COLLEGE OF AEROSPACE DOCTRINE,

RESEARCH, AND EDUCATION

AIR UNIVERSITY

Toward an Air and Space Force

Naval Aviation and the Implications

for Space Power

MARK P. JELONEK

Lt Col, USAF

CADRE Paper

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 36112-6610

September 1999
Disclaimer

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

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

the Department of Defense, or any other US government agency. Cleared for public release:

distribution unlimited.

ii
CADRE Papers

CADRE Papers are occasional publications sponsored by the

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space Doctrine, Research, and Education (CADRE). Dedicated

to promoting understanding of air and space power theory and

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theory, doctrine or strategy, or with joint or combined service

matters bearing on the application of air and/or space power.

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iii

Contents

Chapter Page

DISCLAIMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

ABOUT THE AUTHOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi

 1 INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

 2 PROPRIETY OF HISTORICAL ANALOGY . . . . . . . 5

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

 3 NAVAL AVIATION INTEGRATION POLICIES . . . . . 13

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

 4 SPACE INTEGRATION POLICIES

AND THE NAVAL ANALOGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

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

 5 SUMMARY AND RECOMMENDATIONS . . . . . . . 67

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72

BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

Photographs

Rear Admiral William A. Moffett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Eugene Ely takes off from USS Birmingham . . . . . . . . 17

Naval aviators T. Gordon Ellyson and John Towers . . . . 17

Eugene Ely lands on USS Pennsylvania . . . . . . . . . . 18

Lt Cdr Henry C. Mustin launches

from USS North Carolina . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

USS Jupiter becomes the aircraft carrier Langley . . . . . 22

Lt Cdr Godfrey deC. Chevalier lands

on USS Langley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

v
Page

Explorer I on launch pad . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

Skylab—America’s first space station . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Navstar Global Positioning System . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Navy’s GEOSAT Follow-on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

NASA’s WIND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

vi
Foreword

The challenge of transforming the US Air Force into a truly

integrated aerospace force is a pressing issue for our service.

In Toward an Air and Space Force: Naval Aviation and the

Implications for Space Power, Lt Col Mark P. Jelonek uses the

historical analogy of the US Navy’s integration of aviation dur -

ing the interwar period as a possible model for the comprehen -

sive integration of space into the operational Air Force.

Defining integration as “the evolutionary process by which a

new technology (aviation in the Navy and space power in the

Air Force) becomes an inseparable part of the military service,”

Colonel Jelonek describes the various policies pursued by the

sea service to integrate aviation into the fleet. He contends that

five policies proved indispensable to that process:

(1) promoting broad understanding of aviation within the

naval establishment;

(2) demonstrating that aviation enhanced rather than

threatened the battleship’s place as the premier naval

weapons system of the day;

(3) creating a career path that allowed aviators to attain

senior rank;

(4) ensuring that aviators remained fully conversant with

surface operations; and

(5) incorporating aviation into naval war games.

Arguing that similar practices could facilitate metamorphosis of the Air Force into a true air and space force, Jelonek

employs the integration policies pursued by the interwar Navy

(appropriately rephrased for contemporary airmen) as a device

for measuring the Air Force’s progress in integrating space

into its own operational mainstream. He finds such progress

has been uneven at best and cites as major impediments the

lack of an official plan for air-space integration, the suspect (to

aviators) operational credibility of many space officers, and an

institutional tendency to mistake technological adaptation for

organizational transformation. The author’s proposals for over -

coming these difficulties and for promoting the full integration

of space power—and space power practitioners—merit serious

reflection.

vii
Toward an Air and Space Force originally was written as a

master’s thesis for Air University’s School of Advanced Air -

power Studies. The College of Aerospace Doctrine, Research,

and Education is pleased to publish Colonel Jelonek’s study

as a CADRE Paper and thereby make it available to wider

readership in the Air Force and beyond.

JAMES TITUS 

Dean of Research

Air University 

viii
About the

Author

Lt Col Mark P. Jelonek received his commission through the

Reserve Officer Training Corps at the Pennsylvania State Uni -

versity in 1985 and was first assigned as a student at the Air

Force Institute of Technology at Wright-Patterson Air Force

Base (AFB), Ohio. He earned a Master of Science degree in

Engineering Physics in 1986 and a Doctorate of Philosophy in

Physics in 1989. He was then assigned to the Starfire Optical

Range of the Phillips Laboratory at Kirtland AFB, New Mexico,

where he was chief of the experiments section for atmospheric

compensation experiments for the ground-based laser anti -

satellite program from 1989 to 1992. He served as chief of

Standardization and Evaluation for the 12th Space Warning

Squadron, Thule Air Base, Greenland, from 1993 to 1994.

From 1994 to 1996, he was assigned to the 11th Space Warn -

ing Squadron, Falcon AFB, Colorado, as the Operations Sup -

port Flight Commander. Colonel Jelonek graduated from the

School of Advanced Airpower Studies (SAAS) in 1998 and is

assigned to the Strategy, Concepts, and Doctrine Division,

Deputy Chief of Staff, Air and Space Operations, Headquarters

United States Air Force, Washington, D.C.

Mark P. Jelonek

ix

Acknowledgments

My satisfaction with this work is a reflection of the efforts of

the people who devoted their time and effort to make it re -

spectable. First and most important, my research advisor, Dr.

David R. Mets, not only provided outstanding guidance but

also motivated me to exert a maximum effort. He freely shared

his time, wisdom, and even some relevant anecdotes from his

marvelously rich career. He treated me as a colleague and a

friend more than as a student. Thank you, Dr. Mets, for en -

trusting me with some of the fire and passion you carry as an

Air Force officer and patriot. Lt Col Roy Houchin, my reader,

improved my work by sharing his youthful enthusiasm and

willingness to talk about space power. Dr. Harold Winton of

the SAAS faculty shoved me in the right direction and got me

started on this project. It is rare to have the honor of studying

under such an accomplished warrior and scholar. Dr. Jeffery

Barlow at the Naval Historical Center took time from his

schedule to clarify an obscure fact in naval history. Dr. James

S. Smith at the US Air Force Academy, Capt Rhonda Carey at

Officers Training School, Capt James “Buddy” Holley at the Air

and Space Basic Course, Capt Brent Barber at Squadron Offi -

cers School, and Capt Michael L. Lakos at the Air Force War -

gaming Institute provided information important to this study.

I would like to extend a special thanks to Lt Col Grego ry Billman

at the Air Force Weapons School and Lt Col D. Tom Clark,

formerly of the Air War College. Both provided invaluable infor -

mation that profoundly shaped the conclusions of the study.

Cdr Richard Bohner responded to my electronic distress signal

to help me understand aviation careers in the US Navy today. I

would like to give a special thanks to all my classmates at

SAAS who cheerfully answered my endless questions and ac -

cepted me as one of them. A few lines of text are completely

insufficient to compensate my ever-understanding wife, Linda,

for letting me work on this project instead of spending time

with her. Finally, thank you, Pipper Dog, for making me play

ball even when I was busy and for never saying my ideas were

stupid.

xi
Chapter 1

Introduction

“We are now transitioning from an air force into an air and

space force on an evolutionary path to a space and air force.”1

Less than two years after announcing this latest vision, the Air

Force changed the terminology from “air and space” to “aero -

space.” The vision is certainly plausible, but there is a tremen -

dous difference between adopting a particularly appealing

bumper sticker slogan and implementing a real plan to accom -

plish the transition to an aerospace force.

This project looks to the history of US naval aviation to

determine if the effort to integrate aviation into the Navy from

1921 to 1941 provides a suitable framework for the Air Force

to emulate as it integrates space into Air Force operations. The

intent of this comparison is to measure the progress of space

integration into the Air Force against this historical precedent,

to identify areas suggested that would benefit from increased

attention, and to recommend improvements that could facili -

tate the integration of space power into the Air Force.

Global Engagement’s call to integrate space into the Air

Force is the third such initiative since 1989. 2 That the Air

Force began such a course of action again in 1997 implies that

it did not fully integrate space during the previous two at -

tempts. Remarks from the most senior levels of the Air Force

suggest that the latest integration program is off to a slow

start. Early in his tenure as chief of staff of the Air Force, Gen

Michael E. Ryan said the concept of becoming a space and air

force is a “good road map, a good glide path for us. It’s now up

to us to go out and execute it.” 3 Gen Howell M. Estes III,

former commander of Air Force Space Command, said, “I

would have to say that the Air Force still has a long way to go

in becoming an air and space force, much less a space and air

force, and that’s not a surprise to anybody.” 4 Maj Gen William

E. Jones, former Fourteenth Air Force commander (the Air

Force’s space component), said, “virtually nothing has transpired which indicates that the Air Force is actually serious

about moving out on transitioning to an Air and Space

1
Force.”5 Judging from these cautious endorsements, the Air

Force might well benefit from an exploration of the past to help

set a course for the future.

The US Navy changed the basic structure of naval opera -

tions by integrating aviation into the fleet during the interwar

years. Naval aviation emerged from World War I with great

promise and great expectations. Many thoughtful proponents

of aviation within the Navy patiently wove airpower into the

fabric of fleet operations. The triumph of naval airpower and

the aircraft carrier over the enemies of the United States in

World War II provides powerful evidence attesting to the suc -

cess of aviation’s integration into the Navy. Few could argue

against the notion that naval aviation and the aircraft carrier

are sea power today. If this inextricable connection between

airpower and the fleet is the same objective the Air Force envi -

sions for air and space, then a study of the Navy’s integration

of aviation may well reveal useful trail markers along the Air

Force’s evolutionary path to a space and air force.

Assumptions

The arguments in this paper stand on four assumptions.

The Air Force vision statement from Global Engagement admits of two: first, air and space are presently not sufficiently

integrated into Air Force operations and, second, space power

will not evolve into an independent military service in the near

term. The other two assumptions involve naval aviation and

historical analogy: first, no effort is made to prove that the US

Navy did successfully integrate aviation into naval operations

during the interwar years (the record of naval aviation during

World War II, Korea, and Vietnam—and the character of the

US fleet today—provide their own proof) and, finally, the his -

torical precedent of integrating naval aviation is relevant to the

integration of space power into the Air Force.

Limitations

Related to these assumptions are six limitations adopted to

focus the research and argument of this project. The paper

does not tackle the issue of deploying weapons in space.

Whether in naval aviation or in space, a weapon is just one of

CADRE PAPER

2
several means of exerting power in warfare. There is no judg -

ment on the merits of creating a separate space force. The

naval aviation analogy was purposely chosen because air -

power in the Navy never evolved into an independent service.

The time period for the naval case study spans from the crea -

tion of the Bureau of Aeronautics in 1921 to the attack on

Pearl Harbor in 1941. The Bureau of Aeronautics gave aviation

legitimacy and an institutional permanence that was difficult

to marginalize or abolish. Similarly, the paper concentrates on

space power from 1991 to the present. This time frame in -

cludes Operation Desert Storm, the end of the cold war, and

the collapse of the Soviet Union, a period when space power

shifted from principally a strategic to a more operational focus.

No personality-based inferences or conclusions are drawn, but

the intent and validity of the programs sponsored by charis -

matic people are examined. Finally, the paper emphasizes the

role of officers in integration. While an enlisted corps is essen -

tial to the success of any military program, the real decision

makers, the holders of power and influence, and the ones

capable of shaping policy are the officers—especially those

holding flag ranks.

Notes

1. Department of the Air Force, Global Engagement: A Vision for the 21st

Century Air Force (Washington, D.C.: United States Air Force, 1997): 7.

2. The Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation in 1989 and the

Blue Ribbon Panel on Space chaired by Lt Gen Thomas S. Moorman Jr. in

1992 made similar recommendations for the integration of space into Air

Force operations. These two plans are discussed in greater detail in chap. 4.

3. Quoted in John A. Tirpak, “The Chief Holds Course,” Air Force

Magazine 81, no. 1 (January 1998): 38.

4. Gen Howell M. Estes III, transcript of interview by Bill Scott, Aviation

Week & Space Technology, 4 December 1997.

5. Maj Gen William E. Jones, commander Fourteenth Air Force,

memorandum to Maj Gen David W. McIlvoy, Headquarters USAF/XPX,

subject: “White Paper on Space in the USAF,” 22 December 1997.

JELONEK

3
Chapter 2

Propriety of Historical Analogy

From the past, the future. The motto of the United States Air

Force School of Advanced Airpower Studies implies that knowl -

edge and understanding of yesterday’s events will help influence the actions and policies of tomorrow. Indeed, if there is no

utility to the study of history, then that expansive endeavor is

nothing more than a hobby—an idle pastime. Nevertheless,

there is some justification for using historical analogies to

guide policy. To explore this idea, we will summarize some

recent thought on using historical analogies and discuss the

possible value to be derived from historical comparison. To

explore this idea, the discussion will summarize some recent

thought on using historical analogies and will determine the

possible value to be derived from historical comparison. Then

the argument will show that the similarities between naval

aviation in the 1920s/1930s and space power in the 1990s are

sufficiently compelling to make this comparison an appropriate

and instructive historical analogy.

Historical Analogies

Using historical analogies to reinforce an argument is an

exercise in the art of persuasion. Analogies allow us to sim -

plify, interpret, and comprehend complex situations by comparing them to better understood and previously analyzed his -

torical examples.1 New policies are journeys into the unknown.

Historical analogies provide maps, charted by previous explor -

ers, that indicate possible courses of action and identify shoals

along the way. Analogies help us to assess situations and to

provide policy prescriptions. They also aid us in predicting the

success of alternative options and in identifying dangers asso -

ciated with those options.2

During the last half of the twentieth century, public officials

often relied on historical analogies to guide policy making.

President Harry S Truman compared the Communist invasion

of South Korea in 1950 to similar aggression by Germany,

5
Italy, and Japan in the 1930s. Robert Kennedy dissuaded the

executive committee from endorsing a preemptive strike on

Cuba during the missile crisis of 1962 by labeling such an

attack as “a Pearl Harbor in reverse.” 3 In an elegant and comprehensive study of decision making in the Johnson admini -

stration prior to US entry into Vietnam, Yuen Foong Khong

described how references to the Munich Crisis, the Philippine

and Greek insurrections, the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu,

and the Korean War influenced the perspectives of the cabinet

members and essentially determined US intervention policy. 4

Col John Warden, in planning the Instant Thunder air cam -

paign for Operation Desert Storm in 1991, bluntly rejected a

reprise of the failed Rolling Thunder campaign employed in

Vietnam from 1965 to 1968.5

Historical analogies offer policy prescriptions and help evaluate alternatives, but they are accompanied by risk. Inappropri -

ate analogies fail to illuminate a situation and poor analogies

emphasize superficial or irrelevant similarities.6 Risk increases

when policy makers neglect important differences between an

analogy and the current situation. There is also a strong ten -

dency to adhere to an appealing analogy despite evidence that

the analogy is inappropriate.7 Given these provisions, precedents, and warnings, the planner must determine whether the

analogy is suitable for a given set of circumstances.

There are no approved formulae that conclusively determine

the propriety of an historical analogy for a particular situatio n—

but there are tests that might uncover shortcomings, limita -

tions, or dissimilarities. The most important step is to deter -

mine the nature and context of the problem or situation. The

problem presented in chapter 1 is the integration of space

power into Air Force operations. There are several potential

historical analogies to compare to the integration of space

power into the Air Force—the Army Air Corps in the Army, the

Marine Corps in the Navy, helicopter aviation in the Army—

but this study investigates naval aviation in the interwar Navy.

The most convincing step in the assessment process is to list

similarities and differences between the historical analogy and

the situation under examination.8 Unfortunately, this process

is only persuasive. It does not and cannot prove any particular

analogy is more appropriate than another, but comparing

CADRE PAPER

6
similarities and differences can reveal factual mistakes that

might unravel potentially misleading analogies.9 In the end,

persuasion depends on the similarities substantially outweighing the differences.

Similarities and Differences

There are striking similarities between the domestic and international political environments of the interwar years and

the 1990s. In addition, there are similarities between the mili -

tary structure, doctrine, and technologies for naval aviation

and space power. The following 10 similarities are intended to

be persuasive and stimulating rather than exhaustive.

 1. US naval aviation endured its first sustained combat

test during World War I. Naval aircraft had participated

in combat during the Vera Cruz incident in 1914, but

that two-day affair was little more than a demonstration

for a handful of aircraft. Desert Storm marked a funda -

mental change in the philosophy of space power. Ele -

ments of space power participated in earlier military operations, but most space assets were designed to fight

the cold war. After Desert Storm, the focus shifted from

cold war to the support of military operations.

