctantly accepted him as 

a subordinate after being pressured by Generals Arnold and George Marshall.8

 According to one recent historian, Eisenhower’s reservations proved 

justified, because early in the African campaign, Doolittle’s Twelfth Air Force 

“lacked experience and exhibited an indiscriminate appetite for targets.”9
INTRODUCTION

2

Which of these perceptions of Doolittle as a senior-level commander is 

more accurate? Has history perhaps been too kind in its treatment of his command efficacy? In short, just how effective was Jimmy Doolittle as commander 

of the Eighth Air Force in World War II? 

This question is relevant because the academic community has largely 

overlooked Doolittle’s performance as a wartime commanding general. As 

Richard Davis observed in 1993, “Doolittle badly needs a good biography. 

The current works on him range in quality from execrable to acceptable.”10 In 

2001, Phillip Meilinger observed, “We have yet to see a serious study that 

looks closely at his career and its effect on American airpower. . . . No one has 

addressed the issue of Doolittle’s beliefs on the proper employment of airpower.”11 How is it that historians and biographers have neglected the commander of the largest air force in history? One reason is that Doolittle’s other 

legendary accomplishments, both in and out of uniform, have drawn scholarly attention away from his pivotal role in the Combined Bomber Offensive 

(CBO). Most scholarly work on Doolittle’s influence on World War II centers 

on the daring raid he led on Tokyo. Another reason is that most of the academic review of the US portion of the CBO has concentrated at the tactical 

and strategic levels of war, thus ignoring Doolittle’s important intermediate 

command role. Richard Davis and David Mets have each written seminal 

studies of Doolittle’s superior, Carl Spaatz.12 Likewise, countless narratives illustrate daring accounts of the men who flew bombing missions in the Eighth 

Air Force.13 This is not an uncommon occurrence in the historical study of 

war. As Harold Winton observes in his account of Army commanders in the 

Battle of the Bulge, “there seems to be a human fascination with military history written at two levels: the very top and the very bottom.”14

The few studies examining Doolittle’s performance as an operational commander are limited by a reliance on subjective accounts and a natural bias 

toward this charismatic figure. Lowell Thomas and Edward Jablonski’s 1976 

biography is based largely on the source these men considered “most reliable, 

and often most objective,” Doolittle himself.15 The general’s most prolific biographer, Carroll “C. V.” Glines, has published numerous accounts of Doolittle’s 

life, including the coauthored memoir, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again. 

While entertaining and thoughtful, the memoir, published in 1991, is an account of World War II events penned four decades after they occurred. Hence, 

the autobiography “does not offer a frank appraisal of Doolittle’s effectiveness 

as a combat commander.”16 Carl von Clausewitz himself cautioned against 

relying upon autobiographies for critical analysis. The Prussian military theorist noted that memoirs “treat such matters pretty broadly, or, perhaps deliberately with something less than candor.”17
INTRODUCTION

3

Dik Daso’s more recent Doolittle: Aerospace Visionary is a concise, wellresearched treatment, but it fails to challenge the conventional wisdom regarding Doolittle’s command performance found elsewhere in the literature. 

Joanna Doolittle Hobbes, the general’s granddaughter, has provided the latest 

addition to the literature, Doolittle: Master of the Calculated Risk. Although 

this enjoyable book provides noteworthy insight into his personal life, it is 

understandably biased in favor of its subject.

In sum, there currently exists no critical assessment of Jimmy Doolittle’s 

performance as Eighth Air Force commander in World War II. This study 

seeks to fill that gap.

Examining Doolittle’s command also provides a unique opportunity to 

study the effectiveness of an officer who had an unconventional military career. Doolittle’s ascent to the rank of lieutenant general, which included time 

spent in academia and industry, defied the conventional path of officer development. Instead of gaining a professional military education, he pursued engineering degrees, including a doctor of science from the Massachusetts Institute 

of Technology.18 Furthermore, he commanded a numbered air force with virtually no military staff experience. While his peers were gaining valuable experience in the military bureaucracy, Doolittle flew in air races and lived on a 

comfortable income as an employee of Shell Petroleum Corporation. Thus, by 

conventional standards, Doolittle was not, in January of 1944, prepared to 

command the world’s largest concentration of airpower. Or was he? Answering this question has significant relevance to the preparation of Air Force 

leaders for future command.

This study critically analyzes Jimmy Doolittle’s performance as the commander of Eighth Air Force in World War II. Clausewitz defines critical analysis as the “application of theoretical truths to actual events.”19 The present 

work emulates Clausewitz’s guidance by constructing an analytical framework with which to assess Doolittle’s performance. According to Clausewitz, 

the first step in this process is the discovery and interpretation of evidence 

regarding the event. These facts are then traced back to causal factors. Finally, 

the commander must be evaluated according to how well he or she applied 

the available means to achieve the desired end.20 To be useful, this evaluation 

must account for Doolittle’s perspective at the time of his command.21 Clausewitz contends that although complete objectivity is unattainable, attempting 

to reach it induces necessary humility to the process of criticism.

Clausewitz further argued that critical assessment should evaluate a commander’s possession of an enigmatic trait referred to as “genius.” In On War, he 

submits that this “harmonious combination of elements” is comprised of two 

components: “intellect and temperament.”22 Building on Clausewitz’s insights, 
INTRODUCTION

4

this study examines Doolittle’s intellectual capacity and temperament for air 

command by evaluating three categories of performance: operational effectiveness, technical and tactical innovation, and leadership.

One measure of an operational commander’s aptitude is the effective application of resources. Gen Douglas MacArthur famously remarked, “There is 

no substitute for victory.”23 Harry Yarger similarly averred, “Efficiency is subordinate to effectiveness in strategy.”24 These two dicta reflect the imperative 

for an operational-level commander to achieve the assigned mission. This 

study uses MacArthur’s observation in assessing this factor. This is not to dismiss the importance of efficiency in military operations. The British theorist 

J. F. C. Fuller valued efficiency and placed it at the epicenter of his military 

theory. In his treatise, The Foundations of the Science of War, Fuller argues that 

all resources used in war should be expended at “the highest profit.”25 Yarger 

also acknowledged the value of efficiency, stating that “good strategy is both 

effective and efficient.” 26 In that spirit, this study addresses both operational 

effectiveness and efficiency with an emphasis on the former.

Innovation is another essential activity of operational-level command. Often considered primarily an intellectual skill, effective innovation requires a 

moral strength as well. Like any command decision, innovation involves the 

risk of making a wrong decision. Innovation also requires eschewing the prevailing wisdom. As Stephen Peter Rosen has observed, “The lack of precedent 

makes wartime innovation risky, and with the risk often comes a justified 

aversion.”27 This study evaluates Jimmy Doolittle’s aptitude as an operational innovator by addressing five issues: specific problems the Eighth Air Force encountered while Doolittle was in command, how he perceived and defined 

those problems, what actions (if any) he took to resolve the problems, the results 

of his actions, and any adverse, unintended consequences of his innovations.

Doolittle’s leadership is the final area evaluated. Lord Moran defined military leadership as “the capacity to frame plans which will succeed and the 

faculty of persuading others to carry them out in the face of death.”28 The 

evaluation of Doolittle’s operational effectiveness described above addresses 

the first half of Lord Moran’s injunction. This portion of the study explores 

Doolittle’s persuasiveness. Leadership is often considered the ability to motivate others to accomplish the mission, which is obviously an important facet. 

However, motivation is a skill that affects emotional feelings. In contrast, persuasion’s role in leadership appeals to people’s reason. This investigation assesses Doolittle’s ability to persuade both his subordinates and his superiors as 

to the value of his policies.

The following chapter is a historical narrative of Jimmy Doolittle’s life leading up to his assumption of command of the Eighth Air Force. This account 
INTRODUCTION

5

draws largely upon the mature secondary literature that investigates his life 

and the raid on Tokyo. This assessment includes a review of his leadership 

experiences before 1944. It also addresses what he missed by not attending 

either the Command and General Staff School of the Army War College or 

the Air Corps Tactical School (ACTS). This chapter answers the question, 

based on what we know about Doolittle prior to 1944, of what are reasonable 

expectations of his performance as commander of the Eighth Air Force Europe.

Chapter 3 assesses Doolittle’s operational effectiveness and whether or not 

he made the best possible use of the resources allocated to him, given his 

command environment. It begins by discerning what is similar and different 

about commanding the Eighth Air Force compared with Doolittle’s previous 

leadership roles and then addresses questions regarding his effectiveness at 

the operational level of war. What was Doolittle’s approach to achieve air superiority over Western Europe? What role did he play in changing the length 

of bomber crew tours? How did he adjust to the mission of close air support? 

Next, chapter 4 investigates Doolittle’s tactical and technical innovation in 

the Combined Bomber Offensive. How influential was he in shaping the tactical employment of the Eighth Air Force? How pivotal was his role in changing 

the tactical use of escort fighters in early 1944? What was Doolittle’s function 

in the implementation of technological advances? How well did he blend 

technical and tactical innovation in his attempt to improve the effectiveness 

of radar bombing?

The penultimate chapter examines Doolittle’s performance in leading the 

men and women of the Eighth Air Force. This analysis begins by examining 

his command environment and leadership style. It then assesses how he coped 

with a decline in aircrew morale. Did any decisions regarding the innovative 

and efficient use of airpower hinder his ability to lead his men? How well did 

he sustain the Eighth’s military spirit?

The concluding chapter synthesizes the answers to the above questions, 

drawing appropriate conclusions regarding Jimmy Doolittle’s effectiveness as 

a numbered air force commander and discusses the implications of these 

findings for contemporary and future Air Force leaders. 

Evidence for this investigation comes from numerous sources. The Air 

Force Historical Research Agency (AFHRA) files provided intimate insight 

into the operations of the Eighth Air Force from the perspective of 1944. The 

AFHRA also houses many of Doolittle’s recorded oral histories, which offer 

insight into his perception of events. However, the earliest of these interviews 

dates back only to 1968, almost 25 years removed from the events themselves. 

The large collection of correspondence housed in his personal papers that 

reside in the Doolittle Library at the University of Texas at Dallas offsets this 
INTRODUCTION

6

disadvantage. The Library of Congress also holds manuscript collections and 

official documents giving the perspectives of Doolittle’s supervisors and peers, 

including the personal papers of Generals Arnold and Spaatz. These resources 

include officer assessment reports, correspondence, interviews, and personnel records. Finally, the National Personnel Records Center at St. Louis houses 

Doolittle’s military records, which provide official insights into his professional career.

Clausewitz wisely asserts, “If a critic wishes to distribute praise or blame, 

he must put himself exactly in the position of the commander.”29 Hence, we 

must attempt to get inside the mind of Jimmy Doolittle. This requires us to 

look back at his life prior to arriving in England in January 1944. 

Notes

1. The quote refers to the title of a book by Doolittle raider Capt Ted W. Lawson and the 

1944 MGM movie starring Spencer Tracy as Lt Col Jimmy Doolittle.

2. Phillip S. Meilinger, Airmen and Air Theory: A Review of the Sources (Maxwell AFB, AL: 

Air University Press, 2001), 30.

3. Carl Mann, Lightning in the Sky: The Story of Jimmy Doolittle (New York: Robert M. 

McBride & Co., 1943), 256.

4. James H. Doolittle and Carroll V. Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again (New York: 

Bantam Books, 1992), 150.

5. Geoffrey Perret, Winged Victory: The Army Air Forces in World War II (New York: Random House, 1993), 181.

6. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 201.

7. The Department of Defense defines the operational level of war as “the level at which 

campaigns and major operations are planned, conducted, and sustained to achieve strategic 

objectives within theaters or other operational areas.” Joint Publication (JP) 1-02, Department 

of Defense Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms, 31 December 2010, 271.

8. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 277.

9. Douglas Porch, The Path to Victory: The Mediterranean Theater in World War II (New 

York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2004), 399.

10. Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe (Washington, DC: Center 

for Air Force History, 1993), 688 n9.

11. Meilinger, Airmen and Air Theory, 29–30.

12. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe; and David R. Mets, Master of Airpower: General Carl A. Spaatz (Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1997).

13. Among some of the better accounts are Donald L. Miller, Masters of the Air: America’s 

Bomber Boys Who Fought the Air War against Nazi Germany (New York: Simon & Schuster, 

2007); Bert Stiles, Serenade to the Big Bird: A New Edition of the Classic B-17 Tribute (Atglen, 

PA: Schiffer Publishing, 2007); and Harry H. Crosby, A Wing and a Prayer: The “Bloody 100th” 

Bomb Group of the U.S. Eighth Air Force in Action over Europe in World War II (New York: 

HarperCollins, 1994).

14. Harold R. Winton, Corps Commanders of the Bulge: Six American Generals and Victory 

in the Ardennes (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2007), 6.
INTRODUCTION

7

15. Lowell Thomas and Edward Jablonski, Doolittle: A Biography (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co., 1976), 352.

16. Meilinger, Airmen and Air Theory, 30.

17. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and Peter Peret, reprint ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 164.

18. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 518.

19. Clausewitz, On War, 156.

20. Ibid.

21. Clausewitz, On War, 164.

22. Ibid., 100.

23. Quoted in Richard H. Rovere and Arthur Schlesinger Jr., General MacArthur and President Truman: The Struggle for Control of American Foreign Policy (New Brunswick, NJ: Farrar, 

Straus, and Giroux, 1951), 227.

24. Harry R. Yarger, Strategy and the National Security Professional: Strategic Thinking and 

Strategic Formulation in the 21st Century (Westport, CT: Praeger Security International, 2008), 

153.

25. J. F. C. Fuller, D.S.O., The Foundations of the Science of War (London: Hutchinson and 

Co., 1926), 201.

26. Yarger, Strategy and the National Security Professional, 153.

27. Stephen Peter Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military 

(Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991), 25.

28. Lord Moran, The Anatomy of Courage, 2nd ed. (London: Constable, 1966), 180.

29. Clausewitz, On War, 164.

9

Chapter 2

The Shaping of a Commander

Through summarizing Jimmy Doolittle’s life prior to his command of the 

Eighth Air Force—including the formative experiences in his childhood 

and early armed forces career, his time in commercial industry as an employee of Shell Oil, and his experiences early in World War II—we can better 

establish a reasonable expectation of his performance as commander of the 

Mighty Eighth. 

Early Life and Career

James Harold Doolittle was born 14 December 1896 near San Francisco, 

California. He was the only child of Rosa Shepard, a stern disciplinarian, and 

Frank Henry Doolittle, a carpenter described by his son as a “loner in spirit.”1

Shortly after Jimmy’s birth, his father left for the Alaskan frontier. Rosa and 

her son joined Frank two years later, and the boy spent his formative years in 

the isolated mining town of Nome, Alaska. Under the tutelage of his father, 

Jimmy acquired a skill for carpentry and design.2

 Frank also sparked a yearning for travel and exploration by taking his 11-year-old son on a trip to California. The younger Doolittle later recalled that the trip to the “outside” 

changed his perspective “right then and there.”3

Nome’s frontier environment fostered a competitive spirit that Doolittle 

carried throughout his life.4

 Smaller than his peers, he battled bullying with 

an aggressive onslaught of punches. He gained a reputation as a daring brawler 

by besting older and bigger boys. He also excelled in gymnastics and spent 

hours practicing aerial stunts, developing a keen sense of balance and coordination.5

 He continued his athletic endeavors after Rosa moved him back to 

California in 1908 without Frank, winning the amateur boxing championship 

of the Pacific Coast in 1912 and earning money by entering professional tournaments.6

 He later competed as a member of the University of California 

School of Mines boxing team and gymnastics club.7

The rough boxer met a refined woman in California who changed his life—

Josephine Daniels. In stark contrast to Jimmy, “Joe” grew up in a cultured 

family from Louisiana and was a top student. Not surprisingly, Doolittle’s 

rough reputation did not please her family. Undeterred, he used his earnings 

from professional boxing to court her. His persistence paid off, and they were 

married on Christmas Eve 1917. Throughout their 71-year marriage, Joe’s 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

10

measured, disciplined, and friendly demeanor grounded Jimmy’s desire for 

independence and adventure.8

 His love for Joe inspired him to seek stability 

in his life and obtain the means to support his new bride.

Following a failed venture to Alaska in search of employment with his father, Doolittle enrolled in a junior college and later transferred to the University of California. After completing three years toward a degree in mining 

engineering, the gravity of World War I drew him to an Army recruiter’s office. He elected to join the aviation branch because working with “mechanical 

things” appealed to him more than “the idea of going into the trenches.”9

Doolittle entered the army as a “flying cadet” and began pilot training at 

Rockwell Field on San Diego’s North Island. He graduated from flight school 

on 5 March 1918 and received his commission as a second lieutenant in the 

Signal Reserve, Aviation Section. After advanced flight instruction at Gerstner 

Field, Louisiana, he returned to California to serve as a combat and gunnery 

instructor at Ream Field, an auxiliary airport south of Rockwell.10 Doolittle 

petitioned his commander for a transfer to the contested skies over France, but 

his pleas were denied. He served the rest of World War I training other pilots 

for combat.

Doolittle excelled as a young fighter pilot. His superior balance gained as a 

tumbler and his quick reflexes developed from boxing provided an advantage 

in aerial combat.11 His competitive spirit enhanced these skills. Aware that 

inept flying would undermine his credibility, he practiced tirelessly. He later 

reflected that he “perfected [his] flying skills” during this period.12 Doolittle’s 

reputation as a capable pilot quickly spread and made an impression on two 

fellow lieutenants who figured significantly later in his career—Ira C. Eaker 

and Carl “Tooey” Spaatz.13

Doolittle did not limit his quest for aerial credibility to the cockpit. Given 

his small stature and experience as a gymnast, he decided to experiment with 

wing-walking. Slow, tentative step by slow, tentative step, he developed the 

ability to cling to the aircraft wings during flight. He reasoned it would be 

simple to progress from riding on the aircraft wing to its axle and bet a fellow 

instructor that he could ride between the aircraft wheels during a landing.14

His bet paid off in the form of five dollars and increased respect from his 

peers. Doolittle’s supervisors, however, did not condone his daring exploits. 

The stunt garnered the attention of the new district supervisor, Col Henry 

“Hap” Arnold.15 Despite these aerial antics, Arnold recognized the younger 

man’s talent as an aviator and rated him as “an exceptionally fine instructor 

and pilot” who possessed “good judgment with quick thinking.”16

In July 1919 the Army Signal Corps assigned Doolittle to Kelly Field near 

San Antonio, Texas, where he was promptly confined to post for “stunting” a 
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de Havilland DH-4.17 His time at Kelly, however, was brief; in October he 

joined Flight A of the 90th Aero Squadron at Eagle Pass on the Rio Grande.18

The “Dicemen” had the tedious task of patrolling the Mexican border. Doolittle introduced some excitement into the missions by flying between two 

narrowly spaced pylons supporting the Pecos River High Bridge.19 Although 

he carefully surveyed the bridge prior to the stunt, once again, a commander 

did not approve of his daring spirit. Accordingly, his efficiency report reflected 

the performance of an above-average pilot with “one serious drawback,” an 

“inclination to occasionally use poor judgment; i.e. take exceptional and unnecessary risks in flying.”20

In 1922 Doolittle focused his penchant for daring aerial endeavors onto a 

feat that advanced the aviation community. He obtained approval from the 

chief of the Air Service, Gen Mason M. Patrick, to attempt a cross-country 

flight in less than 24 hours. As with many of his earlier “stunts,” Doolittle 

planned the mission methodically. First, he developed technical modifications to enhance the range of his DH-4 aircraft. As a recent graduate of the Air 

Service Mechanics School, he understood the complex workings of aircraft 

engines and systems. He visited the Air Service test facility at McCook Field 

in Dayton, Ohio, where he consulted engineers on his proposed modifications. Returning from Dayton, he presented the ground crew at Kelly his 

plans to modify his DH-4B’s front seat with an additional 240-gallon fuel tank 

and a 24-gallon oil tank. To accommodate the new fuel configurations, he 

added a slight camber to the upper wing and streamlined the bottom of the 

aircraft. He also installed a lifting body on the landing gear to reduce drag. 

Other modifications included additional support ribs, tighter stitching, a customized coating, and varnish to strengthen the wings.21 Doolittle acquired a 

new flight instrument being tested at McCook, a turn-and-bank indicator. 

Finally, he designed the first “pilot dehydration tube” to accommodate his 

personal needs for the long flights.22 Based on engine data from test flights, 

Doolittle calculated he could safely fly for 13 hours without landing for fuel.

Doolittle also prepared himself for the mission. He trained vigorously, flying from Kelly Field to both San Diego and Florida to familiarize himself with 

the route.23 During these flights, he documented terrain details and aircraft 

performance in his notebook. He considered pilot fatigue his biggest obstacle. 

Consequently, he planned his flight from east to west, into prevailing winds, 

because the westerly route offered him three additional hours of daylight. 

Doolittle also arranged for a plane from Rockwell Field to escort him into 

California and help him remain alert during the last hours of the mission. 

Finally, he prepared himself physically with regular exercise and “abstinence 

from all injurious habits.”24
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12

By 6 August 1922, Doolittle’s extensive technical, physical, and mental 

preparation had given him “implicit confidence” in his ability to fly coast-tocoast in less than 24 hours. However, an error of “overconfidence” delayed his 

mission for nearly a month.25 His preparation failed to account for the hazards of taking off from Pablo Beach, Florida, in darkness.As a crowd watched, 

Doolittle’s DH-4 roared toward the rising tide at 9:40 p.m. EST, but a wave 

caught the wheels, causing the aircraft to crash. He emerged from the wrecked 

aircraft unharmed but humbled.26

With permission for a second attempt granted by General Patrick, a determined Doolittle refurbished the aircraft. At 9:52 p.m. EST on 4 September 1922, 

with lanterns to guide the takeoff roll, he safely departed from Pablo Beach. 

After an “uneventful flight” of 10 hours and five minutes, Doolittle landed at 

Kelly Field at 6:57 a.m. CST. After fueling, maintenance work, and a large breakfast, he climbed into the airplane and departed at 8:07 a.m. CST for the second 

leg of his flight.27 He joined with two Rockwell-based aircraft over Yuma, Arizona, who followed him in for a formation landing at Rockwell Field. The entire 

trip covered 2,163 miles with an elapsed time of 22 hours, 30 minutes.28 

Doolittle’s daring cross-country flight had a profound effect on both the 

aviation industry and his career. First, as he concluded in his official report, 

the flight demonstrated the feasibility of conducting long-range flights. He 

noted that both the Liberty engines and a pilot in “good physical condition,” 

could endure the demands of such a flight.29 Doolittle’s successful flight also 

demonstrated the attributes of thorough, innovative planning and solid physical endurance. His accomplishment garnered praise from his superiors and 

peers alike, and he was later awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross for the 

achievement.30 The experience gained from planning this feat would serve 

him well when he later led a mission that would change the landscape of 

World War II.

Doolittle’s next assignment took him to McCook Field in Dayton and the 

Air School of Applications to attend a one-year course in engineering.31 His 

transcontinental flight caused him to miss the first week of class, but he 

quickly caught up and mastered the essentials of aeronautical engineering.32

He learned new methods to reduce aerodynamic drag, increase engine efficiency, and enhance airborne equipment.33 The course encouraged Doolittle 

to test his knowledge on a fleet of modern aircraft. McCook Field was pilots’ 

heaven. During his tenure there, Doolittle added nine different types of aircraft 

to his flying experience.34 His superiors recognized Doolittle’s competence as a 

test pilot and rated him as “one of the four best students” in the school.35

His achievements at McCook Field provided Doolittle the opportunity to 

continue his technical education at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology 
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13

(MIT). MIT accepted him into its engineering program after the University of 

California granted him a bachelor of arts degree for his three years of undergraduate studies and subsequent coursework at McCook.36 The Army granted 

him two years of detached service from McCook to pursue his studies. The 

Doolittles moved to Cambridge, and he enrolled at MIT in the fall of 1923. To 

maintain his flying currency, he periodically returned to Dayton.37

At MIT, Doolittle investigated a problem that plagued aircraft in the mid1920s—structural failure. His master’s thesis, “Wing Loads as Determined by 

the Accelerometer,” and the subsequent paper he submitted to the National 

Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), labeled Report No. 203: Accelerations in Flight, advanced the understanding of structural effects of inflight acceleration, also known as “g-loading” and measured in g,s (i.e., one g

equals the normal force of gravity on a stationary object). Doolittle derived an 

equation to determine the maximum theoretical load an aircraft could achieve 

in flight. To test his hypothesis, he flew a Fokker Pursuit PW-7 biplane through 

a series of maneuvers and collected data with a new instrument called an accelerometer.38 His tests were cut short, however, when he discovered stress 

fractures in the wings, which he had nearly ripped off the airplane. Nevertheless, he had collected sufficient data to confirm his predictions.39 Based on 

these results, he concluded that pursuit aircraft could exceed 12 g,s in a dive 

recovery. Because aircraft were designed to withstand only 8.5 g,s, Doolittle 

concluded, “It is obvious that any of the modern pursuit planes can be failed 

in a vertical dive if the stick is pulled back rapidly enough and the elevators 

are effective.”40 Consequently, he recommended a new design standard of 12 

g,s be adopted to increase safety in pursuit aircraft. He also documented the 

physiological influence of acceleration forces. He discovered pilots could tolerate high g-loads for short periods of time. He rightly observed, however, 

that “accelerations of the order of 4.5 g,s, continued for any length of time, 

result in a complete loss of faculties.”41 The Air Corps recognized that his tests 

obtained “scientific data of great and permanent importance” and awarded 

Doolittle a second Distinguished Flying Cross in 1929.42 MIT also approved 

his work and awarded him with a master of science degree in 1924, a year 

ahead of schedule.

Doolittle used his remaining year at MIT to pursue doctoral studies. His 

dissertation investigated the effects of wind on flight characteristics. Many 

experienced pilots claimed it was easier to fly into the wind than away from it; 

others disagreed, claiming there was no difference. To address this divergence, 

Doolittle conducted 292 flights in four types of aircraft. He concluded that 

“theory and experiment indicate that neither wind velocity nor wind velocity 

gradient exert an influence on airplane performance in straight level flight.”43 
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14

In other words, the latter opinion was correct. Following an initial rejection 

for modifications, his research was accepted. In June 1925, MIT awarded 

Doolittle one of the first doctor of science degrees in aeronautical sciences.

