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AIR UNIVERSITY

AIR COMMAND AND STAFF COLLEGE

The Better Blitzkrieg

A Comparison of Tactical Airpower 

Use by Guderian and Patton

Ainsworth M. O’Reilly

Major, USAF

Air Command and Staff College

Air Force Research Institute

Wright Flyer Paper No. 43

Air University Press

Air Force Research Institute

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

April 2010
ii

This Wright Flyer Paper and others in the series are 

available electronically at the Air University Research 

Web site http://research.maxwell.af.mil and the AU 

Press Web site http://aupress.au.af.mil.

Disclaimer

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are 

solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of the Air 

University, the United States Air Force, the Department of Defense, or any other 

US government agency. Cleared for public release: distribution unlimited.
iii

Foreword

It is with great pride that Air Command and Staff 

College presents another in a series of award-winning 

student research projects from our academic programs 

that reach nearly 11,000 students each year. As our series 

title indicates, we seek to promote the sort of imaginative, 

forward-looking thinking that inspired the earliest aviation 

pioneers, and we aim for publication projects that combine 

these characteristics with the sort of clear presentation 

that permits even the most technical topics to be readily 

understood. We sincerely hope what follows will stimulate 

thinking, invite debate, and further encourage today’s air 

war fighters in their continuing search for new and better 

ways to perform their missions—now and in the future.

ANTHONY J. ROCK

Brigadier General, USAF

Commandant

v

Abstract

Historians have debated for decades the reasons for 

the spectacular failure of the Luftwaffe during the last 

three years of World War II. As the Luftwaffe went down in 

flames, the United States Army Air Forces arose to conquer 

the airspace on the Western Front of Europe. Before its 

downfall, Luftwaffe tactical airpower was key to Gen 

Heinz Guderian’s surprise attack through the Ardennes to 

the English Channel in 1940. Similarly, in 1944, as Gen 

George S. Patton broke out of the Normandy beachhead 

by unleashing Operation Cobra, tactical airpower proved 

vital to his ability to march to the German border in 

only six weeks. This paper analyzes a host of primary 

sources authored by the main players in those campaigns 

(Guderian, Patton, and Weyland) and focuses on the key 

differences between the Luftwaffe support to Guderian and 

XIX Tactical Air Command support to Patton during their 

historic campaigns on the Western Front of Europe in World 

War II.

vii

Preface

I set a goal of utilizing primary sources as the basis for 

this paper. I wanted to research what the key players wrote 

or said at the time or later in their memoirs. 

But, in addition to finding information relevant to this 

thesis. I used primary sources to identify some interesting 

tidbits of history that would have gone unnoticed. For 

instance, on the inside cover of his war diary from 1944, O. 

P. Weyland wrote in an undated entry: “Rommel—wounded 

in France 17 July by F/B died 14 Oct.”1 Since the entry has 

no amplifying data, it is not possible to determine the context 

in which Weyland wrote that note, but it is interesting to 

see that Weyland thought about that particularly famous 

victim of his deadly fighter bombers.

I found another interesting tidbit while looking at the 

questions that Weyland had written for intelligence officers 

to ask captured German field marshal Karl von Rundstedt. 

At the bottom of a typed page with questions for von 

Rundstedt––having to do with the United States Army 

Air Forces’ performance versus the Luftwaffe––Weyland 

wrote in an undated entry, “Russian AF vs Am. AF?”2 How 

interesting it was to see that senior American commanders, 

shortly after VE (Victory in Europe) Day, were already 

contemplating a conflict with the Soviet Union. I cannot 

adequately explain how exciting it was to hold in my hands 

the actual handwritten war diaries of great Americans and 

great airpower leaders like Weyland. Enabling me to find 

these and other gems, the staff of the Air Force Historical 

Research Agency allowed me unfettered access to the O. P. 

Weyland Collection. 

1

Introduction

On a foggy morning on 1 September 1939, three Luftwaffe 

Stukas flew just above the treetops towards the first targets 

to be struck in World War II. The vanguard for the ensuing 

German offensive into Poland, the Stukas’ target was a pair 

of railroad bridges over the Vistula River in western Poland. 

However, the Stukas were not sent to destroy the bridges. 

Oddly, these precise dive bombers were sent to preserve 

them for the blitzkrieg of Panzers that were about to pour 

into Poland. Polish engineers, knowing a German invasion 

was imminent, had rigged these bridges for demolition to impede the progress of the Wehrmacht. Explosive charges were 

already placed at the bridges’ weak points, with detonation 

wires running to a control building nearby. The Stukas’ mission seemed impossible, for they were to drop bombs at precise locations between the control building and the bridges 

to cut those demolition wires before the Poles could detonate 

the charges. 

At 4:34 a.m., the three Stukas swooped in and dropped 

their ordnance on target, cutting all the demolition wires. 

The Wehrmacht thrust into Poland began one minute later 

to begin World War II. As the Stukas returned to their base 

in Prussia, Polish engineers managed to reconnect one set 

of wires and drop one span into the Vistula, but the other 

span remained standing for the Panzers to cross.3 This one 

raid encapsulated the Luftwaffe way of war. Stukas, developed as accurate dive bombers in support of troops on the 

ground, were not used for close support that morning. Indeed, the Luftwaffe, forever steeped in innovation, had used 

a tactical platform to achieve strategic success over the Vistula, and it had done it very well.