 2. All nations share the freedom to navigate the world’s

oceans outside territorial boundaries. President Dwight

D. Eisenhower crafted policies to establish and maintain

the freedom of space so unarmed military satellites

could fly freely over any country.10 The Vanguard program was designed to place a civilian satellite in orbit

and to demonstrate the freedom of space, but the Sovi -

ets’ launch of Sputnik I in October 1957 established the

precedent Eisenhower sought.11 Eisenhower’s refusal to

deploy weapons in space and the idea of the freedom of

space profoundly influence US space policy today.

 3. In its democratic and isolationist tradition, the United

States government dramatically reduced military spending

following World War I. The Navy had to divide its shrinking

slice of the defense budget between aviation and surface

forces. Following Desert Storm and the sudden end of the

JELONEK

7
cold war, space power, too, had to compete for its share

of the continually contracting defense budget.

 4. Democracies generally distrust large standing military

forces in peacetime. Following the defeat of Germany in

World War I, there was limited public enthusiasm for

things military. The resounding victory in the Persian

Gulf War, the end of the cold war, an all-volunteer mili -

tary force, and the ever-elusive promise of a “peace divi -

dend” have all combined to drain public support from

the military since the late 1990s.

5. With the defeat of the Kaiser’s Germany in 1918, there

was no imminent threat to US security or its vital security

interests. The imperfect peace with Germany and the ris -

ing sun of Japanese imperialism were distant menaces.

After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the most

prominent threat to the United States vanished. Iran,

Iraq, North Korea, and the People’s Republic of China

currently pose only indirect threats to vital security inter -

ests.

 6. In the 1920s, there was a limited commercial market

for military aviation products, so the aviation industry

depended on government orders for survival. Although

the market for space services is growing, current entrylevel costs are exorbitant; few organizations other than

governments can afford to participate. Like aviation in

the 1920s, however, the commercial space market appears to be on the verge of expansion.

 7. In the early days of wood and fabric biplanes, naval avia -

tion was principally an auxiliary to the fleet. Aircraft conducted scouting, aerial spotting, and reconnaissance missions in support of battleships. For political rather than

technological reasons, space power is an auxiliary to the

combat Air Force. Space missions include reconnaissance, warning, communications, and navigation. Neither

naval aviation nor space power began as primary means

for delivering destructive power to the enemy.

 8. Senior naval officers trained and blooded in the battle -

ship Navy held nearly all leadership positions and controlled naval policy. Flying officers hold most of the sen -

CADRE PAPER

8
ior leadership positions in the Air Force; many saw

combat in the air over Vietnam.

 9. Aviation was an element of warfare completely alien to

the traditional role of the sea service; that is, aircraft

could influence the outcome of a surface battle before

the opposing fleets ever exchanged gunfire. The fundamental characteristics of warfare in the air (speed,

range, flexibility, elevation) are essentially the same as

those of space—but the manner in which satellites ex -

ploit those characteristics is different from that of air -

craft. Somewhat simplistically, satellites accelerate to

slow down and do not immediately change direction

when they turn. Warfare in space is as alien to airpower

as aviation was to war at sea.

10. The last is possibly the most appealing similarity be -

tween the two cases. The Navy gradually integrated

aviation fully into naval operations over the course of 20

years. Aviation became neither a separate corps within

the Navy nor a service independent from the Navy. The

Air Force’s implicit position, supported by the Global

Engagement vision statement, is that space will not

evolve into either a separate corps or independent serv -

ice in the near term.

t t t

Several significant differences distinguish naval aviation in

the interwar years from space power at the end of the century.

The following discussion illustrates three.

 1. The state of naval aviation development in the 1920s

was comparatively more immature than the state of

space power development in the 1990s. By 1921, man

had been flying for less than 18 years. Aircraft could

barely haul a 1,000-pound bomb aloft—certainly not

from the deck of an aircraft carrier. Naval aircraft could

competently perform the scouting, spotting, and reconnaissance missions, but communications between ship

and aircraft were primitive. Pilots initially relied on

homing pigeons to deliver scouting reports back to the

fleet. Despite visionary claims, aircraft were incapable of

replacing the battleship as the Navy’s primary instruJELONEK

9
ment of power projection. In contrast, space power in

1998 has existed for over 40 years. An intercontinental

ballistic missile (ICBM) can hit a target from half a

world away with greater accuracy than a B-17 could

drop a bomb from 20,000 feet during World War II.

Satellites are complex, reliable, and extremely capable

military platforms. Politics, not technology, prevents the

military from delivering firepower from and through

space.

 2. During the early years of aviation, there was freedom

for individual experimentation and innovation with air -

craft and their roles in warfare. Capt Joseph Mason

Reeves implemented flight operations on the USS Langley that he had discovered in war games at the Naval

War College. Jimmy Doolittle performed experiments in

instrument flying, Carl Spaatz and Ira C. Eaker demonstrated aerial refueling, and Billy Mitchell conducted

the famous bombing tests of the Ostfriesland. Today,

space platforms continuously perform their operational

missions. These precious national assets are carefully

managed and controlled. Their value and their remote -

ness inhibit experimentation except under officially

sanctioned and meticulously scrutinized research programs. Innovative airmen may not hop aboard a satel -

lite and make a few test orbits.

 3. The battleship admirals were skeptical, if not com -

pletely critical, of aviation. The fliers fought a lengthy

battle for legitimacy against service resistance. Rear

Adm W. L. Rodgers, chairman of the general board in

1922, thought aircraft would interfere with battleship

tactics.12 The chief of the bureau of the budget, Rear

Adm Joseph Strauss, believed aviation was not of para -

mount importance and cut its budget accordingly. 13

Rear Adms William Shoemaker and Richard Leigh re -

fused to consider aviators as any different from other

line officers.14 The space community faces no similar

struggle for recognition. The reason might lie in the fact

that space power does not yet challenge the flying es -

tablishment for preeminence in the Air Force.

CADRE PAPER

10
It is inefficient to present more than a handful of prominent

similarities and differences between naval aviation and space

power, and it is probably disingenuous to stack the deck in

favor of similarities. Hopefully, the similarities are sufficiently

compelling to overcome the differences presented here as well

as any others that may exist. Consequently, the reader is the

ultimate judge of whether the naval aviation analogy is even

appropriate and, if so, whether the derived prescriptions apply

to integrating space power into the Air Force. Regardless, the

policies and programs employed by the Navy between 1921 and

1941 to integrate aviation into naval operations constitute a

compelling case.

Notes

1. Yuen Foong Khong, Analogies at War: Korea, Munich, Dien Bien Phu,

and the Vietnam Decisions of 1965 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University

Press, 1992), 13.

2. Ibid., 10.

3. Richard E. Neustadt and Ernest R. May, Thinking in Time: The Uses of

History for Decision Makers (New York: Free Press, 1986), 6.

4. Khong, 133.

5. Richard T. Reynolds, Heart of the Storm: The Genesis of the Air

Campaign against Iraq (Maxwell Air Force Base [AFB]), Ala.: Air University

Press, 1995), 29. Reynolds presents a detailed, if hagiographic, discussion of

the development of the Desert Storm air campaign.

6. Khong, 12.

7. Ibid., 221, 223. Khong calls the adherence to inappropriate analogies

perseverance.

8. Neustadt and May, 234, 235. These steps in assessing the validity of

historical analogies form only a few parts of Neustadt and May’s method for

using history to assist in determining policy.

9. Ibid., 41, 47, 235.

10. Curtis Peebles, High Frontier: The U.S. Air Force and the Military Space

Program (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office [GPO], 1997), 8.

11. Ibid., 10.

12. Gerald E. Wheeler, Admiral William Veazie Pratt, U.S. Navy: A Sailor’s

Life (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1974), 202.

13. Archibald D. Turnbull and Clifford L. Lord, History of United States

Naval Aviation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1949), 226.

14. William F. Trimble, Admiral William A. Moffett: Architect of Naval

Aviation (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994), 198.

JELONEK

11
Chapter 3

Naval Aviation Integration Policies

The United States Navy, as an institution, understood both

the value and the potential of aviation in naval operations

early in the development of powered flight. After the end of

World War I, the Navy strongly resisted attempts by Brig Gen

William “Billy” Mitchell and his followers to absorb naval avia -

tion into a separate and independent air service. An extremely

effective defense against such an assault would be to build a

naval air service so tightly ingrained and integrated into the

Navy that separating aviation would severely and perhaps fa -

tally degrade the combat capabilities of the fleet. Historical

evidence suggests that the Navy accomplished exactly that. It

fully integrated aviation into fleet operations.

The Integration Process

To integrate means to incorporate, to form or blend into a

whole. In this study, integration means the evolutionary process by which a new technology (aviation in the Navy and

space power in the Air Force) becomes an inseparable part of

the military service. In his study of military innovation,

Stephen Rosen defined innovation as a change that forces a

primary combat arm of a service to alter its concepts of opera -

tion and to abandon or downgrade traditional missions. 1 Integrating a “new way of war”2 is a logical intermediate stage in

Rosen’s innovation process, but the principal difference be -

tween innovation and integration is that the integration process does not necessarily result in replacing the traditional

method of warfare. An integrated technology may help perform

existing missions better rather than radically changing them. 3

Therefore, Rosen’s ideas on the innovation process can serve

as a straw man for integrating new technologies.

Rosen determined that innovation usually proceeds downward from the top of military organizations. 4 Respected senior

military officers formulate and implement a strategy for gaining political control over their service on behalf of the new way

13
of war. Those senior officers champion a new theory of victory

that predicts how future wars will be won, and they translate

the theory into new tasks that are performed every day in

peacetime and in war.5 For the Navy in the 1920s and 1930s,

aviation was the new way of war. Aerial spotting, reconnais -

sance, air superiority, and, later, surface attack were the tasks

by which the Navy measured an officer’s effectiveness. As offi -

cers skilled in the new way of war ascend in rank and assume

positions of command, the distribution of power shifts slowly

away from those versed in the old methods (the battleship

admirals) toward those proficient in the new technology (the

aviators). Only senior military officers hold enough political

power within the service to create career paths to senior ranks

for officers to learn and practice the new way of war. The

protected career path prevents young officers from being

shunted into positions that disqualify them from flag rank 6

and provides them positions of influence from which to pro -

mote and perpetuate the new method of warfare.

The Navy instituted a number of policies that composed the

integration process. For the purpose of this study, a Navy

policy is any course of action—whether official, intended, or

accidental—that the Navy followed and that affected the inte -

gration of aviation into its operations. Some of the policies are

those identified by Rosen’s innovation process. Others are a

collection of recurring initiatives that coalesced into identifi -

able patterns. All are supported by an abundance of evidence.

Plausible Integration Policies

The Navy Department and the Bureau of Aeronautics pur -

sued a variety of policies that, on the surface, appear as if they

aided the integration of aviation into the fleet. Closer examina -

tion suggests that those policies probably did not contribute in

a vital way to the integration process despite their prima facie

appeal.

Rear Adm William Adger Moffett was the overwhelming personality who championed naval aviation from 1921 until his

death in 1933. His particular combination of personality, po -

litical acumen, political connections, and leadership dragged

the US Navy into the age of airpower.

CADRE PAPER

14
William A. Moffett was born in Charleston, South Carolina, in

1869, the son of a former captain in the South Carolina infan -

try.7 In 1886, Moffett won an appointment to the US Naval Acad -

emy. After graduation in 1890 and a two-year apprenticeship at

sea, Moffett earned his commission and served in 1893 aboard

the USS Chicago under the command of Capt Alfred Thayer

Mahan.8 Ensign Moffett saw one-sided combat in the Philippines

on the USS Charleston during the Spanish-American War in

1898.9 In 1914, Commander Moffett earned the Medal of Honor

for his actions in the Battle of Vera Cruz while skipper of the

USS Chester.

10 While commanding the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Illinois, Moffett developed friendships with several

prominent members of the Chicago business community—friendships that would serve him well in his later political

struggles.11 Captain Moffett commanded the USS Mississippi

Courtesy: NASA

Rear Admiral William A. Moffett. Admiral Moffett, “Father of Naval Aviation,”

championed naval aviation from 1921 until his death in 1933.

JELONEK

15
from 1918 to 1920. In 1921, President Warren G. Harding

appointed him chief of the newly created Bureau of Aeronautics with the accompanying rank of rear admiral. 12

Admiral Moffett was not a complete stranger to naval avia -

tion. He oversaw flight training and aircraft maintenance instruction during World War I while at the Great Lakes Naval

Training Center, and he used aerial spotters with great suc -

cess during gunnery exercises while commanding the Mississippi.

13 Moffett was an outstanding naval officer, and he de -

voted those same considerable abilities to the cause of naval

aviation. From 1921 until 1933, he conducted a sustained

campaign against traditionalists to convince the naval establishment that airpower was a valuable asset. Moffett sent air -

power to sea aboard battleships and cruisers. He pushed the

development of fleet aircraft carriers, airships, and the flyingdeck cruiser. He fought to protect the careers of aviators, and

he instituted the aviation observer program to lure senior offi -

cers into the fold of aviation. To win public support, Moffett

entered naval aviators into popular air races, sent aircraft and

airships on cross-country tours, and conducted exhibitions

with aircraft carriers to keep naval aviation in the public eye.

Moffett used his political connections to remain in his post as

bureau chief for an unprecedented 12 years and to garner

congressional support for expanding the nascent aviation program during years of lean budgets.

Not everything Moffett touched turned to gold. The flyingdeck cruiser never left the drawing board. Light carriers could

not launch enough aircraft to generate the massed attacks

necessary for fleet engagements. The rigid airship never devel -

oped into a credible combat platform and died a lingering

death. Ironically, Admiral Moffett met his end aboard one of

the airships he so staunchly defended. He was killed in a

thunderstorm on 4 April 1933 when the airship Akron crashed

at sea off the coast of New Jersey. 14 Nevertheless, the policies

and construction programs begun under his leadership cre -

ated the organization and infrastructure that battled to victory

in World War II. In the words of his biographer, “Moffett at the

time of his death had already done more than anyone before or

since to secure the place of naval aviation in the military establishment.”15 His well-earned sobriquet as the “Father of Naval

CADRE PAPER

16
 Courtesy: US Navy

Eugene Ely takes off from USS Birmingham. On 14 November 1910, Eugene

Ely, a civilian pilot, took off from a wooden platform built over the bow of the

Birmingham.

 Courtesy: US Navy

Naval aviators T. Gordon Ellyson and John Towers. On 23 December 1910, Lt

T. Gordon “Spuds” Ellyson (left) was ordered to report for flight instruction at

Glenn Curtiss Aviation Camp, North Island, San Diego. He completed training

on 12 April 1911 and became Naval Aviator No. 1. Ellyson is pictured here with

Naval Aviator No. 3, Lt John Towers.

JELONEK

17
Courtesy: US Navy 

Eugene Ely lands on USS Pennsylvania. On 18 January 1911, Eugene Ely

landed a Curtiss pusher on a specially built platform aboard the Pennsylvania.

Courtesy: US Navy

Lt Cdr Henry C. Mustin launches from USS North Carolina. On 5 November

1915, Lt Cdr Mustin, piloting an AB-2 flying boat, made the first catapult launch

from a ship.

CADRE PAPER

18
Aviation” 16 suggests that Moffett was quite instrumental to the

integration of aviation into the Navy. Naval aviation, however,

probably would not have floundered or failed without him.

Naval aviation had existed since 1911, when Congress ap -

propriated funds for the Navy to purchase its first aircraft. 17

By 1921, naval aviation had demonstrated its combat capabili -

ties in World War I; many more officers than Admiral Moffett

now recognized its utility. Rear Adm William S. Sims, although

in the sunset of his career, was an ardent supporter of avia -

tion.18 Rear Adm William V. Pratt, newly promoted to flag rank

in 1921 and member of the Navy’s General Board, was a con -

vert to the cause of aviation.19 Although too junior in 1921,

Capt Ernest J. King, Capt Joseph Mason Reeves, and Cdr

John H. Towers believed in the future of naval aviation. Any of

these men could certainly have substituted for Moffett within

the span of a few years. Finally, naval aviation did not founder

with Moffett’s death in 1933. Moffett may have hauled aviation

through its formative years, but he probably was not irreplace -

able as chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics.

President Harding appointed a former battleship commander

as the first chief of the new aviation bureau. Having a battleship

skipper in charge of aeronautical development, however, did not

necessarily win members of the “Gun Club” to the cause of naval

aviation. By the time Moffett assumed his duties as chief of the

Bureau of Aeronautics, he had 30 years of experience in ships

and he understood the language of his brother flag officers. 20

But part of the struggle of naval aviation was bureaucratic, and

the new Bureau of Aeronautics siphoned manpower and re -

sources away from the established Bureaus of Steam Engineer -

ing and Construction and Repair (55 percent of the new Aero -

nautics staff transferred from the Bureau of Construction and

Repair).21 Moffett’s attempts to manage aviation personnel di -

rectly challenged the prerogatives of the Navy’s powerful Bureau

of Navigation.22 Fraternity among flag officers may have served

only to make the turf battles somewhat cordial.

