AIR COMMAND AND STAFF COLLEGE

AIR UNIVERSITY

Looking Skyward

The Emergence of an Air-Minded

Culture in the US Army

RONALD G. MACHOIAN

Major, USAF

Air Command and Staff College

Wright Flyer Paper No. 17

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

August 2004
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

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.maxwell.af.mil.
Foreword

It is my great pleasure to present another of the Wright

Flyer Papers series. In this series, Air Command and Staff

College (ACSC) recognizes and publishes our best student research projects from the prior academic year. The ACSC research program encourages our students to move beyond the

school’s core curriculum in their own professional development and in “advancing air and space power.” The series title

reflects our desire to perpetuate the pioneering spirit embodied in earlier generations of Airmen. Projects selected for

publication combine solid research, innovative thought, and

lucid presentation in exploring war at the operational level.

With this broad perspective, the Wright Flyer Papers engage

an eclectic range of doctrinal, technological, organizational,

and operational questions. Some of these studies provide

new solutions to familiar problems. Others encourage us to

leave the familiar behind in pursuing new possibilities. By

making these research studies available in the Wright Flyer

Papers, ACSC hopes to encourage critical examination of the

findings and to stimulate further research in these areas.

RONALD R. LADNIER

Brigadier General, USAF

Commandant

iii
Preface

This brief study of the earliest American Airmen and their

influence on the development of an air-minded culture is a

work in progress. Historians have given this subject incomplete attention, and there remains a rich opportunity for rewarding scholarship on the topic. I hope that continued research in this area will strengthen the interim conclusions

presented here, adding historical depth to the legacy of those

men who dedicated their careers to building a United States

Air Force.

I would like to thank Lt Col Joseph Reynolds, USAF, for

his encouragement and guidance during the completion of

this endeavor. I researched this project under the auspices

of the Air Command and Staff College at Maxwell AFB, Alabama, and conducted it at the Air University Library,

Maxwell AFB, Alabama, and the US Army Combined Arms

Research Library at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

v
Abstract

The twentieth century’s first decades were a time of enormous technological achievement that had profound influences on the modern battlefield. The invention of the airplane

and its subsequent adaptation for military use inarguably

changed the face of twentieth-century warfare. It was during

this dynamic period that America’s earliest Airmen began to

articulate ideas on how airpower might best be used and

what its presence might mean to the future conduct of war.

These thoughts represented the barest beginnings of an airminded culture in the US military. In addition to defining

what American soldiers knew and believed about aviation,

this culture eventually founded the professional impetus for

a separate air arm. Thus, a study of the ideas put forth by

these first Airmen is an important historical endeavor, lending a more complete understanding of the development of

American airpower.

This paper relies primarily on articles that appeared in

contemporary professional journals and popular periodicals.

Airmen laid out a collective argument from which emerge

several identifiable themes—crude tenets about the application of airpower as a weapon of war. Conclusions posit these

themes as the reflection of a coherent air-minded perspective

and discuss their historical relevance as a benchmark for

later efforts to further develop American airpower. Secondary

support comes from extant historical monographs that provide an account of military aviation’s early development.

vii
Looking Skyward

I realized that I was entering upon a career of unknown proportions but one which, I felt, provided I remain alive, would

not only prove most interesting but, also, rewarding in the professional military field.

—Brig Gen T. Dewitt Milling, USAF

When World War I began in 1914, it ushered in four

years of rapid change in the still embryonic military application of manned flight. As events in Europe deteriorated

into brutal war of previously unseen proportions, few onlookers could conceptualize the huge impact that military

aviation would later have on twentieth-century warfare.

During the years preceding the war, in the United States

as elsewhere, professional soldiers often looked on aeronautics with a reactionary attitude that kept the new technology at arm’s length and deprived it of institutional support. Yet a handful of American officers had given a great

deal of thought to the vast range of martial possibilities

that might follow man’s flight into the air. Some of these

men had the professional foresight and enthusiasm to see

beyond the contemporary flying machine’s demonstrated

capabilities to visualize how aerial combat might look in

the future, and perhaps more importantly, what effect it

could have on the battlefields below.

Perhaps taking their cue from the day’s progressive reformers, many of these would-be Airmen sought to popularize their ideas through publication––risking the ridicule

of their peers and even professional censure. Their

thoughts, though perhaps appearing simplistic and even

naïve when viewed in hindsight, seeded an “air-minded”

culture that eventually helped to define modern military

airpower. These records will guide this paper’s examination of early efforts to build an American air force, looking

for the cultural foundations of the tenets later espoused by

the likes of Billy Mitchell, Henry “Hap” Arnold, George Kenney, and Carl Spaatz. It will attempt to identify common

themes that reflect what early Airmen knew and espoused

about their developing expertise. As modern Airmen now

look toward the challenges of a new century, perhaps they

1
will find some relevance in these all-but-forgotten endeavors of the past.

The Beginning

As the twentieth century approached, the US Army found

itself in a cultural abyss, caught between the antiquity of

its role as a frontier constabulary and the demands of a

rapidly industrializing world. Reform-minded soldiers,

writing in a genre that historians have since termed professionalist, publicly called for institutional redirection.

With the advent of breech-loading artillery, turreted steel

warships, and rapid-fire machine guns, a handful of astute

soldiers recognized that industrial progress threatened to

transform modern warfare into something even more horrifying than its past, and they worked to ensure that the

United States was not left wholly unprepared.

In this context in 1896, Capt William A. Glassford, US

Army Signal Corps, wrote of a “new engine of the art of

war,” cautioning his brother officers that its study was of

the utmost importance if they were to prevail in the coming century. Glassford, whose article appeared in the

widely read Journal of the Military Service Institution of the

United States (JMSIUS), was writing of the manned balloon,

a machination for which he saw two distinct uses on the

battlefield, the most obvious of which was reconnaissance.

Military forces had used the balloon with limited success

during the American Civil War, and it took no great visionary to realize that forces might continue to expand the balloon’s utility. But even at that early date, Glassford recognized the unlimited potential of manned military flight.

Aviation, he believed, could easily transform warfare if dirigibles or “flying machines” served as offensive weapons,

carrying “bodies of high explosives” that turned them into

“superterranean torpedoes.” This still unproven concept of

aerial combat had become a fascination for some soldiers,

just as it had for many of their civilian contemporaries.1

Glassford’s purpose was not to prophesize, but rather to

lobby for his service branch, the Signal Corps, and specifically its fledgling attempt to develop an air arm. He did not

dally long on thoughts of aerial bombardment, instead

2 LOOKING SKYWARD
transitioning to an artful argument for an expanded balloon

service for battlefield communication and reconnaissance.

Nevertheless, even though he set aside the concept of aerial

bombardment as somewhat futuristic, a capability that is

“not yet accomplished,” his implication was clear. If manned

aerial reconnaissance were a reality needed by any modern

army, then its eventual progeny would be a lethal application. The air would soon become a medium for twentiethcentury war.