After Doolittle returned to McCook Field, he was selected to compete in 

the 1925 Schneider Cup seaplane race.44 The Air Service provided a Curtiss 

R3C racing aircraft equipped with the most advanced technology of the time, 

including a 610-horsepower (hp) Curtiss V-1400 engine. During the race, 

Doolittle employed the innovative technique of climbing during straightaways and using steep, descending turns around the pylons. Using this 

method, he won the race and set a new seaplane record with an average speed 

of 232.573 miles per hour (mph). However, he was not satisfied that he had 

extracted the maximum performance from the R3C. Therefore, after making 

some technical modifications, he flew the course again the following day and 

broke his own record with an average speed of 245.713 mph.45

Winning the Schneider Cup enhanced Doolittle’s reputation as a capable 

and daring aviator. General Patrick dispatched a letter of commendation 

lauding the race as “one of the most able demonstrations I have ever witnessed.”46 New York Times editorials commented on the irony of an Army pilot beating two naval aviators in a seaplane race.47 Billy Mitchell believed that 

the media coverage of Doolittle’s success at the Schneider Cup overshadowed 

his own court-martial proceedings. Jimmy Doolittle was becoming a household 

name.48 C. M. Keyes, president of Curtiss-Wright Aircraft Company, recognized 

that Doolittle’s growing international fame would make him an ideal salesman 

for the new Curtiss P-1 Hawk pursuit plane. Keyes convinced the Air Service to 

release Doolittle from service to demonstrate the capabilities of the P-1 in South 

America. In the spring of 1926, he boarded a ship for Santiago, Chile.49

Doolittle arrived in Chile on 23 May 1926 and engaged in preflight festivities at the officers’ club of El Bosque, the military airport near Santiago.50 Emboldened by a “delightful, powerful drink called a pisco sour,”he attempted to 

“make character” with his Chilean colleagues by demonstrating a feat of gymnastic prowess on a window ledge.51 The ledge gave way, and he fell two stories, breaking both ankles. Dreading the reception he would receive from his 

colleagues at McCook and his corporate sponsors at Curtiss, Doolittle considered his options. “Embarrassment overcame pain,” and he convinced the doctors to cut his casts to below the knees so he could control the rudder pedals 

with a set of newly fashioned bootstraps.52 Doggedly determined, Doolittle 

was carried to the aircraft and flew aerial demonstrations in Chile, Bolivia, 

and Argentina. The flights accomplished their intended effect, and Curtiss 

sold several Hawks in South America.53
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15

Although his accident in Chile resulted in a “50% loss of flexion” in both 

ankles, Doolittle was returned to flying status at McCook Field after six 

months of recuperation in Walter Reed General Hospital.54 At McCook he 

continued his duties as a test pilot and avid flier. His extensive experience flying in the Dayton area and acute powers of observation gave him confidence 

navigating in poor weather. He later recalled that while flying around McCook, “I knew instantly where I was, even if I could only see relatively a few 

feet ahead.” His commander, however, rebuked Doolittle for flying in “weather 

that no one else would fly in.”55 His efficiency report of 30 July 1928 reflects 

“Satisfactory” performance and an officer whose “heart is only in flying and 

consequently, engineering assignments are not very desirable.”56

Ironically, Doolittle’s penchant for flying in adverse weather provided him 

an opportunity to achieve one of the biggest engineering advances in aviation 

history. In January 1926, Harry F. Guggenheim encouraged his father, Daniel, 

to establish a fund for the promotion of aeronautics. The endowment spurred 

many of aviation’s early achievements, including Charles Lindbergh’s historic 

solo crossing of the Atlantic in 1927.57 Although flight operations were commonplace in the late 1920s, inclement weather limited pilots who predominantly flew “by the seat of their pants.” Harry Guggenheim established the Full 

Flight Laboratory to “encourage perfection of control in a fog . . . [and] finance 

a study of and a solution to fog flying.” The fund’s vice president, Emory S. 

“Jerry” Land, a Navy captain, selected Doolittle to head the laboratory. Land 

justified his selection by noting that Doolittle possessed “a technical education 

that has given him a distinct advantage in the development of new equipment.”58

In the fall of 1928, Doolittle moved to Mitchel Field on Long Island, New 

York. His charge was to develop the technology and flying techniques required to take off and land aircraft in the blind. After initial testing, he concluded that instrument flying required three types of accurate information: 

altitude, heading, and aircraft attitude. To solve the problem of altitude, Doolittle tested a new device that “was an order of magnitude more accurate than 

earlier altimeters.”59 He sketched a diagram of an instrument to solve the latter 

two problems. The drawing provided the inspiration for the Sperry Gyroscope Company to build the first artificial horizon and the directional gyroscope.60 The design of these instruments set the standard in aviation.

To achieve the goal of making a blind landing, Doolittle also required new 

ground equipment. The team installed fan and homing beacons on the airfield. The former caused an instrument rod to vibrate when the aircraft flew 

past the airfield boundary, providing a measure of distance. Another cockpit 

instrument used the beacons to display course information via two vibrating 

rods. With practice, Doolittle became adept at discerning his position relative 
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16

to an inbound course. To conduct a blind landing, he approached Mitchel 

Field at 200 feet, as indicated by his new altimeter. When he passed the outer 

edges of the field, he retarded the throttle and began a steady descent toward 

the ground until he landed. After methodically practicing the maneuver, 

Doolittle found that he “made better landings this way than . . . [visually] 

without the instrumentation.”61

On 24 September 1929, with Lt Benjamin Kelsey in the front seat as a safety 

observer, Doolittle took off, flew a set course, and landed safely while under an 

instrument hood. Guggenheim witnessed the 15-minute flight and declared it 

history’s first “blind flight.”62 Doolittle considered his participation in the early 

blind-flying experiments his “most significant contribution to aviation.”63 As 

Dik Daso observed, by developing blind flight, Doolittle had “applied science 

to modify technology in a successful effort to solve a practical problem.”64

After the success of the blind-flying experiments, fiscal reality forced Doolittle to consider his future. The modest pay of a first lieutenant made it difficult to support both his ailing mother and his mother-in-law. He could earn 

three times his military pay working for a civilian company as a test pilot. 

Thus, primarily for monetary reasons, he resigned his regular commission 

and joined Shell Oil as chief of its aviation division. Doolittle maintained his 

connection to the Air Service by applying for a reserve commission in the 

Specialist-Reserve. He was promptly accepted into the reserves as a major, 

bypassing the rank of captain.65

Civilian Life

Doolittle left the Army Air Service on 15 February 1930. The next day, he 

loaded his family into a $25,000 Lockheed Vega provided by Shell for his 

travel. Overloaded with baggage, the aircraft failed to get airborne and crashed 

into a snow bank. The startled family emerged from the wreck unhurt; however, a headline in the local paper, “Doolittle’s First Civilian Hop in 12 Years 

Fails; Ex-Army Pilot Crashes in Snow Before Start,” stung his pride. Again, 

overconfidence had led to a life-threatening mishap. Doolittle reported to his 

first day of work as a civilian “a very humble individual.”66

The primary reason Shell Oil hired the celebrity pilot was to bask in his 

fame. In the 1930s, the best place to promote one’s employer as an aviator was 

on the racing circuit. Doolittle entered the 1931 inaugural Bendix crosscountry air race with a new Laird Super Solution airplane. The course began 

in Burbank, California, and terminated in Cleveland, Ohio. The race offered a 

first-place prize of $7,500 and an additional $2,500 bonus to anyone who set 
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17

a new transcontinental record by continuing to New York. It was just the sort 

of challenge Doolittle savored.

Shortly after midnight on 4 September 1931, seven pilots departed Burbank. Among those competing was Capt Ira Eaker, a promising young Army 

officer who had continued Doolittle’s instrument research. Nine hours, 10 

minutes, and 21 seconds after Doolittle departed Burbank, he landed in 

Cleveland.67 Unsure of his victory, he refueled his aircraft and continued to 

New York, despite poor weather conditions, arriving there 11 hours and 11 

minutes after his early morning takeoff from Burbank. That day, Doolittle 

secured another significant footnote in the history of aviation by becoming 

the first man to traverse the continent in less than 12 hours. His work was not, 

however, complete. He returned to Cleveland to rejoin Joe and their two sons. 

He then called his supervisor, Shell vice president Alexander Fraser, who invited him to a celebration of his latest feat. Never one to turn down a party, 

Doolittle flew the Super Solution to St. Louis that evening. As Daso remarked, 

through these feats of aviation endurance, “Doolittle was demonstrating the 

practicality of air travel.”68

Doolittle turned to another contest of speed to accomplish his next aviation milestone. He entered the 1932 Thompson Trophy race, flying the notorious Gee Bee Super Sportster R1 racer. At the time Doolittle arrived at Bowles 

airport, near Springfield, Massachusetts, the R1 had already killed one pilot, 

and another lay in the hospital severely injured. Indeed, the aircraft was built 

for speed, not safety. Doolittle’s engineering eye surveyed the 18-foot-long 

racer with small, stubby wings and a 750-hp Wasp engine.69 Although he 

“didn’t trust this little monster,” he was confident he could safely harness its 

immense power.70 He described flying the unstable aircraft as “like balancing 

. . . an ice cream cone on the tip of your finger.”71 Nevertheless, his carefully 

managing the temperamental airplane paid dividends. In the Thompson race 

trials, Doolittle set a new world speed record of 309.040 mph. Although flying 

cautiously, he easily won the Thompson race with a more modest performance of 252.686 mph, still a race record.72 Doolittle later reflected that he 

flew the R1 because “it was the fastest airplane in the world at the time.” He 

acknowledged, however, that the R1 was the “most dangerous airplane” he 

ever flew, and it “had a profound effect” on his thinking.73 Consequently, the 

leading race pilot of his day made a decision that may have saved his life—he 

retired from air racing.

Finished with racing, Doolittle used his position at Shell Oil to advocate 

production of high-octane aviation fuel. One-hundred-octane fuel significantly increased engine performance, and he felt that producing such fuel 

would benefit Shell and the armed forces. But Shell faced “a chicken or the egg 
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dilemma.” Aircraft were not designed to use high-octane aviation fuel because 

it was not then affordable. Oil companies did not produce the fuel because so 

few aircraft used it.74 Because aviation fuel was not Shell’s primary source of 

revenue and the company faced the fiscal realities of the Great Depression, 

some employees condemned the proposed investment as “Doolittle’s milliondollar blunder.”75 Similarly, some senior military officials considered the development of high-octane fuel unnecessary. In May 1936, Doolittle used his 

reserve status to conduct a study “on the availability of 100 octane gasoline to 

meet needs of Army and Navy in war.”76 The cumulative effects of Doolittle’s 

academic credentials, McCook Field test data, and personal connections 

convinced Shell executives to invest in the refineries necessary to produce 

100-octane aviation fuel in large, affordable quantities. In November 1936, an 

Army committee followed suit and recommended the adoption of 100-octane 

fuel for combat aircraft. As demand increased, so did production. By 1938, 

Shell was producing 100-octane fuel at a cost of 17.5 cents per gallon—only 2.5 

cents more than traditional 87-octane fuel.77 The investment paid off handsomely for Shell Oil and for Allied pilots fighting the German Luftwaffe several 

years later.

His duties at Shell also provided an opportunity to foresee the impending 

war in Europe. Because Shell was a global company, Doolittle maintained 

close contact with European aviation industries, making annual visits to Europe to meet with aviation leaders.78 During a trip to Germany in 1939, he 

observed a significant change in the aircraft industry. On 28 July he penned 

an entry in his personal notebook that income tax in Germany was 35 percent 

and that, although luxury items were cheap, food and other necessities were 

expensive. He speculated that everyone in Germany “spends their dough ands 

[sic] keeps it in circulation.”79 The following day he noted “wood piled up over 

areas several acres in extent. . . . Von Wunce [his German escort] advised they 

were for paper and textiles but looked like they might be used for trenches.”80

On 10 August he also noted, “Germany 340,000 tons of aviation gasoline. In 

1939 imported 110,000–120,000 tons. In 1940 a new 600,000 (±40,000) ton 

[sic] going in 1940.”81 Doolittle concluded from these observations that Germany was mobilizing for war.

When he returned to the United States, Doolittle contacted his friend Hap 

Arnold. Since first meeting at Rockwell Field, Arnold and Doolittle had maintained a close relationship. Their correspondence clearly indicates their mutual fondness.82 This visit with Doolittle’s former commander, however, was 

much more serious. Doolittle told Arnold of his belief that war with Germany 

was inevitable and asked to return to active duty.83 Arnold agreed and soon 
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issued orders directing Major Doolittle to report to active duty for a period of 

one year.84 He would serve for more than six.

Early World War II Career

General Arnold recognized that Doolittle had acquired unique skills and 

put him to work coordinating industrial support for the expanding Army Air 

Forces (AAF).85 Following an assignment to Indianapolis, he moved to Detroit to oversee the transition of the Motor City’s industrial production from 

cars to aircraft. Doolittle described the job as managing a “shotgun wedding 

between the aviation and automobile industry.”86 The car manufacturers were 

not interested in building aircraft, and the aviation industry did not want to 

encourage new competition. Doolittle employed his technical expertise, personal charisma, and tact to mediate between the two communities. He found 

the dynamics fascinating and remarked that his time in Detroit “was the most 

interesting period of my career.”87 His efficiency report for this period remarked, “most energetic and resourceful in accomplishing a project, even to 

the point of disregarding regulations and following the usual channels of military authority.”88

On 2 January 1942, Doolittle reported to Washington as a new lieutenant 

colonel for duties as the director of operational requirements on General Arnold’s staff. Arnold had him evaluate the Martin B-26 Marauder medium 

bomber, which had developed a reputation as a dangerous aircraft. After a 

series of flight tests and stability demonstrations, Doolittle concluded that the 

plane was safe; the problem was training. He recommended continued production of the B-26, with new training to prepare its pilots.89 Pleased with the 

results, Arnold gave Doolittle the assignment that would immortalize him as 

a national hero—the raid on Tokyo.

The famous “Doolittle Raid” originated in the Oval Office. After the “day of 

infamy” attack on Pearl Harbor, Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt pressed his joint 

chiefs for a plan to bomb the Japanese homeland to raise national morale.90

The idea of launching an Army medium-range bomber from an aircraft carrier did not come from Doolittle but from a Navy submarine captain named 

Francis Low. Low raised the idea with his boss, ADM Ernest King, chief of 

naval operations, who directed him to contact CAPT Donald Duncan, a veteran naval aviator. On 17 January 1942, Duncan and King met with General 

Arnold, and the idea was put into motion. Arnold tapped Doolittle to plan the 

mission and train the aircrew for the raid. To expedite the process, he granted 

Doolittle “first priority on anything you need to get the job done.”91
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Doolittle faced significant technical challenges in planning the Tokyo raid. 

The Army and Navy agreed early on that the North American B-25B Mitchell 

bomber was the best aircraft for the mission because it provided the optimal 

combination of range and short-takeoff performance.92 Additionally, its 67.5-

foot wingspan enabled it to be launched from an aircraft carrier.93 However, 

the typical range of a B-25 was only 1,300 statute miles. The mission required 

the aircraft to fly more than 2,400 statute miles.94 Unlike Doolittle’s transcontinental flights, there would be no opportunity to refuel. He had to make significant design modifications to the aircraft.

As he had done 20 years prior, Doolittle traveled to Dayton to confer with 

engineers regarding his plans to extend the plane’s range. They agreed on several design changes. First, he decided to install three additional fuel tanks, 

increasing the B-25’s fuel load from 696 to 1,141 gallons.95 To reduce weight, 

he removed radio equipment, the sensitive Norden bombsight, and the rearfacing machine guns. He also installed cameras to document the historic 

raid.96 He calculated that the improvements extended the range of the B-25 to 

2,400 statute miles flying at 5,000 feet. In January 1942, he sent 24 B-25Bs to 

Minneapolis, Minnesota, for modification according to these requirements.97

With the technical modifications under way, Doolittle turned his attention 

to selecting aircrew. His first task was to identify the squadrons with the most 

experience flying the B-25. The answer was the 17th Bomb Group, consisting 

of the 34th, 37th, and 95th Bomb Squadrons and the associated 89th Reconnaissance Squadron, all stationed in Pendleton, Oregon.98 Doolittle queried 

the units for volunteers interested in an unspecified, dangerous mission. Because every crew member volunteered, Doolittle asked the commanders for a 

list of the most-qualified personnel. He then chose the 89th Reconnaissance 

Squadron commander, Maj John A. “Jack” Hilger, to serve as his deputy.99

Interestingly, he did not select the 17th Group commander, a full colonel who 

outranked him, to participate in the mission.100 Because Doolittle had yet to 

be designated to lead the raid, he eliminated any potential competition for 

that assignment. He was determined to lead the raid himself and eventually 

gained Arnold’s permission to do so.101

The airplanes and crews arrived at the Valparaiso Bombing and Gunnery 

Base, now Eglin Air Force Base, near Fort Walton Beach, Florida, between 17 

February and 3 March.102 Because the mission’s primary objectives were political rather than tactical, Doolittle elected a low-altitude attack with incendiary bombs. To conserve fuel, he planned for the aircraft to take off and fly 

individually to their targets. Therefore, the crews immediately began practicing 

overwater navigation, night flying, and low-altitude bombing. The Navy dispatched LT Henry L. “Hank” Miller to instruct the pilots on carrier operations. 
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The pilots meticulously practiced the delicate art of taking off with a heavily 

laden B-25 at a nearby auxiliary field.103 To minimize the takeoff roll, they 

coaxed their aircraft into the air “almost in a stall.”104

The pilots had little time to perfect these complex maneuvers. On 25 

March, the airplanes were flown to Sacramento Air Depot for final inspection 

and then to Alameda Naval Air Station near San Francisco. Once the aircraft 

were loaded onto the USS Hornet, the carrier left port on 2 April. Only after 

they were under way did Doolittle reveal the true nature of the mission to the 

enthusiastic crews. He allowed crews to select their own targets but provided 

specific instructions not to bomb the emperor’s palace.105 He also ordered the 

crews to land in China, as planned, and not divert to Russia. Both directives 

underscored the political significance of the raid.

In the early morning of 18 April 1942, Japanese picket boats intercepted 

the carrier fleet.106 Before the Hornet left harbor, Doolittle and ADM William 

F. “Bull” Halsey had discussed the possibility of premature discovery and decided the aircraft would launch if there were even a remote chance of success. 

Doolittle’s mission required the element of surprise, and Halsey needed the 

deck clear to launch fighters in the event of an enemy attack. The launch had 

been planned for that evening, and the B-25s were 250 miles farther from 

their targets than planned when they climbed into the air. From that distance, 

there was no guarantee they could reach landing fields in China.107 Fifteen 

other crews followed Doolittle with full knowledge they might not survive. 

Doolittle reached Tokyo, released four 500-pound bombs, and flew on toward 

China. A providential tailwind allowed him to reach the mainland. He could 

not, however, acquire the radio beacon intended to guide him to the landing 

field. Out of gas, he ordered his crew to bail out. 

As Doolittle collected his thoughts in China, he assessed the mission as a 

tactical failure. He assumed every aircraft on the mission was probably lost. 

He was right. One crew disobeyed orders and diverted to Russia. The other 15 

crews had bailed out of their aircraft. The 16 bombers, intended for delivery 

to the Tenth Air Force in China, were a total loss.108 In Washington, however, 

Arnold quickly recognized the mission’s strategic success despite its tactical 

failure. As word of the raid spread, the nation rejoiced with the first good 

news of the war. Additionally, stung by the unforeseen attack, Japanese air 

defenses retrenched to defend the homeland, setting in motion events that 

would eventually lead to the decisive Battle of Midway.109

Doolittle was uniquely qualified to lead the raid on Tokyo. The mission 

drew on his technical expertise in aviation, developed as a trained engineer, 

test pilot, and transcontinental flyer. He rapidly formulated a technical plan 

and acquired the necessary resources. Additionally, Doolittle understood the 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

22

political ramifications of the mission. He knew the president’s intent was to 

send a political message, not to achieve tactical destruction. As Daso observed, Doolittle’s mission eschewed “almost every accepted doctrinal idea 

for bombardment openly held by the [Army Air Forces].”110 That was perhaps, 

in part, because Doolittle left the Army for Shell and never attended the Air 

Corps Tactical School where strategic bombing doctrine was formulated and 

taught. For whatever reason, Doolittle’s plan fulfilled President Roosevelt’s vision for retribution against the Japanese homeland. He had clearly trained his 

men well to accomplish the mission. Interestingly, no crew member on the 

Tokyo raid, including Doolittle himself, had any prior combat experience.111

Finally, Doolittle exhibited a great deal of personal courage and sound leadership during the raid. He was aware of the personal risk incurred by taking off 

from the Hornet. He did not hesitate and, more importantly, the crews that 

followed him did not either. The great significance of the mission and Doolittle’s inspired leadership created a bond between the aircrew members that 

survived for decades. Seventy years later, the few surviving raiders meet annually to commemorate their historic mission.112

While still in China, Doolittle received the news that he had been promoted to brigadier general, bypassing the grade of colonel. He also received 

orders directing him to “proceed on or about May 5, 1942, from Chungking, 

China, to Washington, D.C., by the most expeditious method, reporting upon 

arrival to the Commanding General, Army Air Forces, for instructions.”113

When Doolittle arrived in Washington, President Roosevelt personally presented him the Medal of Honor under the watchful eyes of Generals Arnold 

and Marshall and his wife Joe. Doolittle later recollected that “I believe that 

General Arnold gave me more credit than was due, and I believe General 

Marshall gave me more credit than was due, as a result primarily of the Tokyo 

raid.”114 Despite this modesty, Doolittle’s accomplishments thrust him into the 

ranks of the Army’s senior leaders.

 Searching for a job commensurate with Doolittle’s new rank, Arnold submitted his name to Gen Douglas MacArthur for command of the Fifth Air 

Force in the Pacific. MacArthur, however, chose Gen George C. Kenney. Doolittle was assigned instead to command the newly formed Twelfth Air Force 

under Gen Dwight Eisenhower. The Twelfth was created to support Operation Torch—the invasion of North Africa. Ike was reluctant to accept the unproven “wild stunt pilot” as an air commander.115 He requested instead Carl 

Spaatz, Walter H. Frank, or Ira Eaker.116 Arnold and Marshall responded by 

insisting Doolittle was qualified for the position; Ike was stuck with him.117

Eisenhower had good reasons for his doubts. Doolittle did not have the 

credentials of a typical flag officer in 1942. When he took charge of the nascent 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

23

Twelfth Air Force, he had not commanded “anything bigger than about a 

flight.”118 While his peers gained valuable command experience during the 

1930s, Doolittle was increasing profits for Shell Oil. Additionally, Doolittle 

possessed no military staff experience and lacked the professional military 

education that his fellow career officers had received. He never attended the 

Army’s Command and General Staff School, which prepared middle-grade 

officers for staff assignments to corps and division levels. Hence, Doolittle 

never received formal training in Army combined arms tactics, command 

and staff functions, or duties of a general staff at the corps level.119 Missing the 

Army War College prevented him from receiving instruction in the practice 

of high-level command.120 Finally, because he did not attend the Air Corps 

Tactical School, Doolittle never received explicit instruction in the industrial 

web theory that provided the doctrinal foundation for the strategic bombing 

campaign against Germany.121 He would have to learn a great deal on the job.

Doolittle assumed command of the Twelfth Air Force on 23 September 

1942 and acted quickly to acquaint himself with the duties of leading a numbered air force.122 Unlike his previous command, which consisted of 16 B-25s, 

initial plans for the Twelfth Air Force included two heavy-bombardment 

groups, two P-38 fighter groups, two British Spitfire groups, one troop-carrier 

group, one light-bombardment group, and three medium-bombardment 

groups.123 He later observed, “I was a brand new Air Force Commander . . . so 

there were a great many things I had to learn, and I endeavored to learn them 

very rapidly.”124 Doolittle relied heavily on his staff during these stressful 

weeks, especially his director of staff, a young colonel named Hoyt S. Vandenberg. Doolittle later recalled that a competent leader utilizes his staff as a 

“two-way street” to direct and receive advice.125 Indeed, he commented in a 

letter to Arnold that “I have the best staff, the best commands and the smoothest-running organization in the Air Force.”126

Based on advice from Doolittle and Spaatz, Eisenhower decided the Twelfth 

Air Force would be built around a core cadre of aircrews provided from the 

Eighth Air Force. Indeed, much to Eaker’s dismay, the Twelfth cost valuable 

combat experience and resources drawn away from the strategic bombing efforts in Europe. Nevertheless, the majority of the Twelfth Air Force’s commands 

were activated in the United States and shipped to England.127 Consequently, as 

the Allied force prepared for the invasion of North Africa, Doolittle advised 

Eisenhower on 4 October that his Airmen were inadequately trained to support the attacking forces. He mitigated this risk by committing his besttrained crews to the invasion effort and subsequently training additional 

crews in Africa.128
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Doolittle’s efforts to prepare his newly born air force were complicated by 

the disorganized command structure under which Operation Torch was 

planned. Contrary to airpower doctrine, Allied air forces were organized during Torch as two separate air commands. These commands were divided according to nationality, operational roles, and the projected division of ground 

forces into the US 5th and the British 1st Armies.129 Doolittle’s Twelfth Air 

Force would support the former, and the Eastern Air Command (EAC) under 

Air Marshal Sir William Welsh would assist the latter.130 The EAC possessed 

definite plans to aid the 1st Army in seizing Algiers after the Torch landings. 

Although the Twelfth was three times the size of the EAC, the Torch concept 

of operations provided Doolittle no corresponding guidance beyond supporting the attack on Bizerte. Ten days prior to the invasion, this ambiguity 

led Spaatz to question “what, when, and where” the Twelfth was to do in Africa after the landing.131

Although the Torch landings provided the Allies a viable foothold in North 

Africa, offensive momentum subsequently stagnated over the winter of 1942–

43. The inefficient employment of airpower did not help the cause. Indeed, 

the early operations of Doolittle’s command were plagued by poor communications and inadequate coordination between his units and the ground forces 

they supported. Furthermore, his command had no organic intelligence capability and relied exclusively on the British for critical information.132 At the 

end of 1942, the Twelfth Air Force was struggling to maintain its combat 

strength. Doolittle reported that his entire striking force consisted of 270 aircraft, a mission-capable rate of only 48 percent.133 The Twelfth Air Force had 

failed to achieve air superiority or institute a system to provide effective air 

support to ground forces.

Despite the slow progress of air efforts in Africa, Ike recognized Doolittle’s 

potential as a commanding general. As 1942 came to a close, Doolittle was 

nominated for promotion to major general. Eisenhower approved, saying the 

promotion was “fully justified and I recommend it to be accomplished at 

once.”134 On his efficiency report, Eisenhower ranked Doolittle sixth among 

18 air commanders. The evaluation described Doolittle as “impulsive, dashing, keen and energetic. Is gaining essential experience in requirements of 

position involving high rank and in my opinion will develop marked in value 

as an Air Force commander.”135 In other words, Doolittle’s efforts had earned 

Ike’s confidence, but the young general still had much to learn.

The indecisive air campaign of 1942–43 indicated that the Army Air Forces 

also had much to learn about the organization of airpower. On 3 December, 

Eisenhower appointed his favorite air general, Carl Spaatz, as acting deputy 

commander in chief for air of the Allied forces in North Africa. Spaatz’s duties 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

25

were to coordinate air operations between the Twelfth Air Force and the 

EAC.136 His experience as a seasoned general provided the new command a 

much-needed level of administrative expertise; however, his influence was 

limited by a lack of command authority.137 Deliberations during the Casablanca conference restructured the Allied command organization. The Allied 

commanders consolidated all the air forces in the Mediterranean theater under one commander. The Allied leaders agreed that Eisenhower’s deputy, Air 

Chief Marshal Arthur Tedder, would command all air assets in the theater as 

head of the Mediterranean Air Command.138 Furthermore, a single airman 

under Tedder would command all aircraft in the Northwest African campaign. These changes did not, however, occur overnight. Between 5 January 

and 18 February 1943, the Allied command hierarchy underwent several restructurings. The first placed Spaatz in command of both the Twelfth and the 

EAC as commander of the Allied Air Force.139 On 30 January, the Allied Support Command was added to Spaatz’s organization.140 On 18 February, this 

arrangement was abandoned, and Spaatz emerged as commander of the 

newly formed Northwest African Air Forces (NAAF).141 This structure rendered the Twelfth an air force in “name only.”142 With his beloved Twelfth effectively gone, Doolittle was reassigned as the commander of the Northwest 

African Strategic Air Force under Spaatz.

Doolittle considered the reassignment a demotion and began to doubt his 

future as an air commander. On 5 February 1943, he sent two letters to Joe: 

one handwritten and one typed. In the former, he referred to the latter as a 

“short report of my downfall.”143 The typed letter explained that he was “losing 

the major part of my command” but that he felt “no resentment over the 

change, only a very keen disappointment that I have failed my gang.” He 

blamed his failure on a lack of political awareness and noted, “Now I at least 

appreciate the power of politics, realize that it must be moulded in one’s favor 

and understand that in some instances, nothing can be done about it by the 

individual involved.”144 Interestingly, the handwritten note said, “I think Lowell [Thomas] will want to see the letter as its contents will have an effect on his 

book.”145 Lowell Thomas was his biographer. Doolittle was apparently already 

concerned that his performance in North Africa would detract from his legacy. 