Tactical Airpower Comes of Age

Few military forces in history have seen such a remarkable turnaround in fortunes as the Luftwaffe experienced in 

World War II. From its early successes in the Spanish civil 

war, where the Luftwaffe cut its teeth and gained valuable 

combat experience, to Stukas firing the first shots of World 

War II in Poland, the might of the Luftwaffe, like all of Nazi 

Germany, seemed invincible. Never was the Luftwaffe a more 
2

capable fighting force than during General Guderian’s rout 

of the French army as he charged through the Ardennes to 

the English Channel. But during Guderian’s race across 

France and the Low Countries, problems in coordination 

and cooperation between the Luftwaffe and the German 

army arose. These deep-seated problems, the result of the 

Luftwaffe’s sstrategic vision of its role in the Wehrmacht, 

meant that even the vaunted Luftwaffe remained essentially 

an interdiction only air force, devoid of the ability to perform 

close support to German armies. In the end, overwhelming 

force led to the eventual defeat of the Luftwaffe at the hands 

of both the US Army Air Force (USAAF) and the Soviet 

Air Force. Yet the lessons the Luftwaffe learned during 

Guderian’s drive across Europe are applicable not only 

for the 1940s USAAF but to today’s Air Force as well.

As the Luftwaffe declined under the sheer weight of the 

Allied offensives in the west and east, the USAAF arose as 

the world’s finest air combat force. From early missteps in 

Africa and Italy, the USAAF fighter-bombers mastered close 

support and interdiction, and, in the process, they became 

a stanchion of the breakout from the Normandy beachhead 

and the race to Germany. Indeed, never had the world seen 

such a fierce and efficient AirLand Battle team. Working in 

close concert with ground forces, USAAF fighter-bombers 

waged incessant interdiction and close-support operations 

against the Wehrmacht, paving the way for Patton’s Third 

Army and others to march to Germany faster than even 

the most liberal estimates. Both Guderian’s drive through 

France in 1940 and Patton’s drive to Germany in 1944 embody the prevailing attitudes and strategy towards the use 

of tactical airpower by the Luftwaffe and the USAAF. But, 

while the USAAF overcame doctrinal limitations and capitalized on tactical airpower in the nascent AirLand Battle 

team, the Luftwaffe remained mired in old strategy, relegating the Wehrmacht airpower to an interdiction only force.

The Luftwaffe: Guderian’s 

Mind-set for Tactical Airpower

Guderian’s Panzer campaign across France in 1940 utilized significant tactical airpower for support. That tactical 

airpower provided by the Luftwaffe, though coordinated with 
3

Guderian’s army group, was independent in its application 

and most closely resembled an interdiction only campaign, 

as close support was neither desired nor required. This use 

of tactical airpower, for interdiction only, was rooted in 

both Guderian’s mind-set for warfare as well as in Luftwaffe doctrine.

Guderian’s image of airpower in warfare, like most German officers of the era, was rooted in his experiences in 

World War I. Guderian wrote tellingly of his observations of 

airpower in the latter stages of World War I. He was particularly influenced by Allied air superiority and its deleterious 

effects on German units:

It was the ground-attack aircraft that became the immediate threat. The Germans suffered from the attentions 

of the enemy aircraft on the Somme and at Ypres, and in 

the course of 1918 the superiority of the Allies in the air 

became more tangible still. While enemy air raids against 

the German homeland were rare and not particularly effective, aircraft intervened to significant purpose in the 

ground battle, as at Amiens on 8 August 1918. They 

created disorder in the German rearmost communications, they hindered the movement of reserves, they took 

German batteries under actual attack, they laid smokescreens in front of occupied ground, and they reported 

the progress of the attack. All of this was of material influence on the course of the ground fighting, especially 

when the aircraft were acting in co-ordination with tanks. 

Aircraft became an offensive weapon of the first order, 

distinguished by their great speed, range and effect on 

target. If their initial development experienced a check 

when hostilities came to an end in 1918, they had already shown their potential clearly enough to those who 

were on the receiving end.4

In short, Guderian was highly impressed with airpower’s 

effect on German forces.5 He used these experiences and 

others to formulate his historic combined arms operational 

strategy, which he formulated in the interwar years. 

Guderian’s revolutionary combined arms theory—

dominated by the maneuver warfare made possible by the 

Panzer main battle tanks he lauded—utilized airpower in an 

interdiction role as a significant source of support. Using 

tanks as the spearhead for an infantry advance, all supported by artillery and airpower, Guderian’s combined arms 
4

theory became the dominant strategy for the Wehrmacht. 

Discussing the role of the aircraft in his combined arms 

scheme, Guderian stated that aircraft would be used like 

artillery to create breaches in lines and fortifications for his 

Panzers to penetrate. Guderian’s warfare model called for 

a massive attack by artillery and aircraft to create a breach 

in enemy lines. Guderian stated that ground forces would 

“need a partner that can exploit breaches formed by aircraft, and can achieve a breakthrough through modern defenses. This partner is the tank.”6

After tanks exploited the breach in enemy lines, Guderian 

stated that the most pressing issue was to keep enemy reserves from engaging his tanks, and this interdiction focus became his major argument for airpower use: “Everything comes down to delaying the intervention of the enemy 

anti-tank reserves and tanks. . . . The best way of delaying 

the intervention of reserves is through aircraft, and this is 

probably one of their most important contributions to the 

ground battle.”7

Guderian understood how important the interdiction of 

reserve forces was to his Panzers at their vulnerable point 

of breakthrough in enemy lines. He wrote that “the immediate responsibility of halting the flow of enemy reserves falls 

to the tactical aircraft, which must cast aside all other work 

in favour of intervening in the ground battle at this decisive moment.”8 Further, Guderian stated that “the air forces 

must bend their efforts to preventing or at least delaying the 

flow of those reserves to the location of the breakthrough.”9

Destroying or delaying enemy reserves before they could 

be brought to bear on his forces was textbook interdiction, 

and this type of application of airpower Guderian formulated 

to support his Panzer breakthroughs. Interestingly, Guderian 

also stated that long-range artillery could be used with aircraft in that critical mission of delaying and disrupting reserves.10 It seems Guderian thought of tactical airpower in 

the same vein as long-range artillery—adequate for interdiction only. 