On the opposite side of the fraternity equation, Moffett earned

the respect of naval aviators through loyalty and dedication to

their cause, but that respect did not transfer to all aviation

converts. Younger pilots considered the officers who earned their

observer or pilot wings in midcareer as opportunists.23 Although

JELONEK

19
Moffett defended these officers (Captains King and Halsey, for

example) as expedients to building support among the senior

grades, the aviators looked to the promotion of career fliers

like John Towers as signals for their own advancement. To

them, King, Halsey, Arthur B. Cook, and others were

“Johnnie-come-latelies.”24 Apparently, credentials as battleship

commanders garnered influence from neither surface nor flying

communities.

Admiral Moffett and the Bureau of Aeronautics expended a

concerted effort to demonstrate the capabilities and to publicize

the exploits of naval aviation. These appeals for public support

did little to increase the acceptance of aviation within the line of

the Navy. Naval aviators sponsored by the Bureau of Aeronautics

entered the all-Navy Curtiss Marine Trophy Race in 1922—and

in 1923, won both the Schneider Cup and Pulitzer Trophy

Races.25 During the summer of 1923, the USS Langley called on

eight northeastern ports, including New York City and Boston,

and participated in community celebrations by performing flying

demonstrations.26 Moffett sent the airship Shenandoah on similar promotional tours such as the air races in Saint Louis in

1923.27 The near-disaster of the seaplane flights from California

to Hawaii, the crash of the Shenandoah, the firestorm ignited by

Billy Mitchell’s accusations of incompetence and negligence

within the Navy, and the admonition from the Morrow Board

about publicity flights, all in 1925, demonstrated the risk of

pandering to the public. In 1924, Lt Arthur W. Radford (who

eventually rose to be chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff under

President Eisenhower) summarized the impact of Moffett’s publicity campaign. The Bureau of Aeronautics had “sold aviation to

the public, but not to the Navy as a whole.” Flag officers, ship’s

captains, and gunnery officers needed “tangible evidence” that

aviation improved combat performance.28 Publicity did not demonstrate the value of aviation to the Navy’s fighting officers.

Detractors tagged Admiral Moffett as a “political admiral” be -

cause of his political connections and his facility in exploiting

them to achieve his objectives. Moffett’s political maneuvering,

however, was not instrumental in integrating aviation into the

Navy. While assigned to the Great Lakes Naval Training Station

near Chicago, Moffett cultivated relationships with powerful

businessmen such as J. Ogden Armour and William Wrigley Jr.

CADRE PAPER

20
(famous for their meat packing and chewing gum industries,

respectively).29 Moffett appealed to these influential men to inter -

cede on his behalf for his initial appointment as chief of the

Bureau of Aeronautics and his reappointment for second and

third terms.30 In a different tack, Moffett sent two of his pilots on

a cross-country tour to visit senators and representatives in

their hometowns to enlist their support for aviation funding. One

result was an enthusiastic endorsement from Senator Miles

Poindexter of Washington for a $5,000,000 aviation appropriation.31 Moffett’s deft political strategies secured government support for aviation and kept him in a position to capitalize on that

support, but those political strategies did not penetrate into the

daily operation of aviation with the fleet. The strategies were

external to the integration process.

The Naval Appropriations Act of 1921 established the Bureau

of Aeronautics within the Department of the Navy, and the Naval

Aircraft Expansion Act of 1926 created an assistant secretary of

the Navy for Aeronautics.32 The existence of a federally mandated Bureau of Aeronautics and civilian representation at the

assistant secretary level were not vital to integrating aviation into

the Navy. With bureau status, the Bureau of Aeronautics had

authority over operational doctrine and aircraft development as

well as influence over personnel assignments.33 Because the bureau chiefs reported directly to the secretary of the Navy, they

had less to fear from a hostile chief of Naval Operations. 34

Organization, though, had not led to successful integration

in the case of engineering. Congress established the Engineer -

ing Corps in the Navy in 1842 and a Bureau of Steam Engi -

neering in 1862,35 but the rivalry between the line and the

Engineering Corps increased until Secretary of the Navy John

D. Long instituted dramatic reforms at the turn of the century.

As for civilian representation, the office of the assistant secre -

tary for Aeronautics was vacant from 1932 until 1941. 36 Neither bureau status nor an assistant secretary necessarily

guaranteed aviation’s integration into the fleet.

Although the effort expended in these five policy areas con -

tributed little to integrating aviation into naval operations,

they did serve a legitimate purpose. All these measures en -

sured the continuing existence of naval aviation, whose most

serious and persistent threat came from outside the Navy. The

JELONEK

21
political and public support nurtured by Moffett established a

formidable bulwark from which to battle Mitchell over a separate

air service.37 Related to this, Moffett remained in his position as

bureau chief at a time when naval aviation benefited from his

political finesse and clout.38 Protected from external assault,

aviation could pursue the course that would make it indispensa -

ble to naval warfare.

Courtesy: US Navy

USS Jupiter becomes the aircraft carrier Langley. The Naval Appropriations

Act for Fiscal Year 1920 provided for converting the collier Jupiter into the

Navy’s first aircraft carrier, later named Langley.

Courtesy: US Navy

Lt Cdr Godfrey deC. Chevalier lands on USS Langley. On 26 October 1922, Lt

Cdr Chevalier, Naval Aviator No. 7, made the first landing aboard the Langley.

Some three weeks later, on 14 November, Lt Cdr Chevalier died from injuries

suffered in a plane crash.

CADRE PAPER

22
Successful Integration Policies

The champions of naval aviation embarked upon essentially

five major collections of policies and programs that facilitated

the integration of aviation into the Navy. The categories en -

compass increasing the understanding of aviation within the

Navy, enhancing battleship performance rather than threatening the battleship’s existence, providing a career path for avia -

tors to achieve senior rank, maintaining the familiarity of avia -

tors with surface operations, and including aviation in naval

war games.

The first, and arguably the most important, integration initiatives were those designed to increase the general knowledge and

understanding among naval officers of the capabilities aviation

brought to the battle line. In order to achieve this, Admiral Mof -

fett and the Bureau of Aeronautics deployed aircraft with as

many fleet units as possible. Moffett confided to Admiral Sims in

1921 that he found no opposition to aviation in the Navy, “but

considerable indifference and lack of knowledge on the subject,”

and was trying “to get aviation afloat by putting planes on every -

thing from submarines to battleships.”39

In 1922, Moffett submitted a tentative plan to the General

Board to get as many airplanes as possible into operation with

the fleet. The plan included equipping each battleship, cruiser,

and destroyer division with scout and fighter aircraft, and

commissioning the aircraft carriers Lexington and Saratoga by

the end of 1924.40 The General Board agreed with Moffett’s

plan and proposed that all battleships, modern cruisers, and

destroyers be furnished with reconnaissance and fighter air -

craft.41 By the end of 1922, the battleships Maryland, Nevada,

and Oklahoma had aircraft catapults; by mid-1925, each

Omaha-class cruiser and nine more battleships had received

catapults.42 Lexington and Saratoga joined the fleet in 1927.

Both ships possessed the power and speed to operate their 70

aircraft with the battleship fleet.43 Moffett understood that the

Navy was the first line of offense. Aviation was its advanced

guard and, to act in the vanguard, it had “to go to sea on the

back of the fleet.”44 Equipping the fleet with aircraft was only

one of several steps in the education process.

JELONEK

23
Beginning around 1919 and continuing through the 1920s

and 1930s, flying units and, eventually, aircraft carriers, par -

ticipated in naval gunnery practice and full-scale fleet exer -

cises. During interception exercises off Guantanamo Bay,

Cuba, in January 1919, aircraft charted the position, course,

and speed of the attacking fleet.45 Moffett himself had benefited from aviation while captain of the battleship Mississippi.

With the aid of aerial spotting in the 1920 gunnery exercises,

the Mississippi achieved scores so high they nearly equaled

those of all other battleships combined.46

The USS Langley shouldered the burden of carrier-based

airpower in fleet exercises until the Lexington and Saratoga

joined the fleet. In Fleet Problem I of February 1923, the Langley demonstrated the vulnerability of the Panama Canal to air

attack47 and defended the scouting fleet from attacking bomb -

ers.48 Vice Adm Newton A. McCully Jr., commander of the

scouting forces of the US Fleet in the Caribbean, commended

Langley’s performance in a letter to Moffett. McCully stated

that the Langley had clearly demonstrated her value to the

fleet and that her air operations had been “an eye opener for

most people.”49 By 1925, the role of aviation in Fleet Problem

V had expanded significantly. The fleet exercise in the Pacific

included 24 aircraft from the Langley, 60 from battleships and

cruisers, 26 seaplanes from the scouting fleet, and 14 from the

naval air station at Honolulu.50 Fleet Problem IX in 1929, with

Lexington and Saratoga, finally tested the notions of carrier

airpower that had long been mere hypotheses. 51 A rather chaotic attack and defense of the Panama Canal showed the flexi -

bility of carrier airpower, the importance of air superiority, and

the inferiority of cruisers to aircraft in the scouting role. The

exercise proved carriers occupied a definite place in plans for

war at sea as the principal long-range strike element of the

fleet.52

Formal education complemented practical exposure. The

curricula at the US Naval Academy and the Naval War College

included aviation courses and flying instruction to familiarize

future and senior naval officers with the fundamentals of

flight. In 1921, Admiral Sims added aviation studies to the

course of instruction at the Naval War College, where the Navy

groomed its future admirals.53 Moffett established aviation

CADRE PAPER

24
training at the Naval Academy,54 and the 1925 Eberle Board

recommended adding a course in aeronautics; it began in that

same year.55 The four hours of flight training required by the

academy grew to 12 hours by 1950. 56 By 1926, half of the

academy’s graduates were receiving flying instruction. 57

Knowledge brought understanding and understanding

brought appreciation and innovation.

Each of these policies, intended to expose naval officers to

the possibilities of aviation, provided tangible experience of

how aviation improved the capabilities of individual ships and

the battle fleet as a whole. Operating in the air was different

from maneuvering at sea, and the differences were an impedi -

ment to understanding. In space operations, orbital mechanics is different from aerodynamics and the difference creates a

similar gulf in understanding between airpower and space

power. Furthermore, space capabilities have long been cloaked

by the imperatives of national security. Programs analogous to

those that educated naval officers on the potential of naval

aviation will similarly expose space operations to the flying Air

Force.

u u u

Early vocal aviation proponents advertised airpower as a

new weapon that made armies and navies obsolete. These at -

tacks threatened the raison d’être of a military establishment

generally resistant to change. Naval aviators pursued a more

subtle and ultimately more digestible course in the 1920s.

They promoted the capabilities and possibilities of airpower as

enhancements to the battleship Navy rather than as rivals to

the premier striking force of the fleet. In reality, early airpower

was technologically incapable of replacing the battleship. The

aviators’ strategy was as wise as it was successful. The abun -

dance of evidence suggests that Moffett and his aviators navi -

gated this course as a considered strategy to integrate aviation

into the Navy as well as into the hearts and minds of the Navy

leaders. Moffett’s strategy comprised both words and deeds.

Rear Admiral Rodgers, chairman of the Navy’s General

Board, asked Capt Henry C. Mustin, assistant chief of the

Bureau of Aeronautics: “Do you contemplate making all naval

warfare in support of the air attack?” Mustin, a pre-World War

I convert to aviation who had earned his captain’s stripes on

JELONEK

25
battleships during the war, clearly set the tone of aviation for

Rodgers: “Our whole aviation program is laid out on the basis

that the battleship is the dominant factor in naval warfare,

provided it is properly supported by aircraft.”58 Admiral Moffett

told the 1924 Eberle Board (chaired by the chief of naval opera -

tions, Adm Edward W. Eberle) that it was foolish to think air -

planes would minimize the value of the battleship and render it

obsolete. Aviation was and would remain an auxiliary arm of the

fleet.59 In testimony before the 1925 Morrow Board, Cdr John H.

Towers (naval aviator no. 3) stated, “I am firmly convinced that

aviation must remain an integral part of the main fighting or -

ganization, and that is the line.” Aviation did not cooperate with

the Navy, it was the Navy. “In 10 years it may be one-third of it,

and in 20 years it may be all of it.” 60

Moffett also captured the sentiment in writing. In a lecture

prepared for the Naval War College, Moffett declared, “the most

important Naval function that the aircraft has to perform today

[1923] is that of observing gunfire for the main line of ships of

the Fleet.”61 In an article published in the U.S. Naval Institute

Proceedings, Moffett proclaimed that “the fleet and naval aviation

are one and inseparable.”62 Aviation belonged with the fleet, and

the role of aviation at sea strengthened this conclusion.

As Rosen observed, aviation in the Navy initially supported

existing missions.63 In 1919, the General Board informed the

secretary of the Navy that aviation was capable of scouting for

the enemy fleet, spotting the fall of friendly gunfire, and engag -

ing enemy aircraft in air-to-air fighting. 64 Aircraft allowed battle fleet commanders to detect the enemy at increased

ranges.65 Once within range, aerial spotting increased the dis -

tance at which the long-range guns could engage the enemy

and dramatically improved their accuracy.66 From this, the

logic was inescapable. Aerial spotting increased the number of

hits, and hits meant destruction of the enemy fleet. The enemy

should be denied their spotters and should not be allowed to

interfere with friendly spotters. Fighter aircraft protected

friendly spotters by winning command of the air from enemy

aircraft. Only aircraft carriers could provide sufficient fighter

strength to win air control.67 Initially, aircraft carriers operated close to the fleet to perform scouting, spotting, air control,

and antisubmarine patrols. By 1931, as operational experi -

CADRE PAPER

26
ence grew with Lexington and Saratoga, the carriers operated

as screening, raiding, and striking forces with the battle line or

in independent fleet actions.68 As late as 1941, carrier doctrine

was flexible, but aircraft carriers were still a subordinate part

of the battle line.69

The patient insinuation of naval aviation into the fleet com -

plemented rather than supplanted the surface forces. Aviation

gained acceptance among naval officers because it increased the

performance of battleships and cruisers without threatening

their supremacy. Aviation was a revolutionary weapon system in

the 1920s, full of promise but alien to traditional naval equip -

ment and thought. Understandably, it provoked an expected

conservative reaction. Space power poses a similar threat to

those who have proven themselves in traditional airpower mis -

sions. Integration is partly a human struggle, so space advocates

could benefit by employing a strategy similar to that of the naval

aviators in order to mitigate threats to airpower missions.

u u u

Senior officers dominated naval policy in the 1920s and

1930s (as they do today). Only by earning commensurate rank

could aviators amass enough power and respect to influence

naval aviation policy. Aviators needed a viable career path that

increased their aviation skills without prejudicing their oppor -

tunities for command and flag rank.70 Like aviation itself, this

career path had to be integral to that of other line officers to

avoid any appearance that it was separate and distinct.

Within the living memory of naval officers in the 1920s, the

Navy had overcome a divisive internal conflict between the

parallel careers of line officers and engineers. The animosity

delayed the full integration of propulsion engineering into the

line of the Navy by at least 40 years. 71 In 1842, when Congress

created the staff engineer corps, engineers were removed from

the promotion path that made them eligible to command

ships.72 In 1859, Secretary of the Navy Isaac Toucey ordered

that the staff corps had no military command authority. Con -

sequently, the engineers had no power to control and disci -

pline their own men.73 As further insult, Vice Adm David D.

Porter, a Civil War naval hero who sailed to victory on steam

propulsion, downgraded the rank and status of steam engi -

neering in 1869.74

JELONEK

27
The captain was the most skilled sailor aboard his ship, but

he depended on his chief engineer to propel and maneuver his

ship in battle.75 Engineers held neither congressional commissions nor naval rank, but they challenged the line officers as

the absolute masters of their ships.76 Before the turn of the

century, Secretary of the Navy John D. Long tackled this divi -

sion. Naval officers were the masters of motive power during

the age of sail, so it should be no different in the days of

steam. Therefore, they needed to understand the practical ap -

plication of steam engineering.77 In 1899, Congress amalgamated engineering into the line. Line officers would learn the

rudiments of engineering at the Naval Academy, and engineers

were no longer second-class officers forbidden to command

ships.78 Cadets were trained in both deck and engineering

assignments, and line officers stood normal tours of duty in

the engineering department aboard ship.79 With this lengthy

and traumatic experience as prelude, the Navy was deter -

mined not to repeat the mistake with aviation personnel.

