RESEARCH STUDIES SERIES

MILITARY AIRLIFT AND AIRCRAFT PROCUREMENT:

THE CASE OF THE C–5A

By

Marcelle Size Knaack

Air Force History & Museums Program

WASHINGTON, D.C. 1998
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PREFACE

This is the third in a series of research studies—historical works that were not

published for various reasons. Yet, the material contained therein was deemed to be of

enduring value to Air Force members and scholars. These were minimally edited and printed

in a limited edition to reach a small audience that may find them useful. We invite readers

to provide feedback to the Air Force History and Museums Program.

The author, Marcelle S. Knaack, a member of the Office of Air Force History,

undertook the research and writing of this book as a consultant, after she retired. Tragically,

she passed away in November 1996, before she completed the manuscript. Her colleague,

Bernard C. Nalty, also retired by that time, undertook to complete Ms. Knaack's work.

At first glance, the history of the C–5A Galaxy seems to be nothing more than a

compilation of contradictions. Ordered under a totally new procurement concept specifically

designed to control costs, the C–5A aircraft ended up costing a small fortune. Its purchase

in 1965 depended on achieving an initial operational capability no later than 1969, but the

transport did not appear in South Vietnam in a truly operational capacity until August 1971.

Although built by the Lockheed-Georgia Company, celebrated for its success with military

transports like the C–130 Hercules and C–141 Starlifter, the C–5A program from the very

start encountered serious technical problems, delays, and exorbitant cost overruns, which

combined to trigger several congressional investigations.

Although the program contracted in size under the pressure of these failings, it

survived congressional opposition and began to demonstrate its unique value during the last

year of the Vietnam War, even though operating under weight restrictions. In October 1973,

moreover, the C–5A helped provide Israel with a constant flow of supplies to ensure victory

over the attacking Egyptian and Syrian armies.

Into the 1980s the C–5A operated under increasingly stringent flying restrictions

because the flawed wing structure deteriorated until it had to be replaced. While under these

restrictions, the C–5A could carry just 174,000 pounds of cargo, roughly 100,000 pounds more

than the C–141, but 46,000 pounds less than the Galaxy's design objective. Although

installation of the heavier new wing would probably prevent the airplane from ever attaining

the design capacity of 220,000 pounds, the Military Airlift Command was determined to

extend the service life of the C–5A because its performance remained so impressive even with

a reduced load.

The improvements that strengthened the structure of the C–5A were incorporated in

a new version of the Galaxy, the C–5B, for which Lockheed-Georgia reopened its production

line. The modified A-model and the new C–5B did everything expected of a heavy-logistics

transport during the Persian Gulf War of 1990-1991.

Jacob Neufeld, General Editor

August 1998
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book was suggested by Gen. Duane H. Cassidy, Commander in Chief of the

Military Airlift Command from 1985 to 1987, and by the late Lt. Gen. Ralph E. Havens,

Commander of the Air University, when both were members of the Air Force Historical

Advisory Committee during the years 1988 and 1989. Generals Cassidy and Havens believed

that the Air Force needed an impartial account of the C–5A program. Dr. Richard H. Kohn,

the Chief of Air Force History, launched the book, which came to fruition under his successor,

Dr. Richard P. Hallion.

In pursuing the objectives of accuracy and candor, I received advice and other

assistance from several of my colleagues in the Air Force history program: Herman Wolk,

Bernard C. Nalty, Jacob Neufeld, Wayne W. Thompson, Michael H. Gorn, R. Frank Futrell,

and Michael Levy. Another Air Force historian, R. Cargill Hall, not only arranged the

contract for completing the book but also offered comments and information that helped

ensure the kind of product that Generals Cassidy and Havens wanted. Historians Richard

K. Smith and Rene J. Francillon, also shared their extensive knowledge of the C–5A in

particular and aerodynamics in general.
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CONTENTS

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iii

Acknowledgments ................................................... v

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

I. Military Airlift and the Evolution of Aircraft Procurement ............ 1

Early Procurement Practice ........................................ 1

The Post-World War I Promotion of Aircraft Development ................. 3

The World War II Production Boom .................................. 6

Airlift for Berlin and Korea ......................................... 8

Continuing Wartime Aircraft Procurement Practices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Reorganizing to Manage Technology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Contract Changes Add Costs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Airlift at the Close of the Eisenhower Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

II. Flexible Response and the Beginning of the C–5A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

The Effects of Flexible Response on Airlift Requirements and Doctrine . . . . . . . 21

The Imprint of Project Forecast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

The Total Package Procurement Concept . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

The C–5A Program Approved . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

The Study of March 1965: Weight and Engines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Weight: A Frustrating Start . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

III. Building the C–5A: Problems and Controversy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Source Selection Board Proceedings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Selection: The Low-Cost Bidder Prevails . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Engine Development: Difficult at Best . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

An Old, Familiar Pattern . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

A Tortuous, Downhill Road . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Playing Hard Ball . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

Catching the Public Eye . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

IV. Settlement of the C–5A Program and Another Procurement Reform . . 73

Money, A Continuous First Priority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74

The Unsolved Financial Dilemma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

Cutting Losses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76

Another Crisis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Damage Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
The C–5A Problems that Remained in 1972 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

V. The End of the C–5A Program and the Beginning of the C–5B . . . . . . . . 93

Overseas Deployment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

A Mixed Victory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

Rewinging the Fleet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98

Facing New Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

VI. An Assessment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

Appendices

1. Estimated Mission Performance Based on Contractor Revised Proposals of September

4, 1965 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

2. C–5A Program Funding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

3. Lockheed Supplemental Agreement 1000, and General Electric's Restructured

Contract . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

4. C–5A Yearly Production and Status . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

5. DOD Directives 5160.2 and 5160.22 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

6. MAC Airlift Missions and Flying Hours . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

7. The Cost and Repricing Formulae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

8. Serial Numbers, Acceptances, and Attrition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

Bibliographic Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
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INTRODUCTION

Acquisition of the C–5A and C–5B transports manufactured by the Lockheed-Georgia

Company between 1969 and 1989 embodied both the struggle to control the cost of weapon

systems and the emergence of military airlift as a key element of national strategy. Even

though the improved C–5B incorporated changes in engines and airframe typical of a second

production model of the basic C–5A, the two versions symbolized different eras and the

development of new procurement concepts. Both, however, reflected the growing importance

of long-range air transport.

The C–5A experienced a multitude of technical problems. Critical weakness in the

wing, production slippage, and cost overruns nearly caused the program's cancellation in

1970. Yet, the new aircraft made a reality of the concept of flexible response by providing

truly global reach for Air Force and the Army. The C–5A also signaled the beginning of

drastic procurement reforms that sought to curb the cost of new weapon systems, though

unsuccessfully since the new and highly publicized concept of total-package procurement was

never pushed to its logical conclusion.

By the end of the 1980s, the C–5A and C–5B had become synonymous with American

military airlift. The C–5A in particular—along with two previous Lockheed products, the

C–130 and C–141—may well have raised the airlift forces to the status of a specified

command, operated by the Air Force on behalf of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. This change of

status for the Military Airlift Command occurred on February 1, 1977, when the combined

tactical and strategic airlift forces in effect became a combat command. The organizational

change ratified the nation's greater reliance on aerial mobility to fight limited wars in an era

of nuclear parity between the United States and the Soviet Union. Acquisition of the C–5B

in December 1982 confirmed anew that airlift had become the key to national military

strategy.

The Vietnam War—Americanized in 1965, Vietnamized beginning in 1969, and

liquidated in January 1973—demonstrated the need for a long-range cargo aircraft like the

C–5A, but the expense of fighting that war caused the media and the public to question

defense expenditures, especially for the new transport with its endlessly spiraling costs. To

control the very costs that now seemed excessive, Robert Charles, the Assistant Secretary of

the Air Force for Installations and Logistics, had devised total-package procurement.