Guderian expanded on the interdiction role of tactical aircraft when he discussed post-breakthrough uses of airpower. 

He described such specific interdiction targets as road and 

rail links, movements, assembly areas, and command and 

control networks.11 Clearly, Guderian felt airpower should 
5

be used for interdiction only, as he never once mentioned 

close support or strategic targets as worthwhile to attack. 

Guderian believed and built his forces on the premise that 

only interdiction was required for his method of attack to be 

successful—and the only airpower application thus desired.

Guderian heaped praise upon his Panzers, but his lack 

of discussion on the value of airpower beyond interdiction 

reflected a certain animosity towards the use of airpower. 

In fact, Guderian’s only mention of airpower in the Polish 

campaign was to brush aside the Luftwaffe contribution 

and to say that “thick ground mist . . . prevented the air 

force from giving us any support.”12 He failed to mention 

that the Luftwaffe protected the “long, exposed flanks” of 

the Wehrmacht, the result of maneuver by the German mobile forces, by flying sorties into rear areas of the Polish 

army.13 He also failed to mention that “the efforts of the 

Luftwaffe . . . were primarily instrumental in preventing 

the [Polish] Army from inflicting damaging wounds on the 

rear of the German 8th and 10th Armies during their advance on Warsaw.”14 In discussing his campaign in France 

in 1940, Guderian remarked that he was aware of a threat 

to his flank by a spearhead of armor led by Col Charles de 

Gaulle from the French 4th Armored Division, but Guderian 

stated that “danger from the flank was slight,” and soon the 

French tanks moved away.15 Guderian again failed to mention that Luftwaffe Stukas destroyed most of de Gaulle’s 

tanks before they could reach his headquarters.16 To be fair, 

perhaps Guderian did not mention the Luftwaffe’s role because he did not know where the Luftwaffe was operating. 

Indeed, as the German army only required the Luftwaffe to 

fly interdiction well in front of and to the sides of its armored 

thrusts, the Luftwaffe only had to maintain familiarity with 

the general situation of the German army.17

Guderian’s libeling of the Luftwaffe’s contribution to his 

success in 1940 continued as he described a perceived 

lack of air support. During the French campaign in 1940, 

the Luftwaffe operated as an interdiction force, exactly as 

Guderian described; yet he often expressed concern that 

he was not receiving the air support he required. After 

the absolutely critical crossing of the Meuse River early 

in the campaign (discussed in detail below), where coordinated airpower was vital to the German thrust out of the 
6

Ardennes, Guderian remarked that “no more support could 

be expected from the Luftwaffe, which was to be employed 

elsewhere.”18 Guderian failed to acknowledge that it was expected that the Luftwaffe was to be employed elsewhere, as 

the Luftwaffe proceeded to accomplish interdiction in front 

of his Panzers. He also dryly mentioned an incident near 

Chéméry, where Stukas attacked one of his armored convoys after the convoy crossed the Meuse. Guderian failed 

to attribute the unfortunate fratricide to his Panzers’ very 

rapid advance the previous day.19 As his forces reached the 

English Channel, Guderian remarked that “the enemy air 

force was very active, bombing us and firing their guns at us 

too, while we saw little of our Luftwaffe. . . . All the same, we 

managed to force our way into Boulogne.”20 Guderian wrote 

off the Luftwaffe’s absence as caused by Luftwaffe airfields 

being located too far in the rear to support his Panzers. 

However, refuting Guderian’s premise, Williamson Murray 

argues that German documents noted that the Luftwaffe 

had set up a forward operating base west of the Meuse four 

days before Guderian reached Boulogne, saying, “What is 

remarkable is the speed with which short-range fighter and 

dive bombers moved forward to support ground forces that 

were rapidly drawing out of range. By the 17th, within 24 

hours of the French evacuation, German fighters were establishing their operational base at Chaleville, west of the 

Meuse. . . . The system supported the army as well as the 

air force in its drive to the Channel.”21 As his forces paused 

in accordance with Adolf Hitler’s controversial stop order 

before moving on Dunkirk, Guderian stated that “fierce enemy 

air activity met little opposition from our air force.”22 These 

statements prove that either Guderian was knowingly 

bashing the Luftwaffe or that he was unaware of their area 

of operations. As Guderian should have expected them to 

do, the Luftwaffe was accomplishing its interdiction mission across France and thus was well out of sight, but apparently not out of mind, of Guderian.

Close Cooperation at the Meuse

No one battle encompasses Guderian’s mind-set towards 

airpower more than the crossing of the river shortly after 

his Ardennes offensive began. Crossing the Meuse River 
7

was an absolute necessity if the German invasion of Western Europe was to succeed. So tenuous a center of gravity 

was this crossing that, when discussing it with Hitler and 

other Wehrmacht leaders during precampaign planning, 

Guderian noted that “General Busch, who commanded the 

Sixteenth Army on my left, cried out: ‘Well, I don’t think 

you’ll cross the river in the first place!’ ”23 The crossing of 

the Meuse was indeed so crucial to the entire campaign that 

Guderian, his planners, and the Luftwaffe disregarded the 

prevailing doctrine and decided to utilize the Luftwaffe in a 

close-support role.24 Indeed, Guderian asked that, in preparation for this one battle, a face-to-face meeting between him 

and the leader of the close support planes be arranged.25

Guderian spoke of this as highly unusual for the ground 

commander to interact personally with his close air support 

commander. In any case, Guderian noted that “co-operation 

with the Luftwaffe was arranged”26 for the Meuse crossing. He stated that the plan “from the very beginning of the 