Naval aviators, like any other military officers, needed senior

ranks and important commands as goals in order to motivate

them to excel and to measure the success of their careers. The

Naval Appropriation Act of 1921 created the Bureau of Aero -

nautics and established that 30 percent of the commanders

(and above) who were assigned to the bureau had to qualify as

aviation observers within one year of assignment. 80 Admiral

Moffett understood that there were too few senior officers

qualified in aviation to fill senior billets, so he developed the

naval observer’s course at Pensacola Naval Air Station for

commanders and captains to learn the fundamentals of flying.

The course existed from 1921 to 1931, when qualified pilots

attained sufficient seniority to fill aviation command posi -

tions.81 Some senior officers, like Capt Ernest J. King (1927)

and Capt William F. Halsey (1934), entered pilot training in

order to command aircraft carriers. They gave naval aviation

much-needed rank in the higher Navy echelons. 82 Moffett balanced these “Johnnie-come-latelies” by appointing Cdr Theodore G. “Spuds” Ellyson (naval aviator no. 1) as the head of the

Plans Division, Bureau of Aeronautics. Ellyson’s assignment

was a signal to aviators that Moffett was on their side and

CADRE PAPER

28
could uphold their interests.83 These were expedient fixes to a

problem that needed a long-term solution.

Moffett defended these personnel policies in testimony be -

fore the Morrow Board in 1925. Naval aviation observers—not

rapidly promoted aviators—would command aviation units.

Younger airmen had to achieve senior rank by the normal

selection process.84 Only time in service could get the aviators

what they desired. Nevertheless, the 1925 Eberle Board report

recommended that the Navy department establish a definite

policy to govern the assignment of aviation personnel to avia -

tion duty.85 And as an undeniable incentive, the Morrow

Board recommended that only qualified commissioned pilots

could command aviation shore establishments, seaplane tenders, and aircraft carriers.86 In an ill-conceived attempt to

protect some aviators from going to sea, Congress enacted an

exception for “Aeronautical-Engineering-Duty-Only” in 1935.87

There was already a pervasive uneasiness among aviators that

duty involving flying decreased one’s chances for promotion

and command, so many preferred to remain in the line rather

than go into aviation and sacrifice opportunities for becoming

battleship commanders.88 The personnel integration strategy

was a slow process—and the pace of success was linked to the

pace of promotions.89 A junior aviator in 1921 would not be

eligible for captain for about 20 years, so these fliers did not

reach command grade until the midst of World War II.

Officers are measured by their leadership in command posi -

tions, and superior performance in command is usually a pre -

requisite for senior rank. The supreme test, whether appropri -

ate or not, is an officer’s ability to lead forces in combat.

Aviators needed combat commands to prove themselves to

their surface fleet peers, and the aviators had to earn these

commands by the same rules and means as other line officers.

Any appearance as a privileged, separate, or inferior class

would degrade the aviators’ legitimacy with the rest of the

officer corps and impede their integration. Space operations

officers are driven by the same needs for advancement, recog -

nition, prestige, and career fulfillment as were the naval avia -

tors in the 1920s. A viable career path to combat command

and flag rank is as necessary for space officers as it was for

the naval aviators.

JELONEK

29
u u u

To unite aviation with surface operations, naval aviators

needed to proceed along a career path intimately connected

with the ways of the sea. Aviators could best capitalize on their

new weapon with a thorough knowledge of the capabilities and

doctrine of the battle fleet. To understand the needs and func -

tions of the fleet, naval aviators had to be naval officers first.

This meant that despite their resistance, aviators had to per -

form the same sea duties normal for all naval line officers.

The Department of the Navy resolutely adhered to the policy

that naval aviators be qualified as seamen first. 90 The Eberle

Board recommended in 1925 that academy graduates could be

assigned to aviator training only after two years of sea duty. 91

The Morrow Board supported this policy by concluding that

junior officers should perform adequate sea duty for advance -

ment.92 The Bureau of Navigation, which controlled personnel

assignments, strictly enforced this policy under Rear Adms

William R. Shoemaker and Richard H. Leigh. 93 Shoemaker believed aviators were no more specialized than other officers

and had to do their share of sea duty before receiving aviation

assignments.94 The logic of this position is largely inarguable.

Naval aviators had to be naval officers so they could under -

stand how aviation should be used as an instrument of power

projection in conjunction with the fleet.95 Aviation was only

one component of a ship’s fighting equipment, and aviators

were not different from other officers.96 They had to be indoctrinated into the operations and methods of all naval craft as

well as the language of the sea. Unless they were trained with

the fleet, by the fleet, they could not properly understand the

intentions of the commander in chief.97 Without obtaining

sailing skills, aviators could never command aircraft carriers

or become admirals in charge of fleets employing aircraft carri -

ers.98

Moffett instituted a duty rotation to ensure that aviators

remained proficient in flying and developed the sea skills necessary to understand fleet operations. Annapolis graduates

went to sea for two years, returned to Pensacola for flight

training, performed a tour as a pilot, and then went back to

sea duty.99 Commander Towers told the Morrow Board that

serving “general naval duty” at sea would better integrate avia -

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30
tors into the promotion system.100 While Captain King commanded the Lexington, he made aviators stand bridge watch

and practice navigation to emphasize that they were naval

officers first.101 Despite his often irascible temperament and

careerist ambitions, King understood the symbiotic relationship between aviators and seamen. Naval aviation required

more than mere flying. Years of training in navigation, gun -

nery, engineering, command, strategy, and tactics kept an

aviator attuned to the naval profession. Only aviators so

trained could fully appreciate the needs of the Navy. “Between

the man on the bridge of a surface ship and the man at the

controls of a naval airplane, there is complete understanding

and, therefore, complete cooperation.”102

As a result of these policies and attitudes, all naval officers

shared a common base of experiences, encountered the same

risks, and spoke the same language. The naval aviators under -

stood the primary mission of the Navy, how each component

supported the mission, and how aviation could make its maxi -

mum contribution to the mission. These basic lessons hold

profound implications for the integration of air and space

power. There is essentially no overlap in the skills required to

fly and employ aircraft and those needed to operate space

systems. Such disjunction necessarily impedes a space operator’s understanding of the Air Force flying mission and simul -

taneously makes integrating space power difficult yet critically

important. Conversely, the dichotomy also implies that space

would benefit enormously from an influx of flying personnel.

Without a common “language of the sea,” air and space power

will continue to be perilously disconnected.

u u u

Early in the development of aviation, the US Navy had nei -

ther aircraft carriers nor an experimental fleet air arm. Admi -

ral Sims, president of the Naval War College from 1919 to

1922, introduced aircraft and aircraft carriers into war games

at the school to explore the possibilities of naval aviation in the

conduct of sea warfare. The war games opened the world of

aviation to naval officers and created opportunities for officers

to expand the role of aircraft in naval operations.

The Naval War College developed the war game in the 1890s;

by 1894, it had become a regular part of the curriculum. 103 War

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games served as a tool for officers at the college to analyze and

test warship designs produced by the Navy’s technical bureaus.104 Results from the war games influenced procurement

programs and fleet battle tactics. In the early 1900s, war games

demonstrated the poor cost-effectiveness of the armored cruiser

and identified tactical defects in battleships. They were also instrumental in introducing the all-big-gun battleship.105 Later,

war games decided the characteristics of the first purpose-built

aircraft carrier (Ranger) and eliminated the proposed flying-deck

cruiser. The president of the Naval War College was an advisor to

the General Board, and the board relied on the college to model

and study new technologies through standardized games, which

permitted rapid technological progress without waiting for experimental ships.106

In regard specifically to naval aviation, the war games pro -

duced several tactical innovations. In 1922, Capt Harris Laning, an instructor at the Naval War College, reported to the

General Board that aircraft did not dominate war game situ -

ations but that they exerted decisive influence in all stages of a

campaign, especially the battle stage.107 Laning noted that the

Naval War College students, who initially showed no enthusi -

asm for aircraft, displayed great interest in the possibilities of

air attack and defense as the games progressed. 108 Cdr Roscoe

C. MacFall discovered the value of deploying screening ships

in a circular formation around the major combatants.

MacFall’s classmate at the Naval War College, Chester W.

Nimitz, introduced the now standard circular formation to the

fleet in 1923 while serving under Adm Samuel S. Robison,

commander in chief, Battle Fleet.109 The 1923 games demonstrated the necessity for massing aircraft for strikes. 110 The

1925 war game convinced Capt Joseph M. Reeves that carriers

had to carry more aircraft. While commanding the Langley in

1926, he tripled her aircraft complement.111

There were serendipitous benefits to including aviation in

the Naval War College games. The studies exposed the most

senior commanders, those presumably destined for commands

and admiral’s stars, to the prospects of naval aviation. Those

officers returned to the fleet with convincing arguments to

convert any doubters, which translated into progress for avia -

tion.112 Finally, the war games permitted great opportunities

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32
for innovation without the substantial cost outlays required

for experimental programs.

Space power is even more intangible and more remote to

officers today than naval aviation was to officers during its

early developmental years. Operational imperatives, inaccessibility, and high costs impair innovation with space systems.

War games that realistically include components of space

power would substantially increase the knowledge and under -

standing of space operations while fostering a fertile environment for experimentation and innovation.

The historical survey shows how the Navy implemented a

variety of policies that facilitated the integration of aviation

into fleet operations. The Navy learned how to deal with per -

sonnel issues from its own past of integrating steam engineer -

ing. Despite some pockets of institutional resistance, the Navy

fought on a unified front to retain aviation as part of the fleet.

There were also many companion policies that, while not con -

tributing materially to integration, fended off the zealots de -

manding a separate air service and ensured the continuing

existence of naval aviation.

None of these integration policies is peculiar to the case of

naval aviation, and there are many parallels between naval

aviation in the 1920s/1930s and space power in the 1990s. If

these policies triumphed in the crusade to integrate aviation

into the Navy, and if there was nothing particularly unique to

aviation in the interwar years, then there is compelling reason

to believe that similar policies will be effective in the effort to

integrate space power into the Air Force. The task remains to

identify contemporary space integration policies and then to

measure them against the framework developed from the na -

val aviation analogy.

Notes

1. Stephen Peter Rosen, “New Ways of War: Understanding Military

Innovation,” International Security 13, no. 1 (Summer 1988): 134. For

further discussion on the innovation process, see Stephen Peter Rosen,

Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military (Ithaca, N.Y.:

Cornell University Press, 1991).

2. Rosen, “New Ways of War: Understanding Military Innovation,” 134.

3. Ibid., footnote 1.

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33
4. Ibid., 143.

5. Ibid., 142.

6. Ibid.

7. Most of the biographical information is from William F. Trimble,

Admiral William A. Moffett: Architect of Naval Aviation (Washington, D.C.:

Smithsonian Institution Press, 1984), 21.

8. Ibid., 29.

9. Ibid., 32.

10. Ibid., 47.

11. Ibid., 59.

12. Ibid., 59, 80.

13. Clark G. Reynolds, “William A. Moffett: Steward of the Air

Revolution,” in Admirals of the New Steel Navy: Makers of Naval Tradition

1880–1930, ed. James C. Bradford (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1990),

378.

14. Trimble, 266.

15. Ibid., 276.

16. Reynolds, 374.

17. Archibald D. Turnbull and Clifford L. Lord, History of United States

Naval Aviation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1949), 15.

18. David F. Trask, “William Sowden Sims: The Victory Ashore,” in

Admirals of the New Steel Navy: Makers of American Naval Tradition

1880–1930, ed. James C. Bradford (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1990),

246.

19. Gerald E. Wheeler, Admiral William Veazie Pratt, U.S. Navy: A Sailor’s

Life (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1974), 203.

20. Turnbull and Lord, 206.

21. Trimble, 83.

22. Ibid., 7.

23. Clark G. Reynolds, Admiral John H. Towers: The Struggle for Naval

Air Supremacy (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1991), 223.

24. Ibid., 284.

25. Trimble, 121; and Turnbull and Lord, 211–12.

26. Trimble, 106.

27. Ibid., 127.

28. Quoted in Turnbull and Lord, 239.

29. Trimble, 55.

30. Ibid., 79, 150–51, 193.

31. J. J. Clark and Clark G. Reynolds, Carrier Admiral (New York: David

McKay, 1967), 27.

32. Trimble, 177.

33. Norman Friedman, U.S. Aircraft Carriers: An Illustrated Design

History (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1983), 3.

34. Clark G. Reynolds, The Fast Carriers: The Forging of an Air Navy

(Huntington, N.Y.: Robert E. Krieger Publishing, 1978), 15.

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34
35. John D. Long, The New American Navy, vol. 1 (New York: Outlook

Company, 1903), 78, 105.

36. Paolo E. Colletta, ed., American Secretaries of the Navy, vol 2.

1913–1972 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1980), 648–49; Turnbull and

Lord, 312. President Herbert Hoover abolished the assistant secretary of the

Navy for Aeronautics as an economy measure. David S. Ingalls resigned

from the position in 1932 to run for the governorship of Ohio. President

Herbert Hoover left the office vacant as an economy measure. President

Franklin D. Roosevelt appointed Artemus L. Gates to the post in 1941.

37. Thomas C. Hone, “Navy Air Leadership: Rear Admiral William A. Moffett

as Chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics,” in Air Leadership: Proceedings of a

Conference at Bolling Air Force Base, April 12–14, 1984, ed. Wayne Thompson

(Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1986).

38. Reynolds, “William A. Moffett: Steward of the Air Revolution,” 381.

39. William A. Moffett, chief, Bureau of Aeronautics, to Rear Admiral

William S. Sims, president, Naval War College, letter, subject: Naval

Aviation, 31 October 1921, Sims Papers, Box 74, Newport, R.I.

40. Trimble, 100.

41. Stephen Roskill, Naval Policy Between the Wars, vol.1, The Period of

Anglo-American Antagonism 1919–1929 (London: Collins, 1968), 485.

42. Trimble, 107–8.

43. Ibid., 202–3.

44. William A. Moffett, “Some Aviation Fundamentals,” US Naval

Institute Proceedings 51, no. 10 (October 1925): 1877–1881.

45. Turnbull and Lord, 150.

46. Reynolds, “William A. Moffett: Steward of the Air Revolution,” 378.

47. Roskill, 542.

48. Trimble, 107.

49. Ibid.

50. Moffett, “Some Aviation Fundamentals,” 1871–1881.

51. Turnbull and Lord, 270.

52. Ibid., 272; and Roskill, 542.

53. Reynolds, The Fast Carriers: The Forging of an Air Navy, 14.

54. Reynolds, “William A. Moffett: Steward of the Air Revolution,” 380.

55. Hone, 97; and Roskill, 399.

56. Turnbull and Lord, 233. Dr. David Mets, a 1953 graduate of the US

Naval Academy, interviewed by author, Maxwell AFB, Ala., February 1998.

57. Roskill, 299.

58. Quoted in Trimble, 101.

59. Ibid., 142.

60. Quoted in Reynolds, Admiral John H. Towers: The Struggle for Naval

Air Supremacy, 189–190.

61. Lt Cdr B. L. Leighton, “Aircraft in the Navy—Their Use and Limitations,” lecture, Naval War College, Newport, R.I., 6 April 1923, Naval History

Collectioin, RG 4.

62. Moffett, “Some Aviation Fundamentals,” 1877.

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35
63. Rosen, “New Ways of War: Understanding Military Innovation,” 136.

64. Charles M. Melhorn, Two-Block Fox: The Rise of the Aircraft Carrier,

1911–1929 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1974), 31.

65. Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military , 68.

66. Melhorn, 37. Battleships, even with untrained airborne observers,

achieved miss errors of less than 64 yards.

67. Ibid., 37–38.

68. Friedman, 8, 9, 80.

69. Reynolds, The Fast Carriers: The Forging of an Air Navy, 20.

70. Rosen, “New Ways of War: Understanding Military Innovation,” 136.

71. Kenneth J. Hagan, This People’s Navy: The Making of American Sea

Power (New York: Free Press, 1991), 118. Steam engineering had

demonstrated its value in propulsion during the American Civil War in the

early 1860s. The Navy did not progress significantly down the road to

integrating engineering until the Naval Personnel Act of 1899

72. Hagan, 117; Long, 78; and Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation

and the Modern Military, 78.

73. Long, 79.

74. John D. Alden, The American Steel Navy: A Photographic History of the

U.S. Navy from the Introduction of the Steel Hull in 1883 to the Cruise of the

Great White Fleet, 1907–1909 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1972), 251.

75. Hagan, 117–18.

76. Ibid., 118.

77. Long, 89, 64.

78. Hagan, 232.

79. Alden, 252.

80. Turnbull and Lord, 233.

81. Reynolds, “William A. Moffett: Steward of the Air Revolution,”

381–82.