Disappointed in the limited reach of his new duties, Doolittle resorted to 

his skills as a pilot to inspire his men. Between 9 and 17 February, he flew six 

combat missions with the groups under his command.146 These accounted for 

more than a quarter of the combat sorties he flew during the entire war.147

Doolittle would show up unannounced to serve as a copilot.148 He also insisted on flying every aircraft in his command. These feats of personal bravery 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

26

inspired his men and helped maintain the morale of his units during the harsh 

battles of 1943.

Doolittle gradually learned the art of higher-echelon command, and his 

superiors recognized his progress. Despite its name, the Northwest African 

Strategic Air Forces did not conduct a strategic bombardment campaign. Instead, it interdicted the Axis flow of logistics and supplies.149 As 1943 progressed, Doolittle’s forces slowly gained air superiority in northern Africa and 

conducted a moderately successful interdiction campaign against German 

supply lines. His confidence began to grow. On 4 April he wrote Joe, “I’ve let 

both him [Arnold] and Gen Marshall, who had confidence in me, down here 

but we are doing better now and am going to vindicate their confidence in me 

yet.”150 The following day, his forces conducted a successful raid that claimed 

48 enemy kills in the air and 100 aircraft destroyed on the ground. On 6 April, 

Doolittle was awarded the Silver Star for the mission’s success.151 Spaatz sent 

Doolittle a letter on 13 June commending his command’s role in obtaining the 

surrender of the Italian islands of Pantelleria and Lampedusa.152 In Doolittle’s 

efficiency report of 26 July 1943, Spaatz commented that he was “competent, 

industrious, ambitious, and an outstanding leader of fighting men.”153 On 6 

August 1943, Eisenhower awarded Doolittle the Distinguished Service 

Medal.154 In a personal letter accompanying the award, Ike noted, “You have 

shown the greatest degree of improvement of any of the senior United States 

officers in my command.”155 Arnold also recognized the performance and expressed further confidence in Doolittle by selecting him to command the 

newly formed Fifteenth Air Force.

The Fifteenth Air Force was activated on 1 November 1943 in the Lycée 

Carnot campus in Tunis, Tunisia.156 Its mission was to conduct strategic 

bombing against southern Germany. The Fifteenth would attack German targets beyond the reach of the England-based Eighth Air Force using B-17s 

based near Foggia, Italy. The force collected for this mission consisted of 11 

combat groups and more than 20,000 men.157 As the commander of yet another new air force, Doolittle’s first order of business was to deploy his forces 

to Italy. This proved to be no small task. Italian airfields were not designed to 

support four-engine bombers, and poor weather hindered efforts to ready the 

fields. Thus, all of the B-17s were not transferred until the end of December.158

As Doolittle’s forces were arriving in place, he received word that his command in the Mediterranean would be brief. During a November meeting in 

Cairo, President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill agreed that Eisenhower would become the supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary 

Forces on 1 January 1944. Tedder would continue to serve as his deputy and 

follow him to Europe. Ike selected Spaatz to command the newly formed US 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

27

Strategic Air Forces in Europe (USSTAF). This placed him in command of the 

Eighth and Fifteenth Air Forces. Spaatz recommended that Doolittle replace 

Eaker as the commander of the Eighth Air Force and the latter be moved to 

Italy to take the position vacated by Tedder—command of the Mediterranean 

Allied Air Forces. Spaatz considered his proposal a promotion for Eaker and 

believed his diplomatic skills and command experience would serve him well 

in the position.159 Arnold, however, had additional motives for reassigning 

Eaker. The chief had become dissatisfied with what he saw as poor progress of 

the Eighth Air Force’s strategic bombing efforts in the fall of 1943.160 Allied 

forces had failed to achieve air superiority over Europe, and the Eighth Air 

Force’s attrition rate remained alarmingly high. Arnold believed that fresh 

faces in the Eighth would bring new ideas with which to fight the Luftwaffe.161

The December reorganization provided Arnold an opportunity to infuse new 

blood into the Mighty Eighth without casting a shadow over himself, Eaker, 

or the AAF efforts in Europe.162 Thus, on 18 December Arnold notified Eaker 

of his new assignment by official cable. Eaker considered the reassignment a 

firing. Though artfully disguised, it was.163 Eaker begged Arnold to reconsider, 

but he was adamant. The move shattered a friendship of 25 years.164 Interestingly, the official Air Force history commented that “if Arnold’s dissatisfaction 

over the rate of Eighth Air Force operations entered into the decision, the record apparently has left no evidence of it.”165 Whatever the evidence of Arnold’s true motives, Doolittle became the new commander of the Eighth Air 

Force effective 5 January 1944.

Conclusions

Reflecting on Doolittle’s life up to January 1944 suggests several things 

about his likely performance as Eighth Air Force commander. His technical 

skills and moral courage had provided him success throughout his aviation 

career. His established reputation as a skilled, daring pilot gave him opportunities to expand the limits of aviation. His methodical approach to these challenges mitigated the risks and enhanced his opportunities for success. These 

trends were exemplified in his transcontinental records and multiple air race 

victories. Furthermore, Doolittle’s influence on the production of 100-octane 

aviation fuel indicates an ability to use both personal charisma and solid data 

to garner support for a cause. The combination of technical expertise, moral 

courage, and sound personal leadership was evident in the successful raid on 

Tokyo.

The success of the Doolittle Raid thrust him into leadership roles for which he 

was not nearly so well equipped—high command. Administrative deficiencies 
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

28

in his early command demonstrated Doolittle’s lack of staff experience and professional military education. In North Africa he eventually overcame his shortcomings by relying on a skillful staff and by learning from his mistakes. Because 

his forces were still relatively small, he was able to exploit his personal 

strengths of charisma and leadership to strengthen his command. Also, despite early mistakes, Allied forces were able to overwhelm the German resistance and achieve air superiority. The war in Europe, however, would be a 

different story. The Eighth Air Force was the largest air armada ever assembled. Doolittle would not be able to rely as heavily as he had previously on the 

skills that brought him early success. As 1944 began, the operative question 

remained, “would Doolittle’s ability to learn offset his lack of experience in 

high command?” In other words, could he continue his tradition of effectiveness, innovation, and leadership at the operational level of war? To answer 

these questions, one must eschew the common anecdotes of Doolittle’s performance as the Eighth Air Force commander and closely evaluate his ability 

to use his forces effectively in the Combined Bomber Offensive.

Notes

1. Dik Alan Daso, Doolittle: Aerospace Visionary (Washington, DC: Brassey’s, 2003), 3; and 

James H. Doolittle and Carroll V. Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again (New York: Bantam 

Books, 1992), 22.

2. Gen Jimmy Doolittle, interview by Dr. Edgar F. Puryear Jr., 7 February 1977, AFHRC 

call no. K239.0512-1405m, tape 1, side 1, 7.

3. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 22–23.

4. Doolittle later commented that he believed respect and a reputation for winning were an 

essential part of effective leadership. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 1, side 1, 2–3.

5. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 20, 21.

6. “Questions for the Examination of Applicants, Aviation Section, Single Officers Reserve 

Corps,” 2 October 1917, official military personnel file of James H. Doolittle, National Archives 

and Records Administration, 01 Service Documents.pdf, 7.

7. Ibid., 6.

8. Joe Doolittle died on 24 December 1988, the couple’s 71st wedding anniversary. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 37–38.

9. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 1 side 1, 9.

10. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 37–41.

11. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 1 side 1, 10.

12. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 42.

13. Ibid., 55.

14. Ibid., 47.

15. H. H. Arnold, Global Mission (New York: Hutchinson & Co., 1951), 75–76.

16. Special Efficiency Report for Emergency Officers, 28 April 1920, Period covered 13 

March 1919–30 May 1919, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 08 Efficiency 

Records.pdf, 4.
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

29

17. Daso, Doolittle, 2.

18. Although not noted in his autobiography, according to official Air Force records, the 

90th Aero Squadron was stationed at Sanderson, Texas, from 29 November 1919. Flight A operated from Eagle Pass. http://www.afhra.af.mil/factsheets/factsheet.asp?id=10541.

19. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 57.

20. Efficiency Report dated 20 January 1920, Doolittle military personnel file, National 

Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 2.

21. Daso, Doolittle, 13.

22. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 67.

23. Ibid., 66.

24. James H. Doolittle, “Report of Cross Country Flight to Chief of Air Service,” 19 September 1922, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 01 Service Documents.pdf, 92.

25. Doolittle, “Report of Cross Country Flight,” 93–94.

26. When Doolittle asked if he was injured in the crash, he responded “no but my feelings 

are.” Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 68.

27. Doolittle, “Report of Cross Country Flight,” 94.

28. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 68–71.

29. Doolittle, “Report of Cross Country Flight,” 94.

30. Daso, Doolittle, 16.

31. The Air School of Applications would later become the Air Force Institute of Technology, which still resides at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio.

32. Doolittle, “Report of Cross Country Flight,” 92.

33. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 80.

34. Ibid., 75.

35. A. H. Hobley, Memorandum Request for Assignment, 3 May 1923, Doolittle military 

personnel file, National Archives, 01 Service Documents.pdf, 101.

36. Copy of Diploma, 22 December 1922, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 01 Service Documents.pdf, 100.

37. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 81.

38. James H. Doolittle, “Wing Loads as Determined by the Accelerometer” (master’s thesis, 

MIT, 1924), 4.

39. Doolittle recorded accelerations that were within 3.5 percent of his calculations. Doolittle, “Wing Loads as Determined by the Accelerometer,” 22.

40. Ibid.

41. J. H. Doolittle, NACA Report No. 203: Accelerations in Flight (Washington, DC: National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, 1925), 388, http://naca.central.cranfield.ac.uk/

reports/1925/naca-report-203.pdf.

42. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 86.

43. Ibid., 88–89.

44. Daso, Doolittle, 19.

45. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 99–100.

46. Mason M. Patrick to James H. Doolittle, letter, 6 November 1925, Doolittle military 

personnel file, National Archives, 07 Awards, Decorations, and Commendations.pdf, 4.

47. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 99–100.

48. Arnold, Global Mission, 91.

49. Daso, Doolittle, 21.
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30

50. Lt Gen James Doolittle, interview by Brig Gen George W. Goddard, 20 July 1967, 

AFHRC call no. K239.0512-998 C.1, 7.

51. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 106; and Medical Board Proceedings, Exhibit “A,” 27 January 1927, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 01 

Service Documents.pdf, 123.

52. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 108.

53. Daso, Doolittle, 22.

54. Efficiency Report dated 25 September 1928, Doolittle military personnel file, National 

Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 41.

55. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 19–20. 

56. Efficiency Report dated 30 June 1928, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 40.

57. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 7–8.

58. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 125–26.

59. Ibid., 136.

60. Ibid., 129.

61. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 10–11.

62. Ibid., 12–13.

63. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 141; and Logbook entry, 24 

September 1924, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, Special Collections Department, McDermott Library, University of Texas at Dallas.

64. Daso, Doolittle, 31.

65. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 149.

66. Ibid., 153.

67. Daso, Doolittle, 34.

68. Ibid.

69. Ibid., 35.

70. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 168; and Daso, Doolittle, 36.

71. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 168.

72. Daso, Doolittle, 35–36.

73. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 170–71.

74. Lt Gen James H. Doolittle, interview, 23 June 1965, AFHRC call no. K239.0512-623, 11.

75. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 2 side 1, 13.

76. Efficiency Report dated 2 June 1936, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 54.

77. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 176–78.

78. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 35.

79. Entry for 28 July 1939 in personal notebook, James H. Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, 

McDermott Library.

80. Entry for 29 July 1939 in ibid.

81. Entry for 10 August 1939 in ibid.

82. J. H. Doolittle to Maj Gen H. H. Arnold, letter, 7 March 1939, Henry Harley Arnold 

Papers, Box 13, Reel 13, Library of Congress.

83. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 35–36.

84. Special Orders No. 149, 25 June 1940, Doolittle Papers, Series I, Box 2, McDermott 

Library.

85. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 28.
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

31

86. Ibid., 39.

87. Ibid.

88. Efficiency Report dated 30 June 1941, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 56.

89. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be so Lucky Again, 209–11.

90. Eric Larrabee, Commander in Chief: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, His Lieutenants, and 

Their War (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1987), 365.

91. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be so Lucky Again, 216, 218–19.

92. Daso, Doolittle, 46.

93. On 1 February, two B-25s departed from the deck of the newly commissioned USS 

Hornet aircraft carrier to confirm this capability. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So 

Lucky Again, 212, 221.

94. Daso, Doolittle, 46–47.

95. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 222–23.

96. Daso, Doolittle, 48.

97. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 224.

98. Ibid.

99. Ibid.

100. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 2, side 2, 2.

101. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 230.

102. Ibid., 225.

103. The B-25s were loaded to a gross weight of 31,000 pounds—2,000 pounds above the 

maximum load. Ibid., 226.

104. Daso, Doolittle, 49.

105. Ibid., 55.

106. Craig Nelson, The First Heroes: The Extraordinary Story of the Doolittle Raid—America’s First World War II Victory (New York: Penguin Books, 2003), 118–20.

107. Daso, Doolittle, 54.

108. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 219.

109. Larrabee, Commander in Chief, 366.

110. Daso, Doolittle, 59.

111. Ibid., 64.

112. George Tanber, “Surviving ‘Doolittle Raiders’ Recount Wartime Bombing of Japan,” 

Reuters.com, 19 April 2012, http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/04/19/us-usa-doolittlereunion-idUSBRE83I04J20120419.

113. Special Orders Number 35, 4 May 1942, Doolittle Papers, Series I, Box 2, McDermott 

Library.

114. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 55.

115. Doolittle, interview by Puryear, 1977, tape 1 side 2, 2.

116. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 43.

117. Doolittle later remarked that if Eisenhower refused his appointment, then any failings 

in Africa would reflect his decision making. However, if Doolittle failed it would reflect poorly 

on Marshall and Arnold. Gen James H. Doolittle, interview by Prof. Ronald Schaffer, 24 August 

1979, AFHRC call no. K239.0512-1206, 22. 

118. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 49.

119. Harold R. Winton, Corps Commanders of the Bulge: Six American Generals and Victory in the Ardennes (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2007), 15.
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

32

120. Ibid., 20.

121. The Air Corps Tactical School developed industrial web theory in the 1930s. The theory professed that scientific analysis could identify key points in an adversary’s industrial warmaking capacity. Targeting these vital centers would cause a nation’s military effort to collapse. 

This methodology provided the theoretical basis for the Combined Bomber Offensive. Jeffery 

G. Barlow, Revolt of the Admirals: The Fight for Naval Aviation 1945–1950 (Washington, DC: 

Government Reprints Press, 2001), 12–13.

122. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II, 

vol. 2, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, August 1942 to December 1943 (1949; Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 52.

123. Ibid., 51.

124. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 49.

125. Ibid., 23.

126. J. H. Doolittle to Lt Gen H. H. Arnold, letter, 21 October 1942, Henry Harley Arnold 

Papers Box 13, Reel 13, Library of Congress.

127. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 52.

128. Ibid., 58–59.

129. Ibid., 53–54.

130. Ibid., 62.

131. Ibid., 54.

132. Doolittle, interview by Burch, Fogelman, and Tate, 1971, 49.

133. Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe (Washington, DC: Center 

for Air Force History, 1993), 171.

134. Quoted in Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 303.

135. Efficiency Report dated 4 January 1943, Doolittle military personnel file, National 

Archives, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 61.

136. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 143.

137. Ibid., 185.

138. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 313.

139. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, letter, 4 April 1943, Doolittle Papers, Series IX, Box 

64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

140. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 179.

141. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 312.

142. The Twelfth Air Force remained an administrative headquarters for the US Army 

units of the NAAF. Spaatz assumed command of the Twelfth AF on 1 March, and it was reactivated as a fighting command later in 1943. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 167.

143. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, handwritten letter, 5 February 1943, Doolittle Papers, 

Series IX, Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

144. Ibid.

145. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, typed letter, 5 February 1943, Doolittle Papers, Series 

IX, Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

146. Logbook Entries, February 1943, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

147. Including the raid on Tokyo, Doolittle flew 22 combat missions in World War II. Logbook Entries, 1942–1945, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

148. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 306.
THE SHAPING OF A COMMANDER

33

149. Richard G. Davis, “Take Down That Damned Sign!” Airpower History 40, no. 4 (Winter 1993), 18.

150. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, letter, 4 April 1943, Doolittle Papers, Series IX, Box 

64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

151. Record of Award of Decoration, 6 April 1943, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 07 Awards, Decorations, and Commendations.pdf, 24.

152. Carl Spaatz to James Doolittle, letter, 13 June 1943, Doolittle military personnel file, 

National Archives, 07 Awards, Decorations, and Commendations.pdf, 25.

153. Efficiency Report, 26 July 1943, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 

08 Efficiency Records.pdf, 62.

154. General Orders No. 73, 6 August 1943, Doolittle military personnel file, National Archives, 07 Awards, Decorations, and Commendations.pdf, 29.

155. Dwight D. Eisenhower to Maj Gen James H. Doolittle, letter, 1 September 1944. Doolittle Papers, Box 16, Special Correspondence, Library of Congress.

156. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 567.

157. Davis, “Take Down That Damned Sign!” 18.

158. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 568.

159. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 278.

160. Arnold, Global Mission, 218–19.

161. DeWitt S. Copp, Forged in Fire: Strategy and Decisions in the Air War over Europe, 

1940–45 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 407.

162. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 279.

163. Robert J. Mrazek, To Kingdom Come: An Epic Saga of Survival in the Air War over 

Germany (New York: NAL Hardcover, 2011), 242.

164. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 279.

165. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 750.

35

Chapter 3 

Operational Effectiveness

Doolittle assumed command of the Eighth Air Force on 6 January 1944.1

As the AAF’s most prestigious air force, the Eighth dwarfed his previous commands.2

 With a massive complement of 211,222 Airmen, it was more than 

five times the size of the Fifteenth Air Force.3

 The Eighth Air Force consisted 

of more than 4,200 combat aircraft organized into 25.75 heavy-bomber 

groups, four medium-bomber groups, 13 fighter groups, two troop-carrier 

groups, and a reconnaissance group.4

 Doolittle also had to cope with the rapid 

expansion of his forces. During 1944 the Eighth’s bomber forces grew by 50 

percent. By December Doolittle commanded 39 heavy-bomber groups and 

15 fighter groups.5

Doolittle clearly understood the magnitude of the task before him. On 14 

January he wrote to Joe noting, “This command was a great compliment and 

indicated confidence on the part of Hap [Arnold] and Tooey [Spaatz]. . . . It is 

the biggest, most difficult, and most interesting job I’ve ever had.” Six days 

later he confided, “It’s a big job. Big, at least measured by my standards and 

capabilities” (emphasis in original).6

 He expressed similar feelings in a letter 

to his friend from North Africa, Lt Gen George Patton, confiding, 

I have a bigger and more interesting job, but at the same time it is infinitely more difficult 

than the one I had down below. Down there the problem was to make something out of 

nothing. Up here it requires an equal or greater amount of ingenuity to effectively utilize 

the almost unlimited resources at one’s disposal. Down there, where you were not “under the guns,” any modest success was apparently appreciated. Up here miracles are 

confidently anticipated. Have been a little slow in getting my Miracle Department organized but hope for the best.7

Doolittle’s apprehension is a common occurrence among military men 

who rise to senior positions. As commanders rise in rank, their effectiveness 

frequently diminishes because the burden of increased responsibility dampens their boldness. Clausewitz noted this trend, observing that “conscious of 

the need to be decisive, [commanders] also recognize the risks entailed by a 

wrong decision; since they are unfamiliar with the problems now facing them, 

their mind loses its former incisiveness” (emphasis in original).8

 Doolittle recognized this phenomenon in his own son, James H. Doolittle Jr., who was 

experiencing strain as a flight leader. In a 26 December 1944 letter to Joe he 

wrote, 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

36

[Jim] looks fine but the responsibility of being a Flight Leader has been bothering him 

some. It’s a bit hard for a kid to take on responsibility all at once. In peacetime one assumes obligations gradually. In war time our mistakes mean the loss of some of our 

buddies and it’s a bit hard for some of these kids to have responsibility forced on them 

before they feel that they have the knowledge and experience necessary to enable them 

to safely assume it. Told Jimmer that he was one stop from the bottom and that I was 

only a couple from the top and that one’s obligations and responsibilities grew with each 

command echelon. The results of a mistake on his part affected about six planes and 36 

crew members. From now on it would get tougher. That was merely one of the prices we 

pay for competence—more is expected of us. And so on into the night.9

The considerably increased scope of leading the Eighth Air Force suggests 

that Doolittle would face unfamiliar problems. How well did he cope with his 

expanded responsibilities? This chapter assesses one significant component of 

that question, Doolittle’s operational effectiveness, by reviewing his efforts to 

achieve the air superiority required for the Allied invasion of Normandy and 

to increase the efficiency of his available aircrew and concludes by examining 

the measures he took to enhance the effectiveness of the Eighth Air Force’s 

bombing in close proximity to friendly ground forces.

Air Superiority over Western Europe

When Doolittle assumed command, the Eighth Air Force’s primary mission was to gain air superiority over Western Europe. At the Tehran Conference of 1943, Allied leaders had agreed that Operation Overlord, the invasion 

of northern France, would occur in 1944. Arnold understood that a prerequisite was air superiority over the Normandy lodgment area. Thus, on Christmas Day 1943, he sent Doolittle a personal letter stating, “Therefore, my personal message to you—this is a MUST—is to destroy the enemy air force 

wherever you find them, in the air, on the ground and in the factories.”10 Doolittle’s immediate superior, Carl Spaatz, reinforced this order with an operational directive dated 11 January 1944 instructing the Eighth Air Force to attack the Luftwaffe “in the air and on the ground.”11

Arnold had high expectations for his Eighth Air Force commanders. Success of the AAF’s largest air command had broad implications for future prospects of an independent air force. Because strategic bombing was the raison 

d’être of a separate air force, failure of the Mighty Eighth would jeopardize 

Arnold’s goal of service independence. When Ira Eaker failed to produce results, Arnold promptly replaced him. Arnold revealed his ruthlessness in a 

letter to George Marshall. As D-day approached, he argued, “[we should] 

scrutinize in cold blood our leaders . . . and remove or insist upon removing 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

37

each one concerning whom we have the slightest doubt.”12 Doolittle had little 

room for error.

Unlike his predecessor, Doolittle benefited from having Arnold’s highest 

priority for resources. In 1943 Eaker had competed with the Mediterranean 

campaign for materiel. Thus, he could marshal only several hundred bombers 

for strikes against Germany.13 For example, on the 14 October raid against 

Schweinfurt, Eaker launched 320 heavy bombers and 196 limited-range P-47 

Thunderbolt fighters as escorts.14 These shortages led official Air Force historian Arthur Ferguson to conclude, “Through most of 1943 the Eighth Air 

Force did not have enough strength, either in bombers or . . . in long-range 

escort to do the job assigned to it.”15 Doolittle, on the other hand, was able to 

dispatch a force of more than 660 heavy bombers within a week of taking 

command.16 Moreover, the bombers benefited from having 592 fighter escorts, including long-range P-38 Lightning fighters from the 20th and 55th 

Fighter Groups.17

These expanding resources gave Doolittle confidence. On 19 January he 

wrote to his subordinate commanders, “Our constantly increasing force, the 

increasing range of our fighter planes, and our new and improved technical 

equipment, if properly employed, will permit us to hit the desired targets in 

Germany and still substantially reduce our percentage losses in spite of the 

frantic efforts of the Hun fighters to stop us” (emphasis added).18 Arnold provided Doolittle the resources needed to accomplish his assigned mission. A 

question, however, remained—could Doolittle employ them effectively?

Doolittle believed that striking German industry was the most efficacious 

means of achieving his mission. Such attacks not only decreased the enemy’s 

production capacity but also forced the Luftwaffe to present battle. By compelling the Luftwaffe to resist its bomber/fighter formations, the Eighth could 

overwhelm and defeat it. Doolittle summarized his concept by declaring that 

the Eighth Air Force’s mission was “to drop the greatest number of bombs 

with the highest possible precision on the most vital enemy targets while suffering the minimum losses, and to destroy the Hun in the air.”19 Underlying 

Doolittle’s approach to defeating the Luftwaffe was the concept of attrition 

through unrelenting offensive action.

The new, aggressive approach represented a significant departure from the 

Eighth’s previous method of operations. Eaker had adopted a policy of group 

rotation to preserve his modest force from the adverse effects of attrition warfare.20 This practice, Eaker believed, provided sufficient rest for aircrews and 

reduced the risk of losing an unsustainable number of bombers on a single 

mission. Doolittle’s concept of “maximum effort” overturned this mentality. 

When favorable weather conditions allowed, Doolittle demanded that the 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

38

Eighth muster all its forces. During his first commanders meeting, Doolittle 

declared, “on days when full operation is possible, it is desired to hit the enemy with every airplane at our disposal.” When weather was less favorable, 

the Eighth maintained pressure on the enemy by launching smaller raids to 

attack through cloud layers. To implement his operational concept, Doolittle 

abolished the practice of group rotation and declared that nonoperational periods due to poor weather were sufficient for recuperation.21 He managed his 

resources by distinguishing between “maximum effort” and “maximum continuous effort.” The former applied to “critical” operations, defined by “a requirement for participation by every operational aircraft for which a competent crew can be supplied.” Moreover, all available P-51 Mustang fighter-bomber 

pilots would support these missions with long-range fighter escorts; if necessary, airplanes would be borrowed from the Ninth Air Force. Missions of “a 

non-critical nature” would be supported by “maximum continuous effort.” 

These attacks would employ approximately 40 percent of the available force.22

Doolittle understood that he did not have much time to implement this 

approach. Eisenhower ordered that 60 days prior to the planned invasion of 

Normandy, the Eighth would devote its full attention to supporting Overlord.23 Doolittle, therefore, estimated that he had until 1 April to conduct a 

concentrated strategic-bombing campaign that would bring the Luftwaffe to 

battle. Accordingly, during an 8 February commanders meeting, he impressed 

upon his subordinates the “need for urgent attention” to the strategic-bombing mission.24 Doolittle emphasized the point in a subsequent letter to his division commanders: “The Air Force is now approaching the most critical 

phase of the war with Germany. During the next few months it is mandatory 

that we secure complete air superiority over the German Air Force in this 

Theater. In order to accomplish this end in the time allotted, we must adopt 

every expedient to improve the effectiveness of the Air Force and to keep it at 

a high level of operational efficiency.”25

The closing days of February gave Doolittle the opportunity to employ offensive action to its full potential. On 19 February, Allied meteorologists forecast an extended period of favorable weather over Europe beginning the following day. Spaatz, therefore, ordered the Eighth and Fifteenth Air Forces to 

conduct a massive, coordinated attack on the German aircraft industry.26

Doolittle initiated the so-called Big Week on 20 February, marshaling all 

available resources to inflict a maximum-effort attack against Germany. The 

mission included more than 1,000 heavy bombers, which struck aircraft 

plants in 11 German cities.27 Over the ensuing six days, the Eighth flew continuous missions against the Luftwaffe, pausing operations only on the 23rd 

because of poor weather.28 During Big Week, 3,894 Eighth Air Force bombers 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

39

dropped a total of 8,340.5 tons of ordnance on the German aircraft industry.29

The week’s missions also claimed 600 enemy kills. In six days Doolittle had 

nearly equaled the bomb tonnage expended by the Eighth Air Force in all of 

1943.30 These powerful strikes noticeably hampered the German war machine. The air raids damaged or destroyed 75 percent of the factories that 

produced 90 percent of Germany’s aircraft. In response Nazi officials ordered 

dispersal of the aircraft industry, which appreciably reduced its efficiency. Although German aircraft production eventually recovered from the bombings, 

Big Week delayed fighter production at a critical moment in the air war.31

The results of Big Week pleased Arnold. On 26 February, he sent a congratulatory cable to Spaatz declaring that the US Strategic Air Forces in Europe’s (USSTAF) “Heavy Bomber units have opened and are carrying on the 

greatest air offensive in history.”32 He informed Spaatz that he believed the air 

offensive was approaching its climax and requested the following message be 

relayed to the Eighth:

With a relentless determination that demands the respect of everyone in the Army Air 

Forces you are driving home an attack which is destroying the very vitals of Germany. 