Only a few months later, JMSIUS added an interesting

postscript to Glassford’s article. The journal reported on a series of experiments conducted by the British army. Working

in conjunction, experts from the British ordnance and ballooning schools successfully brought down a tethered observation balloon with a field artillery piece drafted into an inventive antiaircraft role. Firing at a distance of about 4,000

yards with shrapnel shell, a crew hit the unmanned balloon

on the sixth shot, sending it back to earth––a rather ominous

demonstration that the military use of aerial vehicles would,

in fact, not go uncontested. The air was clearly attracting interest as a third dimension for man’s terrible activity of war.2

In the decade that followed, the US Army expanded its use

of balloons, as did other nations around the world. By 1900

manned balloons were certainly not strangers to the world’s

battlefields. The Union and Confederate armies had both employed them with limited success during the American Civil

War, and ballooning had since found its way into the great

armies of Europe. The idea of carrying warfare into the air in

at least an auxiliary role was slowly gaining a small but significant foothold within professional military circles. In 1870

besieged Parisians used balloons to communicate with the

outside world during the Franco-Prussian War, supposedly

carrying “thousands of letters, and several hundred carrier

pigeons” in the effort.3 In 1892 the US Army Signal Corps followed suit with its own balloon section, and a few years later,

soldiers from this fledgling air force took part in the American advance toward Santiago, Cuba. At the Battle of San

Juan Hill––made famous by the exploits of Pres. Theodore

“Teddy” Roosevelt’s “Rough Riders”––the unit’s single balloon

was unceremoniously forced to retire from the field when it

came under all-too-accurate Spanish rifle fire while helping

to direct American artillery batteries. Floating within range of

MACHOIAN 3
enemy small arms was a dangerous undertaking, and the

conquest of the air awaited further invention. The development of heavier-than-air powered flight would finally change

this equation in the Airman’s favor.4

After the Wright brothers’ groundbreaking flight at Kitty

Hawk, North Carolina, in 1903, the idea of manned flight

as a weapon of war moved closer to reality. By the end of

1905, the US government still had shown little regard for

the Wrights’ invention, while Western European governments were astutely beginning to negotiate for the rights to

it. Two years later when Roosevelt directed the purchase of

an aircraft for the Army’s use, the United States began to

show interest in the advent of manned motorized flight. As

a result the Army acquired a Wright flying machine in early

1908. Even if the airplane caused less than a storm of excitement in the months following its birth at Kitty Hawk,

the idea of flying increasingly caught the attention of both

soldier and civilian.

In the United States, the “Aero Club of America”––mimicking the Aero-Club de France––took the lead as a public

lobby for air-minded activity. Lt Frank Lahm, a cavalryman whose attentions had left horses and turned to the

clouds, bragged in early 1906 that “this recently organized

club is starting out under very auspicious circumstance.

Already it has a membership of over two hundred, including many of New York’s most prominent people.”5 The club

purchased hot-air balloons and took every opportunity to

push the grand spectacle of aerial flight before the public

eye. As a soldier, Lahm viewed aviation as an endeavor

with great military potential. In an article that touted the

exhilaration of flying, he pointedly moved the discussion to

a more utilitarian call for the military use of powered aircraft: “Those who have studied the question carefully are

generally of the opinion that it is neither the spherical nor

the dirigible that is to solve the question of the ‘conquest

of the air.’ It must be solved by a machine that is ‘heavier

than the air.’ ”6 The Aero Club, Lahm wrote, had “opened

the way,” and it was now up to the government to seize the

moment and press forward public aviation to keep pace

with Europe’s great armies. Thus early on in their kindred

struggle, soldiers and civilians allied themselves in the

name of a shared interest in the future of manned flight.7

4 LOOKING SKYWARD
Like many who attempt to carve inventive new paths from

convention, a combination of personal and institutional interest spurred Lahm’s enthusiasm for flying. In 1906 he participated in the first annual Aeronautic Cup Race, a balloon

race that originated in Paris, France, and stretched across

the English Channel. Sixteen entries representing seven

countries (including three from Germany) competed in a festive sporting atmosphere. Lahm, along with Henry B.

Hersey––a veteran of Roosevelt’s Rough Riders––piloted the

United States, the sole American entry, sponsored by the

Aero Club of America.8

After covering an impressive 402 statute miles in just

over 22 hours, the crew of the United States proudly took

first prize. More importantly, to at least Lahm, the contest

demonstrated the balloon’s great potential as a viable

weapon of war. A few months later, he reported the event

in the pages of JMSIUS: “It is interesting to note,” he observed, “that six of the sixteen balloons in this year’s contest carried regular Army officers either as pilots or as assistants. The balloon holds an important place in warfare.”

European armies, he warned, were even then taking great

pains to build well-trained balloon corps: “When the next

war comes, let us not be found wanting in this particular

branch of military science.” Clearly, Lahm’s love for flying

was closely intertwined with a fervent conviction that the

air would soon become the realm of soldiers. Like-minded

writers echoed this prophecy and it became a recurring

theme in the period’s air-minded literature.9

There was also Charles DeForest Chandler––like Lahm,

a ballooning enthusiast who worked tirelessly to carve an

embryonic air force from the Army’s Signal Corps. In the

fall of 1906, Chandler was also involved in a highly publicized balloon ascent, an event that took place in Massachusetts under the Aero Club’s auspices. When the Signal

Corps decided to purchase two more balloons the next year

from Mr. A. Leo Stevens, Chandler was the government

representative to test fly one of them. The Army and Navy

Journal (ANJ) reported that the test sortie “proved satisfactory in every respect,” taking the crew a distance of 140

miles in about four and one-half hours, from Washington,

D.C., to a spot near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The War

Department paid Stevens $1,200 for the balloon, and a

MACHOIAN 5
year later, Chandler flew it in the “Lahm Cup,” a contest

named in honor of Lahm’s ground-breaking accomplishment in Paris a year earlier.10

With the support of Brig Gen James Allen, chief signal

officer, the Army picked up its long-dormant efforts to

build some semblance of an effective aerial auxiliary. The

balloon corps had fallen into nonexistence following the

Spanish-American War, and to rebuild, it was necessary to

start almost from scratch. On 1 August 1907, the Signal

Corps officially designated an Aeronautical Division and

broadly tasked it with “all matters pertaining to military

ballooning, air machines, and kindred subjects.”11 Fortunately for the Army, there were men like Lahm and Chandler who, through their active interest in civilian aeronautical activities, possessed a ready knowledge of balloon

aviation and had already given much thought to its application to the military art. The corps placed Chandler in

charge of the new division, and he began finding adequate

expertise and resources to build his tiny air force.12

During the spring and summer of 1907, the corps detailed

several officers and enlisted men to various training schools

and duties that laid the groundwork for an eventual Army air

service. A few months later, after the division had become an

official part of the Army, Fort Omaha, Nebraska, became the

site of a government balloon plant of which Chandler took

command. Prominent civilian balloonists, such as Leo

Stevens of New York City, played a key role by training enlisted men on the finer technical points of maintaining and

repairing their craft. Once again, the existence of civilian

sport ballooning in the United States proved an invaluable

resource that greatly accelerated the Army’s own efforts. As

Lahm and Chandler remembered, an enthusiastic cadre of

air-minded young officers found a spiritual outlet among

like-minded civilian Airmen. This utilitarian esprit helped to

publicize aeronautics in general and thus encouraged the development of a formal military flying program.13

A Handful of Soldiers and an Airplane

Attempts to expand the Army’s use of hot-air balloons

were by no means the sole efforts to build an Army air

6 LOOKING SKYWARD
service. At the same time, other soldiers were developing an

interest in not only lighter-than-air flight, but also in powered flying machines and their potential for military use. In

August 1908, Lt Benjamin D. Foulois graduated from the

Signal Corps’s school of application at Fort Leavenworth,

Kansas. While there military flying attracted his interest,

and he wrote a thesis entitled “The Tactical and Strategical

Value of Dirigible Balloons and Aerodynamical Flying Machines,” an effort that foretold the direction of his later career. Up to this point, he had been an average soldier with

very little to set him apart from his peers, but Foulois subsequently emerged as a pioneering voice for American military aviation.14

After school at Leavenworth, Foulois was assigned to

special duty with the Balloon Detachment at Fort Myers,

Virginia, a propitious stroke for both his career and the

Army. He quickly became absorbed in military aviation,

first becoming proficient in hot-air ballooning and then

learning to operate, repair, and maintain dirigible airships

from none other than aviation pioneer Glenn Curtiss.

Foulois, Lahm, and Lt Thomas E. Selfridge each learned to

fly Army Dirigible No. 1 during the summer of 1908 and

took the airship on several exhibition tours that were

unashamedly intended to draw public attention to the

Army’s flying program.

At this stage of development, military aviation was little

more than an interesting sideshow that looked to public

approval and applause as its primary conduit to further

government support. Army balloons and dirigibles were

taken to state fairs and aviation “meets” whenever possible

to “sell” manned flight as an endeavor with both military

and civilian potential. Even after Lieutenant Selfridge was

killed in an airplane crash that also injured Orville Wright,

the intrepid group of young soldiers continued to seek out

any opportunity to expand their skills and build support

for the development and purchase of further aircraft.