82. Friedman, 7; and Reynolds, The Fast Carriers: The Forging of an Air

Navy, 16.

83. Trimble, 85.

84. Reynolds, Admiral John H. Towers: The Struggle for Naval Air

Supremacy, 187.

85. Roskill, 399.

86. Turnbull and Lord, 256.

87. Ibid., 293.

88. Melhorn, 97; and Turnbull and Lord, 293.

89. Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military , 80.

90. Turnbull and Lord, 228.

91. Hone, 97.

92. Turnbull and Lord, 256.

93. Trimble, 133–34.

94. Ibid., 140.

95. Rosen, “New Ways of War: Understanding Military Innovation,” 156.

96. Melhorn, 17.

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36
97. Nearly identical sentiments were expressed by Moffett in “Some

Aviation Fundamentals” and Rear Adm William S. Sims, memorandum to

Chief of Naval Operations, Washington, D.C., subject: United Air Service, 1

February 1921.

98. Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military , 78.

99. Hone, 98.

100. Reynolds, Admiral John H. Towers: The Struggle for Naval Air

Supremacy, 189.

101. Thomas B. Buell, Master of Sea Power: A Biography of Fleet Admiral

Ernest J. King (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1980), 91.

102. Ernest J. King and Walter Muir Whitehill, Fleet Admiral King: A

Naval Record (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1952), 250.

103. Ronald Spector, Professors at War: The Naval War College and the

Development of the Naval Profession (Newport, R.I: Naval War College Press,

1977), 74, 78.

104. Ibid., 117.

105. Spector, 114; and Friedman, 33.

106. Friedman, 57.

107. Ibid., 33.

108. Turnbull and Lord, 209.

109. E. B. Potter, Nimitz (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1976),

138–39.

110. Rosen, Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern Military , 69.

111. Hone, 101.

112. Turnbull and Lord, 209.

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37
Chapter 4

Space Integration Policies

and the Naval Analogy

The policies and programs derived from the historical anal -

ogy of the integration of aviation into the US Navy provide a

template against which to measure the progress of the integra -

tion of space into the Air Force. The five major integration

program areas implemented by the Navy in the 1920s and

1930s encompass all the contemporary space integration poli -

cies. The space integration policies, however, do not contribute

to all five of the naval integration program areas. A review of

the history of space integration itself reinforces the conclusions drawn from the naval aviation analogy and adds further

credence to the utility of historical analogy.

“There is a need to integrate all aspects of Air Force space

operations into one coherent road map which clearly deline -

ates objectives that are directly tied to the war-fighting re -

quirements of operational commanders.”1 Although this sentence would fit neatly into the current Air Force vision

statement, it was written in 1989 by a blue ribbon panel

commissioned by Air Force Chief of Staff Larry D. Welch. 2 A

second blue ribbon panel in 1992, chaired by Lt Gen Thomas

S. Moorman Jr., saw space as “an integral part of the Air

Force mission.”3 Global Engagement has not declared anything new, and this latest Air Force vision is neither original

nor unique. The question is, do any of the policies identified

by these previous committees provide some keys to space

integration in its most recent manifestation and do they offer

warnings of misdirected efforts?

The 1989 Blue Ribbon panel recommended 27 different

tasks to integrate space operations into the Air Force. Four of

the tasks addressed increasing the knowledge and under -

standing of space within the Air Force. Three tasks dealt with

officer career progression and representation at senior levels

by officers with space expertise. One task specifically directed

a cross flow of officers between space and air operations as -

signments. The remaining 19 tasks regarded administrative

39
issues, internal and external organizational relationships, and

the procurement or realignment of space systems. 4 The 1992

Moorman panel suggested that the Air Force make integrated

aerospace employment a fundamental principle in all training

and education programs. It, too, advocated an officer cross

flow between Air Force Space Command and the other opera -

tional commands. It recommended integrating space into Red,

Blue, and Green flag exercises and called for a stronger opera -

tional space presence at Air Force headquarters to make better

policy, program, and operational space decisions.5 These conclusions were nearly identical to those proposed in 1989. In a

1995 study prepared for the Commission on Roles and Mis -

sions of the Armed Forces, RAND determined that trust and

space literacy were fundamental to integrating space into mili -

tary operations by gaining the confidence of the war fighters.

Integration depended on increasing space awareness among

users by encouraging their participation in training and exer -

cises.6 Except for the explicit inclusion of space in war games,

these three investigations described four of the five policy pre -

scriptions drawn from the naval aviation analogy. Although

these facts still do not conclusively prove the validity of the

case study, they do present compelling evidence regarding the

power of historical analogy as a planning and analysis tool.

Other conclusions from these three reviews will emerge in the

examination of the five categories of space integration pro -

grams.

Knowledge and Understanding of Space

Admiral Moffett well understood that the best way to inte -

grate aviation into the fleet was to have ships’ captains de -

mand the services provided by aviation. The best way to pro -

mote those services was to have aviators demonstrate the

capabilities of airpower in the daily performance of naval op -

erations. For identical reasons, the best way to promote space

power is to incorporate space capabilities into as many aspects

of air operations as possible. Since the end of the Persian Gulf

War in 1991, the Air Force and Air Force Space Command

have exerted considerable efforts to increase the knowledge

and understanding of space capabilities among members of

CADRE PAPER

40
the flying community. Beginning with the Gulf War, space

power has penetrated the cockpit and air operations centers,

has been absorbed into education curricula, and has partici -

pated in numerous field exercises.

Operation Desert Storm earned the moniker “first space

war,” but the Persian Gulf War was not the first conflict in

which space power played a visible and significant role in air

operations.7 Beginning in 1965, the Defense Meteorological

Satellite Program (DMSP) began supplying weather imagery to

support the air war in Southeast Asia. 8 Air strikes, air-refueling tracks, close air support, and rescue missions depended

on satellite-derived weather predictions. In 1967, Gen William

Momyer, commander of Seventh Air Force and the air opera -

tions in Southeast Asia, stated, “As far as I am concerned, this

[satellite] weather picture is probably the greatest innovation

of the war.”9 Satellites provided weather and communications

for Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada in 1983 and Operation El

Dorado Canyon in Libya in 1986.10 Land satellite (LANDSAT)

imagery, which provided terrain mapping for the Libyan air

strike, proved critical to mission planning. 11 Ships and helicopters conducting minesweeping operations during Operation

Earnest Will in the Persian Gulf in 1988 relied on the Global

Positioning System (GPS) for accurate navigation.12 For Operation Just Cause in Panama in 1989, satellites again supplied

weather support and long-haul communications.13 None of

these examples include the contributions from the guarded

history of National Reconnaissance Office satellites. Nevertheless, fliers were not ignorant of space capabilities as they en -

tered the Gulf War.

Even with these successful debuts, it was not until the Per -

sian Gulf War that most space systems were widely integrated

into the overall force structure.14 The Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS) carried 1,100 voice circuits to 115

ground stations. Satellite links carried 90 percent of the com -

munications traffic into and out of the theater, provided tacti -

cal relays for radios limited by line-of-sight, tied deployed

units with their home bases, transmitted the daily air tasking

order, and connected the theater with US-based intelligence

analysts.15 Although the constellation was incomplete, GPS

permitted two-dimensional navigation 22–24 hours per day

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41
and three-dimensional coverage 16–19 hours per day to the

12,000 receivers with coalition forces.16 The revolutionary satellite system allowed precision navigation in the featureless

desert.17 Air control officers with GPS receivers determined

accurate locations of ground targets for GPS-equipped F-16s,

Courtesy: US Air Force 

Explorer I on launch pad. America’s first successful satellite, Explorer I was

launched aboard a Jupiter C booster rocket at 10:48 EST on 31 January 1958.

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 Courtesy: NASA

Skylab—America’s first space station. On 14 May 1973, a Saturn V lifted America’s

first space station into orbit. Despite a 10-day period during which Skylab was

beset with problems, the effectiveness of its three crews exceeded expectations.

 Courtesy: US Air Force

Navstar Global Positioning System. A constellation of orbiting satellites, the

Navstar Global Positioning System (GPS) provides navigation data to users

around the world.

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43
F-111s, and B-52s.18 GPS gave B-52s an all-weather capabil -

ity, and F-16s used GPS to calculate the initial points of their

bomb runs and to provide targeting information as forward air

controllers.19 Defense Support Program (DSP) missile-warning

satellites detected the infrared rocket plumes of Iraqi Scud

missiles. Space Command relayed the missile trajectories to

Patriot batteries in Saudi Arabia and Israel. The advanced

warning alerted soldiers and civilians in the impact areas to

seek cover.20

Space-based imagery and remote sensing capabilities impacted most air operations. Once again, cloud imagery and

moisture data from DMSP enabled the planning and execution

of the air campaign. Laser-guided bombs required relatively

cloud-free weather for target designation, and the satellites

furnished weather forecasts and determined environmental

conditions.21 LANDSAT collected wide-area surveillance of the

battlefield not available from national systems and Air Force

pilots practiced flying missions using computer-generated ter -

rain maps constructed from the multispectral data. F-111 pi -

lots used this capability to train for the air strike on the Mina

al Ahmadi oil complex in Kuwait, which was dumping oil into

the Persian Gulf.22 National reconnaissance systems provided

detailed intelligence and bomb damage assessment, thereby

reducing the need to send unarmed reconnaissance aircraft

over heavily defended targets.23 All these missions, some demonstrated for the first time in the war, continue today and are

augmented by further exploitation of space systems in support

of military operations.

After its impressive performance in virtually all areas of

combat operations during Desert Storm, space power has be -

come a permanent and growing part of air operations. In 1992,

the Moorman Blue Ribbon Panel recommended establishing a

Space Warfare Center to rapidly develop and deliver new space

capabilities to war fighters.24 Air Force Space Command

formed Forward Space Support Teams in 1993 to provide tai -

lored space support to theater air component commanders. 25

These initiatives opened new aspects of space power to theater

war fighters.

In 1994, the Talon Shield program transitioned the first Air

Force Tactical Exploitation of National Capabilities (TENCAP)

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44
project to an operational squadron. The 11th Space Warning

Squadron, whose mission was to detect and report short-range

ballistic missile launches to all theaters of operations, received

the Attack and Launch Early Reporting to Theater (ALERT)

system. The ALERT system has improved the ballistic missile

detection capabilities of Defense Support Program satellites

and enabled the broadcast of warning data directly into air

operations centers worldwide.26 The Talon Hook program built

the HOOK-112 survival radio that uses GPS to precisely locate

downed airmen and transmits the information to search and

rescue forces.27 In 1995, Forward Space Support Teams de -

ployed to Vincenza, Italy, as part of Operation Joint Endeavor

in Bosnia. The team wrote the space annex for the peacekeep -

ing operations plans, supplied Space Warfare Center-gener -

ated imagery of air drop zones, and showed airlifter squadrons

how to predict daily GPS accuracies to improve mission plan -

ning.28 The Space Warfare Center also instituted an Air Opera -

tions Center Applications Course in 1997 that teaches the

capabilities and limitations of space systems and how to incor -

porate space assets into air campaign planning to the combat

air forces.29 These documented cases represent a few of the

projects intended to better deliver space power directly to the

flying community.

Education planted the seeds of aviation in the minds of the

young officers at the US Naval Academy as exposure at the Naval

War College cultivated the value of airpower in the Navy’s senior

leaders. The Air Force’s Professional Military Education (PME)

system is much more comprehensive than that of the Navy in

the 1920s and 1930s, and space power is included in all AF PME

curricula. The space education programs in the Air Force’s three

commissioning sources (Air Force Academy, Reserve Officer

Training Corps, and Officers Training School) are modest, but

that modest training is reinforced when the lieutenants attend

the Air and Space Basic Course.

The Air Force Academy’s space education program is the

best of the three training courses. During their Military Arts

and Sciences studies, academy cadets receive three formal les -

sons on space doctrine, space missions, and space systems.

The students learn about the space contribution to the Gulf

War in a case study on Operation Desert Storm. They also

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explicitly integrate space support into a theater campaign

planning exercise. Courses on space policy and space law

complement the space employment component of the curriculum. By the summer of 1999, the academy will offer an elective

in space operations that will provide hands-on experience with

space systems.30 The Officers Training School has a single onehour lecture on space missions, space organization, and satellite

systems. The Reserve Officers Training Corps program is based

on the same material as the Officers Training School, and the

space studies are presented in two classes during a cadet’s

freshman and senior years.31 After graduates receive their commissions, they attend the Air and Space Basic Course. The

course is designed to teach all new officers the fundamentals of

air and space power. Four classes totaling approximately seven

hours of instruction are dedicated to teaching space history,

space doctrine, space missions, and space operations. The cur -

riculum also includes space in the planning and execution of the

Blue Thunder capstone war game.32

The 1989 Blue Ribbon Panel on Space called for a core

space curriculum for Air Force education programs. 33 A 1991

Inspector General review of the implementation plan noted

that Squadron Officers School allotted two hours for space

instruction.34 With the advent of the Air and Space Basic

Course in 1998, the emphasis on space power in the captainlevel Squadron Officers School shrank to one hour, although

space is specifically included in its Atlantis tactical war

game.35 In 1991, the Air Command and Staff College imple -

mented a 45-hour space curriculum, but that aggressive pro -

gram retreated substantially by 1997 to a limited effort of four

lessons specifically dedicated to space and others that incor -

porated aspects of space contributions to intelligence and

command and control.36 The Air War College jumped on the

blue ribbon panel’s recommendation in 1989 by requiring five

hours of space systems lectures coupled with a four-hour

space war plan case study.37 By 1991, these classes had

grown to 17 hours. And by 1997, the Air War College’s space

education curriculum contained eight hours on space force

employment; 20 hours on orbital mechanics, space history,

space organization, and space support; and three 30-hour

electives on space issues, space policy, and space technology.38

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46
Some anecdotal evidence suggests that space education at the

Air War College may have reached overkill. 39

Naval aviation demonstrated its role in surface operations

during yearly fleet exercises. Like naval aviation, space sys -

tems advertise their abilities in air operations by participating

in the numerous field exercises sponsored by the Air Force

and theater commanders. Gen Howell M. Estes III, former

commander of AF Space Command and US Space Command,

remarked, “If we don’t train with [a space system], we’re not

going to actually use it when it goes to combat and it’ll stay as

a stovepipe.”40 In 1995, the Space Training Facility opened at

the Air Force Weapons School at Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada.

The facility merges ground, air, and space information into a

coherent picture transmitted directly to fighter cockpits for

Red Flag and Green Flag exercises. 41 Space forces participated

in Ulchi Focus Lens in Korea, Cobra Gold in Pacific Command,

the JTFEX-95 series and Unified Endeavor in Atlantic Com -

mand, Atlantic Resolve in European Command, and Roving

Sands in Central Command, all in 1995. 42 Four times a year,

the Battle Staff Training School at Hurlburt Field, Florida,

holds Blue Flag exercises for numbered air force commanders

and their battle staffs. The school injects space power into the

exercises with the National Wargaming System model that

simulates national reconnaissance assets and generates reports for player analysis.43 A Space Support Team deployed to

Blue Flag 95-4 to support the Eighth Air Force commander.

The team provided simulated data for theater missile warning,

Satellite Reconnaissance Avoidance Notification (SATRAN),

and GPS accuracies for mission planning.44 Another team

supported Keen Edge in Japan in 1996 by filling space posi -

tions in the combat plans and combat operations cells. 45 In

1996, the National Reconnaissance Office participated in

about 80 exercises supporting users across the joint com -

mands and services.46

Whether in the daily interaction between air and space op -

erations, in the curricula across the spectrum of PME, or in

exercise participation, the Air Force has dedicated a substantial effort to increase the knowledge and understanding of

space throughout the service. These policy areas are as thor -

oughly developed as those pursued by the Navy during the

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interwar years—and progress continues. This knowledge base

establishes a solid foundation from which to champion space

capabilities to Air Force fliers.

Space Capabilities and the Flying Community

Whatever the naval aviators believed privately, they were

careful not to threaten prematurely the primacy of the battle -

ship in what they professed publicly. Battleship admirals held

the political power in the US Navy in the 1920s and could have

frustrated attempts to expand the fledgling aviation service

because of self-preservation concerns. To earn coequal status

as warriors, space must contribute credible combat capabili -

ties that enhance air operations rather than threaten the air -

plane. The tone of the public pronouncements of influential

space advocates is one measure of how the leadership pro -

motes space power to the Air Force. An examination of space

missions reveals potential areas of competition between air

and space officers over roles and influence. In an era of declin -

ing budgets, the struggle over funding may decide the ultimate

fate of air and space integration.