The strongest defenses that a desperate enemy can devise are not stopping you. Your 

losses have been heavy. Enemy losses have been far heavier. Your attacks on Regensburg, 

Leipsig [sic], Gotha, Bernberg, and other vital fighter factories are wiping out German 

fighter production and laying the foundation for final and decisive operations in the 

future. I commend all ranks in your Command from top to bottom for the super job you 

are doing. I wish you all the best luck in continuing to carry this destruction through the 

heart of Germany.33

In March Doolittle maintained pressure on the Luftwaffe with continued 

strikes against the German economy. On 4 March he sent a force of 502 heavy 

bombers to conduct the first US bombing of Berlin.34 The intent of this mission was not simply to attack the capital but also to compel the Luftwaffe to 

resist.35 He followed the initial strike against Berlin with subsequent largescale raids on 6 and 8 March.36 To enhance the likelihood of contact with the 

enemy, Doolittle ordered his forces to eschew deception tactics and fly directly to their targets.37 He explained his rationale to his commanders by saying, “it is now a case of either the Hun will fold or we will fold.”38 Doolittle 

maintained the high operational tempo as summer approached. In May, the 

Eighth dropped 36,000 tons; it nearly doubled that amount in June, employing almost 60,000 tons of ordnance in support of the Allied invasion.39

Doolittle’s operational methods were not without cost. During the first 

quarter of 1944, the bomber groups endured significant losses. The Eighth Air 

Force lost 158 heavy bombers during the six days of Big Week alone.40 Total 

losses in February constituted nearly 20 percent of Doolittle’s available force. 

The following months were not much better. In March, the Eighth lost 23.3 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

40

percent of its bomber force, and in April the Luftwaffe destroyed a quarter of 

the Eighth’s heavy bombers.41 These heavy losses compelled Doolittle to notify 

Arnold that “the replacement rate of both airplanes and crews will have to be 

increased to insure that this Air Force may maintain its effective strength level.”42

The results obtained from Doolittle’s offensive justified these costs because 

the expanding supply of materiel from the zone of interior offset the combat 

attrition. Although Doolittle’s losses in March exceeded 23 percent, the Eighth 

suffered only a 3.3 percent decrease in its sortie rate.43 In contrast, the resource-constrained Luftwaffe simply could not afford to continue the bloody 

air battle of attrition. In the first two months of 1944, the Allied forces killed 

or disabled one-third of the German air force’s (GAF) fighter pilots.44 These 

figures led Arthur Ferguson to observe, “It was the result of battles, especially 

during those of the Big Week, that the GAF was for the first time forced to 

admit defeat. . . . [And] by 1 April 1944 the GAF was a defeated force.”45

Doolittle clearly achieved the goal of air superiority for Overlord. While 

planning for the Normandy invasion, Allied intelligence officers anticipated 

the attacking forces would face resistance from 1,100–1,250 German aircraft. 

On 6 June 1944, the Luftwaffe conducted only 100 sorties, and the Allies established the beachhead under virtually complete air superiority.46 This domination of the sky enabled Eisenhower to tell his invasion forces, “If you see 

fighting aircraft over you, they will be ours.”47 The lack of air resistance also 

permitted Doolittle to observe the Normandy landings personally from a 

P-38 with no concern for enemy aircraft. During the previous five months, 

the Eighth Air Force’s onslaught had forced the German fighters to battle in 

the air. British air chief marshals Arthur Tedder and Trafford Leigh-Mallory 

agreed that the Eighth’s daylight raids had forced the Germans to prioritize 

their assets to the defense of the Reich, thus conceding the skies over western 

France.48 The demise of the German fighter force marked a turning point in 

the war.49 The official Air Force history concluded, “The defeat was brought 

about by attrition of the German fighter forces in the air and on the ground, 

by the consequent deterioration in quality of the German fighter pilots, and 

by attacks on German aircraft production.”50 Thus, by 6 June 1944, Doolittle 

had accomplished the mission assigned by Arnold—emasculation of the German air force.

Effective Use of Aircrews

Doolittle’s increased operational tempo placed a significant strain on all of 

the Eighth Air Force’s people—particularly on those who flew. In early 1944, 

the Eighth did not receive enough replacement aircrew to offset combat 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

41

losses. In March mounting losses had decreased the average number of crews 

assigned to B-24 Liberator heavy bomber groups from 66 to 62 and the number of crews in B-17 groups from 64 to 57.51 Although the Eighth Air Force 

had 1,415 operational heavy bombers on hand in April, crew shortages reduced its effective strength to 1,066.52 By July the number of assigned personnel decreased from more than 211,000 to 199,461.53 Thus, to implement his 

concept of maximum effort, Doolittle had to increase the effectiveness of his 

assigned personnel.

Early in his command, Doolittle recognized the need to modify the Eighth’s 

polices regarding aircrew rotation. When he took over, it was standard practice to return a bomber crew to the zone of interior after it had completed a 

combat tour of 25 missions. As sortie rates increased, however, aircrews began 

completing tours in as few as eight weeks. Because four months were required 

to train a bomber crew, Doolittle believed the rotation policy had become unsustainable.54 Moreover, bomber crews, in his opinion, did not achieve an “acceptable level of skill” until completing 10 missions, and reached the “peak of 

their efficiency” around 20 missions.55 Doolittle’s instincts were accurate. Statistically, a crew’s first 10 missions were the most dangerous, while the final five 

sorties posed the least risk.56

Therefore, on 30 January Doolittle instituted his first modification to the 

Eighth’s crew rotation policy. Henceforth, crews that completed an operational tour did not automatically return to the zone of interior. Instead, they 

could be assigned to command or staff positions.57 Doolittle dispatched a letter to his division commanders explaining his reasoning: (1) the zone of interior had completed its expansion program and no longer required experienced personnel to form new units; (2) operations in support of Overlord 

required an average of two missions per day for each assigned aircraft, which 

rendered the 25-mission limit impractical; (3) the introduction of long-range 

fighter escorts reduced bomber losses and, accordingly, increased the number 

of crews completing their combat tours; and (4) the extension of combat tours 

would increase the average experience of aircrews, which, in turn, would enhance the effectiveness of the force.58

Doolittle’s amendment of crew rotation practices anticipated a similar 

change in policy that Arnold directed for the entire AAF. In a letter of 11 February, Arnold informed Doolittle about a servicewide shortage of qualified 

aircrew. The shortfall had several causes. First, the AAF had more aircraft 

than originally planned. This fortunate development permitted Arnold to enlarge operational squadrons, which, in turn, required additional aircrews. 

More importantly, however, Arnold noted that air force commanders were 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

42

prematurely returning qualified aircrews to the United States after an arbitrary number of missions. Arnold’s directive is worth citing at length.

If you have made any policies or understandings that combat personnel will be returned 

to the United States after fulfilling such arbitrary conditions as I have just described, 

those policies will be rescinded at once. Our combat personnel must understand that we 

plan to use combat crews in accord with war demands. Policies covering relief for combat crews must be an overall Army Air Force [sic] matter, based in all war zones upon 

the importance of our operating and human considerations. Such relief has to be a flexible proposition, for our leaders to determine, based on the time, and place, and means 

available, and the conditions of the individual himself, and above all on the waging and 

winning of the war.

You, as an Air Force Commander, must always have the authority to relieve your combat 

crews on any basis you may see fit to the extent that replacements and means are available 

to you [emphasis in original]. But a sharp distinction must be drawn between this privately held consideration of a commander for his men and the existence of announced 

inflexible policies which in effect become a irretractable [sic] pledge from the commander to his men that jeopardizes his bringing his full available strength against the 

enemy when and where he has the vital need to do so.59

Arnold’s guidance became an important topic for discussion in the Eighth 

Air Force commanders meeting of 2 March. Brig Gen Earle “Pat” Partridge 

read the letter aloud to the group, spurring a heated discourse. Doolittle settled on a policy that required bomber crews to fly 30 sorties and fighter pilots 

to accumulate 200 hours before they would be eligible for reassignment.60 He 

articulated the policy change in a 4 March letter to his commanders and informed them that Eighth Air Force Memorandum 75-1, dated October 1943, 

would be revised to reflect the new requirements, effective 15 March 1944.61

To ease the shock of the change, Doolittle established a method for crediting 

sorties on a sliding scale for crews that completed 15 or more sorties.62 For 

instance, crews having flown 23 missions were credited with 28 under the 

new policy.63 The same day, Doolittle penned a letter to Arnold explaining his 

rationale and stating that he agreed with the chief ’s assessment of the situation: “The policies which were in effect in this Air Force with respect to the 

relief of combat crew personnel from combat duty were sound at the time of 

their inauguration, but under current conditions, are now recognized as 

needing revision and we were endeavoring to arrive at a solution which would 

permit an extension in the length of the combat tour without adversely affecting the present high morale of the personnel involved.” He further noted that 

instead of automatically transferring to the zone of interior, combat crews 

would merely “be eligible for relief” (emphasis in original) after completing an 

operational tour. Doolittle indicated that crews would be offered a reprieve 

from combat operations only to “provide time for suitable rest and recuperation 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

43

[R&R].” Following the R&R period, he considered crews to again be eligible for 

a combat assignment.64

During spring 1944, operational requirements compelled Doolittle to demand even more from his aircrews. In April he announced that the number 

of assigned aircrews to each bomber group would be increased to 96. This 

level of manning provided the desired 2:1 crew-to-aircraft ratio.65 A shortage 

of personnel, however, continued to plague the Eighth Air Force.66 Consequently, Doolittle announced that he was considering further extending the 

length of the combat tour. Resistance from his commanders persuaded him to 

delay the extension.67 Nevertheless, by July Doolittle ordered that to earn 

credit for an operational tour, bomber crews would have to complete 35 missions and fighter pilots would have to log 300 hours.68

When Doolittle first extended the operational tour, his commanders reported that the change “had produced some depreciation in morale.”69 The 

considerable losses stemming from his concept of maximum effort also contributed to a degradation of the Eighth’s morale. This worried Doolittle. He 

therefore devoted considerable time and effort to mitigating the problem of 

lagging morale. Chapter 4 closely examines the steps he took. It is sufficient to 

note here that to increase the effectiveness of his available aircrews, Doolittle 

had to balance the demands of the mission and his superiors with the strength 

of his Airmen’s spirit.

Therefore, Doolittle instituted a “lead crew” program to improve morale 

and increase operational effectiveness. He directed bomb group commanders 

to nominate eight exceptional aircrews as lead crews. These elite crews wore 

special combat patches with gold borders, which distinguished them from 

their peers. During combat missions, the crews led the bomber formations.70

To offset the increased danger associated with these duties, Doolittle reduced 

the tour length for lead crews from 35 to 30.71 Upon completion of a tour, the 

crews were entitled to a 30-day period of R&R in the United States. After this 

leave, however, Doolittle expected the crews to resume their places in the 

Eighth as lead crews and instructors.72

In July 1944, Arnold articulated a new service-wide policy regarding the 

relief of aircrews from combat. The policy stipulated that aircrews would be 

relieved from combat duty only “after positive evidence of combat fatigue.” 

Doolittle observed Arnold’s directive by mandating that flight surgeons evaluate crews for combat fatigue after they had completed 35 missions and 

fighter pilots after 300 hours.73 By doing so, he artfully complied with Arnold’s 

directive but kept faith with his Airmen by not having to revoke his own policy.

By summer 1944, loss rates declined, and the number of replacement crews 

increased sufficiently to resume the practice of sending crews to permanent 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

44

assignments in the zone of interior after they completed a combat tour.74 In 

June, the Eighth lost 280 heavy bombers and another 324 in July.75 The losses, 

though substantial, were compensated by the growing supply of men and materiel from the zone of interior. During the 20 July commanders meeting, Brig 

Gen John Samford, Doolittle’s chief of staff, noted that to maintain the 96 

authorized crews per group ratio, the Eighth had to send a large number of 

crews home to “offset the replacements coming in.”76 By autumn, the supply of 

aircrews had increased even further, allowing Doolittle to delegate the authority to relieve crews to his division commanders. The only guidance he 

provided was that aircrews had to fly between 25 and 35 sorties before reassignment.77

The subsequent results of Doolittle’s increase in combat tour lengths are 

indefinite. He claimed that the policy increased the Eighth’s survival rate and 

bombing accuracy.78 Bombing accuracy did improve from 29 percent hitting 

within 1,000 feet of the designed target to 40 percent in June and 45 percent 

by the end of the summer.79 Although this study cannot establish a causal link 

between these results and an increase in combat tour duration, it is clear that 

Doolittle’s decision led to an increase of average crew experience in the Eighth. 

Despite a resultant decrease in morale, he persevered in his decision. This was 

in no doubt aided by Arnold’s insistence on eliminating an arbitrary number 

of missions as criterion for relief from combat. However, Doolittle also took 

positive steps to ameliorate Arnold’s more draconian measures. In short, 

Doolittle balanced the demands of the mission, the directives of his superiors, 

and the capabilities and welfare of his aircrews.

Close Air Support

Following the invasion of Normandy, Allied ground forces became embroiled in a brutal fight with the Wehrmacht. The prolific hedgerows of northern France provided the Germans excellent defensive positions, and fierce 

enemy resistance stalled Allied efforts to expand the lodgment area. Allied 

leaders searched for ways to break the stalemate in Normandy. Directing the 

power of the Eighth Air Force’s strategic bombers against the German defenses seemed logical and prudent. The commander of the First Army, Lt Gen 

Omar N. Bradley, noted, “Realizing the great power we had in our Air Force, 

I wanted to secure someplace where we could use a great mass of power to 

virtually wipe out some German division opposing part of our line and then 

punch a hole through.”80

Thus, in the summer of 1944, Doolittle had to employ his strategic bombers in direct support of ground forces, a role for which crews were neither 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

45

equipped nor trained. He remarked in his autobiography that in July 1944, 

“bombing in close support of ground troops was not the mission of the Eighth 

and my men were not trained for it. They were trained for high altitude bombing; close air support of ground troops was not a feasible mission for the 

Eighth.”81 Moreover, the USSTAF system of command and control was not 

structured to cope with the dynamic conditions that accompany the mission 

of close air support. As Richard Davis noted, “This foray into large-scale close 

air support presented unique and unanticipated command, control, and technical problems to the Eighth Air Force . . . as they sought to fulfill obligations 

for which they lacked methods and training.”82 To assess whether the Eighth 

was effective under Doolittle in providing close air support to friendly ground 

forces, this study addresses a single measure that was, at least partially, within 

his control: the risk to friendly ground troops from air bombardment of opposing forces.

The battle around Caen provided the war’s first opportunity to use heavy 

bombers in close support of ground forces. Stout German armored resistance 

held Canadian and British forces at bay in the area surrounding the French 

town. On 8 July, aircraft from both RAF Bomber Command and Maj Gen 

Elwood R. “Pete” Quesada’s 9th Tactical Air Command pummeled the northern portion of the town and enemy troop positions to its south.83 Although 

the Allied forces gained control of a significant portion of the town and the air 

assault did not cause any friendly casualties, the bombing did not appreciably 

degrade the German resistance.84 Therefore, the plan for Operation Goodwood, an attempt to break out from Caen, required additional air support. 

Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery requested the striking power of the 

Eighth Air Force.

However, the Eighth’s first close-air-support mission did not meet Montgomery’s expectations. On 18 July, Doolittle dispatched between 570 and 644 

B-24s from the 2nd Bombardment Division to drop 1,410 tons of ordnance in 

an effort to clear the way for the attacking forces.85 But most of the B-24s 

missed their targets, and a majority of the bombs were scattered across the 

countryside. Consequently, Allied forces faced determined resistance from 

the enemy residing in the target area. In contrast, the Eighth’s British cousin, 

RAF Bomber Command, had considerable success at Caen. The British strikes 

proved accurate and effective, destroying an entire Panzer company.86

The Eighth had much to learn from Bomber Command’s success. The British had implemented the tactic of using a “master bomber” to control airborne operations. The designated aircraft would loiter over the target for the 

entire operation to provide timely adjustments to the striking bombers. The 

Eighth did not adopt these methods for the next close-air-support mission. 
OPERATIONAL EFFECTIVENESS

46

Nor was close support of ground troops a topic of discussion during the 20 

July commanders meeting.87 A series of unfortunate events, however, soon 

brought the issue vividly to Doolittle’s attention.

Airpower was a vital component of Bradley’s plan for breaking out from 

the Normandy beachhead. In an operation code-named Cobra, Bradley concentrated four divisions against a single German armored division. He selected the point of attack, in large part, due to the presence of a conspicuous 

road connecting St. Lô and Périers that would serve as the demarcation line 

between the Americans and the Germans. He also envisioned an air attack 

being made parallel to the enemy lines that would decimate the German resistance defending a one-by-five-mile rectangle immediately in front of his 

forces.88 To increase the concentration of the bombing efforts, Bradley wanted 

the attacks to occur within the span of one hour. The long, straight St. Lô–

Périers road, Bradley reasoned, would clearly distinguish between the friendly 

and enemy positions. He thus considered 800 yards of separation sufficient 

distance between friendly troops and the heavy bombers’ target.89

Significant misunderstandings developed during the process of transforming Bradley’s concept into an operational plan. Because the mission was in 

support of ground forces, the commander of the Allied Expeditionary Air 

Force, Air Chief Marshal Leigh-Mallory, led the air operation. Bradley briefed 

the ground scheme of maneuver for Operation Cobra to Leigh-Mallory and 

other air commanders on 19 July, just days before the planned assault.90 LeighMallory had little experience planning operations with heavy bombers. Thus, 

many problems with Bradley’s plan were not properly addressed during the 

discussion. For example, citing the dispersion of bombs from high-altitude 

bombing, air commanders called for a 3,000-yard safe separation distance, 

but Bradley consented only to 1,200 yards.91 Moreover, Brig Gen Orvil Anderson, Doolittle’s operations officer, argued that the parallel attack was not 

feasible. Leigh-Mallory dismissed the objection, and Bradley left the meeting 

convinced that the aerial attack would occur parallel to friendly lines.92 Unlike 

Anderson, Leigh-Mallory was unaware of the physical impossibility of channeling 1,500 aircraft through the short side of the target area in the 60 minutes 

required.93 Furthermore, flying parallel to the German lines exposed Doolittle’s bombers longer to German flak than would flying perpendicular.

The first mission to support Operation Cobra did not go well. To meet the 

demand for concentrated fire, Eighth Air Force planners, unaware of Bradley’s expectation of a parallel attack, designed the mission with a flight path 

perpendicular to the battle lines. The perpendicular plan was never communicated to Bradley. Leigh-Mallory, apparently also unaware of the perpendicular attack plan, scheduled the initial assault for noon on 24 July, despite a 
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poor weather forecast. Clouds completely obscured the target area, leading 

Leigh-Mallory to cancel the mission, but he did not do so until just before the 

planned attack, a common practice with tactical operations. This created 

much confusion among the heavy-bomber formations. Because ground forces 

had no direct radio contact with the attacking bombers, the cancelation message had to be relayed through Eighth Air Force Headquarters in England. 

Thus, when Doolittle received Leigh-Mallory’s cancelation order, his bombers 

were only seven minutes from the target area; they could not be recalled.94 Of 

the 1,586 bombers dispatched that day, 343 found breaks in the weather and 

attacked their targets.95 Compounding the misunderstanding about parallel 

versus perpendicular attack, a lead bomber inadvertently released a portion 

of its bomb load over friendly lines. Following the cue of their lead aircraft, 

the 15 accompanying bombers released their weapons in unison. In another 

incident, a B-17 accidently bombed a Ninth Air Force airfield at Chippelle. 

These mishaps killed 16 soldiers and injured 64.96

The Eighth Air Force’s performance did not please Bradley. He did not understand why the formations had not conformed to his request to attack parallel to the battle lines. He exasperatedly remarked, “What worries me more 

than anything else is the fact that those heavies came in over our heads instead of parallel to the Périers road. I left Stanmore [RAF Stanmore Park, near 

London] with a clear understanding that they would fly parallel to the road.”97

Nor was Eisenhower impressed with the Eighth’s performance. He said pointedly, “I don’t believe [heavy bombers] can be used in support of ground forces. 

That’s a job for artillery. I gave them a green light this time. But I promise you 

it’s the last.”98 Interestingly, amidst the flurry of activity during Operation Cobra, Ike took time on 26 July to add a handwritten annotation to Doolittle’s 30 

June efficiency report. Spaatz, who made the evaluation, rated Doolittle as 

2nd of 10 lieutenant generals. Eisenhower disagreed. He penned, “in my 

opinion General Doolittle ranks in the middle third of lieutenant generals.” 99

A favorable forecast for 25 July provided the Eighth another opportunity to 

support Operation Cobra. During the mission planning, Doolittle’s headquarters explained to Bradley that a parallel attack would require 2.5 hours 

instead of the one he requested. Bradley thus “decided to accept the additional 

risk of perpendicular-to-the-road bombing.”100 With the previous day’s fratricide in mind, Doolittle took precautions to minimize the potential for premature weapons releases. Two hours prior to the mission, a reconnaissance aircraft 

flew over the assault area to ascertain weather conditions and make recommendations to the Eighth Air Force aircrews. The visual attacks were planned for 

the lowest feasible altitude while still reducing the risk of flak. Artillery also 

fired red smoke shells at two-minute intervals to mark the target boundar-
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ies.101 Finally, Doolittle planned to observe the mission firsthand from the 

cockpit of a P-38.102

Despite Doolittle’s precautions, confusion again prevailed on 25 July. A total of 1,507 heavy bombers struck the enemy lines around St. Lô, dropping 

more than 3,300 tons of ordnance. After a majority of the force had been 

launched, a cloud base rolled in over the target at the planned delivery altitude of 15,000–16,000 feet. This compelled bombardiers to recalculate their 

bombing solutions and adjust their sights. The lowering of the attack altitude 

also loosened bomber formations, which led to scattered bombing patterns. 

Moreover, the artillery smoke rounds proved ineffective in marking the target 

area; a southerly wind dispersed the markings among the surrounding smoke 

and haze that billowed from the battlefield.103 Finally, the St. Lô–Périers road 

that Bradley had picked as a visual marker, so prominent on the map, was 

much less obvious from the air.104

Given the challenging conditions, the bombing of enemy forces at St. Lô 

was surprisingly accurate but still caused friendly losses. As official Air Force 

historian Robert George remarked, “Technically viewed, the bombing was 

good.” Analysis by the Operational Research Section concluded that bombing 

errors were better than expected, given the mission circumstances. Only 2–4 

percent of more than 1,500 bombers missed their targets. The errors that did 

occur, however, were costly. Amid the chaos, 35 heavy bombers from the 

Eighth dropped their ordnance over American lines. The stray bombs killed 

102 US soldiers and wounded 380.105 An investigation attributed the short 

bombs to “a misunderstanding of briefing instructions . . . [and] a misinterpretation of target markers”—personal errors.106 Among the dead was Lt Gen Lesley J. McNair. His fate was tinged with irony. McNair had been a vocal critic of 

the AAF’s lack of training for close air support.107 The following day Doolittle 

flew a P-38 to offer Bradley his personal condolences.108 Doolittle clearly understood that “technically good” was not good enough for close air support.

Doolittle responded to the problems of fratricide by directing his staff to 

investigate methods of reducing friendly casualties. Familiar with the British 

operations, Doolittle apparently told his subordinates to seek advice from 

their RAF counterparts. Col Benjamin Kelsey, commander of the Eighth’s operational engineering section, submitted a memorandum to Doolittle on 30 

July addressing the issue.109 His report made several recommendations: (1) 

establish the aiming point with pathfinder aircraft using radar, not visual, targeting devices; (2) use friendly antiaircraft artillery to fire colored bursts to 

denote the bomb line; (3) include an RAF-developed target indicator (T.I.) 

bomb, which burst at 4,000 feet and burned for five minutes, in each aircraft’s 

bomb load to maintain a “continual carpet of markers” in the target area; (4) 
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use portable navigation instruments to indicate friendly troop locations; and 

(5) establish an “airborne liaison director” to maintain radio contact with the 

ground forces and the attacking bomber formations.110 The following day, another memorandum, titled “Marking of Target Area in Support of Ground 

Forces,” was submitted to Doolittle’s operations officer, Orvil Anderson. Similar in many respects to Kelsey’s suggestions, the report recommended the use 

of portable navigation aids, searchlights and ground panels on friendly locations, T.I. bombs, and improved radio communications between ground and 

air forces.111 The latter memorandum concluded with suggestions submitted 

by the 2nd and 3rd Bombardment Divisions. Both units believed that having 

additional time to attack the target area would improve bombing accuracy 

and stated a preference for making attacks perpendicular to the battle lines. 112

These recommendations reflected the Eighth Air Force’s coordination with 

the RAF. Kelsey closed his report by recommending the pathfinder aircraft be 

used as a “master bomber” to maintain awareness of the target marking and 

to direct adjustments in the operations.113 Similarly, the report proposed using RAF Mosquito aircraft to mark targets for US heavy bombers.114

Meanwhile, the passage of time and the successful breakout from Normandy brought about by Operation Cobra eased Bradley’s displeasure. On 28 

July, he told Eisenhower, “This operation could not have been the success it 

has been without such close cooperation of the Air. In the first place the bombardment we gave them last Tuesday was apparently highly successful, even 

though we did suffer many casualties ourselves.”115 Eisenhower echoed Bradley’s sentiments in a letter of 2 August to Doolittle: 

I know how badly you and your command have felt because of the accidental bombing 

of some of our own troops. . . . Naturally, all of us have shared your acute distress that 

this should have happened. Nevertheless, it is quite important that you do not give the 

incident an exaggerated place either in your mind or in your future planning.

All the reports show that the great mass of the bombs from your tremendous force fell 

squarely on the assigned target, and I want you and your command to know that the 

advantages resulting from the bombardment were of inestimable value. I am perfectly 

certain, also, that when the ground forces again have to call on you for help you not only 

be ready as ever to cooperate, but will in the meantime have worked out some method 

so as to eliminate unfortunate results from the occasional gross error on the part of a 

single pilot or a single group.116

Doolittle’s response to Eisenhower’s consolatory remarks summarized his 

plan to mitigate the risk of losses to friendly troops. He opened his letter of 5 

August with a firsthand account of the incident and the results of his formal 

investigation and followed with his proposals for the conduct of future 

bomber operations in support of ground forces. He advised Eisenhower that 

in such operations, his forces would properly mark the target area with T.I. 
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bombs. He also emphasized the importance of friendly marking devices, such 

as colored antiaircraft artillery rounds, ground panels, and navigation beacons. A senior air commander, Doolittle noted, would control future missions 

and maintain contact with ground forces. Finally, Doolittle insisted on the use 

of air liaison officers to assist in the planning of future ground-support operations. He closed his letter by asserting, “We are anxious to vindicate ourselves 

with a perfect job next time.”117 Perfection, however, would have to wait.