crossing and throughout the whole operation [called for] 

perpetual attacks” instead of concentrating on one-time attacks typical in prestrike artillery barrages. In this one case, 

tactical airpower was to be coordinated closely and “time 

deconflicted.”27 Even in this highly coordinated air-ground 

battle, Guderian could not help but regard that airpower was 

to be used as a rolling artillery barrage.28 Thus, Guderian 

again demonstrated that he had no concept whatsoever of 

the utility of tactical airpower to aid the ground component 

in achieving battlefield gains. In the end, despite Guderian’s 

lack of airpower vision, the Meuse River crossing resulted 

in overwhelming success. During the crossing, Manfred 

Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen’s Stukas and bombers paralyzed French artillery positions, enabling the army to secure 

a foothold on the French side of the Meuse.29 Guderian’s 

Panzers had broken through yet again. 

Guderian’s view of airpower was not shared by all in 

the Wehrmacht. Though the Luftwaffe strove to increase 

its close support combat capability in the Spanish campaign with leaders like Richthofen charging forward with 

revolutionary tactics of close support, the Wehrmacht as 

a whole did not appreciate airpower’s role in close support. In fact, though he did not participate in the Spanish 

Civil War, Guderian certainly studied its outcomes. Most 
8

tellingly, Richthofen stated after the Spanish campaign that 

Guderian “failed to understand either the capabilities or 

limitations of air power.”30 Realizing that close coordination 

leads to essential close support for a mobile mechanized 

force, Richthofen glumly remarked that despite his efforts 

in the Spanish campaign, “no progress whatsoever had 

been made in the coordination of airpower with armored 

forces.”31 Richthofen further stated that he found the army 

“unteachable” in the close coordination for airpower application.32 Richthofen, never one to shy from a fight in the air 

or on the ground, blasted the lack of cooperation between 

the German army and the Luftwaffe, saying, “The Luftwaffe 

was neither a whore to follow where the army led nor a 

fire brigade on call to put out even the smallest conflagrations. Hermann Göring was very jealous of his power. . . . 

[He] consistently refused to let the army . . . exercise command over aircraft beyond those assigned to it for purposes 

of reconnaissance, liaison, or artillery observation.”33 So it 

seems that the tactical Luftwaffe was destined to be an interdiction only force, capable of much, yet missing the critical close coordination required to effect close air support 

on a fluid battlefield. That interdiction-focused mind-set 

was similarly reflected in the doctrine senior Wehrmacht 

leaders published.

German Airpower Doctrine

The Luftwaffe infatuation with interdiction was documented repeatedly in doctrine published in the late 1930s 

and early 1940s. According to a Luftwaffe general staff directive, “Guidelines for the Operations of Flying Units in 

Direct Support of the Army,” “The operating area of the 

Luftwaffe in direct cooperation with the army, in general 

lies beyond the effective range of our own artillery. Only in 

this area is the enemy likely to present targets that may be 

engaged effectively from the air.”34

Further guidance from the same document stated that 

“only in exceptional cases will it be advisable for air units to 

engage the forward elements of the enemy forces.”35 Clearly, 

the Luftwaffe doctrine intended for tactical airpower to provide support to the German army in an interdiction role only, 

and close support was frowned upon and discouraged. 
9

In addition to restrictions on close support, the Luftwaffe 

maintained a highly independent mind-set towards air support of the German army. This mind-set, certainly an outgrowth from Göring’s tight grip on Luftwaffe assets mentioned by Richthofen, manifested itself in such doctrinal 

statements as “the requests of the army for direct support 

can therefore only be complied with if there is a need for 

bringing about a decisive or immediate result.”36 Indeed, 

though the independent-minded Luftwaffe definitely coordinated its interdiction attacks with the ground commander, 

the supported/supporting relationship was tenuous at 

best. Luftwaffe guidance indicated that coordination was 

suggested and helpful, but not penultimate: “Ideally, the 

ground troops in whose combat sector the mission will take 

place should be fully appraised of the mission plans.”37 This 

statement indicates that the Luftwaffe, though more than 

willing to support the German army, remained staunchly 

opposed to close coordination, either on the tactical battlefield or in operational headquarters. The result was a German tactical air force that accomplished interdiction and 

reconnaissance only.

The Luftwaffe’s doctrinal roots for tactical airpower in an 

interdiction only role led to the creation of a separate and 

inefficient command and control system. The Luftwaffe assigned air commanders called kolufts directly to army corps 

and divisions to control reconnaissance. These missions 

were entirely under the purview of the German army and 

wholly separate from the Luftwaffe’s chain of command. Addressing these kolufts, Luftwaffe doctrine stated that “the 

most important mission of the air commander of the army 

and army group is to coordinate the aerial reconnaissance 

efforts of the [reconnaissance assets] in his assigned operational area.”38 To liaise between those same army units and 

the operational Luftwaffe, another Luftwaffe officer, called 

a fliegerführer, was assigned to establish close cooperation 

with the army, be familiar with the ground situation, and 

receive air support requests.39 However, the kolufts were 

also directed to be involved “in the cooperative effort between 

the army headquarters and the operational air force . . . [as 

Kolufts have] the most thorough and up-to-date information 

on all air reconnaissance results and thus [are] in a position 

to continually advise the air force concerning the employ-
10

ment of air units.”40 So both Luftwaffe officers were directed 

to coordinate between the army and the Luftwaffe; though 

the fliegerführer supposedly had the authority, the kolufts 

had more information. Finally, the Luftwaffe even went on 

to state that fliegerführers were not to be subordinated to 

kolufts.41 How confusing and inefficient it must have been to 

have the Luftwaffe representative with the most knowledge 

of the battlefield only to advise and not direct the application 

of tactical airpower. On the tactical level, strides were made 

to incorporate air liaison officers into the army to provide 

real-time air support requests, but these measures simply 

cut out the operational army chain of command, confirming 

the independent Luftwaffe mind-set. Richthofen “instituted 

a system whereby air controllers were sent into the forward 

battle zones to direct air strikes from the ground. The importance of good ground-to-air communication was noted.”42