Charles, a veteran of the aerospace industry, had come to believe that contractors

routinely and deliberately underestimated the cost of development to win a contract for that

purpose and thus maneuver themselves into position to become the sole source for a more

lucrative production contract. Total-package procurement, Charles suggested, would inhibit

this sort of buying-in, encourage the industry to design for economic production, motivate the

contractors to control cost, and obtain long-term commitments leading to program stability

and continuity. According to Charles, his new procurement method offered the government

an opportunity to shift to the contractors the major financial risks, as well as responsibility

for day-to-day management. After reflecting on his reforms, however, Charles apparently

decided they were so harsh they might destroy the contractor, Lockheed-Georgia, and the

airplane it was building. He, therefore, set about creating loopholes that protected the

company, though at the cost of discrediting total-package procurement, which has yet to be

used a second time.

The collapse of total-package procurement revived the authority of the system project

offices, through which the Air Force Systems Command exerted its authority. A new tide of

procurement reform, championed by Melvin Laird, President Richard M. Nixon's Secretary
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of Defense, and David Packard, Laird's principal deputy, engulfed the C–5A and other

programs beginning in 1969. Packard began to decentralize the entire acquisition process,

trusting the system project offices to pool the efforts of development, logistics, and

procurement agencies. Packard emphasized the importance of prototypes, giving rise to the

slogan "Fly Before Buy." Competition among prototypes had taken place in the 1930s and

proved expensive; it did not reduce costs in the 1970s. Even in the 1980s, an era of lavish

military expenditures, the Department of Defense sought to strengthen management and

reduce cost, though without again centralizing control. For all practical purposes, the quest

to improve military procurement remained a continuing process, begun decades before the

C–5A and lasting beyond the appearance of the C–5B.

The spectacular airlift during the latter stages of Vietnam War by a few carefully

selected C–5As demonstrated the importance of the aircraft in a strategy of flexible response.

Almost twenty years later, the C–5B joined the heavily modified C–5A in supporting the

deployment of forces for the Gulf War. This demonstration of "Global Reach" during the

buildup in the Persian Gulf region confirmed that airlift had become essential to both the Air

Force and the nation. The C–5 Galaxy vindicated the airlift forces, dismissed for years as

mere "trash haulers."
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CHAPTER I

MILITARY AIRLIFT AND THE EVOLUTION OF AIRCRAFT PROCUREMENT.

The Lockheed C–5A transport, often cited as an example of development and

procurement costs soaring out of control, was a product of the latest battle in a campaign to

control weapon costs and ensure quality that antedated the invention of the airplane and

more often than not ended in failure. The total-package procurement concept, which produced

the C–5A military transport, failed in its only application, in the process causing bitter

controversy. Despite criticism, shifting viewpoints, and sometimes disappointing performance,

the aircraft, nicknamed the Galaxy in March 1968, became both the national symbol and the

means of aerial mobility, helping to inspire the Air Force slogan of the 1990s—Global Power,

Global Reach.1

Early Procurement Practice

Cronyism in the purchase of weapons presented problems even before the Civil War,

and that conflict made them worse. Scarcely had the fighting begun, when Congress in 1861

passed new legislation that sought to ensure competition for military contracts, and

consequently lower costs, by openly soliciting bids. A subsequent congressional statute

specified in 1884 that the contract would go to the lowest responsible bidder with the best

and most suitable article. The statute allowed some exceptions, however, among them the socalled "sole source" form of procurement for the purchase of spare parts, which could be

purchased more cheaply from the present manufacturer, and for the acquisition of items

either protected by patent or produced by only one manufacturer.2

In 1901, a new statute incorporated all the previous rules into a single law designed

to ensure that in every case the government's interest in economy and competition would

prevail. Because of circumstances, this legislation came to apply to the new field of aircraft

procurement. In 1898, before the codification, Samuel Pierpont Langley, with the help of his

influential friend Charles Doolittle Walcott of the U.S. Geological Survey, obtained $50,000

from the War Department to develop a full-scale, heavier-than-air, man-carrying flying

machine. This project, which ended in December 1903 with the second crash and destruction

of the experimental plane, aroused in the nation's newspapers a combination of mirth at

Langley's rashness in challenging the skies, and outrage at the spending of public money on

so foolish an enterprise.

The wave of criticism helped shape the procurement policy of President Theodore

Roosevelt's War Department, which cited the new law while insisting that no contract would

be let without competition. As a result, in 1908, when competition in the field of aviation

remained limited to a few genuine pioneers and a larger number of charlatans, the Signal

Corps had to allow all interested parties to compete for a contract to build an airplane for its

use. Procurement officers issued specifications and requested bids for a heavier-than-air

flying machine capable of carrying two men weighing an aggregate of 350 pounds, with

sufficient fuel to fly for 125 miles. Although twenty-two bids were received, only that

submitted by Orville and Wilbur Wright proved at all realistic. The Wrights, who had been

flying their biplanes since December 1903, agreed to build one to meet War Department

specifications and also to train two pilots—all for a basic fee of $25,000.3

In peacetime, most of the weapon contracts let through competition were of the fixedprice type, also known as lump-sum contracts, which established in advance the price the
2

government would pay, The contractor could increase his profits by lowering his costs through

improved efficiency, provided his product performed satisfactorily; if he failed, however, his

losses could be enormous. Most contractors were reluctant to assume the risks involved.4

Not so the Wrights, who had been building and flying powered airplanes for almost

five years. The War Department contract (No. 486) they signed in 1908 minimized the

government's potential loss, while inducing the brothers to take chances. The contract called

for the payment of $25,000 for a "flying machine" that would achieve a velocity of 40 miles

an hour, but it also carried both incentive and penalty provisions which linked performance

with price. The Wrights would receive an extra $5,000 if the plane achieved 42 miles an hour

but would be penalized $5,000, reducing their total payment to $20,000, if it reached only 38

miles an hour. The Wrights signed the contract, earned the incentive, and collected $30,000.5

During World War I, the federal government drastically altered its procurement

procedures to encourage the aircraft industry's expansion and participation in military

aviation. In effect, Congress authorized War Department officials to negotiate contracts as

they saw fit. The Supply Division of the Office of Chief of the Air Corps handled wartime Air

Corps procurement from Washington, D. C. In 1926, however, the division moved to Wright

Field, Ohio, and became the Procurement Branch of the Air Corps Materiel Division, which

had moved from its original location at nearby McCook Field.

Despite the wartime expansion of negotiating authority, conventional fixed-price

contracts remained legal, though they proved totally unattractive to manufacturers facing

rising costs for material and labor. As a result, the fixed-price approach gave way to the costplus-percentage-oF–cost (CPPC) contract, a form of procurement that shifted most

development and financial risks to the government, which paid the contractor for all

materials and labor. Since the contractor also received an agreed-upon percentage of the

accrued costs, the CPPC contracts made it difficult to induce contractors to minimize costs.

The problem was compounded when it came to the mass production of airplanes, a process

full of uncertainties. In an attempt to keep prices down, members of the Aircraft Board

devised a modified version of the cost-plus contract, later known as the bogey contract. This

agency, previously the Aircraft Production Board, was enlarged and redesignated in October

1917. The Aircraft Board established aircraft requirements and placed contracts for the

production of aircraft and related material.6

Under the terms of the modified CPPC or bogey contract, the government paid the

contractor for all labor, material, depreciation, and overhead charges, as well as for special

tools and all additional facilities required, though it retained title in to the tools and facilities.