“The contribution of space systems is not likely to remain

simply as additive enhansors [sic] to atmospheric systems but

will ultimately compete with them to satisfy strategic, tactical,

and mobility tasks.”47 Although space systems have not seri -

ously challenged strategic, tactical, and mobility tasks during

the preceding 10 years, the philosophy statement from the

1989 Blue Ribbon Panel on Space hardly engenders a coopera -

tive environment between air and space. Perhaps fortunately,

the Persian Gulf War intervened and, afterwards, Gen Charles

A. Horner, battle-tested during operation Desert Storm as the

Joint Forces Air Component Commander, took the helm of

Space Command and charted a less antagonistic course. In

1993, General Horner told Air Force Magazine, “We have to

make space efficient and responsive to wartime needs. We

have to provide space data directly to the forces who are fight -

ing the war.”48 General Horner maintained this emphasis

throughout his tenure as the commander of Air Force and US

Space Command. Only space-based systems could detect

third-world missile systems and reduce warning time from

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48
minutes to seconds. The command had to protect GPS naviga -

tion capabilities while preventing the enemy from either ex -

ploiting GPS themselves or degrading its effectiveness for US

forces. “We must keep our mission sharply in focus—make all

space systems responsive to US warfighters.” 49

The Space Command position has begun to swing back to -

ward the 1989 philosophy. General Estes is circumspect when

addressing force application from space. He believes the Air

Force must develop force application concepts, but envisions a

day when space power will also represent the ultimate in rapid

global mobility and global precision attack. Though these ca -

pabilities are obviously some time away, the vision is in place

and the plans are being laid to provide credible options for our

civilian leadership should the need arise.50

These visions pose no immediate threat to the “shooter” Air

Force. Space force enhancement missions (communications,

weather, navigation, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, spacelift) do not compete against fighter, bomber, and

airlift missions. In addition, conventional airpower is largely

incapable of engaging satellites and destroying ballistic mis -

siles. The looming battle for legitimacy between air and space

forces may never be one of roles and missions; the nature of

the intraservice conflict will more likely be over funding. 51

Many space-power thinkers have called for offensive and

defensive weapons in space, but politics and money steer

those arguments as much as technology. 52 Exorbitant costs

have doomed many military space programs, and expensive

space force enhancement systems are competing directly with

equally expensive aircraft modernization programs.53 The Air

Force managed to sustain funding for the Space-Based Infra -

red System (SBIRS), the Evolved Expendable Launch Vehicle

(EELV), and the Milstar satellite communications system, as

well as the F-22, B-2, joint strike fighter, and the airborne

laser, for fiscal year 1998.54 The F-22, the airborne laser,

SBIRS, and the EELV are the top four “inseparable capabili -

ties” rather than priorities.55 Avoiding explicit prioritization

may temporarily assuage concerns over protecting favorite

programs, but the Air Force will be forced to choose between

programs when there is no blood left in the budget turnip.

Furthermore, where will space find allies if, as General Estes

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believes, “Space must expand and become a larger part of the

Air Force budget every year.”56 The stark fiscal reality is that

some programs get canceled so others may move forward.

Maj Gen William E. Jones, former commander of Fourteenth

Air Force, is refreshingly outspoken on this issue. What he

calls the 707-based intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance fleet (E-3 Airborne Warning and Control System

[AWACS], E-8 Joint Surveillance and Target Attack Radar Sys -

tem [JSTARS], and RC-135 [Rivet Joint]), costs billions of dol -

lars to build, maintain, and fly. These systems are essentially

tied to the advance of the ground armies and characterize only

about one hundred miles of battle space ahead of the front

line. Moving these aircraft functions to space will extend the

depth of surveillance to the range of airpower, essentially the

entire theater of operations. General Jones predicts that

AWACS, JSTARS, and Rivet Joint will “head to the boneyard”

in order to capitalize on the intelligence, surveillance, and re -

connaissance capacity of space.57 Money liberated from the

retirement of these platforms combined with a decreased cost

of space launch and satellites will fund the next generation of

space systems. The imminent battle over budgets will need

influential space advocates within the Air Force—and the ad -

vocacy must come from the ranks of senior officers.

Space Officer Career Progression

The Air Force activated Air Force Space Command in 1982,

consolidating space missions that had been previously under

the management of Strategic Air Command and Air Force Sys -

tems Command.58 In 1993, Space Command received the intercontinental ballistic missile mission from Air Combat Command. Consequently, Air Force Space Command should

consist of a mixture of hybrid officers experienced in these

technical career fields.

As with the Navy, the senior officers within the Air Force

hold the political power that enables them to implement poli -

cies that promote the new ways of war. Admiral Moffett created

an aviation observer program to prime the senior command

pump with ersatz aviators until career aviators could advance

through the ranks and qualify for senior commands themCADRE PAPER

50
selves. There are a couple of methods by which to mea-sure

the progress of space operations officers within the Air Force.

One is to examine the experience of general officers to deter -

mine whether or not space operators have achieved the high -

est ranks. Another is to study the backgrounds of officers

commanding operational space units.

A snapshot of general officers clearly shows that officers

with substantial space operations experience have earned all

flag ranks, but there are notable anomalies within the senior

command structure. To date, only one space operations officer

has earned the rank of four-star general. Gen Thomas S.

Moorman Jr. served as the vice Chief of Staff of the Air Force

from 1994 until his retirement in 1997, but he spent less than

half of his career in the space operations field. 59 Lt Gen Rodger

G. Dekok, commander of Air Force Materiel Command’s Space

and Missile Center in 1998, is probably as close to a career

space general as there is in the Air Force. He spent more than

80 percent of his career in space operations and staff posi -

tions. Maj Gen Robert S. Dickman, formerly the Department of

Defense Space Architect, and several current and retired

brigadier generals followed space-related careers to the flag

officer level.60 While the space career field does lead to general

officer ranks, there has not yet been enough time to breed

many pure space operations officers. Consequently, officers

with not much space experience must be filling the senior

leadership positions.

Despite success in promotions, no senior officer with pre -

dominantly space experience held any of the most senior lead -

ership and command positions in Air Force Space Command

in 1998. The commander of Air Force Space Command was a

career fighter pilot who was filling his first space assign -

ment.61 The vice commander of Air Force Space Command

was a career missile officer—and his predecessor was a career

tanker pilot.62 Within the Air Force Space Command staff,

both the director of operations and the commander of the

Space Warfare Center were pilots. The director of plans evenly

split his career between missiles and space. 63 The trend was

similar at the numbered air forces and space wings in 1998,

but the level of space experience was perceptibly greater. Maj

Gen Gerald F. Perryman Jr., former Fourteenth Air Force com -

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51
mander, spent more than half of his career as a missile launch

officer. His previous three assignments were in space opera -

tions.64 Three of the four wing commanders in Fourteenth Air

Force were career missile officers with 10–20 percent of their

experience in space; the fourth was a helicopter and airlifter

pilot.65

In his dated but relevant study, Tom Clark compared the

career experience of flag officers in Air Force Space Command

with those of Air Mobility Command as of 31 December 1996.

His results showed that flag officers in Space Command had

spent only 14 percent of their careers in space assignments (39

percent if he included missile assignments) compared to 90 per -

cent in flying assignments for generals in Air Mobility Command.

The amalgamated nature of Space Command explains why some

general officers in the space career field have experience in a

variety of technical career fields, but it does not explain why

none of them had experience in operational space units other

than as commanders. By contrast, all of the generals in Air

Mobility Command filled assignments as flying crew members

during their careers.66 In 1996 and in 1998, Space Command

was led by generals with little space experience.

General officers are a fairly fungible resource. Based on the

breadth of their assignments, these officers can successfully

lead organizations well outside the boundaries of their profes -

sional experience. A more detailed measure of the career pro -

gression of space operations officers is an examination of the

backgrounds of operations group and squadron commanders.67 Data from five of the six group commanders within

Fourteenth Air Force in 1998 showed a mixture of careers

between space, missile, and engineering officers.68 From a

flier’s perspective, these are all technical career fields. From a

space operator’s perspective, there are differences between

space operators, missileers, and engineers.

Data was available in 1998 for 27 of the 31 operations

squadrons under the six groups.69 Of these, nine commanders

were principally career space operations officers. Ten were ca -

reer missile officers. Four were career navigators or weapon

system officers, and four held mixed backgrounds in space,

engineering, and acquisition. From the squadron to the major

command, space operators were minority shareholders in the

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52
space business. Looking back, the Johnny-come-latelies led

the naval air war during World War II. Space Command could

be experiencing a similar phenomenon.

There are several interpretations of this data. The first (and

least plausible) is that this particular temporal sample was a

statistical anomaly and did not represent the normal distribution of commanders’ experiences. That may be tenable in re -

gard to squadron commanders, but the fact that there are few

general officers with substantial space experience explains

why generals from other fields hold senior command positions

in Air Force Space Command. It does not explain why none of

the space generals held those command positions. A second

interpretation is that space operations officers are generally

less prepared and less qualified for command than missile and

flying officers. A third is that the high number of missile offi -

cers in space operations commands is merely a reflection of

the successful integration of the space and missile missions.

Alternatively, Admiral Moffett and Stephen Rosen may have

previously identified the key. The missile career field has ex -

isted as a single entity for 40 years whereas the space opera -

tions field was fractured until 1982. As a result, Space Com -

mand has simply not had enough time to cultivate space

officers to command and general officer levels. 70 The career

missile officers may be the equivalent of Moffett’s aviation ob -

servers, giving Space Command rank and advocacy in the sen -

ior positions. Regardless of the correct explanation, space op -

erations officers would benefit from an understanding of Air

Force flying missions; it would broaden their perspective on air

operations.

Space Operations Officers and Air Operations

The Navy knew it was critical that all aviators understood

naval surface operations before entering flight training and

that the aviators maintain and expand that knowledge

throughout their careers. As long as the US Air Force remains

predominantly an air force, space operators should understand the airpower mission in order to maximize the space

contribution. With only a few tightly focused programs avail -

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53
able, space operators have meager opportunities to learn, understand, and experience the airpower mission.

The 1989 Blue Ribbon Panel on Space recommended that the

Air Force implement a centrally managed officer cross-flow pro -

gram for assigning space operations officers to air operations

commands and assigning fliers to space operations units. 71 The

program was already struggling by 1991. The commands had

not established formal goals, so the 18 space officers assigned to

eight commands were unsure of their duties and felt abandoned

by Space Command.72 The 1992 Moorman Panel made the same

recommendation.73 In 1993, General Horner said space personnel need to be on the staffs of war-fighting commands “to bring

an awareness of space to the guys who drop bombs.” 74 Gen

Joseph W. Ashy said it again in 1996, “That’s why we are inte -

grating [at the Air Force Weapons School], so [space operators]

can be exposed to our fighter forces, airlift forces, bomber disci -

plines. . . . We are teams within teams.” 75 Maj Gen William E.

Jones echoed the same idea in different words in 1997. “Rotation

and integration of Air Force space-qualified people must now be

viewed as an essential element of Air Force personnel manage -

ment.”76 Despite these repeated and persistent recommendations and the realization that space operators must understand

the airpower experience, the Air Force has instituted precious

few avenues through which space operators are exposed to air

operations.

All officers receive measured doses of airpower during PME

from commissioning through war college. Theoretically, every

officer should understand airpower. The School of Advanced

Airpower Studies, the nation’s premier airpower strategy

school, includes at least one space operator each year. Educa -

tion, however, does not equate to experience.

The Space Division at the Air Force Weapons School trains

approximately 16 space operators per year through a rigorous

curriculum heavily laden with airpower studies and flying mis -

sions.77 Space graduates from the Weapons School work in

the combat planning and combat operations cells in air opera -

tions centers, and Air Force Space Support Teams deploy from

Space Command to augment the Weapons School experts dur -

ing contingencies.78 So far, feedback from the program has

been positive. The numbered air force commanders are re -

CADRE PAPER

54
 Courtesy: US Air Force

Navy’s GEOSAT Follow-on. Launched in February 1998 aboard an Orbital Sciences Corporation Taurus-2, Navy’s GEOSAT Follow-on studies Pacific Ocean

currents and associated weather conditions.

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55
questing more space graduates from the Weapons School to

work under their commands.79

Assigning Weapons School graduates and deploying Space

Support Teams to air operations centers involves a handful of

space officers. The initiative satisfies the letter of the crossflow programs, but it is far too limited to fulfill the spirit. The

Navy required all aviators to perform sea duty—not just an

elite, highly trained few. If the Navy model truly has instructive

Courtesy: NASA 

NASA’s WIND. Launched on 1 November 1994, WIND is the first of two NASA

spacecraft in the Global Geospace Science initiative. In April 1999, WIND successfully executed a lunar backflip maneuver—the first backflip ever

attempted by any mission.

CADRE PAPER

56
and predictive power, then the Air Force must greatly expand

the opportunities for space officers to gain experience in air

operations.

Space Participation in War Games

In the 1920s, the Navy relied on war games at the Naval War

College to educate senior officers about aviation and to test

airpower concepts before committing scarce resources. The

game environment permitted a variety of officers to freely inno -

vate and test ideas that they might eventually implement in

the fleet. In the modern Air Force, war gaming is more perva -

sive, but games provide opportunities to Air Force officers

similar to those provided earlier naval officers.

The Air War College first incorporated space into its war

gaming in 1990.80 In 1998, Air War College and Air Command

and Staff College joined to participate in a combined war game

that included operational- and strategic-level decision making.

A single space cell supported 10 simultaneous and inde -

pendent war games.81

The Air Force Wargaming Institute at Maxwell AFB, Ala -

bama, is the Air Force focal point for PME war games as well

as interservice and senior officer-level war gaming. At the in -

stitute, inserting space into war games is an education process for conceptual understanding of the role of space in mili -

tary operations. The Wargaming Institute is incorporating

computer-generated visualization tools so participants can

view the behavior of satellite constellations and to tie weather,

imagery, and intelligence into the air campaign planning process.82 The Air Force Wargaming Institute conducts the Joint

Land Aerospace and Sea Simulation (JLASS) for the six senior

service schools.83 The institute will use a Blue Force space cell

connected directly to the Space Operations Center at Four -

teenth Air Force for realistic space participation. 84 In 1997,

the Wargaming Institute conducted Global Engagement ’97, a

joint, general-officer war game in strategic decision making.

The scenario took place in 2012 and included laser antisatel -

lite weapons and satellite jamming.85

These formal war games encourage innovation, but there are

few possibilities for officers to return to their operational units

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57
and implement their ideas. The Space Battlelab at the Space

Warfare Center in Colorado Springs provides a conduit to

translate ideas into operational tests and successful tests into

operational capabilities. Air Force Space Command activated

the Space Battlelab in mid-1997. Its charter is to develop con -

cepts for space-related Air Force operations based on ideas

submitted from across the Air Force. The Battlelab is sup -

posed to facilitate ideas, re-creating the kind of innovation that

led to many of the Air Force’s historical successes. 86 Institutionalized innovation seems contradictory, but the Battlelab

does attempt to manage access to generally inaccessible space

systems.

Review and Analysis

At least three times in the last 10 years, the Air Force de -

cided to integrate space into an air and space force. The third

iteration implies that the previous two attempts were not com -

pletely successful—if not outright failures. Some analysis of

the cause of those failures is necessary.

Six of the 27 Blue Ribbon Panel Space Implementation Plan

tasks directing, or relating to, major expenditures of funds and

to purchases of new weapons systems never made it past the

fiscal chopping block.87 The three funding-based recommendations from the 1992 Moorman Panel have not yet neared

fruition.88 Even the purely administrative tasks of updating

policy and doctrine never gained approval.89 One possible explanation, reinforced by the naval aviation analogy, was that

the bulk of the implementation plan was wrong. Integration is

not driven by weapons systems, capabilities, or declarative

documents; it is accomplished by people, by leaders, by offi -

cers who hold positions of power and influence. There were

fewer space generals in 1989 and 1992, and younger space

operations officers, than today. Perhaps with the passage of

time and the accumulation of senior space officers having po -

litical power, the Air Force will succeed in integrating space in

this third and latest attempt.

When measured against the template constructed from the

historical analogy of naval aviation integration in the 1920s

and 1930s, the Air Force appears to have a 70 percent solu -

CADRE PAPER

58
tion—but some space proponents, still enamored with technol -

ogy, are not focusing on human relationships. The service has

made great strides in educating officers about space and in -

corporating space capabilities into air operations. Field exer -

cises and war games repeatedly expose the vastness of space

to the war-fighting community. Leadership is the cornerstone

to integration; it requires more than excellence in a single area

of expertise. Space operations officers need opportunities to

experience flying operations—and only senior leaders can

sponsor, protect, and promote officers outside their primary

career fields. The Air Force is transitioning to an air and space

force, but there are roots and stones in the evolutionary path.