Matthew Cooper believes that “Richthofen’s use of the Air Liaison Detachments . . . had proved invaluable: requests for 

air support could . . . be radioed directly to [Richthofen’s] 

headquarters, without having to go through the timeconsuming network of frontline division to corps to Luftflotte and back down to Fliegerdivision, and decisions 

concerning air attack would be decided on the spot.”43

So air support requests either went directly from the 

field to tactical aircraft or directly from air liaison officers 

back to the regional Luftwaffe headquarters. By skipping 

the so-called time-consuming communication network 

through the army chain of command, Luftwaffe air liaisons 

deprived the German army operational command chain 

not only of air support information but also of vital information about the status of their ground forces. Thus, a system set up by Richthofen to support the army in the end 

was inefficient and misplaced, as the divisions and corps 

that were the recipients of his air support were eliminated 

from the decision-making process by the Luftwaffe’s belief 

in its own independence.

The US Army Air Forces: 

American Airpower Doctrine

American tactical airpower evolved under the aegis of 

several US Army field manuals in the 1930s and early 
11

1940s. Tactical airpower doctrine in the USAAF in World War 

II culminated in Army Field Manual (FM) 100-20, Command 

and Employment of Air Power, a document in which tactical 

airpower use was ostensibly molded on Royal Air Force and 

British Eighth Army successes in Africa. Gen Bernard Law 

Montgomery’s British Eighth Army had achieved several 

decisive victories over Rommel’s Afrika Corps, and airpower 

contributed mightily to the effort. Montgomery valued close 

cooperation and close support between the Royal Air Force 

and his army. Montgomery’s close cooperation lessons 

were mostly incorporated into FM 100-20, but they were 

overshadowed by other priorities of the USAAF. Indeed, the 

USAAF feared a substantial dilution of operational command and control over air forces by the Army. Thus, instead 

of a document heralding close cooperation between the air 

and ground arm, FM 100-20 was met with dismay by the 

US Army ground forces and was viewed as the Air Force’s 

“Declaration of Independence.”44 Indeed, in 1943 the War 

Department published FM 100-20 without the approval of 

Lt Gen Lesley McNair, chief of Army Ground Forces, who 

was wholly responsible for training, equipping, and organizing Army forces in the European theater. Ironically, Lieutenant General McNair, also the highest ranking American 

to die in World War II, was later killed by fratricide during 

an ill-conceived US heavy- and medium-bomber strike on 

forward positions at the start of Operation Cobra.45

The tactical airpower lessons in FM 100-20 were largely 

invalidated by independent-minded Army air leaders. FM 

100-20 declared essentially that the USAAF was a separate 

branch of the military. The opening line of this document 

proclaimed in all capital letters that “LAND POWER AND 

AIR POWER ARE CO-EQUAL AND INTERDEPENDENT 

FORCES; NEITHER IS AN AUXILIARY OF THE OTHER.”46

Given the tension between the US Army and the USAAF, 

that particular verbiage was probably not the best way to 

begin a manual intended to be the guide for close cooperation between ground and air forces. Indeed, FM 100-20 just 

served to expand the rift within the Army ground and air 

leadership. Additionally, the air force’s priorities of operations were listed as the following:
12

(1) First priority. – To gain the necessary degree of 

air superiority. This will be accomplished by attacks 

against aircraft in the air and on the ground, and 

against those enemy installations that the air leaders 

require for the application of air power.

(2) Second priority. – To prevent the movement of hostile 

troops and supplies into the theater of operations or 

within the theater.

(3) Third priority. – To participate in the combined effort 

of the air and ground forces, in the battle area, to gain 

objectives on the immediate front of the ground forces.47

The second priority is interdiction, whereby fielded forces are 

prevented from reaching the battlefield or destroyed in the rear 

areas by airpower. The original thrust of the document—to outline close support to the frontline forces by tactical airpower—

was relegated to the third priority. Further, strikingly similar 

to Luftwaffe doctrine of the day, the idea of close support was 

discouraged in all but extraordinary circumstances:

Massed air action on the immediate front will pave the way for 

an advance. However, in the zone of contact, missions against 

hostile units are most difficult to control, are most expensive, 

and are, in general, least effective. Targets are small, well dispersed, and difficult to locate. In addition, there is always a 

considerable chance of striking friendly forces due to errors 

in target designation, errors in navigation, or to the fluidity of 

the situation. Such missions must be against targets readily 

identified from the air, and must be controlled by phase lines, 

or bomb safety lines which are set up and rigidly adhered to 

by both ground and air units. Only at critical times are contact zone missions profitable.48

Thus, what began as an effort to capture Allied lessons 

learned about the successful use of tactical airpower and 

apply those lessons to American airpower was co-opted by 

independent-minded air force leaders and morphed into a 

doctrine that promoted an independent air arm first, rather 

than close coordination and support on the battlefield. The 

US Army took this doctrine to battle in Tunisia and was 

disappointed with the result. Consequently, both air and 

ground commanders, first in the invasion of Italy and then 
13

in the invasion of France, modified the prevailing doctrine 

and instead formed the basis for an air-ground battle team 

with close cooperation, close support, and centralization 

of planning by Airmen at its heart.49 None was more successful in this application than General Weyland, Patton’s 

lead Airman in France. Patton, Weyland’s partner in Third 

Army’s air-ground team, also heartily supported the idea 

that tactical airpower should be commanded and controlled 

by Airmen.50

Patton and Weyland’s Air-Ground Team

Unlike Guderian, both Patton and Weyland fully understood the capabilities and limits of tactical airpower on the 

battlefield. Weyland grasped immediately that his task was 

to support Patton’s drive out of Normandy. At the beginning 

of Operation Cobra, Weyland stated that “with the advent 

of Third Army on 1 August, XIX Tactical Air Command took 

up the task for which it had been created––air support of an 

army in the Field.”51 That is a stark difference from Guderian’s perceived role for the Luftwaffe––to simply provide a 

breach for his Panzers and delay or disrupt enemy reserves 

threatening them.