The contractor had to estimate his costs in advance, and his fee represented a fixed

percentage of the estimated costs. The contractor, therefore, could not increase his profit if

actual costs exceeded the estimated amount agreed upon. To induce the contractor to reduce

costs, the modified CPPC also promised the contractor a special bonus that amounted to a

substantial percentage of any money saved by reducing costs below the initial estimate.7

The modified cost-plus-percentage-oF–cost or bogey contract, when applied to airplanes

and engines, did not work. Government officials set the bogey percentage in advance and had

no factual data to compute eventual costs; consequently the price actually set tended to be

very generous. With a 15-percent fee, for example, the manufacturer was ensured of a

significant profit. If it became evident that actual costs would run far less than originally

estimated, the bogey was renegotiated downward or the basic fee might be reduced. The

contractor, however, was nevertheless assured of receiving a high percentage of the spread

between the renegotiated figure and the actual costs. Moreover, on many occasions a large

advance from the government supplemented the corporation's meager investment. Discovery
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and public disclosure of excessive profits by aircraft manufacturers prompted a committee

investigating wartime expenditures to recommend abolition of the cost-plus contract. The

committee also urged Congress to revoke the Secretary of War's power to suspend competitive

bidding, even during future emergencies.8

Post-World War I Promotion of Aircraft Development

During the first decade following World War I, public and congressional distrust of the

weapons manufacturers hampered War Department procurement officers. Except in the case

of experimental airplanes, when procurement officers negotiated with the manufacturer in

an attempt to reach a mutually satisfactory price, almost all contracts, especially those

calling for airplanes in production quantities, were let through competition that favored lowcost bidders. This process also did not work, in some instances actually penalizing the firms

doing the most to advance the state of the aeronautical art. By 1925 the leadership in

aviation bestowed on the United States by the pioneering Wrights had long ago vanished; the

American military aircraft industry tottered on the verge of extinction while the unique

technical advances took place abroad.9

These contracting problems led to procurement reforms championed by Rep. John

Jackson McSwain, a Democrat from South Carolina who was an active member of the House

Military Affairs Committee, and incorporated by Congress in Section 10 of the Air Corps Act

of 1926. Although McSwain and his colleagues had the best of intentions when they stressed

competition, the results once again proved disappointing. For example, the use of design

competitions to purchase experimental aircraft, the only true procurement novelty in the Air

Corps Act, sought to stimulate the country's inventive ingenuity and ensure the development

of the American aircraft industry as a national resource in time of war, which, after all, was

the new legislation's main purpose.10

In practice, design competitions for the procurement of experimental aircraft, whether

used solely for research or found worthy of being produced in quantity, proved ineffective.

Public invitations to compete generated a multitude of sealed bids, each containing graduated

tables of prices on varying quantities of an aircraft proposed aircraft offered to meet rather

general specifications. A selection board, acting for the Secretary of War, rated in percentiles

every feature of the aircraft designs submitted by the eager but often inexperienced

designers. Moreover, cost estimates rarely proved realistic, since the bidders offered only

paper promises, and no detailed data existed upon which to base price figures for one or more

aircraft. As a consequence, manufacturers tended to underestimate engineering complexity

and therefore lose money on the airplanes that won these design competitions.11

Because design competition proved impractical, procurement officers decided to

purchase experimental airplanes at negotiated prices, a procedure that they believed observed

the letter, if not the spirit, of the 1926 law. Some successful experimental airplanes were

bought at negotiated prices, but as a rule the manufacturers continued to lose money. They

priced their experimental planes too low, underbidding each other in hopes of securing

production orders that would enable them to recoup the initial losses. This was a gamble,

however, since quantity production required a new competition—formal advertising, followed

by an evaluation of the responses—a repetition of a process that favored the lowest bidder

rather than the most qualified. In theory, the Secretaries of War and Navy could use their

discretion to minimize price as a factor in awarding production contracts; in practice, to avoid

political criticism, production contracts normally went to the lowest bidder.12

If the U.S. aeronautical industry was to survive, something more had to be done to
4

protect the interests of the manufacturers. Yet, War Department officials refused to propose

amending or replacing the Air Corps Act, for fear that any new law might turn out to be more

restrictive than the existing one. A safer solution seemed to repose among the Army's

voluminous regulations, notably Army Regulation 5-240, which prescribed that whenever a

manufacturer held a patent or was the sole source for an item, no competition was needed.

The subterfuge worked. Between 1926 and 1934, besides spending well over $16 million in

experimental contracts, procurement officers negotiated non-competitive, sole-source contracts

amounting to more than $22 million. The combined spending of nearly $40 million in about

eight years was helping revive the aircraft industry, until The Washington Post, in January

1934, accused the War Department of wrongdoing in procuring aircraft for the Army Air

Corps without competition. The deepening economic depression had undermined the stature

of businessmen and raised questions about the ethics of those who provided their profits,

including the Air Corps. Congress responded to the mood of the people and launched an

investigation which revealed that Air Corps procurement officers allowed a 15-percent margin

of profit in negotiated contracts.13

Although most of the newspaper accusations of favoritism ultimately proved false,

Congress insisted anew on competition for contracts. Bowing to legislative authority, War

Department officials in late 1934 established a new procurement policy. Every bid, whether

for the procurement of individual experimental aircraft or for production in large quantities,

now had to be accompanied by a completed "sample" aircraft. To standardize samples,

facilitate testing, and improve the quality of competition, bidders had to use governmentfurnished equipment (GFE)—instruments, armament, oxygen, communications, and other

items interchangeable among different airplanes. Air Corps procurement officers also gave

prospective bidders listings of federal specifications for materials and subassemblies. The new

policy encouraged bidders and, as a rule, produced new aircraft that outperformed those

currently in use by the Air Corps. Yet, the basic procurement problem, measuring cost

against performance, remained unsolved.14

If a manufacturer knew that his sample aircraft enjoyed overwhelming technical

superiority, he could inflate his price and profit unreasonably; yet, the best aircraft could be

the most expensive, even though its price had not been inflated. In 1936, following

submissions by Douglas, Curtiss-Wright, and Fairchild of fully acceptable bids and samples

for a transport aircraft, the Air Corps awarded the production contract to Douglas, whose

entry was a twin-engine transport already in production, the DC–2, precursor of the famous

DC–3, or C–47 of World War II fame, and twice as costly as the single-engine transports

offered by the other two competitors. Actually, the DC–2 was vastly superior, but just the

same, Fairchild complained about the cost differential. Upon investigation, the Comptroller

General ruled that the Douglas sample had indeed won the competition, solely in terms of

technical performance, but offered the principle that, when competing for production

quantities of aircraft, there could be "no proper evaluation" when price was disregarded. The

Secretary of War, on the other hand, argued that Section 10 of the Air Corps Act of 1926 gave

him authority to discount the cost factor in awards that best served the interests of the Air

Corps. In short, the War Department believed that the need for aircraft of superior

performance to defend the nation took precedence over price.15

The conflicting views of the Comptroller and the Secretary of War underscored a

bureaucratic problem, inasmuch as the Comptroller General served as the agent of Congress

and the Secretary of War acted on behalf of the President. If either had chosen to take his

case to his superior, a clash might have arisen between legislative and executive

departments. Fortunately, Congress readily provided a solution, simply deciding that such
5

conflicts could be settled by the Attorney General. In the case of the new Air Corps transport,

the Secretary of War won out, and Douglas eventually got paid.16

The outcome of the Douglas episode reminded the War Department that the

Comptroller General ultimately held the purse strings. Furthermore, if procurement officers

expected their programs to move forward, they also had to avoid antagonizing the General

Accounting Office (GAO), the investigative arm of Congress. Moreover, Representative