Foulois especially was convinced that the future belonged

to powered flight and turned his attention to “heavierthan-air” flying machines.

In the spring of 1909, the Army’s chief signal officer called

Foulois to his office and asked his opinion on the future of

military aviation. Would dirigibles or these still poorly tested

MACHOIAN 7
aeroplanes warrant government investment as a potential

weapon of war? His answer in favor of heavier-than-air machines contradicted the beliefs held by most of his seniors

within the Signal Corps: “I recommended that the procurement of Dirigible Balloons be discontinued and that our

future military air development be concentrated on the development and use of the airplane.”15 This somewhat maverick opinion would soon prove prophetic as European powers

began building the industrialized armies that future events

would hurl into a world war.

Across the Atlantic Ocean, careful observers reached similar conclusions, predicting the importance of powered flight

to future military operations. Two years earlier the Army and

Navy Journal had reprinted portions of an essay written by

Maj B. F. S. Baden-Powell, retired from the venerable Scots

Guards, in which he warned the British government to take

heed of the prospect of aerial warfare or risk domination from

the continent:

The whole subject of aerial warfare is a new one which has not yet

been seriously considered. It opens up a vast field which demands

our close study. . . . Even now we must bear in mind that an attack

may be made on our ships from above. We must at once consider

what is necessary to be done in order to protect our vessels from

missiles from the blue. If in the future all nations adopt airships for

war much of our insularity will be gone, and we must make due

preparation.16

Like Foulois and even Lahm, Baden-Powell forecast that

the aeroplane would soon supplant lighter-than-air vehicles as the most formidable weapon of the air: “There is

looming hazily in the dim and perhaps distant future another means of offense and defense, probably far more

deadly and effective than the dirigible balloon, and moreover, one which would speedily drive this leviathan from

the face of the skies. I refer to some machine on the aeroplane principle. . . . Let us, then, encourage invention

along these lines, so that we may still have some bulwark

to protect our shores.”17 Imperialistic competition framed

such arguments, and they added an ominous sense of importance to the struggles of contemporary Airmen––a view

implicitly shared by the ANJ’s editors by their choosing to

reprint and discuss Baden-Powell’s article. Although still

most often seen as merely a novelty by onlookers at sporting

8 LOOKING SKYWARD
events and exhibitions, aviation’s potential as a weapon of

war was not missed by an astute few.18

Foulois spent the spring of 1909 working with the

Wrights at Fort Myers, Virginia, trying to absorb as much

as he could of their hard-earned knowledge as they rebuilt

the damaged machine that had killed Selfridge. He and

Lahm both flew as observers when the type A aircraft was

once again deemed airworthy and began a series of demonstrations and tests to widen the envelope of manned flight.

Each effort drew large crowds of spectators, at least some

of whom, Foulois suspected, actually turned out in hopes

that they might witness a spectacular disaster, a “real oldfashioned Roman Holiday with all its bloody trimmings,”

as he wryly joked years later. The Wrights’ successful work

led to the Army’s purchase of the aircraft on 2 August, a

giant milestone in the fight for a real American air force.19

By this time speculation about the airplane’s military

role was becoming a topic of conversation in the public

sphere and was drawing interest even from those who

doubted or feared its maturation. Accordingly, the ANJ

began reporting on the progress made in aeronautics on a

semiregular basis. It updated readers on the Wrights’ continued work and sometimes excerpted related articles that

appeared in contemporary British journals, adding editorialized comments for an American audience. Impressive

German progress in the dirigible arena also received a

great deal of attention, leading ANJ to comment in April

1908 that “the idea of aerial navigation, both for commercial and military purposes, has caught the German fancy,

and it is said that the Kaiser is ambitious that Germany

shall predominate the navigation of the air in the same degree that England predominates in the navigation of the

seas.”20 Three months later, in an editorial entitled

“Preparing for Aerial War,” ANJ summarized the Signal

Corps’s latest progress, concluding that “the dreams of

Army enthusiasts in air navigation that the fate of nations

soon will be decided in the blue battlefields of the sky may

be nearer coming true than one imagines.”21 Although still

marked by the camaraderie of entrepreneurial effort, developments in aeronautics were increasingly couched in

terms of international competition as many realized the

MACHOIAN 9
great economic and military importance that would soon

accompany the “command of the air.”

In the early fall of 1909, three Army officers––Lahm,

Foulois, and Lt Frederick E. Humphreys trained in the

Army’s new Wright Flyer at College Park, Maryland, under

Wilbur Wright’s personal tutelage. In November, with Lahm

and Humphreys at the controls, this airplane was badly

damaged, bringing progress at College Park to a halt for

several months. During the interim Foulois became the

Army’s sole assigned aviator when the other two officers

returned to their line branches after four years of detached

service in the Signal Corps. Thus, the Army finally had an

airplane, but no one qualified to fly it. Shortly thereafter,

the Army ordered Foulois and a supporting crew of enlisted troops to Fort Sam Houston, Texas, to continue

training in the now-repaired “Airplane No. 1.” The Army

told him to “take plenty of spare parts” and teach himself

how to fly––no small order for a young man who had not

yet flown solo.22

As Foulois and his detachment made their way to Texas by

way of Chicago for an exhibition, two significant but unsung

developments foretold the future of military aviation. The first

of these was crude experimentation with wireless communication between air and ground. While “No. 1” was suspended

indoors from the roof of the Chicago Coliseum, the crew

undertook tests that convinced them of the practicality of

communicating while in flight. It was obvious to those involved that this simple test held special promise for the airplane’s role as an observation platform or scout. The second

development also took place at a public exhibition––a civilian

flying show staged in Los Angeles, California.

When Lt Paul W. Beck gained permission to attend the

Los Angeles show as an observer, he took along a simple

bomb-dropping sight that he fabricated. With the help of a

French aviator who brought his machine to the show, Beck

tested his new invention. While flying at about 250 feet

above the ground, he dropped three 15-pound weights at a

predetermined target. Although unsuccessful in the attempt due to some faulty calculations, Beck adequately

demonstrated that a mechanical sight was indeed a feasible

machination for the purpose. Thus, within a period of days,

the Army learned that pilots could not only communicate

10 LOOKING SKYWARD
from the air, but could also drop bombs with at least some

reasonable hope of accuracy––important achievements to

those who kept a keen eye toward the future.23

Technological development in the field of aeronautics

continued at a rapid pace as numerous articles in the

day’s journals and magazines easily attest. The significance of this dizzying advance was not lost on those soldiers who stopped to consider the utility of military flight.

In 1910 Capt G. L. Townsend, an infantry officer attending

the Army Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, took up this

topic in a paper that eventually appeared in the Infantry

Journal: “In approaching this subject [aviation] one must

be prepared to use his imagination largely and even touch

on the borders of prophecy because one achievement is

hardly recorded which in itself upsets previous calculations than another is announced that makes changes

again necessary.”24 But Townsend rightly noted that soldiers were not so interested in aeronautical progress for its

erudite celebration as they were for the more practical purpose of determining the flying machine’s suitability for military use. For air-minded soldiers, a personal fascination

with flight was founded on a more fundamental interest in

their profession’s growth and progress.

Townsend’s essay is especially significant in that he was

writing under the influence of the Army’s inner circle of

burgeoning Airmen. He footnoted the “very considerable

assistance” of Maj Edgar Russell––a prominent member of

the Signal Corps’s Aeronautical Board of 1908 that also included Lahm and Foulois––and acknowledged the published work of Lieutenant Colonel Glassford as well as that

of British Colonel Capper.25 Thus exposed to an already

identifiable “corporate” intellect regarding military aviation, Townsend highlighted the airplane’s potential for

strategic and tactical reconnaissance (though noting that

the airplane would not––at least for now––replace cavalry

in these roles) and underlined its abilities to act as a messenger and perform coastal patrol. These arguments were

framed in historical terms, drawing on the recent SpanishAmerican War to catch the interest of his reading audience: “In the operations around Santiago where transport

was so difficult and scouting by cavalry nearly impossible,

the possession of four or five aeroplanes would have been

MACHOIAN 11
of inestimable value to the American Army as they could

have been taken where the balloon trains could not go.”26

He also addressed the possibilities of aerial bombardment,

but concluded, like most of his contemporaries, that the

airplane currently was of only limited application in this

role. Looking at aviation through a conventional template,

soldiers were predisposed to view flight as merely an extension of the cavalryman’s eyes and ears. But even this

relatively narrow mind-set acknowledged an expanding future: as Townsend observed, continued invention would

rapidly thrust military flying into a wide array of roles and

missions. The question that posed itself for the immediate

future was what course the Army should take in its halfhearted pursuit of the air.