Unbeknown to Doolittle, the same day he penned his response to Eisenhower, Spaatz committed the Eighth’s heavy bombers to support Montgomery’s 1st Canadian Army south of Caen as part of Operation Totalize.118 Doolittle ensured his planners took great care during the short time available to 

prepare for the operation. Scouting planes were used to reconnoiter the area 

and report on weather conditions. Despite increased exposure to enemy antiaircraft artillery and the difficulties of managing the congested airspace, Doolittle ordered the bombers to fly parallel to the enemy lines to mitigate the risk 

of short bombs. Much to his dismay, the ground troops were positioned only 

1,500 yards from the target.119 Doolittle and his deputy, Partridge, also flew 

fighter aircraft to control the operation personally.120 Doolittle had his P-51 

modified to include a special radio to communicate with the bombing division commanders. The radio, however, failed during the flight, and he found 

himself again a helpless observer.121

The Eighth Air Force’s support of ground forces again produced US casualties. Doolittle launched 497 heavy bombers that dropped 764.8 tons of general-purpose bombs and 723 tons of fragmentation ordnance against enemy 

troop positions.122 The loads of three groups fell wide of the intended target. 

Doolittle commissioned a special investigation to determine the causes of the 

errant bombs. The 15 August report concluded that in the first instance, flak 

struck the lead aircraft, setting it aflame. When the pilot jettisoned his ordnance, the accompanying aircraft dropped their bombs as well. In another 

incident, a lead bombardier misidentified a smoke column over friendly lines 

as the target. The final incident was attributed to improper crew selection. The 

group commander had assigned an inexperienced lead crew that subsequently misidentified the target area.123 Although some of the reasons for the 

errors proved difficult to prevent, the mishaps killed 25 Canadians and 

wounded 131.124

Doolittle’s frustration with the planning of ground-support operations was 

palpable in a 10 August memorandum he sent to Spaatz, titled “Direct Support of Ground Troops by the Eighth Air Force.” In the three-page report, 

Doolittle explained that the Eighth’s support of the D-day invasion produced 

no fratricide because he was provided ample time to prepare his forces. In 
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contrast, the subsequent missions were “done with insufficient time for preparation.” He also outlined the reasons for the mishaps and his plan to improve 

results through improved training in close air support. Doolittle acknowledged that the training would decrease his command’s efficiency in strategic 

bombing but said the risk “must be accepted.” Before closing, he noted, “If we 

are to do as good a job as the ground troops do in our support of them, we 

have to know what is to be done as soon as they do and must have our people 

in the planning from start to finish.”125

Operation Queen, conducted in November, gave Doolittle an opportunity 

to realize his full vision for ground-support operations. On 21 October, Spaatz 

met with Bradley to discuss an attack plan to cross the Roer River. Success of 

the operation would provide a base from which to launch an assault over the 

Rhine into Germany. Unlike previous operations, Doolittle had time to prepare his forces for the operation. Close-air-support operations were discussed 

at length during the 1 November commanders meeting.126 On 7 November, 

he dispatched 535 heavy bombers and 148 fighters on a “special practice mission” against a target in England to rehearse the techniques.127 During the 

operation, 64 antiaircraft artillery pieces deployed colored shells to denote the 

bomb line. Friendly troops also marked their location with large groundmarking panels and a string of barrage balloons. Truck-mounted navigation 

beacons were placed along friendly lines. Finally, the safety margin from 

bombing aim points to friendly troops was expanded to 3,600 yards, over 

twice the distance used in St. Lô.128

Doolittle’s extensive efforts to mitigate friendly losses finally paid dividends. The mission in support of Operation Queen was the largest air-ground 

coordinated assault of the war. On 16 November, 1,191 heavy bombers 

dropped 4,120 tons of ordnance on enemy positions. Clouds, smoke, haze, 

and even snow again hindered the visual release of bombs over the battlefield. 

The aircrews coped well, however, and Allied casualties were limited to one 

soldier killed and three wounded. Moreover, the destruction rendered by the 

aerial onslaught was vast. Several fortified villages and enemy positions were 

completely destroyed.129 Richard Davis aptly noted, “In its preparations and 

execution Queen showed how far the Eighth Air Force had come in its ground 

support role.”130

Doolittle’s use of heavy bombers in direct support of ground troops illuminates his effectiveness as a commander. Following the first incident of fratricide, he became personally involved in the efforts to mitigate the dangers to 

ground personnel. He directed his staff to formulate solutions and placed 

himself in a position to witness the follow-on operations firsthand. He also 

exhibited a certain measure of humility by compelling his subordinates to 
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seek the advice of their British counterparts. Moreover, he understood the 

opportunity cost of training his forces for close air support instead of strategic 

bombing. Although Doolittle was unable to implement his plans to prevent 

friendly losses on 8 August, his solutions ultimately proved effective in the 

successful support of Operation Queen. In summary, despite repeated frustration, Doolittle successfully implemented institutional change that allowed 

his strategic bombing force to safely support ground forces.

Conclusions

Several observations emerge from assessing Doolittle’s use of the Eighth 

Air Force’s resources. First, his concept of attrition through maximum effort 

indicates a predisposition to aggressive action. This mentality resembles a 

Clausewitzian approach to force employment. The Prussian theorist shunned 

the practice of maintaining a strategic reserve, contending that a strategiclevel commander should commit all available resources to winning a decisive 

battle.131 Similarly, Doolittle felt the spring of 1944 offered a decisive opportunity for winning the air war over Western Europe. Indeed, his determined 

attacks transformed the character of Eighth Air Force operations, much to 

Arnold’s approval. His aggressive approach cost the Eighth dearly in loss of 

aircraft and crews, but it also forced the enemy to offer battle in the air over 

Germany. Doolittle’s instincts were right; the ensuing aerial attrition broke 

the Luftwaffe’s back.132

This aggressiveness led Doolittle to demand maximum effort from his aircrews. He upended the extant policies of tour length to obtain the personnel 

needed to support his increased tempo of operations. Doolittle’s instincts 

were validated by Arnold’s demand for evaluation of the way in which qualified aircrews were employed. The increased tour length, however, combined 

with mounting losses, led to a significant degradation in unit morale in the 

spring of 1944. The measures Doolittle took to mitigate these adverse consequences are further addressed in Chapter 5. Suffice it to say here, he pushed 

his crews to their limit while artfully balancing the needs of the mission, the 

demands of his superiors, and the welfare of his men.

Doolittle also performed admirably when confronted with a mission his 

forces were ill-equipped to perform. High-altitude bombing in close proximity to friendly ground forces is a complex task that continues to challenge the 

technologically advanced air forces of the twenty-first century. Nevertheless, 

following the fratricide at St. Lô, Doolittle marshaled his staff to develop procedures to reduce the risks of bombing in close support of ground forces. Although these methods required time to implement, they ultimately proved 
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effective in the air bombardment supporting Operation Queen. Perhaps the 

most significant aspect of this episode, however, was Doolittle’s willingness to 

accept a nondoctrinal use of airpower to enhance overall force effectiveness. 

The Air Corps Tactical School instructors would have cringed at using heavy 

bombers to support ground forces. But the overall effects of Cobra and Queen, 

despite the fratricide accompanying the former, hastened the end of the Wehrmacht.

This evaluation indicates that, in the areas studied, Doolittle effectively applied available resources to achieve his assigned missions. He grasped the impact of the abundant means at his disposal and forced the Luftwaffe into an air 

battle of attrition. His demanding nature extracted much from his men and 

was not without cost in blood and spirit. Nevertheless, Doolittle walked the 

fine line of pushing his crews hard without overextending their capabilities. 

Although he could drive and lead his men to perform, he had less success in 

avoiding friendly casualties with the use of heavy bombers in close support of 

ground forces. Nevertheless, the efforts that he and his staff took gradually 

reduced mission risks to acceptable levels. In short, Doolittle’s Clausewitzian 

approach to economy of force achieved what was arguably the “highest profit” 

by inflicting significant losses upon the Luftwaffe and ground targets while 

simultaneously reducing the losses of his own and other Allied forces.

Notes

1. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 January 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 

520.01 V.1, 1.

2. Richard G. Davis, “Take Down That Damned Sign!” Airpower History 40, no. 4 (Winter 

1993): 18.

3. Memo to Chief of Staff, “Administrative highlights,” n.d, Doolittle Papers, Box 16, 1944–

45 Military Correspondence, Library of Congress (LOC). The Fifteenth Air Force had 4,873 

officers and 32,867 enlisted men in December 1943. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, 

eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II, vol. 2, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, August 1942 to 

December 1943 (1949; new imprint, Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 571.

4. Craven and Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 639.

5. Memo to Chief of Staff.

6. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, letter, 14 January 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series IX, Box 

64, Folder 23, Special Collections Division, McDermott Library, University of Texas at Dallas.

7. Maj Gen James H. Doolittle to Lt Gen George S. Patton, letter, 1 February 1944, Doolittle 

Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

8. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (1976; 

reprint, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 164.

9. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, letter, 23 December 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series IX, 

Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.
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10. Quoted in Dik Alan Daso, Doolittle: Aerospace Visionary (Washington, DC: Brassey’s, 

2003), 80–81.

11. Quoted in Richard Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe (Washington, DC: 

Center for Air Force History, 1993), 300.

12. Gen H. H. Arnold to Gen George C. Marshall, letter, n.d., Arnold Papers, 1944 Correspondence, LOC.

13. James H. Doolittle and Carroll V. Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again (New York: 

Bantam Books, 1992), 347.

14. Roger A. Freeman, Mighty Eighth War Diary (New York: Jane’s, 1981), 126; and Davis, 

Carl A. Spaatz, 362.

15. In Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II,

vol. 3, Europe: Argument to VE Day, January 1944 to May 1945 (1949; new imprint, Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 65–66.

16. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 January 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 

520.01 V.1, 16.

17. Ibid.; and Kent D. Miller, Fighter Units & Pilots of the 8th Air Force: September 1942–

May 1945, vol. 1 (Atglen, PA: Schiffer Military History, 2001), 38.

18. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and Bomber Divisions, letter, 19 January 1944, 

Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

19. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 21 January 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2. Allied 

forces used the term Hun as a disparaging name for German forces.

20. Geoffrey Perret, Winged Victory: The Army Air Forces in World War II (New York: Random House, 1993), 280.

21. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 21 January 1944, 2.

22. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, 1–2.

23. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 306.

24. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, 1.

25. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and all Bombardment Divisions, letter, 17 February 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

26. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 319, 322.

27. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–29 February 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 

520.01 V.1, 43–44.

28. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 38.

29. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–29 February 1944, vol. 1, 3.

30. Interestingly, the RAF, which flew at night, only destroyed 13 enemy aircraft during Big 

Week. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 326.

31. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 45.

32. Gen H. H. Arnold to Gen Carl Spaatz, cable, 26 February 1944. Spaatz Papers, I-13, 

February 1944, LOC.

33. Ibid.

34. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 March 1944. AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.1, 

33–34.

35. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 416.

36. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 51–53.

37. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 416.

38. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944; and History, Headquarters Eighth Air 

Force, 1–31 March 1944, vol. 2, 2.
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39. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 302.

40. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–29 February 1944, 43–44. 

41. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 377–78.

42. Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle to Gen H. H. Arnold, letter, 4 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 

19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

43. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 377.

44. Ibid., 338.

45. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 63, 66.

46. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 413.

47. Quoted in Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 58.

48. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 166.

49. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 414.

50. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 58–59.

51. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 4 March 1944.

52. Brig Gen Orvil Anderson to Gen Carl Spaatz, letter, 3 April 1944. Spaatz Papers, Box 

I-90, LOC.

53. Memo to Chief of Staff. This assertion counters Richard Davis’s claim that by May 1944 

the strength of the Eighth Air Force exceeded 400,000. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 380; and Davis, 

“Take Down That Damned Sign!” 18. The error is likely due to a misreading of Craven and 

Cate, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, 640, which ambiguously states, “During the next six months 

the AAF in ETO [European Theater of Operations] would more than double in size, and by 

May 1944 it would have over 400,000 troops.” This statement does not reflect the Eighth Air 

Force alone, but instead, indicates the combined strength of all numbered air forces in Europe.

54. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 380.

55. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 359.

56. Mark K. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare: The Allied Aircrew Experience in the Second 

World War (Essex, UK: Routledge, 1995), 46.

57. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 380; and Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, 4.

58. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and all Bombardment Divisions, letter, 17 February 1944.

59. Gen H. H. Arnold to Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle, letter, 11 February 1944. Spaatz Papers, 

File I-90, LOC.

60. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.1, 3.

61. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and all Bombardment Divisions, letter, 4 March 

1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

62. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–30 April 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 520.01 

V.1, 5, 3.

63. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and all Bombardment Divisions, letter, 4 March 

1944.

64. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 4 March 1944.

65. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 306.

66. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 May 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 520.01 

V.1, 4.

67. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.

68. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 520.01 

V.1, 3.

69. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 March 1944, vol. 1.
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56

70. Ibid., 6.

71. Luftwaffe fighters frequently targeted the lead aircraft in an attempt to disrupt bomber 

formations. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, 2.

72. Ibid.

73. Ibid., 3.

74. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 3.

75. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 303.

76. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, 3.

77. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 23 September 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.1.

78. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 360.

79. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 305.

80. As quoted in Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 464.

81. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 375.

82. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 453.

83. Ibid., 460; and Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 207–8.

84. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 208; and Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 461.

85. There is some discrepancy in the sources regarding the number of bombers that participated in the mission. The Eighth Air Force Headquarters narrative history reports that 644 

B-24s were dispatched. In contrast Davis and Craven and Cate claim that only 570 flew. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, 64; Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 462; and Craven 

and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 208.

86. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 462.

87. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944.

88. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 232.

89. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 463–65.

90. The operation was originally scheduled for 21 July and postponed until 24 July because 

of weather. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 465, 469.

91. Ibid., 465.

92. Ibid., 467–68.

93. Ibid., 471.

94. Ibid., 469–70.

95. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, 70.

96. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 230. There is some disagreement regarding the number of soldiers killed. Davis contends that 25 soldiers were killed and 131 

wounded. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 470.

97. As quoted in Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 470.

98. As quoted in ibid., 474.

99. Efficiency report dated 30 June 1944. National Archives and Records Administration, 

Official military personnel file of James H. Doolittle, 08 Efficiency Records.pdf.

100. As quoted in Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 471.

101. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 232.

102. Logbook entry, 25 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

103. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 233.

104. Years later General Quesada criticized himself for not inspecting the road personally 

prior to the attack. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 474–75.

105. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 233–34.
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57

106. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, 71; and Craven and Cate, 

Europe: Argument to VE Day, 234.

107. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 474.

108. Logbook entry, 26 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

109. The operational engineering section was a part of Doolittle’s staff devoted to investigating, testing, and implementing technical modifications to aircraft. It is discussed in greater 

detail in chapter 4.

110. Col Benjamin Kelsey to Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle, letter, 30 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Box 19, LOC.

111. Conroy to Anderson, letter, 31 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, LOC. 

112. Ibid.

113. Kelsey to Doolittle, letter, 30 July 1944.

114. Conroy to Anderson, letter, 31 July 1944.

115. As quoted in Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 479.

116. Gen D. D. Eisenhower to Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle, letter, 2 August 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 18, LOC.

117. Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle to Gen D. D. Eisenhower, letter, 5 August 1944, Doolittle Papers, Special Correspondence, LOC.

118. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 479; and History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–30 August 

1944, vol. 1, 38.

119. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 480.

120. Doolittle flew a P-51 and Partridge a P-47. Logbook entry, 8 August 1944, Doolittle 

Papers, McDermott Library; and Partridge, interview by Strum and Ahmann, 23–25 April 

1974, AFHRC, 407–8.

121. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 378.

122. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–30 August 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 

520.01 V.1, 38–39.

123. Ibid.

124. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 251.

125. Maj Gen J. H. Doolittle to Gen Carl A. Spaatz, letter, 10 August 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Box 18, LOC.

126. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 1 November 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.

127. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–30 November 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 

520.01 V.1, 74.

128. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 516.

129. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 631–32.

130. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 515.

131. In Clausewitz’s paradigm of perspectives on war, the level of strategy roughly parallels 

the late twentieth/early twenty-first century’s operational level of war. Clausewitz, On War, 213.

132. Donald Caldwell and Richard Muller, The Luftwaffe over Germany: Defense of the 

Reich (St. Paul, MN: Greenhill Books, 2007), 186–89.

59

Chapter 4 

Tactical and Technical Innovation

Clausewitz famously observed that although the essence of war is immutable, its character is constantly changing.1

 Furthermore, Sun Tzu stated, “of 

the five elements, none is always predominant.”2

 In other words, in war “the 

only constant is constant change.”3

 Innovation enables a commander to adapt 

to these changes and, thus, is an appropriate indicator of command performance. This chapter begins with an appraisal of Doolittle’s influence on tactical and technical innovation, explores his efforts to revise tactics in response 

to the problem of aircraft attrition, assesses his role in technical innovation by 

responding to aircraft mechanical problems, and closes by analyzing his ability to blend tactical and technical innovation in an attempt to mitigate the 

effects of poor weather on bombing operations.

Tactical Innovation

Doolittle’s decision to change the tactics of fighter escorts is widely addressed in the literature. In his autobiography, he describes a scene in which 

he directed Maj Gen William Kepner to alter the primary mission of VIII 

Fighter Command from protecting bombers to destroying German fighters. 

Hanging in Kepner’s office was a sign that read: “THE FIRST DUTY OF THE 

EIGHTH AIR FORCE FIGHTERS IS TO BRING THE BOMBERS BACK 

ALIVE.” Doolittle ordered Kepner to “take down that damned sign” and replace it with one that stated: “THE FIRST DUTY OF THE EIGHTH AIR 

FORCE FIGHTERS IS TO DESTROY GERMAN FIGHTERS.”4

 Although 

varying accounts exist of the dramatic story, all agree that Doolittle ordered 

Kepner to remove the sign.5

Doolittle was just one of many who believed in using fighters offensively. 

Kepner, likewise, considered fighters offensive weapons that should pursue 

and destroy enemy aircraft. Although he did not agree with Ira Eaker’s policy, 

the limited quantity and range of available fighters in the fall of 1943 gave him 

little choice; he conceded that the escorts had to “stick close to the bombers.” 

Doolittle’s superior, Gen Carl Spaatz, also believed in an offensive approach. 

His operational directive of 11 January 1944 ordered the Eighth Air Force to 

attack German fighters “in the air and on the ground.” Accordingly, historian 

Richard Davis attributes equal credit to Spaatz and Doolittle for deciding to use 

fighters more offensively. Moreover, Spaatz’s directive echoed the sentiment of 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

60

his superior, Gen Hap Arnold. On 3 November 1943, Arnold sent a memorandum to Gen George Marshall recommending that Allied air forces “seek 

out and destroy the German Air Force in the air and on the ground without 

delay. The defensive concept of our fighter commands and air defense units 

must be changed to the offensive.”6

 Arnold’s Christmas Day message of 1943 

reiterated this view. The order “to destroy the enemy air force wherever you 

find them” left little to Doolittle’s imagination as to what was expected.7

 

Doolittle also possessed a crucial resource that his predecessor had lacked. 

November 1943 marked the arrival of the P-38 long-range fighter, and the 

following month brought the highly anticipated P-51 Mustang long-range 

fighter-bomber. By March 1944 both aircraft carried wing tanks, extending 

their respective ranges to 585 and 850 miles. As commander of VIII Fighter 

Command, Kepner observed that the latter’s remarkable range and performance made it “the only satisfactory answer” to German air defenses.8

 Moreover, by February of 1944, the more numerous P-47 Thunderbolt fighters also 

benefited from new external fuel tanks, which increased their range from 375 

miles to a respectable 475 miles.9

 The extended ranges not only allowed these 

aircraft to accompany bombers over greater distances but also allowed more 

flexibility in their employment.

So how instrumental was Doolittle in the shift in tactics? Did he play “the 

decisive” role or did he merely execute the orders of his superiors?

When Doolittle assumed command, the Eighth Air Force faced a serious 

problem of attrition. Between July and November 1943, it lost 64 percent of its 

aircrews. This trend continued into 1944. In January, only 26 percent of 

bomber crew members finished the 25 missions required to return to the 

United States. Fifty-seven percent ended up dead or missing, and the remaining 17 percent transferred for administrative purposes, succumbed to combat 

fatigue, or died outside of combat.10 These heavy losses seriously degraded the 

Mighty Eighth’s operational effectiveness. The unit had not attempted a deeppenetration mission into Germany in clear weather since the bloody 14 October 1943 raid on Schweinfurt.11 In the official account of the Army Air Forces’ 

history, Arthur Ferguson remarked, “the Eighth Air Force had for the time 

being lost air superiority over Germany.”12

Doolittle’s first large-scale mission illustrated the difficulty of bombing the 

German industrial base. On 11 January 1944, 663 aircraft from 12 combat 

wings attacked aircraft factories in Oschersleben, Halberstadt, and Brunswick, Germany.13 The mission did not go well. Deteriorating weather conditions hampered the flight rendezvous, and Doolittle ordered a partial recall of 

the 3rd Bombardment Group. Amid the confusion, only a third of the dispatched bombers struck their primary targets.14 Moreover, the bomber crews 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

61

faced more than 275 enemy interceptor aircraft, and their fighter escort “was 

not exceptionally good.” The mission lost 60 heavy bombers, equal in number 

to the 14 October mission over Schweinfurt.15 To make matters worse, the 

Eighth mismanaged the press release of the mission, making it appear it was 

trying to hide a disaster.16 Doolittle’s command of the Eighth Air Force was 

not off to an auspicious start.

Following the 11 January mission, Doolittle’s primary concern became degrading the effectiveness of German fighters. In a letter of 14 January to Arnold, he said, “this is the most critical period in the battle for air supremacy 

over Europe.”17 Similarly, in a letter of 19 January to Spaatz, Doolittle concluded, “A study of the missions which have been conducted by this Air Force 

recently reveals that enemy fighters have caused the majority of the losses 

incurred by our bombardment units.”18 Indeed, in the early months of 1944, 

the Luftwaffe was devastating the Eighth’s bomber formations. The 11 January 

mission debrief reported that German single-engine fighters were equipped 

with belly fuel tanks which enabled them to attack for extended periods of 

time.19 Furthermore, twin-engine Ju-88 multirole aircraft and Me-110 heavy 

fighters attacked bombers with rockets, while remaining clear of the 50-caliber 

defensive fire. The German fighter tactics were shrewd. The deadly rocket attacks shredded concentrated bomber formations. However, if bombers loosened their formation in response to the rockets, they became more vulnerable 

to attack from the single-engine fighters.20 Doolittle believed the solution to 

this problem was to take the fight to the enemy. The fighters had to be cut 

loose.

Available evidence demonstrates that Doolittle had a direct influence on 

changing fighter tactics in the Eighth Air Force. In his memoirs, he claimed 

responsibility for changing the fighter tactics, which he considered “the most 

important and far-reaching military decision I made during the war.”21 Minutes from a 21 January commanders meeting show that Doolittle “emphasized that the fighter role of protecting the bombardment formation should 

not be minimized, but our fighter aircraft should be encouraged to meet the 

enemy and destroy him rather than be content to keep him away.”22 Moreover, 

in a postwar interview, Gen Pat Partridge confirmed that the offensive fighter 

posture was Doolittle’s idea.23

The decision to “let the fighters loose” marked an innovation in fighter 

tactics. The prevailing AAF doctrine discouraged escort fighters from pursuing enemy aircraft. AAF Field Manual 1-15, Tactics and Technique of Air 

Fighting, dated 10 April 1942, stated the mission of close escorts “precludes 

their seeking to impose combat on other forces except as necessary to carry 

out their defensive role.” The Eighth Air Force under Eaker’s command had 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

62

closely followed this guidance. To conserve his bomber force, Eaker prohibited his fighters from pursuing the Luftwaffe.24 Discussion held during an 

Eighth Air Force commanders meeting in September 1943 illustrates this 

bomber-centric philosophy. The commanders agreed that the fighters’ priority was escorting the bombers, not destroying German fighters.25 The defensive policy frustrated fighter pilots. It ceded the initiative to German fighter 

pilots and wasted the escorts’ offensive potential.26 For example, on 3 November 1943, P-38s achieved their first aerial victories in the European theater 

with no losses. However, the number of kills was limited to three because 

strict rules of engagement prevented the fighters from pursing enemy aircraft.27 Doolittle’s pursuit policy changed the Eighth’s fighter philosophy and 

“stood official doctrine on its head.”28 Fighter escorts were transformed from 

passive defenders to aggressive attackers.

The offensive tactics also optimized the use of fighter escorts. Fighters performing close escort had previously rendezvoused with bomber formations 

and followed them to the target or to the limits of their range. Because fighters 

cruised at a higher speed than bombers, the “little friends” weaved to stay in 

position. These maneuvers wasted fuel and reduced the fighter’s escort range. 

Shortly after Doolittle arrived, the Eighth implemented a relay escort system. 

Under the new policy, a fighter group rendezvoused with bomber formations 

and escorted them for 150–200 miles until they transferred escort responsibilities to another group. The new tactic optimized the use of the three different types of fighters in the Eighth Air Force: P-47s escorted the formations 

during the shallow-penetration portions of the mission, P-38s during the 

medium-penetration, and the P-51s assumed escort duties for the deepest 

portion of the route.29

The new tactic also enabled a new role for fighter aircraft—strafing ground 

targets. Returning fighters, free from their escort duties, began to drop to low 

altitude in search of targets of opportunity. Doolittle expressed interest in the 

practice, and on 8 February, he accepted a report from Kepner on low-altitude 

fighter operations.30 He incentivized the tactic by awarding aerial victories for 

aircraft destroyed on the ground.31 On 2 March, he inquired about the feasibility of conducting fighter sweeps under low cloud ceilings.32 These conditions, common in Europe, often prohibited large-scale bombing operations. 

Accordingly, in April, Doolittle ordered fighter sweeps when weather precluded bomber attacks. These missions proved successful, and the number of 

enemy aircraft destroyed on the ground increased from one in January to 40 

in February, 113 in March, and 712 in the first two weeks of April.33

Doolittle also intervened in Eighth Air Force bomber tactics. He issued 

guidance to Bomber Training Command to teach his incoming pilots to fly 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

63

tighter formations, noting that these pilots “would loosen them up if found 

necessary.”34 His rationale is evident in a 19 January letter to Spaatz. Using 

mathematical reasoning, Doolittle explained how a loose bomber formation 

exponentially increased the area fighters had to defend, which in turn reduced 

the effectiveness of the escort. He also emphasized the importance of formation integrity, tighter spacing between formations, and a reduced speed to 

allow slow aircraft to maintain position.35 He reemphasized the final point in 

a 22 March 1944 commanders meeting in which he proposed a slower egress 

of combat formations from the target area to protect stragglers.36 His concerns were reasonable. Over half the Luftwaffe’s heavy-bomber kills were 

against aircraft that fell out of formation.37

Doolittle’s involvement in fighter and bomber tactics enhanced Eighth Air 

Force operations. By the end of January, his fighter pilots had abandoned 

close escort in favor of “ultimate pursuit” of the enemy, and bombers were 

flying tighter formations.38 A report comparing tactics of the Eighth to its 

sister unit, the Fifteenth Air Force, documented the tactical differences. The 

evaluation claimed combat conditions for the Fifteenth were “very similar to 

those existing within the Eighth Air Force.” The document indicates, however, 

that Eighth Air Force bomber pilots flew tighter formations. The Fifteenth’s 

extended formations made “the work of the escort infinitely more difficult 

and that of the enemy interceptors far simpler.” The analyst also noted that 

fighter pilots in the Eighth Air Force had “adopted a more aggressive policy.”39

Doolittle’s implementation of aggressive tactics was not, however, without 

risk. The bomber community believed that the change would increase their 

attrition rate by unnecessarily exposing bombers to enemy fighters. This is 

why he considered this decision his “most controversial.”40 He acknowledged 

that the Eighth might encounter a temporary increase in losses. On 2 March, 

Doolittle cautioned his commanders that the neutralization of enemy fighters 

would “not necessarily show immediately and the crews should be so advised.”41 Indeed, in early 1944 bomber forces sustained heavy losses. In February, the Eighth lost 299 heavy bombers—one-fifth of its forces. Maj Gen Curtis 

LeMay complained that such losses reduced his division’s efficiency.42 The arrival of spring did not bring appreciable improvement. A 27 April raid on 

Berlin lost 63 bombers, nearly as many as the 69 lost on the strike of 6 March. 