McSwain, who had become Chairman of the Military Affairs Committee, had not relented in

his demand for competition—even when purchasing a single experimental plane. Once again,

the War Department had to revise procurement policy. To satisfy the Comptroller General,

an ingenuous formula was contrived: a figure of merit, determined on the basis of

performance, was divided by the cost set forth in the manufacturer's bid. The resulting price

factor thus favored the bidder who could combine the lowest price with the highest

performance. To satisfy the GAO, the new policy returned to the use of paper design

competitions even for the purchase of experimental aircraft.17

War Department officials were quick to boast about the procurement policy they

revamped in 1935, but Air Corps officers showed little enthusiasm for it. Indeed, as far as

experimental aircraft were concerned, the policy had been tried out in 1927 and found

unworkable. There was no reason to believe that the failed policy would fare better now, and

on the few occasions it was applied, it did not. As before, the design competition for

experimental aircraft tended to yield meaningless promises. When it came to production

contracts, the revamped policy required that sample aircraft be acquired through design

competition and then tested in an aerial competition.18

As anticipated by Air Corps officers, competition among sample aircraft proved

difficult to administer. To begin with, the procedure involved mailing a circular specifying the

terms of the minimum acceptable performance. The sample aircraft's maximum performance

was not defined, putting more pressure on the competitors, whose products had to exceed the

minimum by the greatest possible margin. To ensure fairness and prevent favoritism,

procurement officers ruled that after a manufacturer entered a competition, the aeronautical

engineers at Wright Field were barred from offering any help whatsoever. The decision

seemed fair, but it drove up costs because design improvements could not be suggested when

the sample aircraft was in the mockup stage, and flaws could be identified only after the

plane had been flown to Wright Field for evaluation. In other words, failings that might have

been prevented cheaply in the early stages of development had to be corrected later on at

greater expense.19

Like the Air Corps, but for different reasons, aircraft manufacturers disliked the

procurement revisions of the mid-1930s. The growing complexity of aircraft increased

manufacturing costs, and the submission of a good sample aircraft by no means guaranteed

success in the competition and the ensuing reward of a production contract. In fact, during

these lean depression years, brokers involved in raising capital for the aircraft industry often

warned their clients that some manufacturers avoided entering such competitions for fear of

losing their whole investment in the sample aircraft. By 1938, competitors had become so

scarce that the War Department endorsed a costly Air Corps suggestion that the government

purchase not only the winning aircraft, whose manufacturer would receive a production

contract, but also the two runners-up. Despite this effort to subsidize the competition, at least

partially, problems remained.20

First, the two runners-up, after being flight-tested might not be deserve a production

contract. In such cases, the planes became experimental aircraft, and the manufacturers

would receive a negotiated sum that might not even cover the sample aircraft's construction
6

costs. Moreover, money for the runners-up would have to come from a limited Air Corps

research and development budget, even though the sample aircraft, having been built to

definite specifications, might be useless for general research. Worse, any appropriations

earmarked for producing quantities of the runners-up might remain unspent, and Congress,

instead of viewing the result as evidence of economy, could jump to the conclusion that the

Air Corps's production estimates had been padded. 2 1

In October 1938, the Air Corps again changed its procurement procedure. Before

submitting circular proposals for aircraft in quantity, the Air Corps now invited

manufacturers to submit designs for evaluation. Then, one or more promising designs would

be awarded experimental contracts for the construction of one or more test aircraft. However,

detailed specifications would not be prepared for possible quantity procurement until after

the design winner or winners passed the final mock-up stage. This would allow Air Corps

officers to talk to manufacturers and suggest changes during the aircraft's construction,

without being accused of favoritism. In short, the new policy promised quantity procurement

based on objective evaluation of actual performance. Initial costs would rise, but significant

savings could be expected to follow since the number of contract amendments would be

greatly reduced.22

The World War II Production Boom

Application of the revised policy of October 1938 was overshadowed by the impending

Second World War and President Franklin D. Roosevelt's buildup of the air arm. The Air

Corps, from the start, faced a seemingly impossible task. Because of the inability of the

aircraft industry in mid-1939 to produce large numbers of airplanes, the government decided

to build immediately at least four factories, each one potentially capable of manufacturing

a yearly average of 1,200 aircraft. These government-owned standby facilities, called air

arsenals, were planned for: Ogden, Utah; Denver, Colorado; Dayton, Ohio; and Harrisburg,

Pennsylvania, with three additional sites to be selected. Production would take place under

private management using privately developed designs; only the facility would be

government-owned.

The manufacturers, however, immediately opposed the government's involvement in

production on the grounds that it might lead to nationalization of the entire aircraft industry.

This reluctance, as well as ensuing shortages in labor, material, and other resources, did not

stop the program. The government supplied machine tools and entire factories, placing them

at the disposal of the aircraft manufacturers. Production became the watchword, exceeding

the most optimistic estimates, but, inevitably, there was a price to pay.23

Remembering the excessive profits of the aircraft manufacturers during World War

I, Congress refused to return to the use of the CPPC contracts and in 1940 only reluctantly

authorized the cost-plus-fixed-fee (CPFF) contract, which allowed a 7-percent maximum profit

in aircraft procurement. Yet, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, speed and volume

of production took precedence over economy. As a result, procurement officers began hurriedly

signing contracts, whether fixed-price or CPFF instruments, accepting without challenge cost

figures sufficiently inflated to protect hesitant manufacturers from any possible losses. In

effect, manufacturers were naming their own price, and the Air Corps was accepting it.24

The hastily drawn contracts resulted in profits so outrageous that Congress enacted

the Renegotiation Act of 1942, which empowered department heads to renegotiate contracts

that seemed exorbitant. The new legislation called for stiff penalties, and some
7

manufacturers, perhaps in the hope of securing more easily other lucrative government

contracts, volunteered refunds. Nevertheless, the Air Corps still confronted contracting

problems of great complexity. For example, the contractor's free use of government facilities

became a factor in determining whether a firm was making excess profits. Segregating

overhead expenses proved difficult whenever a manufacturer used a single plant to satisfy

several different types of contracts. The post-production modification of aircraft also proved

troublesome and often ridiculously expensive. Indeed, some officers believed that too often

the manufacturers used major airline maintenance centers, leased by the government after

January 1942, to accomplish so-called modification work that should have been done at lesser

cost on the production line. Finally, contract termination, which occurred occasionally in

wartime when planes underwent radical modification or were replaced by new models,

became an acute problem upon demobilization at war's end.25

The costly confusion of demobilization and the fiscal restraints in force immediately

after World War II period also impeded orderly action. These considerations, along with the

pre-war and wartime investigations of a special Senate group that he headed, most likely

accounted for President Harry S. Truman's preoccupation with military procurement, a

concern which resulted in the passage of the Armed Services Procurement Act of 1947. The

procurement law went into effect after President Truman approved the National Security Act

of 1947 that, among other things, set up the United States Air Force as a component of a

National Military Establishment. The Armed Services Procurement Act established uniform

contracting policies and procedures for all components of the new defense department. These

rules appeared in the Armed Services Procurement Regulations (ASPR), which numbered

some 125 pages in 1947 but grew to more than 3,000 in 25 years. Unfortunately, the end of

World War II generated other problems far more critical than disorder and waste.26

The short-lived euphoria of victory gave way to the tensions generated by the

emergent Cold War, which lasted some 40 years and exacted a high toll in men and money.