At this point, the airplane’s use as a weapon of war was

quite naturally pitted against that of its older cousins, the

hot-air balloon and dirigible airship. Lahm, since returning

to duty with the Army’s venerable Seventh Cavalry in 1909,

had remained deeply enamored with aviation, and took up

this debate in earnest. In an article featured in JMSIUS, he

outlined what he thought was the most likely role for military

flying in the near term. His thoughts were clearly developed

within a context of his times, and he had difficulty envisioning the great heights to which aeronautical development

would soar within just a few years.

There were three basic missions for which aircraft of any

type might be adapted in modern warfare. Lahm mused,

“First, and by far the most important, is reconnaissance,

both strategical and tactical; second, communication, particularly on the field of battle; third and last, combat.”27

Apparently, more serious attempts at dropping bombs

from airplanes had followed Beck’s little experiment. From

these results, Lahm remained unconvinced of the further

possibilities: “The idea of dealing death and destruction in

the form of fire and explosives dropped from the air, of annihilating battleships, armies and cities, has from the first

appealed to the popular mind. But let not the imagination

run riot, for experiments show that, to produce its full effect, the explosive must be confined.”28 The problem, he

believed, was primarily one of concentrating weapons

within a tight-enough area to have an appreciable effect on

12 LOOKING SKYWARD
the target––a problem that would perplex later generations

even after decades of technological advance.

But while Lahm doubted the ability of an aerial attack to

render much more than a local moral effect, he remained

enthusiastic about the airplane’s use as an airborne scout.

Perhaps this is not surprising since he was a cavalryman

by trade, steeped in the traditions of armed reconnaissance and patrol. Thus, in 1911, he still saw military aviation as largely an extension of his current craft, acting as

the eyes and ears of an army on the move: “Communication on the field of battle in these days of large armies and

extended areas of combat has opened large field of usefulness to aircraft. . . . Reconnaissance is where aircraft will

find their real sphere of usefulness. For this they are preeminently fitted, and here we may expect to see those

changes in strategy and tactics due to the appearance on

the horizon of a new and powerful arm.”29 He detailed the

methods by which airplanes could successfully assume

missions formerly conducted by squadrons of cavalry and

then discussed the relative merits of powered aircraft and

dirigibles in this role. The decided advantage, he concluded, went to the airplane with its much greater speed

and ability to maneuver even in high winds. 

Lahm failed to envision the degree to which aerial combat would continue to evolve. Like many others of his time,

his imagination was tempered by conventional wisdom. He

wrongly asserted that the “vulnerability of the aeroplane

need hardly be considered,” due to the inability of ground

artillery fire to hit such a small, swift target. Of course, the

arrival of antiaircraft weapons disproved this premise, but

in its simplicity, the statement highlights the embryonic

nature of manned flight. Lahm and his contemporaries

had no baseline on which to build their conclusions. Yet,

even if his predictions for the future were sorely inaccurate, his avid support for the airplane as a capable reconnaissance machine in the present would be borne out by

unfolding events.

In the meantime, Benjamin Foulois had been busy carrying out his orders at Fort Sam Houston, where he had indeed

taught himself to fly. His first flight in Texas was also his first

flight alone, a singular act of courage that in retrospect might

have bordered on sheer recklessness, especially with the fate

MACHOIAN 13
of his young colleague, Selfridge, still fresh in his mind. But

despite inexperience, he and his tiny ground crew remained

steadfast. By the end of the summer, they had proven their

skills as burgeoning aviators––training flights of just under

one-half hour became commonplace, even in mildly gusty

winds. They also began to tinker with some innovative

technical improvements. Not satisfied with the skid configuration that required launching their airplane from a sort of

catapult contraption, Foulois and his crew rigged a wheeled

tricycle-style chassis for ground maneuver. After some further improvement, the experiment proved a success, marking the installation of the first wheeled landing gear on a US

military aircraft.30

The next fall, the practice of like-minded interchange between civilian and military Airmen was wisely continued.

Demonstrating some understanding that flying was indeed a

pioneering endeavor with a particular brand of expertise, the

Army ordered Foulois northward to attend the International

Aviation Meet at Belmont Park on Long Island (22–30 October) as well as a second meet that took place in Baltimore

early the next month.31 At these events he had an opportunity to discuss and exchange ideas with some of the world’s

foremost aviators and aircraft designers. Even if nothing else

was gained from the experience, meeting and sharing ideas

with others who pressed forward down a similar path must

have been great encouragement to the young soldier. At the

time the United States “air force” was certainly a very lonely

branch of service.

A Fledgling Air Force on the Border

In early 1911 chaotic events on the Texas-Mexican border

proved fortuitous for the immediate future of Army aviation.

When political intrigue and open violence in Mexico ostensibly threatened US investments there, the Army dispatched

troops posthaste as a public show of resolve to protect American interests. The Army pieced together a provisional “Maneuver Division” from widespread continental regiments and

deployed it to a tent city near San Antonio. Although most

observers recognized that armed intervention in Mexico was

not likely anytime soon, the circumstances were wisely seen

14 LOOKING SKYWARD
at the War Department as a rare opportunity to employ a

large modern army in an operational environment. Under the

command of Gen William H. Carter, a prime mover behind

the Army’s ongoing process of professional reform, the division bedded down and began training on a scale rarely––if

ever before––seen by the US Army.32

The Army had recently gained a second, more advanced

aircraft due to the benevolent auspices of Robert F. Collier, a

visible patron of American aviation. Collier purchased a

Wright “Type B,” and promptly loaned it to the War Department for further development and training. P. O. Parmelee, a

civilian pilot under the Wrights’ employment, accompanied

the machine to Fort Sam Houston. Parmelee trained Foulois

on the aircraft, and with the Maneuver Division and its press

entourage only a short distance away, the two made a 106-

mile nonstop flight from Laredo to Eagle Pass to demonstrate

the aircraft’s usefulness as a reconnaissance vehicle. In his

memoirs, Foulois claimed that the sortie was made on orders

to scout for Mexican irregulars––the first official operational

reconnaissance flight in a powered aircraft in US history.33

The flight out was quite successful, accomplished in a

little over two hours, but the return trip along the Rio Grande

River ended in a much less satisfactory manner when engine

trouble forced the plane and its crew into a crash landing.

The aircraft and its occupants ended upside down in about

four feet of muddy river water—fortunately unhurt, but

nonetheless embarrassed and sorely disappointed. Luckily

for America’s fledging air service, the Type B was a stout machine. It was soon fished from the water and returned to airworthy shape at a nearby Army encampment.34

A few weeks later, while the Maneuver Division continued

to prepare as if it might go into action south of the border,

Foulois and Parmelee took an opportunity to show General

Carter the aircraft’s great potential in the field. Carter, a veteran cavalryman of the Indian Wars, was deeply impressed

when the Airmen delivered written orders to troops 26 miles

away and returned with a reply in “a trifle more than an

hour,” an eye-opening accomplishment in 1911.35 This feat

was followed by the aircraft’s participation in a formal review

of troops—probably a first in the history of US Army pomp

and circumstance. Another airplane also flew in this paradeMACHOIAN 15
ground-style review, a Curtiss machine that was deployed to

Texas for similar purpose.