Patton’s view of the capabilities and limitations of airpower seems much more advanced than Guderian’s. Indeed, upon viewing countless foxholes on the sides of roads 

for German truck drivers to take cover in during fighterbomber attacks, Patton commented on the overwhelming 

effectiveness of Weyland’s interdiction forces. However, Patton also remarked that many open fields were pockmarked 

with crater upon crater, but no destroyed targets lay in their 

midst, indicating an inability of airpower to always find its 

mark.52 Patton clearly implied that airpower was not a silver 

bullet but a part of the air-ground team he promoted time 

and time again. In fact, Patton stated that the “effectiveness 

of air-ground co-operation is still in its infancy,”53 indicating that he realized that, though formidable, the air-ground 

team had room for improvement.

Where Guderian did not emphasize close coordination with 

the Luftwaffe, except of course at the Meuse, Weyland and 

Patton considered a close air-ground relationship essential. 
14

After seeing firsthand the effects of fighter-bomber tactical 

aircraft, Patton remarked,

Just east of Le Mans was one of the best examples of 

armor and air co-operation I have ever seen. For about 

two miles the road was full of enemy motor transport 

and armor, many of which bore the unmistakable calling card of a P-47 fighter-bomber—namely, a group 

of fifty-caliber holes in the concrete. Whenever armor 

and air can work together in this way, the results are 

sure to be excellent. Armor can move fast enough to 

prevent the enemy [from] having time to deploy off the 

roads, and so long as he stays on the roads the fighterbomber is one of his most deadly opponents. To accomplish this happy teamwork two things are necessary: 

first, intimate confidence and friendship between air 

and ground; second, incessant and apparently ruthless driving on the part of the ground commander.54

This is a far cry from Guderian’s stinging accusations about 

the lack of air support from the Luftwaffe. Patton stated, 

“[T]he Commanding General, or the Chief of Staff of the Tactical Air Command operating with an army, should be present at all staff conferences and planning meetings. If this is 

not done, the maximum co-operation with this powerful arm 

will not be obtained.”55 In fact, Patton praised Weyland for 

this very cooperation when stating that “General Weyland, 

who was always present when any decision was made in the 

Third Army, was equally confident in his ability to support 

any activities in which we might become engaged.”56

Weyland also understood the importance of close cooperation between the air and ground arms and attempted 

to keep his headquarters very close to Patton’s. Weyland 

wrote that “throughout the Campaign every effort was 

made to locate Tactical Air Command Headquarters in the vicinity of Army, as it was found this was a necessity for best 

air-ground coordination. However, during mobile phases . . . 

Tactical Air Command circuits got longer and longer [such 

that] resultant operations were very unsatisfactory.”57 To 

counter the adverse effects of diminished communications 

during highly mobile phases, Weyland devised a forward 

headquarters staffed with key officers and portable communication gear that could relay Patton’s dictums back to 

him. Weyland said of his advanced headquarters organization, 
15

“In order to maintain liaison with Army on such rapid advances, Tactical Air Command X-Ray was established to 

move with Army. This echelon was composed of a few key 

operations personnel [and] proved sufficient to maintain 

excellent communication, and hence liaison, between Army 

and Tactical Air Command (Main).”58

He, of course, kept Patton fully in the loop on his ability 

to keep up with Patton’s highly mobile forces. In one instance, even Weyland’s austere advanced headquarters was 

unable to move with Patton’s headquarters. Weyland describes his response to this problem in his war diary on 13 

August 1944: “Gen Patton agreed that XIX TAC [advanced] 

should not attempt to move to Le Mans with HQ [HQ Third 

US Army] in absence of adequate communications. I will 

send liaison officers forward with [Third US Army] and 

move radio link to communicate.”59

The support of rapidly mobile forces required more than 

robust communications. Like the Luftwaffe, Weyland invested heavily in a support structure to build forward air 

bases so his fighter-bombers could maintain adequate 

range in front of Patton’s forces. Weyland remarked that “in 

the course of the campaign on the Continent, XIX TAC operated from forty-three fields” constructed by 2d Brigade of 

the IX Engineer Command.60 Whether his continually moving forward airfields were grass or captured German installations mattered not, as long as Weyland’s fighter-bombers 

could range the enemy ahead of Patton.