In 1945, it seemed at least technically possible for the United States, the sole possessor of

the atomic bomb, to impose its will upon the rest of the world. However, the Soviet Union

developed its own atomic weapons, however, and an arms race ensued between the two

powers, during which the United States shouldered responsibility for supporting nations

opposed to communism while at the same time safeguarding the national interest.27

Facing the overwhelming manpower of the Soviet Union and Communist China, the

United States relied on strategic deterrence, which sought to offset numbers with the threat

of nuclear and thermonuclear firepower unleashed by air against an enemy's society. At least

until the 1960s and the advent of the intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM), deterrence

depended on the strategic bomber. The Truman administration, like the subsequent

administration of Dwight D. Eisenhower, tried to maintain controls over military budgets,

despite the Cold War. Hence, the newly independent Air Force found itself in a quandary,

caught between limited appropriations and inflexible priorities. Although pressed for money,

the air arm had to spend massive sums to modify numerous B–29s, acquire the B–50 (based

on the B–29D Superfortress), procure a few C–97 transports (another variant of the Boeing

B–29), proceed with development of the Convair B–36, and reconfigure various other aircraft

involved in supporting the atomiC–capable bombers. Whatever the cost, the deterrence took

precedence over all other missions.28

Despite its commitment to strategic air warfare, the Air Force could not simply ignore

the unglamorous transport; but, because there was not enough money for all functions,

military airlift became the job mainly of a few aircraft developed for World War II,

supplemented by leased civilian aircraft, Indeed, airlift had been a similar stepchild of
8

strategic and tactical aviation during World War II, even though factories delivered 14,000

transports in three years, most of them based on prewar commercial types. For example, the

C–47 evolved from the Douglas DC–3, the C–54 from the Douglas DC–4, and the C–46 from

the Curtiss-Wright CW–20, though the B–24 bomber inspired a transport, the C–87, and a

fuel carrier, the C–109, that supplied B–29s based in China. As the Cold War soon

demonstrated, airlift, with its patchwork fleet of aircraft, was important enough to require

efficient administration and employment. To accomplish these ends, Secretary of Defense

James V. Forrestal created the Military Air Transport Service (MATS) on June 1, 1948.29

Airlift for Berlin and Korea

After the end of World War II, the victorious allies divided a defeated Germany into

four zones of occupation, one each for France, Great Britain, the Soviet Union, and the

United States. Within the Soviet zone of occupation, Berlin, the German capital, underwent

a similar division into four occupied sectors. In June 1948, following a decision by the western

allies to unify their zones of occupation into a single economic and administrative unit, Soviet

officials began harassing traffic between the western occupation zones and the western

sectors of the city. In response, Air Force Douglas C–47 Skytrains and Royal Air Force

Douglas Dakotas of World War II vintage started airlifting food and supplies to the allied

garrisons in the isolated city using three air corridors established in 1945 for safety reasons.

On June 24th, the Soviet government terminated all surface traffic from the western

zones of occupation. The blockade of the city was complete. A large-scale airlift, eventually

known as Operation Vittles, got underway two days later when Army Gen. Lucius D. Clay,

the American military governor of Germany, ordered Lt. Gen. Curtis E. LeMay, commander

of the United States Air Forces in Europe (USAFE), to resupply the people of Berlin through

the air. LeMay entrusted the operation to Brig. Gen. Joseph Smith who immediately began

making use of the roughly one hundred C–47s available in Germany. Knowing that these

would be inadequate for the job, LeMay also asked for and received four squadrons of fourengine Douglas C–54 Skymasters. At the same time, the Royal Air Force its own airlift,

called Operation Plainfare, initially using Dakotas reinforced later by four-engine Avro Yorks.

In late July 1948, about one month after LeMay began the airlift, the Air Force

decided that further expansion was necessary and ordered Maj. Gen. William H. Tunner, an

airlift expert of proven ability and a deputy commander of MATS, to Germany to take charge

of the U.S. airlift operations. On 15 October 15, 1948, Operation Vittles and Operation

Plainfare were united by the creation of the Combined Airlift Task Force (CATF) under

General Tunner with Air Commodore John W. F. Merer as his deputy. Although not in direct

operational control of the Airlift, the Military Air Transport Service trained replacement air

crews, deployed aircraft, and manned them, all the time trying to find enough airlift to

continue routine operations. The Air Force let contracts to commercial air carriers to take

over some of the transatlantic flights.

Tunner and his staff wasted no time adapting the lessons they had learned while

conducting the wartime airlift between India and China, crossing and recrossing the "Hump,"

as the rugged Himalayan mountains were known. He exchanged the C–47s for larger C–54s,

streamlined the size and complexity of the airlift support system, built new runways and a

new base in Berlin, and most important, enhanced efficiency through a number of

management innovations. Thanks to increased numbers of larger aircraft and the more

efficient operations, the volume of supplies flown into Berlin increased dramatically within
9

weeks of his arrival. Tunner and his staff quickly created an aerial bridge with one aircraft

landing every three minutes, a level of sustained effort that made the maximum use of all

his available resources.

Besides the Royal Air Force's substantial contribution, transport aircraft of the United

States Navy joined the airlift in November 1948. The Navy also shipped aviation gasoline

across the Atlantic along with food drawn by the Army from the surplus stocks maintained

by the Department of Agriculture, and additional naval air transport units ferried engines,

spares, and personnel to Germany. The U.S. Army was responsible for managing,

transporting, and handling of cargo to the airlift airfields, loading the cargo for the flight into

Berlin; unloading the cargo after its delivery; and its distribution to supply points throughout

the city.

As soon as the Soviets began the blockade, American and British diplomats sought to

resolve the crisis through negotiation, even meeting with Joseph Stalin in person. They had

little success at first. The Soviet leader believed that the airlift would fail, and placed his

faith in the implacable weather of winter in northern Europe. Only when winter came and

the airlift continued to operate—and to expand its deliveries—did Stalin change his mind and

settle with the western powers. On May 19, 1949, the blockade ended. To make sure that the

Soviet Union would not reinstate the blockade once the airlift task force disbanded, the

western powers continued airlifting food and coal until the end of September 1949, building

up an emergency reserve capable of meeting the needs of 2,500,000 Berliners in case the

Soviets blockaded again.

The success of the Berlin Airlift enabled the United States and Britain to resist Soviet

pressure without precipitating a shooting conflict. The effects of this victory were far

reaching. The Berlin crisis of 1948 hastened the creation of an independent, democratic West

Germany, and was instrumental in the establishment of the North Atlantic Treaty

Organization. It also preserved a vital outpost of Western influence far behind the Iron

Curtain. For the U.S. Air Force, Operation Vittles demonstrated that the military air cargo

fleet needed modernization. For example, it would require 178 Douglas C–54s, flying 13,800

round trips per month, to deliver 135,000 tons into Berlin. Had the larger Boeing C–97 been

available, 51 of these aircraft could have carried the same weight of cargo in only 5,870

sorties per month.30

Breaking the blockade of Berlin did not result in the procurement of much-needed new

transports. Instead, on June 25, 1948, one week after the beginning of the blockade, Air Force

Secretary W. Stuart Symington and other top Air Force officials unanimously agreed to

continue the expensive program to develop the B–36 strategic bomber. Until air-refuelable,

jet-powered bombers became operational, only the B–36 with its intercontinental range, high

operating altitude, and vast bomb load, could truly deter an enemy through fear of atomic

retaliation.31

The emphasis on deterrence seemed well-founded when the Soviet Union in 1949

exploded its own atomic bomb; but the strategy of deterrence did not prevent aggression on

the Korean peninsula, divided between the communist North and American-supported South

Korea. On June 25, 1950, in a surprise attack, North Korean infantry, spearheaded by Sovietbuilt tanks, invaded the Republic of Korea. The conflict that ensued was fought under the

auspices of the United Nations, but the American armed forces took the lead in repulsing the

aggression of first the North Koreans and then the Chinese communists, who late in 1950

intervened on behalf of their ally.32

Nuclear weapons neither deterred nor won the Korean War. The policy adopted by the