While Foulois, Lahm, Chandler, and Humphreys had been

working with the Wright company, a second group of airminded Army officers had likewise begun working with

Curtiss. Although friendly competition existed between the

two companies, they shared a unique enthusiasm, and by all

accounts, their working relationship in Texas was cooperative. The two sections were organized into a sort of expeditionary “aero company,” and the border deployment was becoming a highly successful venture for the flyers. Just before

the parade-ground review, Wright pilot Frank T. Coffyn (who

had replaced the departed Parmelee) had established a new

rate-of-climb record, an act calculated to attract public attention and impress the Maneuver Division’s senior leadership.36 This demonstration of aviation’s maturing capabilities

was shattered when a second accident befell the Signal

Corps’s Aeronautic Division, taking the life of Lt George E. M.

Kelly, a member of the Curtiss contingent.

The officers who arrived in Texas with the Curtiss aircraft

were inexperienced, even in terms of the day. On the morning of 10 May 1911, Lieutenant Kelly was flying solo to

achieve his primary qualification when he died in a badly

failed landing attempt. General Carter, who had lost one of

his own sons in an industrial accident only a few months before, was disturbed by the young officer’s accidental death

and gave orders to discontinue flying in the division. The

Army’s first attempt to integrate airplanes with fielded troops

thus came to a sad end. The aircraft were shipped back to

College Park, Maryland, where the War Department planned

to establish a formal flying school, and the assigned officers

and enlisted men received orders to various points, some

outside of aviation altogether.37

If the Army’s first practical use of airplanes ended in

tragedy, it did not stymie the progress of American military

aeronautics for very long. The loss of the two men did not

daunt soldiers who had dreamed of aerial exploits alongside

both Selfridge and Kelly. Their enthusiasm emerged intact,

and they continued to prod the Army into the sky––a frustrating struggle for even the most dedicated adherent.

16 LOOKING SKYWARD
Advocates for the Future

The development of aircraft and dirigibles progressed at

a rapid pace as men continued to learn not only about

their technology but also about the science of flight. In

1908 the Scientific American had 72 entries in the subject

index that pertained to any aspect of either powered or

lighter-than-air flight. Two years later there were 128 entries

under the heading “Aeronautics” alone, and in October of

that year, the topic warranted a special “aviation number,” an

issue specially dedicated to the progress of manned flight.

Flying was clearly moving from the realm of fantasy to that of

an accepted science, and enthusiasts were likewise becoming true “Airmen,” with a corporate sense of their specialized

expertise and the particular body of knowledge that it implied. Military aeronautics paralleled this larger evolution,

and for many soldiers, the airplane’s utility became a foregone, even if begrudgingly reached, conclusion.38

Thoughts of aerial combat continued to excite the public imagination, and several insightful articles addressed

the topic. The question was no longer whether airplanes

would be of military use or not, but only in what specific

role they would become most useful, and especially

whether they could actively take the war to the enemy by

effectively dropping bombs on targets.

Using the airplane as an aerial observer and scout was

comfortable even for those whose interests remained wedded to military traditions more attuned to the nineteenth

century. However, for most, any more revolutionary role

was unthinkable. In 1908 even the Scientific American

doubted the airplane’s utility as “a means of transportation

on any extended scale,” and further found that bombardment from the air “would be a practical impossibility, for

reasons which it is not necessary here to enter into.”39

Though this comment was written before aircraft development obligated the writer to any other conclusion, it was less

than visionary. Airmen and aviation enthusiasts seemed satisfied with fitting aircraft into already tried and familiar arenas. Within this genre, the Scientific American concluded “the

military airplane of the future will find its greatest field of

usefulness in the important work of scouting”––a conventional notion of what was then a revolutionary technology.40

MACHOIAN 17
In 1910 the same journal published a second article applauding the advent of aerial reconnaissance as an important

“third dimension” in modern warfare: “The aerial scout must,

of necessity, exercise an enormous influence upon the conduct of future campaigns, rendering the already difficult art

of war perplexing to a degree that only the military man can

fully appreciate.” Once again, it discounted the idea that

aircraft of any type could be used with strategic effect:

“Outside of its scouting duties, we are inclined to think

that the field of usefulness of the aeroplane will be rather

limited.” Like many others who doubted the concept of

strategic aerial bombardment, the writer gave little credence to the hope that aircraft flying at several thousand

feet might mass enough ordnance on a single target to accomplish any significant destruction.41

Interestingly, this same article admitted that limited offensive missions might realize some success. The airplane,

it asserted, “would be admirably adapted” for “making

raids into the enemy’s country, cutting telegraph wires,

blowing up bridges, and making sudden descent upon

commissary depots with the object of . . . destroying enemy

stores.” The writer foresaw the airplane’s later “interdiction” mission. Yet, he did not explain why aerial attackers

might achieve sufficient accuracy to successfully strike

isolated targets but still could not have an appreciable

strategic effect on enemy cities, fleets, factories, and

fielded armies. Again, aviation was conceptually limited to

an auxiliary role––it might enhance the battlefield, but it was

not allowed to intrude on the primacy of surface warfare.42

A year later, only a few months after Foulois and others

had taken flight with the Maneuver Division on the Texas

border, the Scientific American again addressed the topic,

but this time with a different conclusion. Riley E. Scott, a

former soldier turned inventor, wrote an article entitled

“Dropping Bombs from Flying Machines: The Aeroplane as

an Offensive Weapon of War.” At the time, Scott, whose

military service had been with the coastal artillery, was

testing an aerial bombsight at the Army’s new flight school

at College Park, Maryland, and thus had a stake in persuading the public that military forces could prosecute effective bombardment from the air. Despite obvious bias,

18 LOOKING SKYWARD
his well-reasoned arguments painted the future in a manner that few active duty soldiers might then have dared.43

Scott admitted that much of what was previously written

about the concept of aerial bombing was based on sheer

fantasy––the entertaining product of reporters who “gave

their imaginations full rein, with the result that cities have

been destroyed, forts demolished, and battleships sunk.”

Even in these literary descriptions lies a hidden foundation

of reality. Scott firmly believed that an airplane, if properly

designed and employed, could drop bombs with a reasonable

hope of accuracy. At the same time he rightfully assumed

that aircraft would be pressed to higher altitudes as small

arms and even antiaircraft artillery made low-altitude flying

over enemy territory a dangerous activity. From higher altitudes the problem became one of placing bombs on target, a

complicated but nonetheless solvable dilemma: “When we

consider aeroplanes flying at reasonably safe heights . . . the

problem of accurately dropping projectiles becomes a difficult one and scientific calculations must take the place of

guess-work.”44

Of course, in 1911 it was difficult for Scott or anyone else

to imagine the degree of difficulty that high-altitude bombing

would entail or even that the enemy counterthreat would

climb to the attack. If specific points of his argument are

found wanting under the clarity of historical hindsight, Scott

must be applauded for his broader conclusions. In light of

contemporary European advances, he wrote, “it might not be

unwise for our Congress to depart from its usual policy of

economy by appropriating a million dollars to enable the

army and navy to fully test this new arm. Nations as well as

individuals are sometimes a penny wise and a pound foolish.”45 This advice seems sadly prophetic in light of the earthshaking events that soon turned Europe into a muddy killing

ground. Unfortunately, for the young men who would march

away to fight a world war, Congress ignored Scott’s advice

and the Army likewise failed to grasp the airplane’s effect on

twentieth-century warfare.

While the War Department and many others remained

unsure of the airplane’s future worth, some observers were

hostile to its growing presence. Two contemporary editorials that appeared in the Infantry Journal were especially

scathing. The first essay fretted that the time and money

MACHOIAN 19
spent on developing a flying corps would dangerously detract from building up the more traditional combat

branches: “The aeroplane can do us no greater military

harm than driving out of mind again that our need now is

the same as always—merely men, not machines, even

though they be new machines with all the fancied terrors

that superstition and ignorance given to things unknown.”