At these close coordination meetings, Patton and his 

ground and air generals discussed long-range plans, occasionally even short-notice requirements. In one example, on 

the first day of Operation Cobra, on 1 August 1944, Weyland 

noted in his war diary that “Conference with Gen Patton, Gen 

Gaffey, Gay and [Third US Army] staff. Reported that 4th 

Armored Div approaching Rennes and that German armored 

column was approaching Rennes from SW. Put 3 groups 

[fighter-bombers] on German column. 90th and 83d Divs to 

move S out of Avranches tomorrow & 3d Army required air 

cover over bridges and dams as they are very vulnerable and 

their destruction would cause debacle. 363 [Group] obtained 

for this purpose for 2 Aug.”61

Weyland consistently directed his airpower to support 

Patton’s drive across France, often using ingenious and 
16

revolutionary tactics to accomplish his objectives. Weyland 

even arranged continuous coverage of Patton’s lead forces 

at critical times during the offensive. Weyland described 

such an event at the start of Operation Cobra, saying “Armored 

column cover was so arranged as to maintain eight fighterbombers constantly in the air over each armored division, 

the eight-plane flights being relieved every hour. Theirs was 

the double duty of preventing attack by enemy air and of 

knocking out anything which might hold up the armored 

column. Planes and tanks worked closely together, talking 

to each other by VHF radio.”62

Though Weyland bent over backwards to ensure that 

Patton’s Third Army received adequate air support, his 

close relationship and corresponding close cooperation did 

not mean that he was a yes-man for the Army. Weyland 

provided just the kind of operational command and control required of an Airman supporting a soldier. In one instance, Weyland wrote in his war diary on 3 August 1944 

that “Gen Patton requested [destroyers] or gunboats at St 

Malo attacked as they are shelling 8th Div troops. Didn’t 

want [heavy bombers]. Due to density of [light] flak I refused 

to put [fighter/bombers] in at low attitudes. Requesting 

[medium bombers] from 9 AF for job.”63 Clearly, Weyland 

understood the seriousness of the situation: Army troops 

were under artillery attack. But Weyland, knowledgeable 

of both Patton’s desired objectives and effects, elected not 

to take unnecessary risks with his fighter-bombers. Yet 

he still accomplished the objectives by requesting medium 

bombers from 9th Air Force.

In addition to assuring close communication and cooperation at the operational and strategic levels, Weyland 

also created a robust tactical communication system. He 

wrote that “great strides have been made in the field of 

communications from the Tactical Air Parties located with 

groundforce unit headquarters to Tactical Air Command, 

and between these parties and aircraft.”64 Further, Weyland 

wrote that each Third Army Headquarters unit, Armored 

Division, Infantry Division, and Corps Headquarters was allotted high frequency and very high frequency (VHF) radios 

in a jeep and half-track.65 “The VHF radio is employed for 

contact with aircraft to direct them to targets . . . and receive 

flash recce reports.”66 Along with equipment, Weyland allotted 
17

well-trained liaison officers to each major Army unit. He described that “a flying officer is provided with each party to 

advise the Ground Force Commander on air matters and to 

contact the aircraft by radio.”67 This was the epitome of airground coordination and cooperation. Lauded by Patton, 

Weyland wrote in his after action report that “the present 

system is heartily endorsed by Third Army, which is enthusiastic over the liaison and communications provided by the 

Tactical Air Liaison Officer and the Tactical Air Party.”68

Thus, Patton was able to entrust Weyland with significant responsibility for the protection of his forces. As 

Patton’s tanks spearheaded towards Germany, Weyland 

demolished the Wehrmacht in front of Patton while simultaneously guarding his flanks. As Weyland recorded in his 

diary, “During a meeting at 9th AF HQ XIX TAC and 2d 

TAF to operate North of 3d Army boundary—impede and 

destroy retreating Germans. IX [bomber command] create 

road blocks behind retreating Germans to pile them up for 

[fighter-bombers]. XIX protect R flank of 3d Army, blast 

the way for armored columns to east and south of Paris.”69

His last sentence says it all. Patton and Weyland agreed 

that XIX Tactical Air Command fighter-bombers should do 

something no airpower force had yet attempted in history: 

XIX TAC was to protect the entire right flank of Third Army 

as Patton drove through the heart of France. Patton entrusted Weyland to do something never before attempted 

in warfare, and that alone signifies Patton’s innate understanding of both the capabilities and limitations of tactical 

airpower’s utility to his highly mobile forces. At the same 

time as Weyland was able to guard the flank of an entire 

army group with his tactical airpower, he provided Patton 

with the extra strength he needed to smash his way to Germany well ahead of projections.

Conclusion

It is not difficult to draw parallels between Guderian’s 

drive to the English Channel and Patton’s drive to Germany. Both commanders possessed an innate sense of 

mobile mechanized warfare. Both relied on airpower to a 

certain extent. However, Guderian thought airpower was 

crucial to gaining a breakthrough for his Panzers and for 
18

interdicting enemy reserves before they could threaten that 

breakthrough. Patton relied on airpower as a force enabler, 

allowing him to concentrate his armored drives in a spearhead while tactical airpower guarded his flanks. In the end, 

Patton relied on the knowledge and leadership of his skilled 

Airmen like Weyland to enable him to become a mythical 

figure in American military history. Indeed, the close cooperation between Patton’s ground arm and Weyland’s air 

arm became the mainstay of American military might all 

the way to the present day. Guderian, a highly gifted yet 

ground-centric master of armored warfare, also felt that tactical airpower should be a force enabler for his Panzers. Yet 

Guderian’s mind-set and resulting strategy utilized tactical 

airpower in a subservient role, where close coordination was 

not required, as the Panzers were the mainstay of his military application. 

As a result, while the USAAF tactical air commands 

thrived in the close support role, the Luftwaffe was unable 

to capitalize on its successes and was relegated to an interdiction only force. The USAAF, due in no small measure 

to ingenious and innovative leaders like Weyland, was able 

to overcome its doctrinal limitations and soundly defeat the 

enemy and in so doing lay the foundation for the future of 

the AirLand Battle team. In contrast, the Luftwaffe, mired 

in outdated strategy embodied by Guderian’s mind-set of 

tactical airpower use, squandered an early advantage in 

tactical airpower technology and became an interdiction 

only force for the Wehrmacht. 