United Nations and the United States in the winter of 1950 after the Chinese intervention
10

called for resisting aggression, maintaining the independence of the Republic of Korea, and

ending the hostilities on acceptable terms. This policy made sense in terms of air power

because the Air Force in 1950 faced global responsibilities for which it was as yet illprepared. The low rate of military aircraft procurement in the postwar years left the industry

incapable of quickly satisfying new requirements; airplanes lost in a major war could not be

replaced within an acceptable time. Therefore, should the United States become involved in

such a conflict, the operational fleet of aircraft could be dangerously depleted. Likewise, the

atomic stockpile remained so small that the use of such weapons in the Korean conflict would

have undermined the American deterrent. Moreover, the available atomic weapons were not

yet compact enough for tactical use, and, unlike the Soviet Union, Manchuria and even China

afforded few lucrative strategic targets.33

The Korean armistice, signed on July 27, 1953, put an end to the fighting on terms

acceptable to both the United Nations and the United States, leaving North and South Korea

facing each other across a narrow demilitarized zone. Whatever the results on the Korean

peninsula, the war had prompted a significant increase in the military budget, bringing the

total amount appropriated for the Department of Defense for fiscal year 1951 to $48.2 billion,

a jump of $34.9 billion from the previous fiscal year. The fledgling Air Force prospered. Its

strength, fewer than 50 wings and less than half a million military personnel when the

conflict started, was authorized almost to double in size. In November 1951, as the world

situation seemed to worsen, the Joint Chiefs of Staff authorized a further expansion of the

Air Force to 143 wings and 1.2 million military personnel by the year 1955. Even though

these numbers were subsequently reduced, the decision of the Joint Chiefs decision had a

permanent impact, ending the practice, followed since the end of World War II, of awarding

each of the military services a roughly equal share of defense appropriations. The Army's

budget now shrank to about 22 percent of the total, the Navy received 29 percent, but the Air

Force got the rest.34

The Air Force's expansion in manpower was accompanied by significant increases in

aircraft procurement, which rose from 1,200 airplanes in fiscal year 1950 to over 8,500 in

fiscal year 1951. Few of the new orders, however, were filled before the 1953 armistice.

During the first weeks of the communist invasion, when American rearmament was barely

under way, the Far East Air Forces (FEAF) committed most of its Japan-based Fifth Air

Force to the conflict and established air superiority over Korea, which it maintained

throughout the fighting.35

Despite some major accomplishments—especially during the fighting in December

1950 near the Chosin Reservoir, when cargo planes evacuated the wounded and parachuted

a bridge to help American marines break out of a Chinese encirclement—the Korean War did

not improve the prospects of military airlift. General Tunner, Deputy Commander of the

Military Air Transport Service, received orders in September 1950 to organize a Combat

Cargo Command (Provisional) for the Fear East Air Forces. Tunner's unit handled all kinds

of airlift, including landing supplies and troops and parachuting combat troops, equipment,

and supplies. From the outset, Tunner faced a bleak situation. Prior budgetary restrictions

and the resulting suspension or slowing of worldwide activities had seriously and adversely

affected the Military Air Transport Service and the airlift elements of the Far East Air

Forces. Whereas civilian airlines operated their planes eight to twelve hours a day and

maintained three crews or more per plane, the utilization rate of MATS transports, which

provided strategic airlift during the war in Korea, had dropped to 2.5 hours per day per

airplane, with but one crew per aircraft. Pilots, maintenance crews, equipment, stocks of

parts, and facilities had been drastically cut. Moreover, except for the Fairchild C–119, the
11

only aircraft available were the same old transports that had broken the Berlin blockade.

Consequently, the airlift contributions, including the life-saving aerial evacuation of

casualties to Japan during the Korean fighting, required the costly help of commercial

airlines.36

General Tunner faced other problems during the war. To complement FEAF's two

groups of C–54s and C–119s, as well as the numerous C–47s already in the area when the

hostilities started, the Air Staff in the Pentagon immediately sent to the war theater all

available troop carriers—about 250 planes, mostly C–119s. Tunner appreciated the twin-boom

C–119, which evolved from the C–82, the first Air Force plane designed expressly as a

military transport. The C–119 was new, however, and still had its share of bugs, especially

with the propellers. On the positive side, the rear-loading C–119 Flying Boxcars could carry

howitzers, trucks, light tanks, and other equipment. The C–119s proved valuable indeed,

since each aircraft could either deliver cargo or drop as many as 65 paratroopers.37

Although he liked the C–119, when the Air Force ordered more of them, Tunner

objected because all were to be equipped to parachute men and equipment. The extra weight

of the overhead bar (to which the parachute ripcords were attached) and the heavy structural

bracing that supported the bar, significantly reduced the tonnage of cargo the aircraft could

carry. Twenty percent of the C–119 fleet, equipped for airdrop, would have been more than

sufficient to take care of existing requirements, Tunner argued. Moreover, the lighter C–119s,

with their greater payload, would have speeded the movement from Japan of thousands of

tons of cargo vitally needed in Korea.38

Tunner voiced other criticisms of military airlift. Transport planes were scattered

among various commands of the Air Force, and among the Navy and Marine Corps, all of

which had different utilization standards that bred duplication and waste. If these aircraft

could not be consolidated into one operating command, at least all air transport organizations

within the Air Force could be merged. The Air Staff seriously considered consolidating air

transport and troop-carrier aviation—long-range and battlefield airlift—but gave up on it

when the Army and the Tactical Air Command (TAC), which controlled all Air Force tactical

transports, expressed bitter opposition. Army leaders believed, and those at TAC concurred,

that troop carrier units were combat outfits that could not be combined with long-range

passenger and cargo service to form a single air transport command.39

In addition, the Korean War revealed confusion over the roles and missions of the Air

Force and Army aviation that led to the Pace-Finletter Agreements of 1951 and 1952.

Secretary of the Air Force Thomas K. Finletter and Secretary of the Army Frank Pace divided

airlift responsibilities, prohibiting the Army from acquiring and operating aircraft for

transporting airborne troops into combat, reaffirming weight limits on the Army's fixed-wing

aircraft, and clarifying aeromedical evacuation duties, with the Air Force removing casualties

from the combat zone and the Army moving than to treatment stations within the combat

zone.40

The conflict in Korea also led to the creation of the Civil Reserve Airlift program,

whereby certain commercial transports could be drafted, rather than leased individually, to

augment the military airlift fleet. Not until the war against Iraq, more than thirty years

later, did the Air Force and the airlines cooperate in using this program.41

Although the Korean struggle did not change the basic organization of military airlift,

it clearly emphasized the importance of air transport. The Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Hoyt

S. Vandenberg, declared that the best armed strategic striking force would be neither

strategic nor effective, if deprived of logistics. Prestocking critical supplies in overseas bases

impressed him as expensive as well as risky, since it committed strategic bombers to operate
12

from bases that might be denied them at the outset of war. "Logistics must be as strategically

mobile and flexible as the forces it supports," General Vandenberg said, and the airlift forces

should be able "to move logistic support with and as the bombers move." The Army Chief of

Staff, Gen. J. Lawton Collins, without belittling the importance of tactical airborne

operations, began insisting that the Army should be made as air transportable as possible

over great distances. The demands voiced by General Collins would be repeated for years to

come, but the idea was hardly new to Air Force leaders. Back in December 1945, Theodore

von Kármán, Director of the Army Air Forces Scientific Advisory Group, urged Gen. Henry

H. Arnold, Commanding General of the Army Air Forces, to make the aerial transportation

of entire armies one of the air arm's principal goals for the coming decade.42

War, be it limited or worldwide, affects procurement. In the rush to mobilize, costs

soar and regulations fall by the wayside. Officials abandon the time-consuming competitive

process in favor of the faster negotiated contract, much preferred by the defense industry

because of the potential for great profit. Modification centers like those of World War II,

although still staggeringly expensive to operate, functioned during the Korean conflict until

the practically dismantled aircraft industry could cope with the nation's new requirements.