The second editorial, written a year later in 1910, observed

the shocking death toll wrought thus far by aviation-related

accidents and sarcastically proposed that to achieve victory

in modern war would simply be a matter of inducing the

enemy to use their flying machines.46

Simultaneously, the irascible Homer Lea, a resentful

military critic, launched an almost humorous attack. Historian Russell Weigley has described him as “touched with

sickness and phantasms.”47 In August 1910 Lea published

two essays in Harper’s Weekly, chastising those who were

foolish enough to chase the clouds: 

Mankind as a whole almost always transfers to the inanimate world

those strange conceptions that are the product of his wants and

fears. . . . Whatever possesses the potentiality of destructive power

or is strange or vast fills his mind with dread. And now that man

has come to the age of flying, he again turns his eyes heavenward

and with the same credulity that peopled the heavens with gods

and monsters, he marks out for himself new hopes and fears.

About these strange craft soaring over head he has created a phantasmagoria of unrealities.48

Although Lea’s acerbic rantings were of little harm, they

may have reflected the thoughts of many Americans and

even some professional soldiers who disdainfully watched

aviation progress. The advent of human flight generally

and perhaps military flying especially was often difficult to

reconcile with a comfortable past. As Americans left the

relative security of the Victorian age, they entered a transitional period that gave many pause to yearn for more familiar surroundings, even on the battlefield.49

But for the truly converted, that handful of officers who

was convinced of aviation’s future, the Army required a capable and well-equipped air arm if it were to maintain US

security in an increasingly dangerous world. This undertaking required more than just individual enthusiasm; it

required institutional support––dollars that were not easily

found in a peacetime budget. Almost as if on cue, Congress

20 LOOKING SKYWARD
allocated $125,000 for aeronautics in the 1912 military

appropriations bill, giving the Aeronautical Division a

much-needed boost at an opportune time. The Army ordered five new aircraft, established a flying school at College Park, and accepted three more young officers for

training. Among the new students was Lt Henry “Hap”

Arnold, a fun-loving West Pointer who later played a seminal

role in the development of an independent air force. The

year 1911 proved to be a pivotal year for American military

aviation. The initial cadre of air-minded officers grew and

so too did their ideas about the future.50

In the years that followed, increasing attention was given

to military flying as more capable machines were developed

and a greater number of officers became convinced that

aviation could become a significant––even if auxiliary––part

of the modern battlefield. This progress was by no means a

torrent of arduous support. As Lahm and Chandler later remembered it, “The older officers of all armies, including our

own, admitted only two military purposes for which airplanes

could be employed––reconnaissance and rapid transportation of high ranking officers on strategical or tactical missions.” Still, even if the Army’s senior leadership showed

little excitement for military flying, a small but growing number of aviators continued to dream of a potent American air

force and lost no opportunity to lobby for its development:

“The few air officers discussed among themselves the possibilities and probabilities of offensive air warfare when engineering progress would produce improved flight performances.” However, such discussions would be of little value

if not taken before a larger audience, and the day’s professional and public media continued to present a viable forum

for aviation’s cause.51

In 1913 and 1914 numerous articles appeared in both the

ANJ and the JMSIUS concerning the growth and future of

Army aviation. Although some of these were reprints of essays written by British officers, it remains an important indication that American military journals chose to feature

aviation topics at a time when much of their audience still

found little value in machines of the air. From an article entitled “Aerial Reconnaissance, Its Possible Effect on Strategy

and Tactics” (JMSIUS, November–December 1913) to an

entire series on the “Progress in Aeronautics” (JMSIUS

MACHOIAN 21
1913–1914), soldiers and sailors alike were given ample opportunity to reflect on the valuable capabilities that aviation

might bring to the modern battlefield. If there still remained

“nonbelievers,” it could not be for lack of exposure to the airminded gospel. Concurrently, the argument for further aeronautical progress was supported by an accompanying maturation of aircraft technology, lending credibility to hopes for

the future. Reasonable discussion concerning military flying

thus became less a debate of whether aircraft had any viable

utility and more a discussion of how best to use them.52

Foulois, now back in the Signal Corps and once again

carrying the banner for Army aviation, entered his own voice

into this dialectic. By 1913 it was apparent that the United

States lagged behind many of its European competitors in

the area of aeronautics, and he wrote an article for JMSIUS

summarizing this predicament and lobbying for further support. Professional soldiers had used the likelihood of conflict

with another major power as an anvil for their reform efforts

since the turn of the century, and so-called preparedness

themes were becoming a common thread in military writing.

It was in this genre that Foulois framed his argument: “Practically every military power in the world today, except the

United States, is taking up the systematic development and

application of aircraft to military uses. . . . European powers

are purchasing airships by the score, and aeroplanes by the

hundreds.”53 He primarily blamed a lack of fiscal support for

this condition. He was not satisfied with recent appropriations, which he characterized as “insignificant, as compared

to the large sums being appropriated yearly in all foreign

countries.”54 Beyond congressional purse strings, Foulois

also pointed to the conservative American officer corps, an

institution that was painfully slow to embrace aviation. Early

American Airmen were considered to be “hopeless visionaries and daydreamers” by many of their professional colleagues, and naysayers watched their accomplishments with

little applause. In the uncertainty of a dynamic world, it was

perhaps only natural to look skeptically on inventions that

might tear at the traditions of one’s own profession.55

Foulois went on to discuss at length the various military

roles and missions for which he believed both aircraft and

dirigibles might be useful. In preemptory answer to lurking

skeptics, he outlined the technical advances that had

22 LOOKING SKYWARD
taken place in recent years, making it possible to fly in almost all weather conditions and at altitudes and speeds

not previously imagined. Even with this argument as his

starting point, Foulois was remained fixed on the narrow

concept that aircraft would largely remain auxiliaries of

the surface battle, serving principally as the airborne eyes

for the Army.

Still, he predicted that armies of the future would fight

great struggles for control of the air, battling to take the

proverbial “high ground” that would give them a decided advantage over their opponent. This premise implied the need

for specialized pursuit planes, “designed primarily for offensive use against its own kind in the air,” and in this seminal

recognition, Foulois saw beyond present tradition and into

the future.56 Yet, there was no mention of aerial bombardment, a glaring omission for one who was enamored with

carving a future for military aviation. It is not known whether

Foulois had become frustrated by efforts to develop such a

capability or if he believed that broaching the argument

would be attempting to garner too much in one fell swoop.

The fact that he did not approach the topic underlines the

narrow path that even the enthusiastic few trod in their pursuit of a bona fide air force. Foulois’s article thus stands as

a valuable reflection of the manner in which American Airmen viewed their craft on the eve of World War I. The airplane

was an important new weapon, but one that was seen as an

adjunct of the combatants below.

Conclusions

In 1914 as events in Europe boiled over, even military

aviation’s most vocal proponents in the United States viewed

it within conventional terms of surface warfare. In spite of efforts to improve bombsights and strengthen aircrafts’ loadcarrying capacities, accurate bombardment was at first

thought to be too difficult an undertaking to make it a

worthwhile endeavor. The outbreak of war in Europe eventually helped to revise these misconceptions. Wartime expediency dictated innovative manners with which to kill one’s opponent, and by the end of the war’s first summer, Airmen on

the Western Front were dropping makeshift bombs on their

MACHOIAN 23
enemies. Over its course the war would bring further developments in aviation technology as well as the manner in

which aircraft were employed. Aerial bombing and air-to-air

combat became commonplace features of the battlefield, and

during the interwar years, men such as Billy Mitchell and

Hap Arnold seized the opportunity to carve out a new future

for military aviation.

But none of this eventuality was a foregone conclusion

during the century’s first 14 years. These earliest pioneers

worked from scratch to help define the beginnings of an

air-minded culture for the future. Several themes emerge

from their essays and articles, offering important insight

into what Airmen of the day believed about the use of aircraft in war—that the airplane could act as an invaluable

reconnaissance asset; that their use as real-time artillery

observers would render that arm’s fire much more destructive, changing the extant tactical balance; that the

airplane’s presence over the battlefield would revise the

manner in which armies maneuvered and sought contact

with the enemy; and perhaps most importantly, that seizing control of the air would become an important precursor to success on the earth’s surface. Together, these

tenets formed a foundation for the shared zeal that has

since been termed air-mindedness.