Exploiting a few suggestions from history (from both naval

aviation and the Air Force) might clear those obstacles and

make the third time a charm.

Notes

1. Department of the Air Force, Blue Ribbon Panel on Space

Implementation Plan, February 1989, task 6.

2. David N. Spires, Beyond Horizons: A Half Century of Air Force

Leadership (Peterson AFB, Colo.: Air Force Space Command, 1997), 234.

3. Department of the Air Force, Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force in

Space in the 21st Century, executive summary, c. 1993, 4.

4. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, tasks 3, 16, 17, and

24 called for expanding the knowledge of national reconnaissance systems

among Air Force officers, revising the Undergraduate Space Training

program, and building a core space curriculum for education in officer

Professional Military Education. Tasks 14, 18, and 22 recommended

restructuring the space operations officer career field and increasing the

number of officers with space expertise on Air Force review committees and

on the Air Staff and in the Secretariat. Task 15 directed a centrally managed

plan to provide a balanced flow of officers between space and other

operational commands. The administrative issues included writing space

policy and doctrine. Organizational relationships addressed the interaction

between the Air Force and the National Reconnaissance Office, the National

Aeronautics and Space Administration, and the other military services. The

procurement and realignment of space systems covered antisatellite

weapons, space-based radar, space battle management systems, and

launch and satellite command and control.

5. The 1992 Blue Ribbon Panel published 18 recommendations

(recommendation no. 15 had two parts). Recommendations no. 12 and 15a

covered increasing the knowledge and understanding of space in the Air

Force, 21–22, 24. Recommendation 15a also suggested including space in

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Air Force and joint exercises, 24. Recommendation 15b discussed the officer

cross-flow program, 24. Recommendation 16 suggested strengthening space

expertise at Air Force headquarters, 25.

6. Dana J. Johnson, Katherine Poehlmann, and Richard Bueneke, Space

Roles, Missions, and Functions: The Challenge of Organizational Reform,

RAND Report, PM-382-CRMAF (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, August 1995):

79–80, 92.

7. Peter Anson and Dennis Cummings, “The First Space War: The

Contribution of Satellites to the Gulf War,” Royal United Services Institute

(RUSI) for Defence Studies Journal 135, no. 4 (Winter 1991): 45; William A.

Dougherty, “Storm from Space,” US Naval Institute Proceedings 118/8/1074

(August 1992): 48; Steven Lambakis, “The United States in Lilliput: The

Tragedy of Fleeting Space Power,” Strategic Review 24, no. 1 (Winter 1996):

33; Curtis Peebles, High Frontier: The U.S. Air Force and the Military Space

Program (Washington, D.C: GPO,1997), 73; Craig Covault, “Desert Storm

Reinforces Military Space Direction,” Aviation Week and Space Technology (8

April 1991): 42–47. A number of authors called Desert Storm the “first space

war.”

8. Spires, 170.

9. Peebles, 53. The mission impact of weather is described on page 52.

10. Spires, 244; and Peebles, 55.

11. Dougherty, 48. LANDSAT is a commercially owned, multispectral,

environmental sensing satellite.

12. Spires, 244; and Dougherty, 48.

13. Spires, 244; and Dougherty, 48.

14. Dougherty, 48.

15. Anson and Cummings, 46; and Spires, 246, 256.

16. Anson and Cummings, 50; and Spires, 249. The two sources

disagree over the exact numbers, but the hours of coverage are sufficient for

descriptive purposes.

17. Dougherty, 50.

18. Anson and Cummings, 50.

19. Spires, 257.

20. Anson and Cummings, 51.

21. Ibid., 52; and Spires, 251, 258.

22. Spires, 252, 258; and Dougherty, 51.

23. Spires, 259.

24. Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force in Space in the 21st Century ,

recommendation no. 12, 21.

25. Larry Gedemer, “Forward Space Support,” Space Tactics Bulletin 1,

Issue 1 (June 1994): 4; and Robert J. Feldman, “FSST Training—It’s Not

Just for FSST Teams Anymore,” Space Tactics Bulletin 1, Issue 1 (June

1994): 4–5.

26. Sean D. McClung, “Talon Shield Declares Victory,” Space Tactics

Bulletin 2, Issue 1 (November 1994): 3–4.

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27. Jack Fry, “Progress Report—Getting ‘Space’ to Warfighters,” Space

Tactics Bulletin 3, Issue 2 (Spring 1996): 3.

28. Steven R. Serie and Mark Lester, “Air Force Space Support Team

Keeping Peace as Part of Joint Endeavor,” Space Tactics Bulletin 3, Issue 2

(Spring 1996): 9–10.

29. John Bystroff, “Space Warfare Center (SWC) Offers Course for Air

Operations Centers,” Space Tactics Bulletin 4, Issue 4 (Winter 1997–1998): 6–7.

30. Dr. James Smith, assistant course director, Military Arts and

Sciences Department, US Air Force Academy, interviewed by the author, 17

March 1998.

31. Capt Rhonda Carey, Defense Studies Curriculum Area Manager for

Officer Training School (OTS) and Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC),

Maxwell AFB, Ala., interviewed by author, 23 March 1998. The OTS Defense

Studies block consists of 27 hours. ROTC classes are spread out over four

years of college.

32. Capt James “Buddy” Holley, Curriculum Area Manager for

Operations and Doctrine, Air and Space Basic Course, Maxwell AFB, Ala.,

interviewed by author, 19 March 1998. The Air and Space Basic Course

lasts for seven weeks.

33. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, task 17.

34. The Inspector General of the United States Air Force, “Report on

Special Management Review of Integration of Space Operations and

Capabilities Throughout the Air Force,” TIG Report PN 91-600, 24 October

1991, 37.

35. Capt Brent Barber, Operations Officer for Curriculum, Squadron

Officers School (SOS), Maxwell AFB, Ala., interviewed by the author, 18

March 1998.

36. TIG Report, 37; “Final Report on Operational Needs Analysis for

Senior Service and Command and Staff College Space Education,”

performed under contract to US Space Command by SY Technology, 22

January 1998, 34–35. The SY Technology report further indicated that the

military command and staff colleges across the services lacked a

comprehensive and integrated space curriculum.

37. Col Eric Sundberg, Air University Space Command Chair,

memorandum to the Air War College Commander, subject: Development of

Enhanced Core Space Curriculum, AU/CS ltr, 5 October 1989.

38. TIG Report, 37; SY Technology Final Report, 9, 16.

39. During lectures at the Air War College and conversations with

several students, the author noted a moderate amount of groaning and

complaining about the number of classes taught on space.

40. Gen Howell M. Estes III, transcript of interview by Bill Scott, Aviation

Week and Space Technology, 4 December 1997. A military “stovepipe” is a

system or program whose products and functions are generally

self-contained and available to a limited group of users. For example, before

the Persian Gulf War, intelligence specialists received imagery from the

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national satellites. Pilots flying combat missions rarely saw the imagery from

which their targets were identified.

41. Chris Kinnan and Joanna Sobieski, “Space in the Air Operations

Center: The Quest for Seamless Integration of Space in Warfighter

Operations,” Space Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 4 (Fall 1995): 4–7; and Karen M.

Giacalone, “Space Shooters: Space Systems Hit the Cockpit at the ‘Home of

the Fighter Pilot,’” Space Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 4 (Fall 1995): 18–19.

42. Mark Davis, “Space Support to the Warfighting Community—From a

Unified Action Officer Perspective,” Space Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 3

(Summer 1995): 9–10; and T. Robinson, “Joint Space Support Teams at

Work Around the World,” Space Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 4 (Fall 1995): 15.

43. US Air Force Battle Staff Training School, Primary Blue Flag Exercise

Models, n.p.; on-line, Internet, 18 March 1998, available from

http://nova.agos.hurlburt.af.mil/Exercise/models.htm.

44. Duane R. Cozadd, “Air Force Space Support Teams,” Space Tactics

Bulletin 2, Issue 4 (Fall 1995): 15–17.

45. Michael Stroud, “Keen Edge 96,” Space Tactics Bulletin 3, Issue 2

(Spring 1999): 11–12.

46. Brig Gen David Baker, interviewed by Pat Cooper, Air Force Times,

no. 9, 30 September 1996, 29.

47. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, Philosophy

Statement.

48. James Canan, “Space Support for Shooting Wars,” Air Force

Magazine 76, no. 4 (April 1993): 30–34.

49. Charles A. Horner, “Space Systems Pivotal to Modern Warfare,”

Defense 94, Issue 4 (1994): 22, 25, 27, 28.

50. Howell M. Estes III, “Sustaining the Strategic Space Advantage,”

Defense Issues 12, no. 13 (13 March 1997): 1–10; Howell M. Estes III,

“National Security: The Space Dimension,” Defense Issues 12, no. 52 (14

November 1997): 1–6; Howell M. Estes III, “The Promise of Space Potential

for the Future,” Defense Issues 12, no. 20 (3 April 1997): 1–4; Howell M.

Estes III, “Space and Joint Space Doctrine,” Joint Forces Quarterly, no. 14

(Winter 1996–97): 60–63; and Jim Wolffe, “Toward the Air and Space Force,”

Air Force Times, no. 40 (5 May 1997): 10. General Estes’ public

pronouncements are more notable for what they do not say. He rarely

mentions space-based weapons, and when he does, the remarks are within

the context of the political constraints. His near-term visions are to continue

to migrate intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance missions to space.

51. This idea was first brought to the author’s attention by Lt Col Roy

Houchin, faculty member at the School of Advanced Airpower Studies,

Maxwell AFB, Ala., interviewed by the author, 19 March 1998.

52. Lambakis, 35, 38; James Hackett, “Space, the Critical Defense

Frontier,” Washington Times National Weekly Edition, 22 March 1998, 34;

and Peter Grier, “The Arena of Space,” Air Force Magazine 79, no. 9

(September 1996): 44–47. The Grier article is a summary of some of the

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recommendations from the New World Vistas study by the US Air Force

Scientific Advisory Board.

53. Peebles, 21, 26, 68–69, 78. Cost sank the Dyna-Soar/X-20 program

in 1963, the Manned Orbiting Laboratory in 1969, and the Follow-on Early

Warning System in 1993. Funding, politics, technology, and the demise of

the Soviet Union in 1991 reduced the Strategic Defense Initiative to the

much smaller Ballistic Missile Defense Office.

54. Estes, “National Security: The Space Dimension,” 41–46.

55. F. Whitten Peters, Acting Secretary of the Air Force, “Meeting Today’s

Challenges: Flight Path to the 21st Century,” address to the Air Force

Association Air Warfare Symposium, Orlando, Fla., 27 February 1998.

56. Estes, “National Security: The Space Dimension,” 3.

57. Maj Gen William E. Jones, USAF, Retired, lecture, Air War College,

Maxwell AFB, Ala., 25 March 1998.

58. Spires, 274, 296–97. See Spires, Appendix 6-1 for a list of space

systems transferred from Strategic Air Command to Air Force Space

Command in 1982 and 1983. Air Force Space Command did not gain

complete control of satellite command and control and space launch until

1993.

59. The biographies of all current and some recently retired Air Force

general officers are available through the Internet on the US Air Force Home

Page, on-line, Internet, 17 March 1998, available from

http://www.af.mil/cgi-bin/multigate/retrieve?u=z3950r://dtics11:1024. 

To determine the percentage of officer’s experience in particular career

fields, the author used the same method developed by Tom Clark, “The

Transition to a Space and Air Force: Proposed Solutions to the Dilemma,”

Research Report no. 97–04 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air War College, April 1997),

23. Lt Col Tom Clark counted the years spent in operational units,

commands, and staff positions directly related to a specific mission area as

experience in a career field.

60. Maj Gen Dickman spent about 50 percent of his career in space

operations and another 40 percent in space acquisition and engineering.

Brig Gen Thomas J. Scanlan Jr., a former Director of Operations for US

Space Command (now retired) and Brig Gen Robert E. Larned, Director of

Imagery Systems, Acquisition, and operations for the National

Reconnaissance Office also spent most of their careers in space operations

and space systems acquisition.

61. General Estes is an F-4 pilot. His two immediate predecessors, Gen

Joseph W. Ashy (1994–1996) and Gen Charles A. Horner (1992–1994) were

also career pilots holding their only space assignments as commanders of

US and Air Force Space Command.

62. For the purpose of this discussion, career missile officers are not

considered space operations officers. Lt Gen Lance W. Lord spent

approximately 80 percent of his assignments in missiles and 17 percent in

space. Lt Gen Patrick P. Caruana held two space assignments as vice

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commander of Air Force Space Command and commander of Fourteenth Air

Force.

63. Brig Gen Robert C. Hinson, Air Force Space Command Director of

Operations, is a B-52 pilot. Brig Gen Glen W. Moorehead III, at the Space

Warfare Center, is a fighter pilot. Brig Gen John S. Boone, Air Force Space

Command Director of Plans, spent his first 13 years in missiles and his last

15 in space.

64. Major General Perryman has been commander of the 21st Space

Wing (1995–1996), Director of Operations for Air Force Space Command

(1996–1997), and commander of Fourteenth Air Force (1997-present). His

predecessors at Fourteenth Air Force, Lt Gen David L. Vesely (1995–1997)

also commanded the Space Warfare Center (1994–1995) but is a career

pilot, and Major General Jones (1994–1995) filled assignments in air

control, ground-launched cruise missiles, and space. Although not treated

explicitly in this study, Twentieth Air Force commander and in command of

the ICBM forces, Maj Gen Donald G. Cook spent 80 percent of his career as

a B-52 pilot, about 10 percent in space, and 5 percent in missiles.

65. Brig Gen Franklin J. Blaisdell, 21st Space Wing; Col C. Robert

Kehler, 30th Space Wing; and Col Elwood C. Tircuit, 50th Space Wing, are

missile officers. The commander of the 45th Space Wing, Brig Gen F.

Randall Starbuck, is a pilot.

66. Clark, 21, 24–25.

67. This information is available from the Internet home pages of each of the

space wings: 21st Space Wing, on-line, Internet, 17 March 1998, available from

http://www.spacecom.af.mil/21sw/21og.htm; 30th Space Wing, on-line,

Internet, 17 March 1998, available from

http://www.vafb.af.mil/orgs/30swcc.htm; 45th Space Wing, on-line, Internet,

17 March 1998, available from http://www.pafb.af.mil/people; and 50th Space

Wing, on-line, Internet, 17 March 1998, available from

http://www.fafb.af.mil/biographies.

68. Twenty-first Operations Group, 50 percent space, 50 percent

engineering; 821st Space Group, 76 percent space, 24 percent missile; 45th

Operations Group, 95 percent missiles, 5 percent space; 50th Operations

Group, 68 percent space, 23 percent missiles; and 750th Operations Group,

19 percent engineering, 68 percent space. The 30th Operations Group data

was unavailable.

69. Twenty-first Space Wing: 2d, 5th, 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th, 12th, and

13th Space Warning Squadrons; 3d Satellite Communications Squadron;

3d, 4th, 18th, and 20th Space Surveillance Squadrons; and 1st, 2d, and 3d

Command and Control Squadrons. The 5th Space Surveillance Squadron

was unavailable. Thirtieth Space Wing: 2d and 4th Space Launch

Squadrons were unavailable. Forty-fifth Space Wing: 1st, 3d, and 5th Space

Launch Squadrons. Fiftieth Space Wing: 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 21st, 22d, and

23d Space Operations Squadrons. The 5th Space Operations Squadron was

unavailable.

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70. Rosen, Winning the Next War, 80. Rosen said success in the

integration of aviation in the Navy was linked to the pace of promotions.

71. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, task 15.

72. TIG Report, 33.

73. Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force on Space in the 21st Century ,

recommendation no. 15b and 24.

74. Canan, 34.

75. Joseph W. Ashy, “Putting Space in the USAF Weapons School,”

speech to the graduates of the Space Tactics School printed in USAF

Weapons Review 44, no. 2 (Summer 1996): 2–4.

76. William E. Jones, “White Paper on Space in the USAF,” to Maj Gen

David W. McIlvoy, Headquarters USAF/XPX, Washington, D.C., 22

December 1997, 17.

77. The Space Warfare Center started a Space Tactics School in 1994

that migrated to the Air Force Weapons School in 1996. Approximately 20

percent of the 560 hours of academics during the six-month course is

dedicated to airpower. Students are required to fly three missions and

shadow other students during mission planning. The space officers can also

ride on any airplane that has an open seat. Lt Col Gregory Billman, USAF

Weapons School Space Division Commander, letter to the author, 18 March

1998; Lt Col Gregory Billman, USAF Weapons School Space Division

Commander, letter to the author, 19 March 1998; USAF Weapons Instructor

Course Syllabus for Space, USAF Weapons School, Nellis AFB, Nev.,

January 1997, 16–31.