Moreover, bomber attrition due to enemy fighters climbed from 178 in March 

to 314 in April.43

Bomber crews, however, were not the only ones who suffered losses due to 

the aggressive tactics; strafing the enemy countryside was also dangerous 

business. Antiaircraft artillery was especially effective against low-flying aircraft, and Germans placed disused aircraft in the open to lure unsuspecting 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

64

pilots into deadly crossfire.44 The tactics worked. Fighter pilots suffered a casualty rate five times higher while strafing targets on the ground than battling 

Luftwaffe fighters in the air.45

Despite the losses, the Eighth Air Force’s aggressive tactics wrested the initiative of aerial combat from the Luftwaffe. Before February 1944, German 

fighters usually waited for fighter escorts to leave before commencing an attack. 

The Eighth’s escort relay system rendered this tactic ineffective. Moreover, twinengine Ju-88s and Me-110s proved no match for the nimble, aggressive US 

fighters.46 By the end of March, the large fighters and their feared rocket attacks seldom impeded the Eighth’s daylight strikes. The Luftwaffe began to 

deteriorate rapidly. Between March and April, the German air force replaced 

virtually all its fighter aircraft and suffered a 40 percent turnover in pilots.47

Meanwhile, the Eighth’s losses declined by 100 bombers in May, and the trend 

continued for the remainder of the war. One can partially attribute these results to the aggressive escorts that hunted down small formations of German 

fighters.48 Maj Gen Adolph Galland, commander of the German fighter force, 

commented in his memoirs that US fighters “were no longer glued to the 

slow-moving bomber formation, but took action into their own hands. Wherever our fighters appeared, the Americans hurled themselves at them. They 

went over to low-level attacks on our airfields. Nowhere were we safe from 

them, and we had to skulk on our own bases. During takeoff, assembling, 

climb and approach to the bombers, when we were in contact with them, on 

our way back, during landing, and even after that the American fighters attack 

with overwhelming superiority.”49

A number of conditions contributed to the defeat of the Luftwaffe in the 

spring of 1944. As noted in the previous chapter, the industrial strength of the 

United States had risen to a point in 1944 that the Eighth Air Force was provided the resources necessary to implement Doolittle’s tactic. He also possessed long-range fighters of sufficient quantity and quality to challenge the 

Luftwaffe over German skies. As Richard Davis rightly observed, “Spaatz, 

Doolittle, and Kepner had the ‘escort strength’ their predecessors lacked, and 

could thus place their fighters in loose escort.”50 Also unlike his predecessor, 

Doolittle possessed adequate numbers of heavy bombers to sustain a strategicbombing campaign against the German heartland. Moreover, he enjoyed the 

support of both superiors and subordinates who shared his offensive mentality. 

These factors, however, should not detract from Doolittle’s pivotal role in 

changing the tactical operations of the Eighth Air Force. He perceived the 

problem posed by German fighters and implemented innovative tactical solutions. His direct involvement in fighter and bomber tactics countered the 

standing Eighth Air Force policy and official doctrine. Even when faced with 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

65

increasing losses, Doolittle remained firm in his decision. His aggressive spirit 

inspired tactical innovation and contributed to the eventual collapse of the 

Luftwaffe.

Technical Innovation

Doolittle also worked to overcome significant technical deficiencies of several aircraft within his command. Examining his role in technical innovation 

provides an opportunity to assess the value of a commanding general who is 

also a trained aeronautical engineer.

Soon after assuming command, Doolittle developed an organic capability 

to test and implement technical ideas within the Eighth Air Force. The official 

history states that he “recognized the urgent need for a special staff section to 

consolidate technical requirements, assist the inspector or A-4 sections in 

trouble-shooting and the solution of minor problems, and to act generally as 

the intermediate link between the combat units and the established engineering activities of the Material and Service Commands.”51 To achieve this end, 

Doolittle activated the Operational Engineering Section (OES) on 21 February. 

The mission of the new section was to “collect, coordinate, test and evaluate 

desires of combat units and of this Headquarters in the development, use and 

adaptation of their equipment.”52 Accordingly, the section coordinated all plans 

for aircraft modifications.53 Doolittle expected that his OES would increase the 

performance of aircraft and provide recommendations for improvement.54

One of the first OES tasks was to identify the source of P-38 engine problems. In the Pacific theater, the twin-engine fighter had earned the respect of 

fighter pilots—friendly and enemy alike. In England, however, the Lightning 

had severe engine problems. During one period, the P-38J variant experienced a nearly 50-percent mechanical failure rate.55 Moreover, half the P-38 

combat losses were attributed to engine problems.56 This deficiency of the 

P-38 cost the Eighth dearly on its second mission to Berlin. During the raid, 

the 55th Fighter Group, flying P-38s, was forced to return early due to an excessive number of engine failures.57 German fighters exploited the resulting 

escort gap by downing 20 bombers from the 3rd Bombardment Division in 

less than 30 minutes.58

It was thus no surprise when Doolittle selected Col Benjamin S. Kelsey, a 

fellow MIT graduate and experienced test pilot, to lead the newly formed 

OES.59 The general had known Kelsey since the 1920s—he had been Doolittle’s safety observer on the first official blind flight. In the 1930s, Kelsey served 

at Wright Field as chief of the Fighter Project Branch.60 He flew the first P-38 

test flight and remained directly involved in the aircraft’s testing.61
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

66

A week after its initiation, the OES provided Doolittle several insights into 

the P-38 problems. A report titled “P-38 Engine Failures” noted that the 76 

recent engine failures had occurred exclusively in the P-38J. The previous 

model, the P-38H, suffered no such failures; therefore, the likely cause was an 

engine modification that accompanied the J-model upgrade. The report further speculated that the engine troubles were likely due to a deficiency in the 

carburetor which produced an “abnormally low fuel mixing temperature” in 

the colder European climate. This resulted in an overly lean fuel mixture, 

which, in turn, caused a connecting rod in the engine to fail, resulting in engine 

fires. The report offered several recommendations to mitigate the problem, including modifying the engine’s power settings and sealing an intercooler grill. 

These modifications were thought to ameliorate the P-38s engine problems, 

“but not sufficiently to call it a final ‘fix.’ ” The report surmised that higher-octane 

fuel could also reduce engine difficulties until a permanent design solution was 

implemented.62

Doolittle made quick use of his staff ’s findings. The day after he received 

the report, he dispatched a letter to USSTAF with the subject line “Special 

Fuel for P-38J’s.” He explained the OES’s discoveries and recommended acquiring high-octane fuel for P-38 operations.63 In a commanders meeting the 

following day, Doolittle announced that arrangements had been made to secure two million gallons of special fuel for the ailing P-38s.64 On 6 March, the 

engine manufacturer—the Allison Division of General Motors Corporation—acknowledged the problem and announced measures it was taking to 

rectify the malfunctions.65

However, as D-day approached, P-38 engine problems continued to degrade Eighth Air Force operations. On 23 March, Doolittle increased the 

number of P-38s per group from 75 to 90 to reduce the impact of the engine 

troubles.66 He also experienced the engine problem personally. On 30 March, 

his plane had an engine fire shortly after takeoff, and he had to make an emergency landing.67 In his logbook, he recorded a 10-minute flight in a P-38 with 

the remark “threw con-rod in port engine.”68 The same day the OSE submitted 

a report updating him on efforts to improve the P-38’s carburetor.69 Because 

of Doolittle’s reservations about P-38 reliability, on 6 April he prohibited the 

airplane from escorting valuable F-5 reconnaissance aircraft, which were 

themselves a variant of the P-38.70 At the same meeting, Partridge announced 

that B-17s were being used for weather reconnaissance, suggesting continued 

maintenance problems with the P-38s.71

 Doolittle ultimately chose to circumvent the P-38’s deficiencies by replacing it with the P-51. By the end of June, three months of testing had failed to 

resolve the engine troubles. On 27 June, Allison Engines dispatched a letter to 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

67

Kelsey proposing a detailed test plan to investigate the engine failures.72 On 14 

July 1944, Doolittle composed a scathing letter to Arnold stating that the deficiencies of the P-38 had created a “general lack of confidence in the airplane.” Among his many recommendations was the insistence on a complete 

redesign of the carburetor.73 Doolittle’s condemnation of the P-38 coincided 

with the transition of three of the four VIII Fighter Command’s P-38 groups 

to P-51s.74 The 479th Fighter Group continued to fly P-38s until its final 

squadron converted to P-51s in October 1944.75

The P-38 was not the only aircraft to dissatisfy Doolittle. The B-24 was also 

plagued by poor performance. By the beginning of 1944, the B-24 had undergone several modifications to enhance its survivability. These changes included 

increased defensive firepower, armor plating, bulletproof glass, and larger, selfsealing fuel tanks. The added capability came, however, with a corresponding 

increase in weight; the aircraft now exceeded its design weight by 6,000 

pounds.76 The added bulk created stability problems that caused combatloaded B-24s to “wallow” at high altitude. Thus, B-24s flew 2,000 to 4,000 feet 

lower than the B-17s, which made them more vulnerable to enemy fighters.77

In a comparison of the B-24 and the B-17 conducted in April 1944, the Statistical Control Division concluded that the B-24 was “approximately 79% more 

vulnerable.”78 This realization was not lost on the aircrews. Because enemy 

fighters tended to focus on B-24s, B-17 crews somewhat trenchantly jested 

that they preferred an escort of Liberators to “little friends.”79

 Doolittle took quick action to correct the B-24’s technical deficiencies. In 

January he directed the removal of the ball turrets from 26 B-24D aircraft. 

This modification improved stability by shifting the plane’s center of gravity 

back to its design location. The reduced weight also increased its high-altitude 

fuel efficiency, speed, and handling.80 To improve performance further, Doolittle ordered the removal of the waist-gunner station and moved minor 

equipment to the forward portion of the aircraft.81 In January he increased the 

Eighth’s capacity to modify aircraft by realigning its three base air depots to 

allow each to specialize in a limited number of airframes. This enabled the 

depots to develop “production line” techniques that improved efficiency. The 

number of bombers modified more than doubled from 350 in February to 

840 in March.82

Doolittle also sought help from Washington to remedy the B-24 problems. 

On 14 February he sent a letter through Spaatz to Arnold, addressing “B-24 

Modification and Design.” He described the problem by saying, “Efforts to 

increase the ability of the B-24 to protect itself against enemy fighters through 

an increase in its defensive fire power have seriously reduced the performance 

of this aircraft.” He noted that the performance problems degraded operations 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

68

by precluding mixed formations of B-24s and B-17s. He also noted that the 

defects undermined the confidence of his crews. Doolittle submitted specific 

design changes that would, in his opinion, “assure [the B-24’s] continued usefulness.”83 Spaatz generally agreed with his subordinate’s recommendations. 

However, the USSTAF commander did not want upgrades to interfere with 

the supply of new airplanes. Spaatz remarked, “Although I am in general concurrence with Doolittle’s comments, I must say that I cannot sponsor any extensive modifications or redesign program in the B-24 airplane which would 

prejudice the now scheduled deliveries to this theater.” Nevertheless, Spaatz 

agreed that the “modifications should be put into a long-range program . . . to 

improve this airplane.”84 Several weeks passed with no response from Washington. Meanwhile, from 20 to 25 February, Doolittle dispatched B-24s on 

missions to Germany in support of Big Week, and in early March, the Liberators flew three strikes against Berlin. The B-24s continued to suffer higher losses 

than the B-17s. For example, on the 24 February raids on Schweinfurt and 

Gotha, he lost 33 out of 239 B-24s but only 11 out of 238 B-17s.85

By March Doolittle realized that Washington would not rectify the B-24 

inadequacies. He hoped that his maintenance depot, with direction from his 

OES, would be able to mitigate the problems, but he lacked an engineer with 

sufficient B-24 experience to oversee the endeavor. He therefore drafted a letter to Arnold with the subject: “Assignment of Officer for B-24 Modifications.” 

His impatience was palpable. Doolittle argued that B-24s would soon comprise half his heavy bomber force and that “the effectiveness of the B-24 unit 

is . . . not satisfactory.”86 With the impending invasion of Europe just over the 

horizon, he pleaded for a plan that would increase the effectiveness of his 

B-24 force by June. This urgency mandated that aircraft modifications occur 

at the theater maintenance depot. Referring to his modification program, he 

noted that he had “taken action to initiate certain changes to improve its performance,” and requested a B-24 test pilot to oversee technical modifications 

made in the field.87

Recognizing his own impassioned state, Doolittle sought the advice of his 

superior. He sent Spaatz a draft of his letter with a handwritten memo stating, 

“while this letter contains only a statement of certain unfortunate facts it is felt 

that it may antagonize Gen Arnold and defeat it’s [sic] purpose. May I have 

your reactions before transmittal?”88 Spaatz agreed that field modifications 

could perhaps mitigate B-24 problems without impeding production flow. He 

elected not to forward Doolittle’s abrasive letter to Arnold, but instead dispatched a more temperate request for a qualified B-24 specialist to oversee 

field modifications. He summarized his request by stating, “we feel that under 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

69

proper engineering guidance many corrective changes can be made at the stations and in the Base Depots.”89

Meanwhile, Doolittle’s 14 February letter detailing the ineffectiveness of 

the B-24 had caught the Air Staff ’s attention. In a 13 March correspondence, 

which passed Spaatz’s letter in transit, Arnold remarked that the recommendations concerning the B-24 were “most welcome and appreciated.” Arnold 

agreed to implement efforts that incorporated Doolittle’s recommendations 

into the production of new aircraft. He advised, however, that he was balancing the “best practicable compromise” between the demands of current operations, future requirements, and production capability.90 This implied that 

B-24 modifications would not arrive in time for D-day. In addition to Arnold’s response was a letter from Maj Gen H. A. Craig, assistant chief of staff 

for operations, commitments, and requirements. Craig reassured Doolittle 

that the Air Staff was “aware of the deficiencies in the B-24 and that we are 

doing everything in our power to improve the airplane through modification 

and redesign.”91 Problems with the B-24 led Arnold to direct Craig to conduct 

a comparative analysis of the AAF’s heavy bombers. Craig concluded in May 

that statistics “overwhelmingly favor the B-17 over the B-24.” Consequently, 

he recommended an increase in production of the former and a curbing of 

the latter.92

Doolittle’s design recommendations were ultimately realized in the production of the B-24L and M models. The L variant, designed in response to 

the AAF’s demand to reduce weight, replaced the heavy Sperry ball turret 

with a ring mount consisting of two .50 caliber machine guns. Other modifications removed the A-6B tail turret in favor of a twin .50 caliber mount. The 

B-24M incorporated further weight savings with a new version of the tailturret and open waist-gunner positions. Cockpit visibility was also improved 

with a new windshield design. Consolidated Aircraft built 1,667 B-24Ls and 

2,593 B-24Ms during the course of the war. A B-24N variant incorporating a 

single tail to improve stability was under contract when the war ended in 

1945. Sadly, the B-24L and M models arrived in the field too late to have a 

significant effect on the outcome of the war.93

To compensate for the delay, Doolittle made several organizational changes 

to offset the B-24’s deficiencies. In summer 1944, he reassigned B-24s to all 

special operations units. Henceforth, B-24s conducted all radio countermeasure, night leaflet drops, and Carpetbagger missions. This policy allocated a greater number of B-17s to bombing operations. In addition, B-24 

groups in the 3rd Division transitioned to B-17s, further reducing the impact 

of the less effective B-24.94
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70

Despite his inability to fully rectify problems with the B-24 and the P-38, 

Doolittle remained committed to the OES concept. In June he recommended 

to Spaatz that it become a standard component of each air force headquarters. 

Arnold, however, rebuffed the plan because he did not approve of a large engineering and modification center within the field commands. He believed 

that such organizations duplicated the functions performed by Materiel Command and USSAF.95 In a 12 July letter to Spaatz, Doolittle attempted to assuage Arnold’s concerns by emphasizing the section’s operational utility. He 

contended that the true purpose of the section was to gather technical suggestions from combat crews and forward them to higher command. Doolittle 

justified the existence of his OES by claiming “experience to date has proven 

that this section has been most useful to this Air Force and to the USAAF and 

makes possible the most effective and timely use of our equipment.” He 

pushed his point further by requesting an additional 21 officers and 83 enlisted personnel to support the expansion of the section.96 Spaatz again supported his innovative subordinate. He forwarded Doolittle’s appeal to Arnold 

on 1 August with the assessment that “I see no tendency toward creating a 

‘little Wright Field’ out of this section.”97 Doolittle thus kept his engineering 

section, but it did not become the AAF standard.

The events surrounding the modification of P-38s and B-24s suggest that a 

commanding general with engineering expertise can positively influence 

technical innovation. Doolittle was intimately involved in Eighth Air Force 

efforts to innovate technically. His engineering skills allowed him to identify 

technical problems and provide practical solutions. Spaatz’s correspondence 

during World War II reveals that recommendations for aircraft modifications 

originated almost exclusively from the Eighth Air Force; similar proposals did 

not emerge from the Mediterranean theater. This is perhaps because Eaker 

was a lawyer, not an engineer. Doolittle’s ability to identify technical problems 

suggests that engineering expertise at the higher echelons of command can 

foster technical innovation. Not surprisingly, the Eighth Air Force’s narrative 

history noted that “studies that have been made of the modification of aircraft 

in the European Theater have indicated that the practice grew out of operational necessity rather than in accordance with carefully prepared plans.”98

Nevertheless, Doolittle’s attempts to foster technical innovation also reflect 

an element of naïveté. Arnold’s lack of enthusiasm for Doolittle’s OES indicates the latter’s failure to appreciate the problems of large-scale production 

and design. The massive size of the Eighth Air Force prevented Doolittle from 

achieving his full vision of technical innovation. His technical recommendations, insightful as they were, had little strategic effect on the war in Europe. 

His design recommendations did not materialize in time to be of significant 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

71

use for the Eighth Air Force. Spaatz, the more experienced general, saw what 

Doolittle was unable to grasp. He supported his subordinate’s efforts but did 

not allow Doolittle’s technical enthusiasm to restrict the flow of materiel that 

maintained the Eighth’s operational capability.

Blended Innovation

Marginal weather conditions were a crucial problem for the Eighth Air 

Force in World War II. Doolittle’s predecessor, Ira Eaker, created the 482nd 

Bomb Group in an attempt to mitigate the effects of poor weather on operations.99 The unit flew heavy bombers equipped with a new ground-mapping 

radar called H2X, or “Mickey.” The system was derived from the British H2S 

radar, which had proven useful for identifying targets at night. “Pathfinders” 

from the 482nd led formations by using their radar to locate targets obscured 

by clouds. The poor European weather forced Eaker to use the pathfinder 

force extensively; 482nd aircrews led 17 of 20 missions in the final two months 

of 1943.100

At the beginning of 1944, however, attempts to conduct bombing operations through clouds showed little promise.101 The Eighth Air Force had only 

12 B-17s equipped with H2X.102 Furthermore, radar missions conducted during the last two months of 1943 were not successful. A photographic study 

concluded that less than 4 percent of the formations dropped bombs within 

one mile of their designated target. The official Air Force history rightly noted 

that “any increase in accuracy, it was evident, would depend on the acquisition of more and better equipment manned by more and still better-trained 

men than had hitherto been available.”103 In other words, improvement of 

blind-bombing operations required a blend of technical and tactical innovation. Thus, it is appropriate to ask, did Doolittle improve the capacity of the 

Eighth Air Force to operate in marginal weather?

Soon after he assumed command, Doolittle implemented measures to improve radar bombing training and tactics. On 14 January, he arranged an exchange with the RAF of 12 B-17s for 12 de Havilland Mark XXX Mosquitoes. 

Each British airplane was equipped with H2X and a 16-mm video camera to 

record the radar display.104 During his first meeting with subordinate commanders, Doolittle explained that the Mosquitoes would “obtain target material 

for H2X operations, permitting better understanding of the target possibilities 

and permitting the operating crews to study the prospective target just as they 

will see it.”105 In the following meeting, he supported a recommendation to 

discontinue the tactic of bombing based on a previous formation’s pathfinder. 

Instead, he ordered that each formation be equipped with at least two H2X 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

72

pathfinders and insisted that the size of the formations would increase as necessary to accommodate the limited number of H2X aircraft. Doolittle directed 

Brig Gen Orvil Anderson to lead a meeting on dispersing H2X aircraft from 

Curtis LeMay’s 482nd Group in the 3rd Division.106

Meanwhile, Spaatz lobbied for resources to support his subordinate’s emphasis on radar bombing. In a 14 January letter to Arnold, Spaatz declared 

that the H2X system “offers enormous possibilities for further intensification 

of the bombing offensive against Germany.” Spaatz supported his claim by 

reporting that H2X permitted the Eighth Air Force to operate in weather conditions that would have previously precluded missions. He drove his argument home by closing his letter with, “The most critical need of the Strategic 

Air Forces is for more Pathfinder aircraft. A few H2X airplanes now will profit 

our cause more than several hundred in six months” (emphasis in original).107

Doolittle also used tactical innovation to cope with the European weather 

conditions. The operational environment of early 1944 had validated his emphasis on radar bombing. Between 1 January and 15 February, only six of the 

Eighth Air Force’s 21 missions were conducted under visual conditions.108

Doolittle, however, hoped to increase opportunities for visual bombing. On 2 

March, he asked his commanders for ideas regarding “scouting out targets 

while in Germany.” The inquiry led to a new policy that encouraged bomber 

formations to strike alternate targets visually if clouds obscured the primary 

objective. In the following meeting, Brig Gen Robert Williams outlined the 

concept of passing weather information from scouting fighters to bombers.109

Kepner approved of the idea and agreed to develop the concept further.110

Doolittle eventually made it a standard operating procedure for a formation 

of fighters to assess weather conditions prior to launching a mission. He assigned former bomber pilots, who understood the weather requirements for 

large-strike formations, to fly these missions.111 He emphasized the sharing of 

weather information throughout the year.112

As D-day approached, Doolittle appealed for more resources to improve 

his command’s ability to bomb through clouds. In March he sent a report to 

Spaatz titled, “Utilization of Improved B.T.O [bombing through overcast] 

Equipment by Eighth Air Force.”113 The document highlighted the continued 

importance of radar bombing, even in the coming summer months. Doolittle 

contended, however, that a shortage of H2X aircraft, inadequate training, and 

the inherent inaccuracy of radar bombing limited the tactic’s effectiveness. He 

therefore requested an additional 54 radar-equipped heavy bombers, an H2X 

ground-training system to facilitate the preparation of navigators, and “improved radar bombing equipment” to improve radar accuracy.114 Spaatz concurred with Doolittle’s requests and forwarded them to Arnold with a strong 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

73

endorsement.115 Doolittle also sought assistance from the British, and in 

March, he expanded the H2X training program by arranging the delivery of 

102 more Mosquito aircraft.116

Doolittle also pushed his subordinates to improve radar-bombing capability. He opened an April commanders meeting by stating, “We must increase 

our effectiveness in the use of [H2X].”117 The ensuing staff coordination reflects his interest in H2X operations. First, Doolittle tasked his deputy to “find 

out how many additional navs [navigators] we need to put two (Mickey and 

DR [dead reckoning]) in each pathfinder.” He also ensured that his subordinates were familiar with H2X operations. He told Partridge, “I want every 

Div, Wing, and Group C.O. to go up on a H2X practice flight and see what the 

instrument shows. . . . Then I want Div, Wing, and Group Ops, Execs, and finally all leaders. (I feel that there is insufficient ‘first hand’ info—all the way 

down the command on the possibilities and limitations of H2X).”118 Doolittle’s attention to radar bombing was clearly heeded. As a result of his prodding, in April “a good deal of emphasis was placed upon furthering the H2X 

training program.”119

The Eighth’s focus on H2X operations proved important during the bombing campaign leading up to D-day. Railroad marshaling yards, which proved 

easy to identify on radar, became frequent targets for the Eighth. Doolittle 

anticipated the possibility of having to drop bombs through the weather on 

the day of the invasion. He prepared for this contingency by sending his forces 

to bomb coastal targets in the weeks leading up to D-day.120 His instinct was 

accurate. On 6 June, 1,083 Eighth Air Force bombers dropped 2,944 tons of 

bombs through a solid cloud layer against targets on the beaches of Normandy. Although the accuracy of the H2X was sufficient to avoid fratricide, 

the delayed release points beyond the coastline—ultimately sanctioned by 

Eisenhower—seriously degraded the effectiveness of these missions.121

In some respects, Doolittle’s efforts to overcome the limitations of European weather can be considered a disappointment. Blind bombing never 

achieved the accuracy of visual bombardment. Over half of the blind-bombing 

missions were assessed as “near failures or worse.”122 Further studies concluded 

that the circular error of probability of H2X bombings exceeded two miles. Although the Eighth and Fifteenth Air Forces used identical H2X equipment, 

the latter’s accuracy was twice the former’s. Official Air Force historians speculated this disparity was due to a more comprehensive training program of 

pathfinder crews in the Fifteenth Air Force.123 While a comparative analysis of 

the two air forces is beyond the scope of this study, this evidence suggests that, 

despite Doolittle’s efforts, the Eighth did not fully exploit the technical effectiveness of H2X. Furthermore, Doolittle’s demand for improved radar systems 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

74

was not realized in time to enhance bombing accuracy in the European theater. The necessary technical innovation simply took too much time to develop.

Nevertheless, Doolittle’s emphasis was well placed. H2X was a critical factor in the Combined Bomber Offensive. Although strikes guided by radar 

were less precise than visual bombing, the technology provided more opportunities for attack.124 By the end of 1944, Doolittle’s and Spaatz’s requests for 

more H2X systems were fulfilled, and 78 percent of the Eighth’s bomb groups 

were equipped with two H2X crews. This capability proved crucial during the 

winter of 1944–45. During the last quarter of 1944, 80 percent of Eighth Air 

Force missions used a blind-bombing technique.125 In the first two weeks of 

February 1945, 80 percent of missions also used radar bombing. Despite the 

relative inaccuracy of radar bombing, by the end of the month Germany 

ceased to be an industrial nation.126 Richard Davis argued that H2X’s “contribution to the weight of the U.S. bombing effort in 1944–1945 was second only 

to the success of the U.S. long-range fighter escorts in preserving the bombers 

themselves.”127 In other words, analysts may consider Doolittle’s efforts to 

spur innovation a tactical failure, but those efforts ultimately contributed noticeably to strategic success.

Conclusions

Assessing Doolittle’s ability to innovate in the Eighth Air Force provides 

several insights into his performance as a commander. First, his propensity 

for offensive action and his strong moral courage helped spur a tactical innovation. Solid documentary evidence supports the widespread notion that 

he “let the fighters loose” to pursue the Luftwaffe aggressively. Although Doolittle was not the only individual with these beliefs, one cannot discount his 

pivotal role in this innovative tactic. His involvement in bomber tactics also 

enhanced the discipline and execution of the Eighth’s striking formations. The 

first move countered official air doctrine and many opinions in his command. 

Mounting losses in February and March of 1944 cast further doubt on the 

tactic. Nevertheless, Doolittle remained steadfast, and his determination hastened the destruction of the Luftwaffe.