At the same time, many of these young leaders understood

that the use of military aircraft would continue to grow and

their missions multiply as technological progress expanded

the horizon of possibilities. Airmen seemed to realize that

they, like the machines they flew, were indeed a pioneering

vanguard in an arena with few boundaries. Although it is

regrettable that at the time they largely accepted airpower as

merely an adjunct of existing convention, it must be remembered that they did so pragmatically, reconciled to the

powerful context of their era. Their work should be evaluated

for what it was––a dedicated first step toward realizing the

dream of military flight. The air-minded culture that they

founded has helped guide subsequent generations of American Airmen through decades of institutional challenges.

24 LOOKING SKYWARD
Notes

1. William A. Glassford, “Military Aeronautics,” Journal of the Military

Service Institution of the United States (hereafter called JMSIUS) 18 (May

1896): 562.

2. “Military Notes,” JMSIUS 20 (May 1897): 626.

3. Frank P. Lahm, “Ballooning,” JMSIUS 38 (May–June 1906): 509.

4. For narrative histories of the US Army’s early attempts to develop

a balloon corps, see Juliette A. Hennessy, The United States Army Air

Arm: April 1861 to April 1917 (Montgomery, Ala.: USAF Historical Division,

Research Studies Institute, Air University, 1958; reprint, Washington,

D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1985); and Frederick S. Haydon, Aeronautics in the Union and Confederate Armies (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1941).

5. Lahm, “Ballooning,” 510–11. For autobiographical notes on Lahm’s

military career, see Frank P. Lahm, “Early Flying Experiences,” The Air

Power Historian 2 (January 1955): 1–10.

6. Lahm, “Ballooning,” 513.

7. Charles De Forest Chandler later wrote that the Aero Club of America

had greatly influenced the Army’s revived interest in an active balloon

corps during the twentieth century’s first decade, Charles De Forest

Chandler and Frank P. Lahm, How Our Army Grew Wings: Airmen and

Aircraft Before 1914 (New York: The Ronald Press Co., 1943), 56–57.

8. Lahm, “Early Flying Experiences,” 2–3.

9. Frank P. Lahm, “The First Annual Aeronautic Cup Race, and Its Interest to the Army,” JMSIUS 40 (January–February 1907): 17. Also see

Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army Grew Wings, 58–67; and Army and

Navy Journal (hereafter called ANJ) 44 (27 October 1906): 227.

10. ANJ 44 (8 June 1907): 1118; and Capt Charles DeF. Chandler,

“Winning the Lahm Cup,” JMSIUS 42 (January–February 1908): 119–25. On

the Army’s purchase of balloons “nine and ten,” see Lahm and Chandler,

How Our Army Grew Wings, 76–77. The numeration “nine and ten” is based

on the fact that the Army had apparently purchased only eight previous balloons in the decades since the Civil War.

11. Quoted in Hennessy, Army Air Arm, 15.

12. On the creation of an aeronautical division, see Lahm and Chandler,

How Our Army Grew Wings, 80–81.

13. Lahm and Chandler detail the training given this initial cadre of

air force maintainers in ibid., 77–79.

14. As a later chief of the Army Air Corps, there is a great deal of historical material documenting Foulois’s long service career. For further

study, see Benjamin D. Foulois, From the Wright Brothers to the Astronauts: The Memoirs of Major General Benjamin D. Foulois, ed. C. V. Glines

(New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1968); and also John F. Shiner, “The

Army Air Arm in Transition: General Benjamin D. Foulois and the Air

Corps, 1931–35” (PhD. diss., The Ohio State University, 1975). Foulois

later wrote that his graduation thesis at the Army Signal School was little

more than a fantastic editorial piece that “generally followed the lines of

one of Jules Verne’s flights of imagination” predicated on the Wright

Brothers’ recent success in building a workable flying machine, Benjamin

MACHOIAN 25
D. Foulois, “Early Flying Experiences: Why Write a Book? Part I,” The Air

Power Historian 2 (April 1955): 20.

15. Foulois, “Early Flying Experiences,” 23.

16. “Airships for War,” ANJ 44 (17 August 1907): 1374.

17. Ibid.

18. Lahm had issued a similar warning a year earlier, arguing that development of an air arm was necessary “if we are to keep pace with European armies,” see “Ballooning,” 514.

19. Foulois, “Early Flying Experiences,” 24–25. The Wrights’ work at

Fort Myers during the spring and summer of 1908 was part of a bid

process managed by the Army Board of Ordnance. According to the ANJ,

“successful machines” were required to carry two men a distance of 125

miles at speeds of 40 miles per hour and had to be capable of transportation in an ordinary Army wagon and then assembled in about one

hour. Three of the 41 bidders received funding for further work, with the

Wrights receiving $25,000—see ANJ 45 (15 February 1908): 628.

20. “Progress in Aeronautics,” ANJ 45 (18 April 1908): 876. For further

examples of contemporary coverage of aviation development, see “Aeroplane

Experiments,” ANJ 45 (23 May 1908) 1031–32; and “Mechanical Flight,” ANJ

45 (4 July 1908): 1210.

21. “Preparing for Aerial War,” ANJ 45 (25 July 1908): 1293.

22. This account comes from Foulois, “Early Flying Experiences,” 27.

Also see Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army Grew Wings, 162–68.

23. Lt Paul Beck’s attempt is in Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army

Grew Wings, 87–88.

24. G. L. Townsend, “The Use and Effect of Flying Machines on Military Operations,” Infantry Journal 7 (September 1910): 245.

25. On Maj Edgar Russell’s participation on the 1908 Aeronautical

Board, see Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army Grew Wings, 113.

26. Townsend, “Use and Effect of Flying Machines,” 250.

27. Frank P. Lahm, “The Relative Merits of the Dirigible Balloon and

Aeroplane in Warfare,” JMSIUS 48 (March–April 1911): 200.

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid., 201–02.

30. Airplane No. 1 later received a four-wheeled “landing gear”

arrangement devised by the Wrights—see Lahm and Chandler, How Our

Army Grew Wings, 183–84.

31. Ibid., 181–82.

32. On the Maneuver Division’s deployment, see Ronald G. Machoian,

“Between the Old and the New: General William Harding Carter and the

American Army” (PhD. diss., University of Missouri, Kansas City, 2002).

33. Foulois notes that he and Parmalee were “ordered to reconnoiter

along the Rio Grande River” in From the Wright Brothers to the Astronauts,

83.

34. On this flight and its less-than-happy ending, see Foulois, From

the Wright Brothers to the Astronauts, 83–85; “The Wright Army Biplane,”

Scientific American 104 (1 April 1911): 324; and Hennessy, The United

States Army Air Arm, 40.

35. Gen William H. Carter to Ida Carter, 8 May 1911, Carter family

papers. Lahm and Chandler recorded the total elapsed time for delivering

26 LOOKING SKYWARD
the order and returning at one hour and 45 minutes. The Curtiss aircraft

was deployed by a second group of Army officers along with representatives of the Curtiss company. See “How Our Army Grew Wings,” 186,

189–90; and “Aeroplanes are Reviewed for the First Time,” San Antonio

Express, 23 April 1911. The Carter Papers are part of a private collection;

copies of cited materials are in the author’s possession. Foulois detailed

the Texas border deployment in “Early Flying Experiences, Why Write a

Book? Part II,” Air Power Historian 2 (July 1955): 45–59.

36. On Coffyn’s record-setting flight, see “Aeroplanes Are Reviewed for

the First Time,” San Antonio Express, 23 April 1911.

37. Foulois outlines his own opinions on the Kelly accident in “Early

Flying Experiences, Part II,” 55–57. He placed a great deal of the blame

on the Curtiss section’s relative inexperience.

38. The subject indices for the Scientific American are in volumes 98,

99, 102, and 103. In 1910 entries under “Aeronautics” were broken down

into subsections, including one for “military aviation.” The “aviation number,” an issue devoted to several aspects of flying, was Scientific American

103 (22 October 1910).