Costly though they were, the centers may have proved worthwhile. For example, they enabled

Republic Aviation Corporation to incorporate a weekly average of 315 modifications in

crucially needed, Korea-bound F–84s. Yet, even in the midst of war, Congress did not hesitate

to condemn strongly all procurement excesses. "Some way must be found," the House

Committee on Appropriations declared, "to shock the people in the Department of Defense

from top to bottom into the full realization that the Congress and the American people will

not tolerate flagrant waste in money and manpower."43 Consequently, the Air Force's

appropriations for fiscal year 1953 were reduced by $l.6 billion, but most of it was restored

in mid-1952.44

Not only did the Air Force regain most of the original funding for fiscal year 1953,

its subsequent military budgets, despite economizing by the Eisenhower administration, grew

from year to year. As early as 1950, with Truman still in the White House, a buildup of the

defense department had become unavoidable. That year's invasion of South Korea—and the

subsequent fighting that brought China into the war and resulted 33,629 Americans killed

and 103,284 wounded—demonstrated the need to maintain strong and ready forces.

Moreover, on the heels of the Korean armistice, the Soviet Union tested a thermonuclear

weapon, and by mid-1954 the Joint Chiefs of Staff calculated that the Soviets would soon

possess a stockpile of atomic weapons sufficient in size to mount a devastating attack against

American military installations, industry, and population centers.45

Continuing Wartime Aircraft Procurement Practices

As far as Air Force leaders were concerned, the increasing Soviet threat meant that

industrial mobilization had to achieve a level that would permanently assure adequate

production. In other words, the capacity resulting from the Korean war—when Congress

appropriated $2.2 billion for the acquisition of land, buildings, and machine tools—would

survive to the fullest extent consistent with overall economic considerations. In carrying out

this policy, the Air Force gave priority to retaining facilities that supported contractors

having special design and development capabilities, and to those with dual-purpose plants

that could be expanded rapidly. In addition, Air Force officials decided that, whenever

possible, contractors with a limited production capacity would have an opportunity to

participate in maintenance and modification programs. As often done during the Korean
13

conflict, the Air Force would assist firms wishing to obtain loans from the Reconstruction

Finance Corporation (RFC) and certificates of necessity for accelerated tax amortization.

Finally, reserves of machine tools and other production equipment, allocated on a priority

basis to defense contractors, would be modernized and stored in more accessible locations.46

The nation remained neither at peace nor at war, and the national emergency declared

by President Truman during the Korean hostilities remained in effect decades later. Hence,

despite the armistice that ended the fighting, procurement activities continued to benefit from

the legislative exceptions normally allowed only in wartime or when war became imminent.

As a result, the so-called incremental progress payments authorized by the War Department

on the eve of World War II to help aircraft manufacturers over the financial hazards of new

production, having been reinstituted during the Korean conflict, became a normal element

of the procurement process. Briefly stated, progress payments acknowledged satisfactory work

already completed, rather than serving as advances in anticipation of future work, and they

could not exceed 80 percent of the total cost under the contract. The demands of the Cold War

justified this departure from the old procurement practices. 47

The first deviation from accepted procurement procedures involved the abolition of the

practice of testing various prototypes before choosing a contractor for development and

production. Air Force leaders of the 1950s believed that the "fly before you buy" concept (to

be reintroduced many years later with great fanfare) took too long. Lead-time from

development to operational use, they argued, had to be reduced to take advantage of rapid

technological advances. In theory, the decision appeared sound; in application, it created

monumental problems. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, development and production

programs, if not totally concurrent, often overlapped. In such cases, the contractors faced so

many uncertainties that they refused to agree to firmly fixed prices. This all but forced the

government to reduce contractor risks with two types of contracts—cost-reimbursement and

cost-plus-incentive. The first placed a heavy administrative burden on both the government

and the contractor; the second merely encouraged the contractor to improve his management

practices.48

Reorganizing to Manage Technology

As early as 1945, the air arm, while still a part of the Army, tried to untangle research

and development from procurement and supply. The frustrating, seemingly endless problems

in procurement cannot be attributed to a lack of determination on the part of the Army Air

Forces—and later the Air Force—to keep up with rapidly changing technologies. General

Arnold, at von Kármán's suggestion, established in the Office of the Army Air Forces Chief

of Staff a separate R&D agency, known as the office of Deputy Chief of Staff (DCS) for

Research and Development, under Lt. Gen. Curtis E. LeMay.49

R&D had been a subordinate part of the production process and firmly in the hands

of the materiel specialists since 1907, when the Army Signal Corps Aeronautical Division was

established. Although administrative or other changes occurred over the years, none had the

significance of the organizational events that took place in 1950. On February 1, the Research

and Development Command was organized as a major command and redesignated Air

Research and Development Command (ARDC) on September 16, becoming the equal of the

Air Materiel Command (AMC). AMC retained responsibility for procurement and supply,

while the ARDC dealt with research and development. Tradition died heard, however, and

the new AMC persisted in stockpiling war-ready materiel and emphasizing quantity rather

than quality. The outbreak of war in Korea obscured the relationship between development
14

for the future and procurement now, since badly needed aircraft went into mass production

regardless of cost or approaching obsolescence, thus postponing difficult decisions.50

Bureaucratic tensions notwithstanding, ARDC quickly proved its worth. In the spring

of 1952, more than 1,500 research contracts awaited review, all of which covered aspects of

the most advanced aeronautical technology of the day. For example, ARDC wanted to find

out the effects of supersonic speeds on aircraft design, and how to banish "clutter" from radar

images while improving identification capabilities. The command and its laboratories

promoted research on a myriad of crucial projects, such as incorporating titanium and plastics

in airplane construction, increasing the propulsive power of rocket and turbojet engines, and

developing the digital computer for use in weapons guidance and control systems.51

In August 1952, it became evident that progress in research and development fell

short of the Air Force objectives. Reliable intelligence reports indicated that within a few

years, perhaps as early as 1956, the Soviet Union could have in its arsenal nuclear warheads

weighing up to 2,000 pounds that could be delivered by two-stage rockets with range enough

to reach the northeastern United States. The race to perfect an intercontinental ballistic

missile (ICBM) was beginning sooner than anticipated. Some high-ranking Air Force officers

had already discussed how to accelerate ICBM development, but their recommendations went

unheeded. Late in 1952, Lt. Gen. Laurence C. Craigie, DCS/Development on the Air Staff,

after convening a committee of the Scientific Advisory Board, endorsed retention of the old

method of sequential acquisition, whereby each weapon system was developed one step at a

time, with the initiation of each phase depending on the success of the previous one.52

Despite the pressure of events, not until 1954 could the ARDC convince the Air Staff

and the Department of Defense that the time-tested but time-consuming practice of

sequential acquisition had to be replaced. Change resulted, however, from the unanimous

recommendation of the prestigious Teapot Committee. Trevor Gardner, who had served in

the wartime Office of Scientific Research and Development and in 1953 became Special

Assistant to Secretary of the Air Force Harold E. Talbott for Research and Development,

selected the group, which Dr. John von Neumann, a renowned mathematician, headed.