Doolittle’s ability to innovate technically was less successful. His strong engineering expertise helped identify aircraft technical problems and determine 

potential solutions. Many of his suggestions, however, were not realized in 

time to enhance air operations in the European theater. Simply put, at the 

scale of a numbered air force, Doolittle could not replicate the level of technical innovation that had brought him success during his transcontinental 
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

75

flights and the raid on Tokyo. His impatience for aircraft modification reflects 

both an aggressive spirit and a lack of appreciation for the scale of change required in very large organizations. To his credit, however, Doolittle sought the 

wisdom of his experienced superior, Carl Spaatz, to moderate his less temperate requests. This self-awareness and growing political savvy reflect his continued growth as a general officer.

A slightly different reality comes through in Doolittle’s attempts to innovate in ways that blended technology and tactics. His efforts to improve the 

accuracy of radar bombing did not achieve a great degree of tactical success. 

The advanced technology he requested was not ready in time to produce a 

significant effect. His efforts to improve training, although helpful, also failed 

to produce breakthrough results. Nevertheless, his strong and persistent emphasis on radar bombing did increase the capacity of the Eighth Air Force to 

strike Germany in inclement weather. Here Doolittle appears to have instinctively grasped that an increase in the magnitude of relatively accurate bombing would be more effective than striking fewer targets with greater accuracy. 

Here, too, he was more interested in results than in adhering to doctrine.128

This analysis suggests that a senior leader educated as a trained engineer 

can have a considerable influence on promoting technical innovation. In wartime, however, these attributes may not produce a strategic effect. Nevertheless, a leader’s ability to spur tactical innovation can have positive, significant 

effects. Although this skill requires an intellectual element, it also demands 

qualities of character and temperament such as moral courage and an offensive orientation. In short, the lessons that helped Doolittle innovate most effectively were perhaps learned as much in the boxing ring as they were in an 

MIT classroom.

Notes

1. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (1976; 

reprint, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 88.

2. Sun Tzu, The Illustrated Art of War (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 153.

3. Samuel B. Griffith, “An Introduction to Sun Tzu,” in Sun Tzu, The Art of War, trans. by 

Griffith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1963), 28.

4. James H. Doolittle and Carroll V. Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again (New York: 

Bantam Books, 1992), 352–53.

5. Geoffrey Perret, Winged Victory: The Army Air Forces in World War II (New York: Random House, 1993), 507 n60; Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 352–53; 

Gen Earle Partridge, interview by Tom Strum and Hugh N. Ahmann, 23–25 April 1974, USAF 

Oral History Collection, AFHRC call no. K239.0512-729 C.1, 238–39; and Lowell Thomas and 

Edward Jablonski, Doolittle: A Biography (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, 1976), 

266–69.
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

76

6. Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe (Washington, DC: Center for 

Air Force History, 1993), 299–302.

7. Dik Alan Daso, Doolittle: Aerospace Visionary (Washington, DC: Brassey’s, 2003), 3; and 

Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 80–81.

8. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II, vol. 

3, Europe: Argument to VE Day, January 1944 to May 1945 (1949; new imprint, Washington, 

DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 11.

9. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 362.

10. Ibid., 288.

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

vol. 2, Europe: Torch to Pointblank, August 1942 to December 1943 (1949; new imprint, Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 705–6.

12. Ibid., 705.

13. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 January 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 

V.1, 16.

14. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 23.

15. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 January 1944, 16.

16. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 304.

17. Maj Gen James H. Doolittle to Gen H. H. Arnold, letter, 14 January 1944, Doolittle 

Papers, Box 16, Special Correspondence, Library of Congress (LOC).

18. Doolittle to Spaatz, letter, 19 January 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, LOC.

19. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 January 1944, 16.

20. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 10.

21. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 353.

22. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 21 January 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.

23. Partridge, interview, 23–25 April 1974, 239.

24. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 360.

25. Ibid., 298.

26. Perret, Winged Victory, 272.

27. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 10.

28. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 360.

29. Ibid., 361.

30. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2.

31. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 365. However, when aerial kills began to attract attention of the 

press, Doolittle insisted that kills be distinguished between aerial and ground victories. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 4.

32. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2. Interestingly, in this same meeting, Curtis LeMay asked Kepner if fighter aircraft could suppress flak to 

support low-altitude bomber operations at 2,000–3,000 feet. LeMay was already contemplating 

the tactics he would eventually employ against Japanese cities.

33. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 367, 379.

34. Doolittle to Partridge, staff correspondence, 17 February 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 

19, LOC.

35. Doolittle to Spaatz, letter, 19 January 1944.

36. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, AFHRC, 3.

37. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 52.

38. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 360.
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

77

39. James A. GoodSon, Report of observation, 17 April 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 

1944 Operational Records, LOC.

40. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 353.

41. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, 2–3.

42. Ibid; and Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 323.

43. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 393.

44. Mark K. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare: The Allied Aircrew Experience in the Second 

World War (Essex, UK: Routledge, 1995), 45.

45. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 367.

46. Williamson Murray, Strategy for Defeat: The Luftwaffe 1933–1945 (Maxwell AFB, AL: 

Air University Press, 1983), 242.

47. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 394.

48. Ibid., 370.

49. Ibid., 360.

50. Ibid.

51. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC, 179a.

52. Eighth HQ to USSAF, letter, 12 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

53. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 21.

54. Eighth HQ to USSAF, letter, 12 July 1944.

55. Roger A. Freeman, Mighty Eighth War Diary (New York: Jane’s, 1981), 183, 297.

56. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 321.

57. Freeman, Mighty Eighth War Diary, 195.

58. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 371.

59. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, 179b.

60. Benjamin S. Kelsey, The Dragon’s Teeth?: The Creation of United States Air Power for 

World War II (Washington, DC: Smithnian, 1982), 7.

61. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 707 n113.

62. OES Report dated 28 February 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

63. Doolittle to Spaatz, letter, 1 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

64. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, 4.

65. R. L. Jahnke (UK assistant zone manager, Allin Division, General Motors Corp.) to 

Partridge, letter, 6 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC. 

66. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 64.

67. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 369.

68. Logbook Entries, March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

69. Col Cass Hough to Commanding General HQ Eighth AF, memorandum, 30 March 

1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

70. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944, 5.

71. Ibid., 3.

72. T. S. McCrae (assistant chief engineer) to Kelsey, letter, 27 June 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC. 

73. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 14 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

74. Freeman, Mighty Eighth War, 183, 297.
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

78

75. The 479th Fighter Group flew its final P-38 mission on 9 October 1944. The 436th 

Fighter Squadron was the last to convert to P-51s. Kent D. Miller, Fighter Units & Pilots of the 

8th Air Force: September 1942–May 1945, vol. 1 (Atglen, PA: Schiffer Military History, 2001),

139, 475.

76. Arnold to Spaatz, letter, 13 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

77. Kelsey, Dragon’s Teeth, 133.

78. Statistical Control Division, “Statistical Comparison B-17–B-24 Models,” 3 April 1944. 

National Archives, Record Group 18, Box 727, 7. Acquired from the private collection of Dr. 

Richard Muller.

79. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 14 February 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

80. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 8.

81. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 14 February 1944.

82. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 4, 8.

83. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 14 February 1944.

84. Spaatz to Arnold, letter, 18 February 1944, National Archives, Record Group 18, Box 727.

85. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 39.

86. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 13 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

87. Ibid.

88. Ibid.

89. Spaatz to Arnold, letter, 16 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

90. Ibid.

91. Craig to Doolittle, letter, 14 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

92. Maj Gen H. A. Craig to Gen Hap Arnold, memorandum, 22 March 1933. National Archives, Record Group 18, Box 727. Acquired from the private collection of Dr. Richard Muller.

93. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II, vol. 

6, Men and Planes (1955; new imprint, Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1983), 207.

94. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 65. Carpetbagger missions 

were special missions flown to support the Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Pilots frequently 

flew these missions at night and transported agents and supplies into and out of occupied German territory.

95. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 21–22.

96. Doolittle to USSTAF, letter, 12 July 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

97. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 21–22.

98. Ibid., 3.

99. Perret, Winged Victory, 273.

100. Gen Carl Spaatz to Commanding General Army Air Forces, letter, 14 January 1944, 

Spaatz’s Papers, LOC, I-13 January 1944.

101. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 20.

102. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 296–98.

103. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 20.

104. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, 63.
TACTICAL AND TECHNICAL INNOVATION

79

105. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 21 January 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2.

106. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, AFHRC, 4.

107. Spaatz to Commanding General Army Air Forces, letter, 14 January 1944.

108. Ibid.

109. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 3.

110. In his memoirs, Doolittle credits Col Budd Peaslee with conceiving the idea of using 

fighters to scout the weather. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 357.

111. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 305.

112. In a December 1944 commanders meeting, Doolittle stressed the proper utilization of 

scouting aircraft and the coordination of all information between the three divisions. Minutes, 

Commanders Meeting, 9 December 1944, AFHRC, 2.

113. Lindsey L. Braxton for the Commanding General to Commanding General USSAFE, 

letter, 22 March 1944. Spaatz Papers, I-13, April 1944, LOC.

114. Ibid.

115. Spaatz to Arnold, letter, n.d. Spaatz Papers, I-13, April 1944, LOC.

116. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 March 1944, vol. 1, 66.

117. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944, 1.

118. Doolittle to Partridge, handwritten note, n.d. Spaatz Papers, I-13, April 1944, LOC.

119. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–30 April 1944, vol. 1, 47.

120. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 169–70.

121. Ibid., 190.

122. Ibid., 667.

123. Ibid., 723.

124. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 296–98.

125. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 666–67.

126. Ibid., 728.

127. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz, 297.

128. Doolittle’s emphasis on H2X bombing reflects a de-emphasis on strategic bombing 

doctrine and, in practice, closely resembled the RAF bombing concept. Doolittle acknowledged this reality and, in his autobiography, remarked that toward the end of the war, the British and American approaches to bombing “made little practical difference.” Doolittle and 

Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 349.

81

Chapter 5 

Leading the Mighty Eighth

Lord Moran defines military leadership as “the capacity to frame plans 

which will succeed and the faculty of persuading others to carry them out in 

the face of death.”1 The previous two chapters explored the first element of 

Moran’s dictum by evaluating Doolittle’s operational effectiveness and capacity 

to innovate. This one addresses the latter part. According to Mark Wells, heavybomber missions in the Mighty Eighth were “the most hazardous military operations which have been conducted over a sustained period.”2

 How well did 

Doolittle persuade his men to carry out his orders in the face of such danger?

This chapter examines the command environment in which Doolittle operated and identifies specific leadership challenges he faced in the Eighth Air 

Force. It then explores his leadership, paying particular attention to his interaction with immediate subordinates. Though not related to Moran’s definition, it also assesses his ability to persuade his supervisors of the wisdom of 

his various initiatives, an important but often neglected aspect of leadership. 

Finally, the chapter evaluates measures Doolittle took to sustain the morale 

and military spirit of his command.

Command Environment

When Jimmy Doolittle assumed command of the Eighth Air Force, he encountered many leadership challenges. Replacing a very popular commander, 

Ira Eaker, was perhaps the first. Eaker had served in the Eighth since its inception and led its first independent attack against marshaling yards at Sottevillelès-Rouen on 17 August 1942.3

 He had nurtured the Eighth from a nascent 

force into a mature, powerful, fighting air force. Understandably, Eaker held a 

deep affection for his subordinates in the Eighth and his British counterparts. 

The feelings were mutual. Because Doolittle brought only his deputy commander, Brig Gen Earle “Pat” Partridge, and his personal aide from the Fifteenth Air Force, he had to earn the respect of his new staff. In a letter of 20 

January to his wife, Doolittle remarked: “Miss the old gang and their knowledge of my policies and methods. Miss particularly the confidence that they 

always indicated in me. . . . I’m faced with the job that any new commander 

has when assuming a new command—selling himself. After selling Doolittle, 

peddling his ideas will be easy.”4

 He also had to win the confidence of the 

British. Air Chief Marshal Charles Portal, chief of the air staff, attempted to 
LEADING THE MIGHTY EIGHTH

82

persuade Gen Hap Arnold to retain Eaker in England: “To move him now 

that we approach the climax of the air war over western Germany would be a 

grave mistake. I therefore greatly hope that when the final decision is made 

you will feel able to leave Eaker here.”5

 Similarly, during Doolittle’s ceremonial 

meeting with King George VI on 4 February, the monarch remarked, “We’re 

certainly sorry to lose Eaker!”6

 Doolittle even received a cool reception from 

his British counterpart, Air Chief Marshal Arthur Harris.7

 Because of the strategic importance of the Eighth Air Force’s mission, 

Doolittle had little control over prioritization of targets for the Combined 

Bomber Offensive. The strategic focus of the campaign was arbitrated between his military and political superiors. The resultant priorities of the CBO 

were, in turn, formalized in the strategic-air directive issued by Air Chief 

Marshal Tedder. USSTAF headquarters, under Gen Carl Spaatz, translated 

this directive into a campaign plan and issued the Eighth an approved target 

list. This required Doolittle to employ his forces in a manner he sometimes 

considered inefficient. For example, during the famous “oil versus transportation” debate of 1944, he committed a significant amount of heavy-bomber 

sorties to the French railway system. Unlike raids against German industry, 

these targets did not degrade aircraft production nor generate a significant 

level of German fighter resistance. Moreover, due to the perceived threat 

posed by the German long-range weapons program, Tedder frequently elevated the status of Crossbow, the effort to counter German vengeance weapons, to the highest priority of the CBO.8

 These strategically important, but to 

Doolittle diversionary, missions further reduced the resources he could marshal against the Luftwaffe.9

 They not only detracted from the Eighth Air 

Force’s quest for air superiority over Europe but also, as discussed later, diminished the morale of its men.

The large size of the Eighth Air Force limited Doolittle’s ability to inspire his 

men through personal interaction. In previous command positions, he went to 

great lengths to connect with his subordinates. During preparation for the 

strike on Tokyo, he established a close personal relationship with each of his 

fellow raiders. Following the mission, he wrote every man’s family. Similarly, in 

North Africa, he maintained a constant interaction with the aircrews by visiting the bases and flying combat missions. He also sent letters to the next of kin 

of each service member killed in his command. When he assumed command 

of the Eighth, however, these practices were no longer feasible. He lamented in 

a letter to Joe, “Since coming here I am afraid I have had to stop some of the 

things I did below due to the size of this Command. . . . There just aren’t enough 

hours in the day for me to accomplish this and all the other jobs too.”10
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83

The increased command responsibilities also prevented Doolittle from 

leading his men in the air. In North Africa he regularly flew combat missions, 

and his units benefited from the inspiration of their commander. In England, 

however, his new position entitled him access to Ultra, the code-breaking 

program that deciphered German Enigma messages. Because of the sensitivity of this program, Spaatz could not risk Doolittle’s capture. Thus, he could 

no longer fly combat missions. Moreover, the increased administrative duties 

reduced his opportunity to fly in training sorties. During the first six months 

of 1944, Doolittle logged 59 hours and 25 minutes of flight time. In contrast, 

he had accumulated 109 hours and 55 minutes in the last three months of 

1943.11 The reduction in flight time concerned him. In April he confided to 

Joe, “One of the restrictions of this job is that I don’t get as much flying anymore. Used to get a lot in the Mediterranean but not here. . . . In any case it 

looks like the hour a day average that I’ve flown for the last twenty-six years 

goes in the discard from now on. A certain amount of prestige and flying 

confidence goes with it.”12

These concerns were justified, because Airmen expected their commanders to lead by example. Successful officers in the Eighth Air Force typically 

possessed a certain level of aviation competence. Leaders who failed to exhibit proficiency in the air frequently failed in their command responsibilities. Junior Airmen would criticize their shortcomings and undermine their 

credibility, using deprecating terms such as “weak sisters.”13 Moreover, subordinates expected their commanders to demonstrate courage. Commanders 

who failed to accompany their men in combat risked losing the loyalty of 

their subordinates.

Doolittle, however, was no ordinary commander. He benefited from a reputation as a skilled pilot and decorated war hero. Furthermore, his aerial accomplishments of the 1920s and ’30s made him one of the most famous men 

in all of aviation. The daring raid on Tokyo, which earned him the Medal of 

Honor, reinforced his standing as a brave and skillful aviator. These credentials provided a valuable cachet of respect with men of all ranks under his 

command.14 Doolittle was not above fostering this image to inspire his men 

with an occasional flash of showmanship. One account describes him delivering a speech to a bomber group to commemorate its 200th mission. Following 

the stirring oratory, Doolittle strode from the stage to a waiting P-51. The 

3,600-man crowd watched as he took off and made a low pass over the field, 

followed by a slow roll, before departing toward the horizon. Although Doolittle never accompanied his men on strikes against Germany, few would 

question the aerial competence or courage of their new commander.
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Nevertheless, rhetoric and bravado were not sufficient means with which 

to lead the men of the Eighth Air Force. Because the AAF had been rapidly 

expanded for World War II, most officers and enlisted men were not career 

Airmen. Therefore, given the harsh and dangerous environment of strategic 

bombing, successful leaders in the Eighth could not simply resort to military 

tradition and authority as motivational tools. These Airmen demanded engagement and explanation from their superiors. In other words, they “wanted 

to know what they were doing, and why.”15 To succeed as commander of the 

Eighth Air Force, Doolittle had to convince his men that his orders made 

sense and that the risks he made them take were worth taking. The question 

at hand is, how well did he do so?

Leadership Style

When Doolittle assumed command of the Eighth Air Force, he relied on 

the leadership techniques he had learned during his previous assignments. As 

in North Africa, he trusted his staff to manage day-to-day operations in the 

headquarters. For example, he delegated a large portion of detailed planning 

to his deputy for operations, Brig Gen Orvil Anderson.16 Doolittle also placed 

a great degree of confidence in the judgment of his immediate subordinates. 

He dispatched Partridge on an assignment to the Pentagon with the charge, 

“whatever you decide on the spot, put my name on it, and that’s that.”17 Additionally, a review of minutes from the Eight Air Force commanders meetings reveals that Doolittle seldom made a significant policy change without 

consulting his junior commanders.

Doolittle did, however, reserve certain matters to himself. Among these 

were responding to specific requests from his superior commanders.18 He 

used these interactions to influence the conduct of the air operations in Europe. For example, during the oil-versus-transportation debate, he expressed 

solidarity with his immediate superior, Carl Spaatz. He supported Spaatz’s 

opposition to the transportation plan, noting, “I most heartily concur in the 

analysis on the transportation targets. Not only are the critical points too numerous, but the damage done is easily repaired and therefore is of only temporary value.”19

In another instance, Doolittle used his command influence to shape the 

execution of Operation Crossbow. In June he successfully alleviated some of 

the operational demands of Crossbow, insisting that his forces strike only targets confirmed by aerial reconnaissance. His position, supported by Harris, 

persuaded the British authorities to endorse a plan allowing the Eighth to 

strike oil depots rather than German V-1 launch facilities.20 Later in the war, 
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Doolittle resisted demands to strike Crossbow targets on at least two occasions. On 15 August, he planned a mission to attack industrial targets near 

Leipzig. When Tedder asked why Crossbow missions were not scheduled in 

accordance with the bombing directives, Doolittle retorted that no suitable 

targets existed near Leipzig. Likewise, on 18 August, Doolittle justified committing the bulk of his forces against targets in France rather than Crossbow, 

stating that he considered the former to be more important. His arguments 

on both these instances were apparently persuasive, as the record provides no 

indication of significant objection from Tedder.21

When Arnold attempted to intervene in the Eighth Air Force’s management 

of its fighter pilots as a result of two incidents in the Pacific, Doolittle demonstrated an ability to persuade his superiors in Washington as well. Over the span 

of three days in March 1944, Lt Gen George C. Kenney lost two of his topscoring aces, Col Neel Kearby and Capt Thomas Lynch. Arnold worried that the 

ensuing publicity would undermine public opinion and degrade pilot morale.22

Arnold, therefore, asked Kenney to reconsider exposing high-scoring aces to 

the dangers of combat. Arnold wrote, “I do very insistently want you to weigh 

very carefully the potential value of your heroes.” Moreover, Arnold was “deeply 

concerned” over a statistic that revealed all aces in the Pacific were flight commanders or higher. He believed this reflected a tendency for flight leads to 

accrue enemy kills at the expense of wingmen and overall unit effectiveness. 

Arnold sent Doolittle a copy of the letter, pointedly noting, “I believe you 

should be aware of my line of thought, and I would very much like to have 

your ideas on the subject.”23

Before formulating the response to Arnold’s letter, Doolittle sought the advice of his subordinates. He forwarded a copy of Arnold’s correspondence to 

Kepner, requesting his thoughts on the matter.24 In a detailed letter of 29 

March, Kepner defended the Eighth Air Force’s management of fighter aces. 

The leader of VIII Fighter Command argued that because his organization 

encouraged aggressiveness, assertive pilots emerged as flight leaders. Kepner 

maintained that he assigned aces to leadership positions to foster an aggressive spirit throughout the command, not to increase individual combat records. Kepner substantiated his argument by citing VIII Fighter Command 

combat statics for March 1944. Over 51 percent of enemy kills were claimed 

by wingmen, not flight leaders.25

Armed with Kepner’s evidence, Doolittle gently rebuffed Arnold’s suggestion that high-scoring fighter pilots should return to the zone of interior. In a 

letter of 1 April, Doolittle noted that his command sought the destruction of 

the enemy by developing a “high overall efficiency based primarily on teamwork.” Although the Eighth stressed unit records over individual achieve-
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ment, Doolittle acknowledged that heroes inevitably emerged. He explained 

that he assigned these men “to improve teamwork and to raise the effectiveness of all the fighter pilots.” An unfortunate, but necessary, consequence was 

that “some leaders will therefore inevitably be killed.” He ended his response 

by cautioning that an increase in strafing operations would likely result in the 

loss of more aces: “In ground strafing individual skill does not give immunity 

from enemy fire to the same degree that it does in air combat and, as these 

attacks must be properly led, especially if large, some leaders will be lost.”26

Doolittle’s detailed response assuaged Arnold’s concerns, and aces in the Eighth 

Air Force continued to fly combat sorties. His closing words, however, were 

prophetic. By the end of the war, 10 of 25 Eighth Air Force aces had ascended to 

group or squadron command, and nine of these leaders were lost in combat. 

Moreover, antiaircraft artillery downed all but one of the aces lost in Europe.27

In summation, Doolittle’s leadership style suited his command environment. His interactive instincts offset his administrative weakness by utilizing 

the strengths of his subordinates. This approach was also popular among his 

junior commanders. Partridge later remarked, “I liked Doolittle the first minute I saw him. . . . You don’t get a boss like that very often.”28 Maj Gen Ramsay 

D. Potts, who served as the Eighth’s director of bomber operations, likewise argued, “Doolittle was the ideal Commander of the Eighth Air Force.”29 Doolittle 

also quickly earned the admiration of his British counterparts.30 He successfully 

used convincing appeals to mitigate restrictions to his command environment. 

The ability to persuade his superiors provided Doolittle wider latitude to 

employ his forces as he saw fit.

Military Spirit in the Eighth Air Force

A force’s military spirit is an important element of combat effectiveness. 

Napoleon famously remarked that “in war, the moral is to the physical as 

three is to one.”31 Clausewitz agreed, stating that “the moral elements are 

among the most important in war.” He asserts that “military spirit” is one of 

the principal moral elements and cautions that its absence often leads to outcomes that “fall short of the efforts expended.”32 This reality extends to the 

realm of air combat. The official Air Force history of World War II used the 

term “morale” to describe this intangible quality: “[Morale] denotes an attitude of mind which, when favorable, leads to the willing performance of duty 

under all conditions, good or bad, and which when unfavorable, leads to the 

unwilling or poor performance, even perhaps to non-performance, of duty 

under the same good or bad conditions.”33 Doolittle agreed with this assessment. In March he told his subordinate commanders that morale directly 
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influenced combat effectiveness. He attributed a myriad of operational deficiencies to low morale, including poor bombing accuracy, excessive abort 

rates, defection of aircrew to neutral countries, and emotional casualties.34

Clausewitz, however, aptly noted that “we should take care never to confuse 

the real spirit of an army with its mood.”35 The latter is transitory, the former 

a steadfast determination to triumph. The failure to discern the difference 

frequently results in leadership problems, not solutions.

Leadership is generally recognized as a critical element in sustaining the 

military spirit of a fighting unit. This reality was universally acknowledged in 

World War II.36 Thus, it is appropriate to consider what Doolittle did that either contributed to this quality or detracted from it.

The Eighth Air Force experienced a decline in morale soon after Doolittle 

assumed command. Morale typically suffers when men begin to doubt their 

chances of surviving a war. An Eighth Air Force study conducted in February 

1944 confirmed this reality, discovering a correlation between decreased morale and increased attrition rates.37 As previously noted, the Eighth’s morale—

especially among its bomber crews—waned when Doolittle extended the operational tour length to 30 missions. The math was simple. “Barrack room 

accountants” figured that with a historic attrition rate of 5 percent, only 277 of 

1,000 men would survive a combat tour of 25 missions. When Doolittle increased the requirement to 30, the number dropped to 215; a subsequent tour 

length of 35 missions implied that only 165 men would ever see their families 

again. Consequently, resentment of Doolittle simmered among many who felt 

that his policy change violated their “contract.”38 His modification of fighterescort tactics did not help matters. Many bomber crews felt this change unnecessarily exposed them to enemy fighters.

The decline in morale was not unexpected. In early 1944, Doolittle anticipated attrition rates would increase when he instituted attritional warfare and 

“let the fighters loose.”39 Moreover, in a letter of 17 February he informed his 

commanders that the extension of combat tours “might well have a serious 

effect on morale.”40 Arnold also feared that lengthening operational tours 

would damage the Eighth’s military spirit. In his letter of 11 February he cautioned, “This radical change in Personnel Policy will present difficult problems, particularly insofar as morale is concerned. It will be a challenge to and 

a very great test of personal leadership all the way down the line. . . . I have 

absolute faith also in the intelligence and good, hard, common sense of the 

American fighting man in understanding the necessity for the change and accepting it. I know I can count on you.”41

Like Arnold, Doolittle believed in his men’s judgment and appealed to 

their intellect as a means of improving morale. He opened his 2 March 
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commanders meeting by emphasizing the importance of keeping ground 

crews and other noncombat personnel informed on the progress of the 

war. Later that month, he reminded his commanders that “they are dealing 

with intelligent men. They should have explained to them what we are doing 

and why we are doing it.”42 There was considerable wisdom in Doolittle’s 

words. Surveys of aircrews showed a direct link between a belief in the value 

of strategic bombing and combat effectiveness.43 In March, the intelligence 

directorate (A-2) of Doolittle’s staff began publishing a monthly report to inform aircrew on the progress of the air campaign. The report included the 

number of German aircraft destroyed, the effect of air operations on the enemy’s strength, and “other items that would be of value for the crews to 

know.”44

The manner in which Doolittle announced the increasing of combat tours 

to 30 missions also reflects this mentality. In a memorandum of 4 March to 

his division commanders, he included a lengthy excerpt from Arnold’s 11 

February letter directing the service-wide extension of combat tours: 

A dangerous corollary had grown up. . . . That is that the completion of one operational 

tour means that combat crews will not subsequently be sent back to an active theater of 

war. Some men are coming home with that idea, and some of the trainees and replacement crews ready to go for their first time have already picked it up. It is again beyond 

reason that a trained fighting man, seasoned, rested, and able, should be consigned to a 

permanent homeland job because he has once already been in combat. This wrong impression must be unmistakably corrected. Experienced combat personnel are a vital asset 

in winning this war, and they have got to be used as needs dictate.