39. “The Aeroplane Military Scout,” Scientific American 99 (19 December

1908): 450. JMSIUS 49 (July–August 1911): 135–38 reprinted this article in

part three years later.

40. “The Aeroplane Military Scout,” 450.

41. “Air Craft in War: The Possibilities of Aeroplanes and Dirigibles,”

Scientific American 103 (17 September 1910): 319.

42. Ibid., 320. For another contemporary critique of aerial bombardment, see “The Myth of the Aeroplane Bomb,” Scientific American 103 (16

July 1910): 42.

43. Riley E. Scott, “Dropping Bombs from Flying Machines: The Aeroplane as an Offensive Weapon of Warfare,” Scientific American 105 (28 October 1911): 388–89. Scott’s design later won an award in a 1912 international

competition in France. See Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army Grew Wings,

206–09, 276; and Hennessy, The United States Army Air Arm, 105.

44. Scott, “Dropping Bombs from Flying Machines,” 388.

45. Ibid.

46. “Concerning Aeroplanes for Army,” Infantry Journal 7 (November

1910): 461; and “Concerning the Development of Flight,” Infantry Journal

7 (January 1911): 618–19.

47. Russell F. Weigley, Towards an American Army: Military Thought

from Washington to Marshall (New York: Columbia University Press,

1962), 153.

48. Homer Lea, “The Aeroplane in War: Some Observations on a Military Decision, Aeroplanes as Destructive Agents,” Harper’s Weekly 54 (20

August 1910): 8.

49. The second part to Lea’s two-part serial ran a week later with the

subtitle “Aeroplanes as a Means of Reconnaissance,” Harper’s Weekly 54

(27 August 1910): 11, 26. This essay was no less critical than the first.

50. On Hap Arnold, see Dik Alan Daso, Hap Arnold and the Evolution

of American Airpower (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press,

2000). Arnold was originally sent to Dayton, Ohio, where he and Thomas

DeWitt Milling trained at the Wright brothers’ aviation school. After less

MACHOIAN 27
than two months training, the two men reported to College Park as instructors to help open the Army’s new school. See pages 49–50.

51. Lahm and Chandler, How Our Army Grew Wings, 208; and ibid.,

208–09.

52. Capt W. A. De C. King, “Aerial Reconnaissance, Its Possible Effect on

Strategy and Tactics,” JMSIUS 53 (November–December 1913): 450–55.

King’s essay was extracted from a transcript of a lecture that originally

appeared in the Royal Engineers Journal (September 1913). The “Progress

in Aeronautics” series, reprinted from The United Service, ran in JMSIUS

during 1913 and 1914. Its author was another British officer, Maj H.

Bannerman-Phillips, who addressed a wide variety of topics concerning the

use of aircraft and airships in military operations. A summer 1913 entry is

perhaps especially interesting in that he discusses the increasing volatility

of European competition for supremacy in the air. See “Progress in Aeronautics,” JMSIUS 53 (July–August 1913): 126–32.

53. Benjamin D. Foulois, “Military Aviation and Aeronautics,” JMSIUS

52 (January–February 1913): 98.

54. Ibid.

55. “The Men and the Machines, 1913–1915: A Chronological Treatise

on the Growth of Air Power,” The Air Power Historian 3 (October 1956):

171.

56. Foulois, “Military Aviation and Aeronautics,” 102.

28 LOOKING SKYWARD
Sources and Works Cited

Articles

“Aeroplane Military Scout, The.” Scientific American 99 (19

December 1908): 450.

“Air Craft in War: The Possibilities of Aeroplanes and Dirigibles.” Scientific American 103 (17 September 1910):

319–20.

“Airships for War.” Army and Navy Journal 44 (17 August

1907): 1374.

Anderson, Orvil A. “Fifty Years of Growth.” The Airpower

Historian 4 (July 1957): 163–67.

“Aviation Exploits at Home and Abroad: Foulois on the

Mexican Border.” Scientific American 104 (1 April

1911): 324.

Bannerman-Phillips, H. “Progress in Aeronautics.” Parts 1–7.

Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United

States 53 (July–August 1913): 126–35; (November–

December 1913): 456–63; 54 (January–February 1914):

119–23; (May–June 1914): 451–58; 55 (July–August

1914): 149–57; (September–October 1914): 338–44; and

(November–December 1914): 508–14.

Bonney, Walter T. “Chiefs of the Army Air Force.” The Airpower Historian 7 (July 1960): 129–42.

Chandler, Charles De Forest. “Winning the Lahm Cup.”

Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United

States 42 (January–February 1908): 119–25.

“Concerning Aeroplanes for the Army.” Infantry Journal 7

(November 1910): 461.

“Concerning the Development of Flight.” Infantry Journal 7

(January 1911): 618–19.

Foulois, Benjamin D. “Military Aviation and Aeronautics.”

Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United

States 52 (January–February 1913): 98–119.

________. “Why Write a Book?” Parts 1–3. The Airpower Historian 2 (April 1955): 1–35; (July 1955) 45–65; 3 (April

1956): 114–33.

Glassford, William A. “Military Aeronautics.” Journal of the

Military Service Institution of the United States 18 (May

1896): 561–76.

29
“How Air Power Grew.” The Airpower Historian 3 (April 1956):

134–37.

Kaempffert, Waldemar. “Aircraft and the Future.” The Outlook (21 June 1913): 452–60.

King, W. A. de C. “Aerial Reconnaissance, Its Possible Effect on Strategy and Tactics.” Journal of the Military

Service Institution of the United States 53 (November–

December 1913): 450–55.

Lahm, Frank P. “Ballooning.” Journal of the Military Service

Institution of the United States 38 (May–June 1906):

509–14.

________. “Early Flying Experiences.” The Airpower Historian 2 (January 1955): 1–10.

________. “The First Annual Aeronautic Cup Race, and Its Interest to the Army.” Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United States 40 (January–February 1907:

11–17. 

________. “The Relative Merits of the Dirigible Balloon and

Aeroplane in Warfare.” Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United States 48 (March–April 1911):

200–10.

Lea, Homer. “The Aeroplane in War: Some Observations on a

Military Decision.” Parts I and II. Harper’s Weekly 54 (20

August 1910): 8–9; and (27 August 1910): 11, 26.

“Men and Machines, 1913–1915: A Chronological Treatise

on the Growth of Air Power, The.” The Airpower Historian 3 (October 1956): 171–78.

“Military Aeronautics.” The Outlook (19 April 1913): 885–86.

“Preparing for Aerial War.” Army and Navy Journal 45 (25

July 1908): 1293.

Scott, Riley E. “Dropping Bombs from Flying Machines:

The Aeroplane as an Offensive Weapon of Warfare.”

Scientific American 105 (28 October 1911): 388–89.

Townsend, G. L. “The Use and Effect of Flying Machines on

Military Operations.” Infantry Journal 7 (September

1910): 244–58.

Books

Chandler, Charles De Forest, and Frank P. Lahm. How Our

Army Grew Wings: Airmen and Aircraft Before 1914.

New York: The Ronald Press Co., 1943.

30
Daso, Dik Alan. Hap Arnold and the Evolution of American

Airpower. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution

Press, 2000.

Foulois, Benjamin D. From the Wright Brothers to the Astronauts: The Memoirs of Major General Benjamin D.

Foulois. Edited by C. V. Glines. New York: McGrawHill Book Co., 1968.

Goldberg, Alfred, ed. A History of the United States Air

Force, 1907–1957. Princeton, N.J.: D. Van Nostrand

Co., 1957.

Haydon, Frederick S. Aeronautics in the Union and Confederate Armies. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press,

1941.

Hennessy, Juliette A. The United States Army Air Arm: April

1861 to April 1917. [Montgomery, Ala.] USAF Historical Division, Research Studies Institute, Air University, 1958. Reprint, Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1985. 

Shiner, John F. “The Army Air Arm in Transition: General

Benjamin D. Foulois.” PhD. diss., The Ohio State University, 1975.

________. Foulois and the U.S. Army Air Corps, 1931–1935.

Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983.

Weigley, Russell F. Towards an American Army: Military

Thought from Washington to Marshall. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962.

31