Perhaps the best conclusions are drawn from the lessons that the Luftwaffe learned as it was defeated by the 

USAAF. Those lessons are encapsulated in reports from 

captured German officers. No officer understood the larger 

picture of the Wehrmacht better than one of its most senior 

leaders, Field Marshal von Rundstedt. Captured after the 

war, von Rundstedt was interrogated to determine, among 

other things, how successful the Allies had been in thwarting the German military. Weyland participated in this interrogation process and drafted a series of direct questions to 

von Rundstedt to gain an understanding of how tactical airpower had affected the Germans. When asked by Weyland 

if the Luftwaffe had an “Air Force HQ which was closely 

coordinated with the Ground Force HQ,”70 von Rundstedt 
19

replied: “Contrary to the American habit . . . , we unfortunately did not have that . . . we had to go to the Luftwaffe 

and plead with them.”71 Further, Weyland asked von Rundstedt if “there [was] any interchange of staff officers between 

Air and Ground Forces.”72 Von Rundstedt replied that “this 

was not the practice due to Göring’s anxiety to keep the 

Air Force as an independent branch of the service. Therefore, he did not tolerate such an exchange.”73 Clearly, the 

Luftwaffe’s independent mind-set prevented close cooperation within the air-ground team, as typified by Weyland’s 

XIX TAC.

Weyland asked von Rundstedt if the limited liaison elements between the Luftwaffe and German army were adequate to relay air support requests.74 Von Rundstedt replied that “in my opinion, it would be better to maintain a 

system of Liaison officers [sic] as you have it. Particularly 

so, as otherwise you depend too much on the personality 

of a single liaison officer. The final requests and decision 

for air supports [sic] should be made on Army level and not 

further down as the picture in its entirety cannot be appreciated by lower echelons.”75

There can be no greater praise than that of your enemy. Von 

Rundstedt’s acknowledgement that the USAAF air-ground 

team concept was superior to the independent method between the Luftwaffe and the German army speaks volumes. 

Finally, Weyland inquired as to the effect of tactical fighterbombers on the whole of the Wehrmacht. Von Rundstedt’s 

reply is most telling as to the total paralysis Weyland’s XIX 

TAC inflicted, saying, “The tactical attacks in France on railroad and road communications which were devastating. . . . On 

the roads our convoys or single [motor transport] could not 

move during the day. We could never count on when a certain division would arrive at its destination. And finally there 

were the attacks on the troops in the front lines. Withstanding them was an individual test of courage and of nerves.”76

How sweet it must have been for Weyland to hear firsthand 

from his former enemy that all his efforts at nurturing an 

air-ground team had been so wildly successful.

Notes

(Notes appear here in shortened form. See the bibliography for the full text.)

1. Weyland, “Diary,” inside cover page. 
20

2. Weyland, “Points to Take Up,” 2.

3. Jablonski, Terror from the Sky, 21.

4. Guderian, Achtung-Panzer! 128.

5. Ibid., 14.

6. Ibid., 128.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid., 195.

11. Ibid., 196.

12. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 68.

13. Van Creveld, Airpower and Maneuver Warfare, 39.

14. Cooper, German Air Force, 100.

15. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 111.

16. Cooper, German Air Force, 116.

17. Van Creveld, Airpower and Maneuver Warfare, 49.

18. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 104.

19. Ibid., 105.

20. Ibid., 114–16.

21. Murray, Strategy for Defeat, 38; and Corum and Muller, Luftwaffe’s 

Way of War, 196.

22. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 117.

23. Ibid., 92.

24. Van Creveld, Airpower and Maneuver Warfare, 49.

25. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 98.

26. Ibid.

27. Ibid.

28. Van Creveld, Airpower and Maneuver Warfare, 50.

29. Guderian, Panzer Leader, 102–4.

30. Van Creveld, Airpower and Maneuver Warfare, 34.

31. Ibid.

32. Ibid.

33. Ibid., 48.

34. Corum and Muller, Luftwaffe’s Way of War, 197.

35. Ibid.

36. Ibid., 195.

37. Ibid., 198.

38. Ibid., 200.

39. Ibid., 196.

40. Ibid., 210.

41. Ibid., 196.

42. Cooper, German Air Force, 60.

43. Ibid., 102.

44. Greenfield, “Army Ground Forces,” 47.

45. Ibid.

46. War Department Field Manual (FM) 100-20, Command and Employment of Air Power, 4.

47. Ibid., 10.

48. Ibid., 11.
21

49. Greenfield, “Army Ground Forces,” 52; and Steadman, “Comparative Look.”

50. Spires, Air Power for Patton’s Army, 312.

51. Weyland, “Twelve Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties,” 17.

52. Patton, War as I Knew It, 178.

53. Ibid., 356–57.

54. Ibid., 108.

55. Ibid., 361.

56. Ibid., 303.

57. Weyland, “Tactical Air Operations in Europe,” 16–17.

58. Ibid., 17.

59. Weyland, “Diary,” 16.

60. Weyland, “Tactical Air Operations in Europe,” 39.

61. Weyland, “Diary,” 2–3.

62. Weyland, “Twelve Thousand Fighter-Bomber Sorties,” 20.

63. Weyland, “Diary,” 5.

64. Weyland, “Tactical Air Operations in Europe,” 17.

65. Ibid., 18.

66. Ibid.

67. Ibid.

68. Ibid.

69. Weyland, “Diary,” 13.

70. Weyland, “Questions Put to General Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt,” 1.

71. Ibid., 1.

72. Ibid., 2.

73. Ibid.

74. Ibid., 3.

75. Ibid.

76. Ibid., 4–5.

23

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Greenfield, Kent Roberts. “Army Ground Forces and the 

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24

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