78. Michael Perales, “Integrating Space into the Fight,” USAF Weapons

Review 4, no. 44 (Winter 1996): 18–21.

79. Billman, 18 March 1998.

80. Theodore C. Hailes, Chairman, Department of Regional and Warfare

Studies, Air War College, to Air University XPO, letter, subject: Final Report:

Special Management Review (SMR) about Integration of Space Operations

and Capabilities Throughout the Air Force, 9 December 1991.

81. Capt Michael L. Lakos, Exercise Wargame Director, Air Force

Wargaming Institute, Maxwell AFB, Ala., interviewed by author, 19 March

1998.

82. Lakos interview. Two commercial satellite visualization computer

programs the Air Force Wargaming Institute is testing are Satellite Tool Kit

and Satellite Missile Analysis Tool.

83. James C. Hyde and Michael W. Everett, “Educating Future Leaders

in Strategic and Operational Art,” Joint Forces Quarterly, no. 12, Summer

1996, 29–33.

84. Lakos interview. The Fourteenth Air Force Space Operations Center

at Vandenburg AFB, Calif., is the 24-hour support center that manages all

requests relating to USAF space systems.

85. Ibid.

86. Cliff D. Ozmun, “Air Force Space Command Establishes First Space

Battlelab,” Program Manager 26, no. 5 (September–October 1997): 81–82.

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87. TIG Report, 13, 17, 19, 22, 24, 47. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Immplementation Plan, task 5: antisatellite weapons and battle management; task 7:

common-user on-orbit support; task 8: space-based wide-area surveillance;

task 9: cost-sharing in satellite communications; task 10: battle management

for strategic defense; and task 24: expanding Air Force TENCAP—all had lost

funding by 1991.

88. Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force on Space in the 21st Century .

recommendation no. 6, develop a new spacelift system, 16; recommendation

no. 8, develop antisatellite capabilities, 18; and recommendation no. 9,

expand the Air Force role in ballistic missile defense, 19.

89. TIG Report, 3, 7, 15, 25. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, task 1: prepare Air Force Space Policy letter; task 2: revise space

doctrinal publications; task 6: update the Air Force Space Plan; and task 11:

integrate space-based weapons into Air Force doctrine.

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Chapter 5

Summary and Recommendations

This research used the historical analogy of integrating avia -

tion into the US Navy in the 1920s and 1930s to develop a

framework against which to measure the progress of integrat -

ing space into the Air Force with a view to creating an air and

space force. The case study identified 10 policy areas that

contributed to the integration of aviation into the fleet and

culled from them the five areas most essential to the integra -

tion process.

 1. Increase the understanding of aviation within the Navy

through exposure to aviation capabilities, inclusion in

professional military education, and participation in

fleet exercises.

 2. Promote aviation as an enhancement rather than as a

threat to battleship performance.

 3. Provide a career path for aviators to achieve senior rank

and command.

 4. Maintain aviators’ familiarity with surface operations.

 5. Include aviation in naval war games.

Current space integration policies were compared to the

contemporary equivalent of these five areas. Some of the Air

Force programs matching the five policy areas are robust; oth -

ers are weak or require redirection.

Space Integration Policy

The most startling conclusion of this research does not come

from what was present but from something that was conspicuously absent: Neither the Air Force nor Air Force Space Com -

mand has an articulated and documented space integration

plan. In 1989 and 1992, the Air Force built implementation

plans to integrate space into air operations. The planners ap -

proached integration as a series of loosely related discrete tasks,

but the plans were officially sanctioned nonetheless.1

67
A vision statement does not constitute a road map. If the Air

Force is going to prevail in integrating space, it should formu -

late a plan for its people to follow.

Knowledge and Understanding of Space

The most successful segment of the space integration effort

is the incorporation of space capabilities and products into air

operations. Just as in the early days of naval aviation, associa -

tion and exposure are awakening the knowledge and under -

standing of space within the war-fighting community. The

Space Warfare Center is making space more accessible to us -

ers as downgrading classification levels moves systems and

capabilities into the light. Space force participation in field

exercises is demonstrating the capabilities space power brings

to the fight. The Air Force Wargaming Institute is fostering an

environment in which students and senior officers can watch

space forces perform in combat operations and understand

the role of space in warfare. These initiatives are effective and

growing. That war fighters in the field are demanding and

pulling space into their operations is a healthy indication of

the progress of space integration.

Promoting Space Capabilities

The most contentious fight and the most acrimonious de -

bate between the fliers and the space operators will not be over

roles and missions—it will be over funding. Space power does

not presently threaten the big three air weapons (fighters,

bombers, and airlifters), but it is in direct competition with the

airborne intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR)

missions; the battle will commence with the migration of those

missions to space. There is not enough money to purchase

F-22s, airborne lasers, joint strike fighters, unmanned aerial

vehicles (UAV), expendable launch vehicles, and space-based

warning systems—and to fund expensive fleets of AWACS,

JSTARS, and RC-135s. The Air Force has to answer the ques -

tion about the future of these 707-based platforms, UAVs, and

space-based ISR. Air Force leaders must then develop a real

list of priorities; they must not avoid their responsibility to

make tough decisions. Senior leaders bear that responsibility,

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and the mission will require hard choices by courageous lead -

ers.

Space Officer Career Progression

The most difficult problem the Air Force faces in integrating

space is how to create an air and space officer to employ an air

and space force. Twice before, blue ribbon panels recommended developing a comprehensive approach to teach fliers

about space and space operators about airpower. Twice before,

the panels recommended a cross flow of officers between air

operations and space operations assignments. Twice before,

the Panels recommended assigning officers with space exper -

tise to the most senior levels of the Air Force. 2 The programs

foundered because the Air Force failed to devote sufficient

leadership capital into making them work. Career, education,

and experience are interrelated because they involve people—and solving the people equation will lead the way to the

air and space force.

The Navy once required all officers to serve aboard ship to

inculcate into them the meaning of sea power before they en -

tered aviation. Today’s Navy no longer maintains that require -

ment, but all aviators do serve tours aboard ship as seamen

“haze gray and underway” early in their careers. 3 The modification of requirements may reflect the success of integrating

aviation into the fleet. The competition for flying slots is fierce,

and the path to power and influence in the Navy goes from the

flight deck to the bridges of aircraft carriers. Naval aviation

and sea power have become synonymous.

Every Marine officer spends five months at the Basic School

learning to be a Marine infantry rifleman. All officers learn to

be platoon leaders, which means learning how to employ ma -

rines in combined arms warfare from the platoon leader’s per -

spective. After this mandatory training, the officers select their

specialties—but no matter which they choose (aviation, artil -

lery, intelligence, logistics), it exists for the sole purpose of

supporting the infantry in combat. Every marine is first and

always a rifleman.4

Until 1983, the US Army required officers to earn qualifica -

tion in a branch (infantry, armor, artillery) before entering

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aviation. Aviation is now a primary branch itself, but the Army

professional military education process uses a building block

approach to training that is fundamental to all branches: the

command of progressively larger units in battle as part of the

combined arms team. The officer courses, basic and advanced,

teach lieutenants and captains how to lead and employ pla -

toons and companies. The Army Command and General Staff

College trains majors and lieutenant colonels to employ battal -

ions and to function on planning staffs. The Army War College

teaches colonels and generals how to develop campaign strate -

gies for brigades, divisions, and corps. 5 Army officers learn

how their specialty operates as part of the combined arms

package.

The maturation process for Air Force officers is different

from those of the Navy, the Marine Corps, and the Army, but

distilling several ingredients from the other service programs

might improve the Air Force’s process. The Air Force does not

require any air operations experience of its officers before they

become space operators; yet the Air Force is telling them that

fliers are their primary customers. The Air Force attempts to

teach most of its officers about air warfare through academics

in PME and not through firsthand experience. To understand

and embrace airpower, space officers need intimate experience

with air operations—but those opportunities are only available

to an elite few. An entire generation of space officers is igno -

rant of airpower; yet the air and space force calls for a new

breed of renaissance officers. The pilot supply is too tight to fill

more than a handful of space officer billets, but the Air Force

could certainly select space operators from officers completing

tours in air operations fields such as AWACS, JSTARS, com -

mand and control, airborne intelligence, aircraft maintenance,

command posts, or even navigators, as their career field

shrinks. Drawing space operators from this common foundation of experience would accomplish what the Air and Space

Basic Course is attempting to do academically.

But education is artificial experience. The intent of the Air

and Space Basic Course is to mold air and space officers, but

the Air Force is trying to do with books and computers what

the Marines are doing with muscle and sweat. Marines become

marines by training and living like marines. The Air Force has

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70
made a conscious effort to produce air and space officers, so it

should dedicate the necessary resources to do the job right.

Get the lieutenants on the flight line and into aircraft. Get

them into air and space operations centers. Let them smell jet

exhaust, plan a strike mission, deliver bombs on target, and

maneuver a satellite. The physical experience would be worth

much more than seven weeks of lectures and exercises.

PME should provide context for officer experiences at the

appropriate points during career development. Squadron Offi -

cers School should concentrate on the tactical capabilities and

employment of air and space weapon systems. The Air Com -

mand and Staff College should teach planning and integrating

air and space operations into the theater campaign. The Air

War College should weave air and space into campaigns and

strategies. Only the Air War College space curriculum fulfills

these objectives—but it may be too much too late.

Space officers with broader career experiences and greater

understanding of air and space power should fare better in the

competition for leadership positions. Assignment opportunities

in air operations, excellence in space operations, and timely

doses of education should cultivate air and space power lead -

ers. The passage of time may permit more space operations

officers to achieve senior rank, but as long as the Air Force

remains primarily an air force, senior space officers with mini -

mal knowledge and experience in air operations will never hold

the most influential leadership positions and combat commands. Implementing these suggestions will require a massive

overhaul of the Air Force personnel and education process.

Blue Ribbon Panels and Air Force leaders demanded this no

less than five times in the past. The Air Force should heed its

own advice.

The effort to integrate aviation into the Navy from 1921 to

1941 provides a suitable framework that the Air Force can

emulate to integrate space power into Air Force operations.

The policy challenges of integrating space power into the Air

Force are similar—but not identical—to those faced by the

Navy in integrating aviation in the 1920s and 1930s. The simi -

larities are compelling, but that does not mean the historical

analogy presents a perfect template for emulation. Science

builds on the work, the ideas, the innovations, and the discov -

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71
eries of the past. That is called progress. The future of military

science can be built on military history. History does not pro -

vide prescriptions for success, but it does offer a rich harvest

of ideas and guidance. The naval aviation precedent even of -

fers specific recommendations for space integration. More importantly, the naval aviation analogy strongly suggests that

the integration process involves more than the acquisition of

weapons and combat power. Integration is a social process

among people who have institutional identities and loyalties.

An Air Force enamored by technological prowess neglected the

human component in two earlier attempts to integrate space

into air operations. Without a current plan, the Air Force has

done well to integrate space capabilities and products but has

not done as well with people. Integration also must be a hu -

man enterprise. Integration is an attitude.

Notes

1. Both the 1989 and 1992 Blue Ribbon Panels were commissioned by

the Chief of Staff of the Air Force.

2. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan, tasks, 3, 15, 17, 18, 22.

Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force on Space in the 21st Century , recommendations 15a, 15b, 16, 24, 25.

3. Naval officers generally attend flight school right after commissioning,

but some officers go to sea to await an opening. After flight school, the

aviators go to sea on carriers for three to four years, return to shore duty for

two to three years, and then perform their tour “on the boat.” Cdr Richard

Bohner, US Navy, Naval Aviator, interviewed by author, Maxwell AFB, Ala.,

30 March 1998.

4. Lt Col David H. “Cow” Gurney, US Marine Corps, Marine Aviator, interviewed by author, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 30 March 1998.

5. Maj Clifton L. Dickey, US Army, Army Aviator, 82d Airborne Division,

interviewed by author, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 30 March 1998.

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72
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Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 1 (November 1994): 3–4.

Ozmun, Cliff D. “Air Force Space Command Establishes First

Space Battlelab.” Program Manager 26, no. 5 (September–

October 1997): 81–82.

Perales, Michael. “Integrating Space into the Fight.” USAF

Weapons Review 4, no. 44 (Winter 1996): 18–21.

Robinson, T. “Joint Space Support Teams at Work Around

the World.” Space Tactics Bulletin 2, Issue 4 (Fall 1995):

15.

Serie, Steven R., and Mark Lester. “Air Force Space Support

Team Keeping Peace as Part of Joint Endeavor.” Space

Tactics Bulletin 3, Issue 2 (Spring 1996): 9–10.

Stroud, Michael. “Keen Edge 96.” Space Tactics Bulletin 3,

Issue 2 (Spring 1996): 11–12.

Tirpak, John A. “The Chief Holds Course.” Air Force Magazine

81, no. 1 (January 1998): 37–40.

Wolffe, Jim. “Toward the Air and Space Force.” Air Force

Times, no. 40 (5 May 1997): 10.

77
Letters

Billman, Lt Col Gregory. Commander, USAF Weapons School

Space Division. To the author. Letter. 18 March 1998.

Billman, Lt Col Gregory. Commander, USAF Weapons School

Space Division. To the author. Letter. 19 March 1998.

Memorandums

Hailes, Theodore C. Chairman, Department of Regional and

Warfare Studies, Air War College. Memorandum. To Air

University XPO. Subject: Final Report: Special Management

Review (SMR) about Integration of Space Operations and

Capabilities Throughout the Air Force, 9 December 1991.

Jones, Maj Gen William E. To Maj Gen David W. McIlvoy,

Headquarters USAF/XPX, Washington, D.C. Memorandum.

Subject: White Paper on Space in the USAF, 22 December

1997.

Sunberg, Col Eric, Air University Space Command Chair. To Air

War College Commander. Memorandum. Subject: Development of Enhanced Core Space Curriculum AU/CS. Letter, 5

October 1989.

Others

Clark, D. Tom. “The Transition to a Space and Air Force: Proposed Solutions to the Dilemma.” Research Report 97-04.

Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air War College, April 1997.

Department of the Air Force. Blue Ribbon Panel of the Air Force

on Space in the 21st Century. Executive Summary, c.

1993.

———. Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Implementation Plan. February 1989.

———. Global Engagement: A Vision for the 21st Century Air

Force. Washington, D.C.: Department of the Air Force.

Home Page, 21st Space Wing. On-line. Internet. 17 March 1998.

Available from

http://www.spacecom.af.mil/21sw/21og.htm.

Home Page, 30th Space Wing. On-line. Internet. 17 March 1998.

Available from http://vafb.af.mil/orgs/30swcc.htm.

78
Home Page, 45th Space Wing. On-line. Internet. 17 March 1998.

Available from http://www.pafb.af.mil/people.

Home Page, 50th Space Wing. On-line. Internet. 17 March 1998.

Available from http://www.fafb.af.mil/biographies.

Inspector General of the United States Air Force. “Report on

Special Management Review of Integration of Space

Operations and Capabilities Throughout the Air Force,

Part II.” TIG Report, PN 91-600, 24 October 1991.

Johnson, Dana J., Katherine Poehlmann, and Richard Buenneke.

Space Roles, Missions, and Functions: The Challenges of

Organizational Reform. RAND Report PM-382-CRMAF,

Santa Monica, Calif., August 1995.

Jones, Maj Gen William E. Lecture. Air War College, Maxwell

AFB, Ala., 25 March 1998.

Peters, F. Whitten, Acting Secretary of the Air Force. “Meeting

Today’s Challenges: Flight Path to the 21st Century.”

Address. Air Force Association Air Warfare Symposium,

Orlando, Fla., 27 February 1998.

SY Technology, Inc. “Final Report on the Operational Needs

Analysis for Senior Service and Command and Staff

College Space Education.” Under contract to US Space

Command, 22 January 1998.

“USAF Battle Staff Training School Primary Blue Flag Exercise

Models.” n.p. On-line. Internet. 18 March 1998. Available

from

http://nova.agos.hurlburt.af.mil/Exercise/models.htm.

United States Air Force. Home Page. n.p. On-line. Internet. 17

March 1998. Available from

http://www. af.mil/

cgi-bin/multigate/retrieve?u=z3950r: //dtics11:1024.

———. Weapons Instructor Course Syllabus for Space. USAF

Weapons School, Nellis AFB, Nev., January 1997.

79
Toward an Air and Space Force

Naval Aviation and the Implications for Space Power

Air University Press Team

Chief Editor

Preston Bryant

Copy Editor

Diane Clark

Book Design and Cover Art

Daniel M. Armstrong

Composition and

Prepress Production

Linda C. Colson