45 (emphasis added)

Doolittle noted that the increase of combat tours was not unique to the Eighth 

Air Force, but instead, was in response to a servicewide shortage of aircrews. 

Airmen in all AAF commands were sharing in this burden. He further explained that the Eighth Air Force loss rate had declined appreciably. He supported his argument with a statistical summary of operations from August 

1942 to February 1944.46 The numbers showed a significant decrease in combat attrition. Doolittle closed by stating, “This substantial decline, in great 

degree, is due to the present efficiency of our fighter escort, the constantly 

increasing size of the attacking bomber force, and a substantial falling off in 

the Hun fighter strength. It is anticipated that, in the near future, the loss rates 

will be further reduced as the combat strength of our forces continues to increase.”47

Doolittle also offered his men the promise of an extended leave in the 

United States upon completion of an operational tour. Kepner submitted the 

idea during a 2 March commanders meeting.48 Two days later Doolittle petitioned Arnold: “My commanders expressed the positive opinion, and I agree, 

that were it possible to give crew members a short period of leave within the 
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United States, many crews would be willing and able to return thereafter to 

active combat operations.”49 Much to Doolittle’s surprise, his superiors approved the proposal, and crews returned to resort locations such as Atlantic 

City, New Jersey; Miami Beach, Florida; and Santa Monica, California, for 

rest and relaxation. The policy, however, did not succeed as well as Doolittle 

had intended. The promise of returning to combat led many crew members to 

not enjoy their month in the United States.50 Moreover, because of discipline 

problems among returning Airmen, Arnold ordered Doolittle to take “immediate and adequate measures . . . to improve the attitude, conduct, and 

military bearing of AAF personnel being returned to this country.”51 Fortunately, as noted earlier, an increase in the supply of aircrews allowed Doolittle 

to abandon this practice by the summer of 1944. Henceforth, only lead crews 

who volunteered were returned to the United States for extended leave.52

When a subordinate later proposed reinstituting the extended leave policy, he 

dismissed the idea.53 Doolittle was a man who learned from his mistakes.

The Eighth Air Force’s policies concerning aircrew morale did not overlook 

the problem of emotional casualties. The increase of combat losses led to a 

corresponding increase in combat exhaustion. One study revealed a direct 

correlation between the number of emotional casualties and the rate of attrition: one Airman was permanently grounded for battle fatigue for every two 

bombers that failed to return from combat.54 During a discussion of the problem with his subordinate commanders, Doolittle emphasized the importance 

of flight surgeons in assessing the mental health of aircrew. He insisted that 

the patients receive firm, but humane, treatment. He believed flight surgeons 

should never “develop sympathy, but should commend when a good job is 

done and condemn a bad job.”55 That same month, Doolittle formally ordered 

his flight surgeons to account for the amount of stress endured by an individual before rendering a judgment on the strength of his character.56 He also 

mitigated the detrimental effects of combat exhaustion by removing those 

undergoing evaluation from their units.57 Despite the extreme hardships endured by Eighth Air Force aircrews, only one percent of Airmen in the command were permanently grounded for cowardice.58 This suggests Doolittle’s 

efforts limited the adverse influence of emotional casualties and helped his 

organization come to terms with the issue.

Doolittle also implemented measures to ensure that men who excelled in 

combat were promptly rewarded. He entrusted major generals under his 

command with the authority to award decorations up to and including the 

Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC).59 This policy change reduced the bureaucratic delay in processing award nominations. Indeed, under Doolittle, the 

Eighth dispensed a plethora of awards to its deserving aircrew. Air Medals 
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were presented for crews that finished five or six missions. In all, the Eighth 

Air Force awarded more than 441,000 such decorations.60 Doolittle, however, 

also took measures to maintain the fairness and integrity of combat medals. 

In April he standardized the decoration policies to preclude any perception of 

inequity.61 Although the policy was developed at the Eighth’s headquarters, its 

application was left to the discretion of subordinate commanders. Therefore, 

before the policy was implemented, Doolittle appointed Kepner chairman of 

a meeting of the division commanders to “discuss their individual interpretations of existing regulations in order that their application of authority would 

be uniform.”62 Moreover, Doolittle discontinued the practice of awarding a 

DFC for the completion of a combat tour. Instead, the decoration was reserved for an Airman who downed an enemy aircraft or for bomber crews 

that had endured a particularly onerous mission.63

Doolittle also addressed the morale-sapping problem of frostbite. Because 

the air environment was extremely harsh, frostbite was a serious problem. 

Bomber crews operated with open windows and temperatures as low as 50 

degrees below zero.64 Fighter pilots also had to cope with the physiological 

effects of altitude. All pursuit aircraft lacked pressurized cabins, and because 

of its wing-mounted engines, the P-38’s cockpit was notoriously cold in flight. 

Not surprisingly, in early 1944, frostbite was a “major cause of casualties” in 

the Eighth Air Force.65 Anoxia (lack of oxygen), the bends (release of nitrogen 

from the blood caused by decreased air pressure at high altitude), and frostbite accounted for 12,200 aircrew removals in the Eighth.66 Doolittle, therefore, paid close attention when his subordinates complained of the problem. 

In early February, LeMay informed Doolittle that the 3rd Bomber Division 

lacked sufficient electrically heated flight clothing.67 Doolittle charged Partridge to work with USSTAF to rectify the situation. A month later, however, 

General Williams also complained of a shortage of heated flight gear, and 

Kepner inquired about the status of gloves and spats for his P-38 pilots.68

Doolittle responded that if his logistics directorate (A-4) did not obtain the 

equipment, he would send someone to Washington to fix the problem in person. Indeed, Doolittle soon dispatched Partridge to the Pentagon to “look 

into the winter flying equipment business”69

The coordinated efforts of the Eighth Air Force’s commanders reduced the 

problem of frostbite for aircrews. Because of Doolittle’s attention to his subordinates’ needs and subsequent intervention, the Eighth soon possessed an 

adequate supply of heated flight suits. Doolittle also ordered the installation 

of windows to enclose waist-gunner positions and radio hatches on his heavy 

bombers. These measures reduced frostbite to a “minor cause” of casualties.70

A survey conducted during World War II revealed that fighting spirit was 
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highest among men who believed that their commanders were sympathetic to 

their needs.71 Doolittle knew this instinctively. He told his commanders that 

“he thought electronically heated suits, reduction in frostbite, spats for P-38 

pilots, etc. were all items tending to increase morale.”72 He was right.

Operations during summer 1944 required considerable sacrifice by the 

Eighth Air Force. Bomber crews suffered from high casualty rates, occasional 

lapses in escort coverage, and a brutal pace of operations. These factors led 

many Airmen to the brink of exhaustion.73 Doolittle’s extension of the combat 

tour length to 35 missions did not help. Moreover, the initiation of V-1 attacks 

against the United Kingdom in June caused the Eighth to devote more missions to Crossbow targets. In July and August, the Eighth committed 4,266 

sorties and 10,891.6 tons of ordnance to the operation. These figures accounted for more than 20 percent of the missions and 27 percent of the weapons dropped during the two-month period. To their frustration, the Eighth’s 

efforts did not reduce the rate of vengeance attacks against Britain.74 The adverse effects of these fruitless missions on morale worried Doolittle. He told 

his subordinate commanders, “The problem within our organization is the 

effect on the morale of our personnel caused by our having to do a lot of 

things they may feel are not basically sound.”75

In July 1944, a memorandum on the disposition of aircrew interned in 

Switzerland confirmed Doolittle’s concerns. In World War II it was an acceptable practice for critically damaged bombers that could not return to a friendly 

base to divert to a neutral country. The crews and their airplanes remained 

under the protection of the host government for the remainder of the war. By 

July, 94 crews had diverted to Sweden and another 101 were interned in Switzerland. William W. Corcoran, a consulate officer in Sweden, wrote a controversial memorandum that implied aircrew morale was “very bad indeed.”76

Corcoran claimed that the Airmen he interviewed had intentionally diverted 

to avoid further combat. The Airmen also harbored resentment for Doolittle 

because, as Corcoran reported, the commanding general sent his men to a 

most certain death.77 In response to Corcoran’s letter, Doolittle admitted to 

his commanders that “there is probably some justification for some of these 

cases and that we must do everything possible to correct these conditions.”78

Doolittle, therefore, instituted additional policy changes to reduce the perceived decline in morale. He understood that a hospitable living environment 

could bolster spirits. In March he made improving his Airmen’s facilities a 

“main point” in his efforts to sustain morale.79 Later in the war he emphasized 

that “crews must have proper amount of rest and relaxation . . . to insure their continued effectiveness.”80 Correspondingly, in July, he instituted a special services 

program. This initiative provided each Eighth Air Force unit with a special 
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services officer, who devised “ways and means to provide extra-curricular 

activities that would improve morale and thus forestall the development of 

unhealthy mental attitudes.”81

Doolittle also used the media to enhance morale. In summer 1944, he ordered the release of more information regarding the exploits of individual 

aircrew. He also petitioned Spaatz to increase publicity efforts and asked that he 

attribute mission results to the Eighth Air Force rather than simply to the USSTAF.82

Spaatz approved the request and promised to increase public-relations endeavors.83

Moreover, Doolittle invited journalists and newsmen to observe his Airmen’s 

bravery. The crews enjoyed watching the newsreels and documentaries, even if 

they were at times factually inaccurate.84

By fall 1944, the threat to operations of sinking morale had passed. In 

August an investigation revealed that aircraft in Switzerland had diverted 

for legitimate reasons. The thorough inquiry dispelled the claims of disobedience of Corcoran’s earlier report. The findings suggested that diplomatic 

interrogators had simply misinterpreted the typical nonchalance exhibited 

by American aircrew. Inspection of the aircraft also revealed significant 

battle damage.85 Postwar analysis revealed that of the 166 bombers flown to 

Switzerland, only 71 were repairable. And these salvageable aircraft, on average, required 200 hours of maintenance to return to flying condition. 

These results inspired Spaatz to vehemently refute previous accusations of 

wrongdoing. He wrote Arnold, “We resent the implications by a non-military 

interrogator that any of these crews are cowards, are low in morale or lack the 

will to fight. Such is base slander against the most courageous group of fighting men in this war.”86 Doolittle’s men who diverted to Switzerland may have 

been relieved to be out of the war, but that did not make them cowards. Moreover, another investigation, commissioned by Arnold, concluded in September 

that morale in the Eighth had increased significantly.87

Doolittle’s actions to improve morale were admirable. His efforts to share 

the rationale behind his decisions resonated well with the men of the Eighth 

Air Force. His men also appreciated learning about the effects of their attacks 

on the enemy, whether that information came from intelligence reports or 

newsreels. His treatment of combat exhaustion reflected a firm, yet humane, 

approach to the psychological toll of combat. The Eighth’s award system also 

contributed to sustaining morale.88 Finally, Doolittle recognized the importance of living conditions and implemented effective measures to improve 

them.89 His leadership ability influenced many young Airmen. Theodore Milton, a B-17 pilot in the Eighth during World War II who later became chief of 

staff, Tactical Air Command, remarked that “Doolittle impressed all of us. He 

had a great combination of flamboyance and common sense, which we all liked. 
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. . . We all thought that he was a tremendously effective commander.”90 Indeed, 

Doolittle’s efforts to maintain morale were indicative of an effective leader.

Conclusions

Several noteworthy observations emerge from evaluating Doolittle’s leadership in the Eighth Air Force. First, he encountered a demanding command 

environment that inhibited the influence of several of his leadership strengths. 

He could not rely on his personal charisma and flying ability to persuade his 

men to act, but he adopted a leadership style that accommodated these challenges. His empowerment of his immediate subordinates earned their admiration and helped compensate for his administrative shortcomings. Moreover, the relationship with his subordinate commanders gave him an excellent 

resource for advice. Consequently, it is no surprise that many of the ideas 

Doolittle implemented did not originate with him but with those at lower 

echelons. His leadership acumen is also reflected in his relationship with his 

superiors. He was a loyal subordinate, but he frequently convinced his leaders 

to support his vision for how to employ and lead the Eighth Air Force. The 

persuasiveness of such appeals exemplifies a leader with keen political awareness and strong interactive skills. Doolittle had learned from his missteps in 

North Africa.

When considering his influence on morale, however, one must not overlook the effect of Doolittle’s operational effectiveness and innovative accomplishments. As Clausewitz observed, the first means of increasing military 

spirit is a “series of victorious wars.”91 In other words, there is no substitute for 

success. As noted previously, by fall 1944 the Luftwaffe’s effectiveness had declined significantly. Accordingly, by September Doolittle’s major challenges 

regarding morale had passed. Thus, his aggressive assault on the Luftwaffe 

may have ultimately been his most effective means of improving morale. Fittingly, Craven and Cate’s description of the Eighth’s morale in September 

1944 states, “Not only were the Airmen confident of their airplanes, their 

methods, and themselves, but they felt sure they were doing more to win the 

war than either the ground forces or the RAF.”92

Doolittle’s leadership exhibits an instinctive understanding of the distinction between the mood of his forces and their military spirit. He never altered 

the employment of his forces in response to declining morale. As noted earlier, he remained steadfast in his operational decisions despite the darkening 

mood of his forces. He did not, however, discount the importance of morale; 

he devoted significant time and effort to enhance the well-being of his men. 

Perhaps the greatest testament to Doolittle’s leadership is that although he 
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extracted a great amount of effort from his men, the Mighty Eighth’s military 

spirit never faltered.

Notes

1. Lord Moran, The Anatomy of Courage, 2nd ed. (London, UK: Constable, 1966), 180.

2. Mark K. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare: The Allied Aircrew Experience in the Second 

World War (Essex, UK: Routledge, 1995), 101. German U-boat missions are now generally acknowledged as the most dangerous operations in World War II. Nevertheless, in 1944 bomber 

operations in Europe were widely considered the most hazardous of any mission in the Army.

3. Robin Neillands, The Bomber War: The Allied Air Offensive against Nazi Germany (New 

York: Overlook Press, 2001), 179.

4. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, handwritten letter, 20 January 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Series IX, Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

5. Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in Europe (Washington, DC: Center for 

Air Force History, 1993), 276.

6. James H. Doolittle and Carroll V. Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again (New York: 

Random House, 1991), 350.

7. Buckingham Palace to Doolittle, letter, 25 January 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, Special Correspondence, Library of Congress (LOC); and Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be 

So Lucky Again, 350.

8. Operation Crossbow targeted all phases of Germany’s long-range weapons program. A 

majority of the Eighth’s Crossbow targets were small launch and transportation facilities. Wesley Frank Craven and James Lea Cate, eds., The Army Air Forces in World War II, vol. 3, Europe: 

Argument to VE Day, January 1944 to May 1945 (1949; new imprint, Washington, DC: Office 

of Air Force History, 1983), 85, 103.

9. From December 1943 to June 1944, Crossbow requirements diverted 17,600 tons of ordnance and 5,950 sorties from Operation Pointblank. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE 

Day, 105.

10. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, handwritten letter, 9 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Series IX, Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

11. Logbook Entries, November 1943–June 1944, Doolittle Papers, Series XVI, Box 1, McDermott Library.

12. James Doolittle to Joe Doolittle, handwritten letter, 15 April 1944, Doolittle Papers, 

Series IX, Box 64, Folder 23, McDermott Library.

13. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 138–40.

14. Maj Gen Ramsay D. Potts, “Reminiscences: Doolittle and the Mighty Eighth,” Airpower 

History 40, no. 4 (Winter 1993): 28.

15. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 146.

16. Potts, “Doolittle and the Mighty Eighth,” 28.

17. Gen Earle Partridge, interview by Tom Strum and Hugh N. Ahmann, 23–25 April 1974, 

USAF Oral History Collection, AFHRC call no. K239.0512-729 C.1, 350.

18. Potts, “Doolittle and the Mighty Eighth.”

19. Doolittle to Spaatz, letter, 11 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

20. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 529–30.
LEADING THE MIGHTY EIGHTH

95

21. Ibid., 536–37.

22. Thomas E. Griffith Jr., MacArthur’s Airman: General George C. Kenney and the War in 

the Southwest Pacific (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1998), 221.

23. Hap Arnold to George C. Kenney, letter, 20 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 

Operational Records, LOC.

24. Doolittle to Kepner, letter, n.d, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, 

LOC.

25. Kepner to Doolittle, letter, 29 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

26. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 1 April 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

27. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 45.

28. Partridge, interview, 23–25 April 1974, 350.

29. Potts, “Doolittle and the Mighty Eighth.”

30. Doolittle and Glines, I Could Never Be So Lucky Again, 351.

31. David G. Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon: The Mind and Method of History’s 

Greatest Soldier, vol. 1 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1966), 155.

32. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (1976; 

reprint, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 188–89.

33. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 89.

34. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, AFHRC, 2.

35. Clausewitz, On War, 189.

36. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 137.

37. Ibid., 102.

38. Ibid., 104.

39. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 3.

40. Doolittle to VIII Fighter Command and all Bombardment Divisions, letter, 17 February 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

41. Arnold to Doolittle, letter, 11 February 1944, Spaatz’s Papers, File I-90, LOC.

42. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 2.

43. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 98. The crews that believed strongly in the value of 

strategic bombing reported more target damage than those that did not appreciate the worth of 

the missions to Germany.

44. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 3.

45. Arnold to Doolittle, letter, 11 February 1944.

46. Doolittle to VIII Composite Command and Bombardment Divisions, letter, 4 March 

1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational Records, LOC.

47. Ibid.

48. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, 3.

49. Doolittle to Arnold, letter, 4 March 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

50. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 306.

51. Arnold to Doolittle, letter, 3 April 1944, Doolittle Papers, Box 19, 1944 Operational 

Records, LOC.

52. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 520.01 

V.1, 6.

53. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 1 November 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.
LEADING THE MIGHTY EIGHTH

96

54. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 102.

55. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 3.

56. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 170.

57. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.1, 6; and History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 April 1944, vol. 1, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.1, 5.

58. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 161.

59. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 3.

60. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 152.

61. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 April 1944, vol. 1, 5.

62. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 6 April 1944.

63. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 152.

64. Ibid., 62; and History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1944–1945, vol. 2, AFHRC call 

no. 520.01 V.1, 50.

65. Col W. E. Musser, “Eighth Air Force under the Command of Lt. Gen. J. H. Doolittle: 

Major Materiel and Maintenance Problems Encountered and Action Taken to Solve Them,” 

n.d, Doolittle Papers, Box 18, 1945 Operational Records, LOC.

66. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 83 n7.

67. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 8 February 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2.

68. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 2 March 1944, 3–4.

69. Partridge, interview, 23–25 April 1974, 350.

70. Musser, “Major Materiel and Maintenance Problems.”

71. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 151.

72. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 2.

73. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 306.

74. Ibid., 532–33.

75. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.

76. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 107; and Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 

1944, 2.

77. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 107.

78. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, 2.

79. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 22 March 1944, 2.

80. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 1 November 1944, AFHRC call no. 520.01 V.2, 2.

81. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, 2; and History, Headquarters Eighth Air 

Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, 4–5.

82. History, Headquarters Eighth Air Force, 1–31 July 1944, vol. 1, 5.

83. Minutes, Commanders Meeting, 20 July 1944, 2.

84. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 151–52.

85. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 307.

86. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 107–8.

87. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 306.

88. Wells, Courage and Air Warfare, 153.

89. Ibid., 148.

90. Ibid., 143.

91. Clausewitz, On War, 189.

92. Craven and Cate, Europe: Argument to VE Day, 307.
97

Chapter 6

Conclusions and Implications

The numerous books, articles, and films documenting Jimmy Doolittle’s 

legendary life, laudable as they are, have largely overlooked a significant portion of his career—his command of the Eighth Air Force. This study addressed 

that historical omission with a critical assessment of Doolittle’s performance 

as an operational air commander in combat. The appraisal reviewed his life 

prior to assumption of command of the Eighth and then addressed his operational effectiveness, innovative abilities, and leadership performance. This 

framework has penetrated the mystique of Doolittle to discover the commander behind the legend.

Early in his career, Doolittle’s technical expertise, competitive spirit, and 

moral courage helped cultivate his reputation as a talented and daring pilot. 

Transcontinental flights, airspeed records, academic degrees, and the first 

blind flight adorned his impressive résumé of aviation accomplishments prior 

to World War II. Gen Hap Arnold recognized Doolittle’s skills and gave him 

the mission for which he was uniquely qualified—the raid on Tokyo. Doolittle 

accomplished this mission through an impressive combination of tactical and 

technical innovation and strong personal leadership. His efforts achieved 

strategic effects that shaped the landscape of World War II in the Pacific. His 

triumph immortalized Doolittle as one of history’s most daring warriors and 

launched him into the senior echelons of military rank, for which he was at 

the time less well prepared.

In North Africa, Doolittle had to adapt rapidly to the challenges of high 

command. Success at the squadron level initially eluded him as commander 

of a nascent numbered air force. His lack of staff experience and professional 

military education hindered his adjustment to such responsibilities. Nevertheless, the relatively small size of his forces permitted his personal leadership 

to compensate for his shortcomings in other areas. He also demonstrated a 

capacity to learn from his subordinates and, more importantly, his own mistakes. His ability to overcome a steep learning curve eventually earned the 

confidence of his superiors, who deemed him worthy of commanding the 

Mighty Eighth. In January 1944 Doolittle still lacked the administrative skills 

and bureaucratic experience typical of senior officers. He had, however, exhibited a tradition of achieving operational effectiveness, instituting innovation, and employing strong personal leadership.
CONCLUSIONS AND IMPLICATIONS 

98

Doolittle’s success in achieving operational effectiveness demonstrates the 

utility of his aggressive, yet mature, command demeanor. In spring 1944, he 

grasped an opportunity to decisively defeat the Luftwaffe and mustered the 

full weight of his forces to pressure the German air defenses. To enable his 

vision of maximum effort, Doolittle drove his men to the brink of exhaustion. 

The effort, however, proved worth the cost. By 6 June 1944, the Eighth had 

swept German fighters from the skies of Western Europe, contributing significantly to the success of Operation Overlord.

His response to fratricide of friendly ground forces during close-air-support 

operations, although less dramatic, reflects a sound understanding of the primacy of effectiveness over efficiency. The measures Doolittle implemented 

increased the risk to his aircrews and diminished their proficiency in strategic 

bombardment. Nevertheless, they ultimately reduced risk to friendly ground 

personnel. They also notably contributed to the larger effort of defeating the 

German armed forces. In short, he was not afraid to place effectiveness above 

efficiency to extract the “highest profit” from his forces.

Doolittle’s efforts to innovate offer a different perspective of his command 

performance. His propensity for offensive action and noteworthy moral courage again emerged as beneficial qualities. Although he was not the only air 

commander with an offensive mind-set, Doolittle’s pivotal role in letting the 

fighters loose was perhaps the necessary catalyst that hastened the Luftwaffe’s 

destruction. His ability to innovate technically, however, was less successful. 

Much to his chagrin, he could not replicate the degree of technical improvement he had achieved as a junior officer. The scale of a numbered air force was 

simply too large to adopt his technical visions. Ironically, the Eighth probably 

benefited most from the technical efforts of Mister, not Lieutenant General, 

Doolittle. His arguably most significant technical innovation—the development of 100-octane fuel—occurred when he was employed by Shell Oil. Doolittle’s approach to blending innovative technology and tactics was reflected in 

his efforts to improve the accuracy of radar bombing. Although these endeavors did not achieve significant tactical success, they enabled the Eighth to 

maintain pressure on the German economy despite the poor European 

weather, contributing noticeably to both operational and strategic success. In 

sum, Doolittle’s technical knowledge, which was so crucial to his earlier 

achievements, proved to be of mixed value. The Eighth Air Force, however, 

benefited significantly from its commander’s moral courage.

Doolittle’s leadership of the Eighth Air Force offers another important 

measure of his command performance. He adopted a command style that 

flourished in the highly demanding environment for which he had not been 

formally prepared. His engaging approach earned him the admiration of 
CONCLUSIONS AND IMPLICATIONS

99

superiors and subordinates alike. Thus, he enjoyed sufficient latitude to 

implement his vision for how the Eighth Air Force should fight. His 

stewardship of his men’s military spirit was also laudable. The specific efforts he implemented to improve the well-being of his men reflected a broad 

view regarding their welfare. Doolittle grasped the subtle, yet important, difference between his command’s mood and its military spirit. His aggressive, 

persuasive leadership never compromised the latter for the former. He instinctively sensed that defeating the Luftwaffe was the best way to maintain 

his Airmen’s military spirit, and he was right.

Jimmy Doolittle’s enviable list of achievements has given him a rightful 

place among prominent aviation pioneers and military leaders alike. Historians have, accordingly, treated his performance as commander of the Eighth 

Air Force favorably. A critical assessment of this performance confirms this 

widely held impression. The Eighth Air Force’s domination of the Luftwaffe 

was the ultimate testament to Doolittle’s operational effectiveness. His accomplishments, however, were also reflected in the effective use of his aircrews and 

the efforts to mitigate risk to friendly ground forces during close-air-support 

operations. Although Doolittle had mixed success innovating technically as an 

air force commander, his tactical improvements significantly enhanced the air 

offensive against Germany. Finally, his leadership acumen was demonstrated 

in his ability to manage the transitory shifts of his force’s morale while remaining steadfast in his determination to defeat the Luftwaffe.

The lessons of Doolittle’s performance as Eighth Air Force commander are 

surprisingly relevant in the twenty-first century. Although modern air forces 

do not marshal air formations consisting of thousands of heavy bombers, today’s numbered air force commanders encounter many of the same challenges 

that Doolittle faced in January 1944. For instance, the debate over the best 

application of airpower in support of friendly ground forces persists to this 

day. The role of tactical and technical innovation in airpower also remains a 

paramount concern of senior-level air commanders. Moreover, the ability to 

persuade associates, both superior and subordinate, to take appropriate action they otherwise might not take is a timeless leadership quality.

It is thus appropriate to contemplate the qualities that benefited Doolittle 

in his command of the Eighth Air Force. The aggressive spirit and moral 

courage that propelled him to fame as a junior officer were also necessary to 

his success as an air force commander. Doolittle’s offensive mentality and 

moral fortitude underpinned his operational effectiveness, innovative successes, and effective leadership. These qualities were complemented by an essential dose of humility that enabled him to grow in his command. Although 

he often made mistakes, he acknowledged his errors, internalized the lessons, 
CONCLUSIONS AND IMPLICATIONS 

100

and emerged a better commander. This capacity to develop as a commander 

was perhaps his most impressive attribute.

These facets of Doolittle’s command persona have several implications for 

the professional development of senior Air Force officers. First, a senior leader 

educated as an engineer can have a considerable influence on promoting 

technical innovation, especially when afforded sufficient time and latitude. 

Combat, however, rarely offers these luxuries; thus, technical expertise offers 

fewer benefits to the numbered air force commander. This study suggests that 

during times of war, qualities such as aggressiveness, moral courage, and humility are paramount. Accordingly, while it is appropriate for the Air Force to 

foster technical skills in the development of its junior officers, it must not 

overlook the less tangible leadership qualities required among successful 

leaders. Although Doolittle’s career did not follow a typical path, he performed admirably. Perhaps the Air Force would benefit from more senior 

leaders who have nontraditional career paths.

This study illustrates that behind Doolittle’s daring and dashing façade was 

a measure of humility that fostered his growth as a general officer. Although 

his technical expertise forged trails in aviation history, his moral qualities 

more significantly hastened the demise of the Luftwaffe. As Clausewitz observed, in war these moral qualities are the “the real weapon, the finely honed 

blade.”1

 Doolittle’s leadership tempered the blade of the Eighth Air Force. We 

would be wise to learn from his example.

Note

1. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (1976; 

reprint, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 185.
101

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ISBN: 978-1-58566-245-6 

ISSN: 1941-3785

AFRI

Air Force Research Institute