Neither Gardner nor the committee he chose believed that the Air Force's step-by-step

approach to aircraft development would work for ballistic missiles. The new and preferred

mode of weapon system acquisition, known as "concurrency," called for development of many

subsystem components at the same time. To accelerate development of the ICBM, the

committee recommended concurrent development of missile configurations, propulsion

systems, and other components, along with concurrent acquisition of test facilities and field

installations.53

The Air Force decision to speed development of the ICBM and to endorse ARDC's new

procurement procedures resulted, at least in part, from the Soviet Union's detonating a

thermonuclear device in August 1953, only ten months after the United States tested its own

prototype of this weapon. In mid-1954, at Trevor Gardner's insistence, the program to develop

an ICBM received an overriding priority, and every effort was made to ensure an initial

operational capability (IOC) in 1960, only six years away, a formidable task requiring

dramatic action. Air Force leaders terminated the existing missile program and started a new

ICBM project. The eminent civilian scientists associated with the Teapot Committee

recommended new technical objectives, massive funding, and centralized management, which

would combine to speed the development process. To direct the streamlined program, the Air

Staff created the Western Development Division headed by Brig. Gen. Bernard A. Schriever.54

The ICBM development program, successful though it turned out to be, proved

extremely expensive because concurrency, which most likely accounted for the program's swift
15

progress, also compelled the Air Force to invest in duplicate approaches—both components

and entire weapon systems—to ensure that at least one succeeded. In any case, applying to

other projects the procedures that governed the unique, high-priority ICBM program would

prove difficult if not impossible. A prominent feature of the concurrency concept was the

delegation of managerial authority for any given weapon to an integrated Weapon System

Project Office, even though the research and development and procurement functions

remained vested in two separate commands. Delegating decentralized authority across the

boundaries of the two commands, as General Schriever did for ICBM development, ran

counter to institutional norms.55

After taking over ARDC in March 1959, and being promoted to lieutenant general the

following month, Schriever became convinced that the Air Force, present and future, would

best be served by dividing acquisition and logistics into two commands: one for research and

development, production, and procurement; and the other, separate and coequal, for logistics

support. People engaged in weapons acquisition, Schriever reasoned, developed analytical

patterns of thought and learned to live with calculated risks; logisticians relied on tried,

conservative methods—two incompatible mindsets.

The advent of the Kennedy administration, which decided to award the Air Force

responsibility for all military space research, enabled Schriever to carry out his plan. On

April 1, 196l, the Air Materiel Command was reorganized as the Air Force Logistics

Command (AFLC), and the Air Research and Development Command became the greatly

enlarged Air Force Systems Command (AFSC). General Schriever received his fourth star and

began adapting to his new command the principles which he had pioneered in the ICBM

program.56

Contract Changes Add Costs

Meanwhile, an onerous and perhaps inescapable problem remained. Weapon systems,

be they prototypes or production articles, rarely reached the operational inventory without

undergoing change, either absolutely required or merely desired. Either the weapons did not

work as expected, and therefore needed modifications, or additional requirements

materialized before or by the time they became available. Regardless of the cause, the Air

Force ended up paying dearly, and concurrency, by emphasizing duplication, compounded the

problem. In late 1970, the Rand Corporation would actually report that the typical effect of

contract changes was to increase costs by approximately 40 percent, a conclusion based on

the analysis of ninety-four Air Force contracts.57

Evolving technology and a changing Soviet threat conspired to prevent the Air Force

from freezing designs early in the procurement process and thus saving money. Technically,

every change order called for a supplemental agreement to the basic contract, but a single

change order seldom warranted the time and expense of an exclusive negotiating session, so

that as many as fifty change orders could be covered by a single supplemental agreement.

Moreover, a simple change order could very well include several engineering changes.

Unfortunately, procurement officers and comptroller personnel rarely had any basis to gauge

the incremental value of changes and the added resources required to accomplish the work

thus authorized. Nor were they willing to increase costs or delay program schedules by

postponing changes, which program officials commonly designated as urgent. Hence, the law

that appeared to favor the government, in practice, generated substantial contractor profits.58

The problems caused by change orders intensified in the 1950s, as weapon systems

became more sophisticated. All too frequently, the more complex a system tended to be, the
16

more changes it required. That contractors increasingly proposed such changes came as no

surprise. Usually, the work required by change orders was completed or nearly completed

before negotiation of a supplemental agreement to the basic contract. This gave the contractor

no incentive to control costs, since the eventual price of the incurred changes would be based

not estimates, when the contractor's negotiating position was weakest, but on actual

expenditures. In short, change order negotiations tended to take place after the fact, when

it was too late for the government to bargain, or occurred in a sole-source environment, where

it was all but impossible to transfer the work to another contractor. Hence, an apparent

government prerogative quickly became a favorite gambit of most contractors. Taken to the

extreme, the change orders allowed contractors to secure contracts with totally unrealistic

low bids, knowing that subsequent modifications would ensure that they not only recouped

initial losses but made enormous profits.59

Airlift at the Close of the Eisenhower Era

In 1960, President Eisenhower's final year in office, the importance of airlift remained

overshadowed by the power of atomic weapons and their possibly decisive use by the Air

Force's strategic strike force. In fact, only two new transports, the Lockheed C–130 and

Douglas C–133, actually entered service between the end of the Korean conflict and the

beginning of the 1960s, joining the Douglas C–124, handicapped by four complicated piston

engines, the Fairchild C–119, which had served in Korea, and the twin-engine Fairchild

C–123, designed for that conflict.60

Continued neglect of the country's military transport aircraft did not, however, lessen

the importance of the airlift mission. On occasion in the late 1950s, MATS contracted with

civil airlines to satisfy even the limited airlift challenges presented by crises in Lebanon, the

Far East, and other distant places. Yet, in spite of its sizable budgets, the Air Force faced the

same dilemma every year. It had to decide between aerial strike forces and combat support

forces, between those that had to be maintained regardless of cost and those that could be

deferred with acceptable risk. Every year, strategic airlift appeared in the category of safely

deferred.61

The status of airlift changed, however, after a new Army-sponsored strategic concept,

flexible response, emerged in the final years of Eisenhower's second term to challenge the

nation's reliance on nuclear might. The creators of this strategy, not yet adopted in 1960,

envisioned a nuclear stalemate that would deter not only an all-out war but also the use of

tactical nuclear weapons in limited conflicts because of the danger of escalation. The security

of the United States, the Army believed, would in these circumstances depend on

conventionally armed ground forces airlifted to meet threats anywhere in the world.62
17

Endnotes

1. Rene J. Francillon, "Galaxy, Mighty Lifter: A Quarter Century of Unmatched Service," Air

International (November 1994), p. 274.

2. Irving Brinton Holley, Jr., United States Army in World War II; Special Studies: Buying

Aircraft: Materiel Procurement for the Army Air Forces (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military

History, United States Army, 1989) p. 80.

3. Holley, Buying Aircraft, p, 81; Dumas Malone, ed., Dictionary of American Biography, Vol.

XVI (New York: Charles Scribner & Sons, 1935); Memos, Assistant Secretary of the Navy

Theodore Roosevelt to Secretary of the Navy John D. Long, March 25 and March 30, 1898;

A. W. Greely, Chief Signal Officer, to the Secretary of War, May 25, 1898; Tom D. Crouch,

"Capable of Flight: The Feud between the Wright Brothers and the Smithsonian," American

Heritage of Invention and Technology (Spring 1987), pp. 34-46.

4. Holley, Buying Aircraft, p. 82; Dictionary of American Biography, Vol. XX, p. 570.

5. Dictionary of American Biography, Vol. XX, p. 570.

6. Holley, Buying Aircraft, pp. 82-83, 95-99; Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts, Doctrine:

Basic Thinking in the United States Air Force, 1907-1960 (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University

Press, 1989), Vol. I, p. 21.

7. Holley, Buying Aircraft, p. 83.

8. Ibid., pp. 83-84.

9. Ibid., p.87.

10. Ibid,, pp. 90-91.

11. Ibid., pp. 113-14.

12. Ibid., pp. 114-15.

13. Ibid., pp. 116-21. Readers interested in the complexity and political ramifications of

procurement from the outset through the 1930s should consult John F. Shiner, Foulois and

the U.S. Army Air Corps, 1931-1935 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983),

especially chapters VI and VII.

14. Holley, Buying Aircraft, pp. 132-34.

15. Ibid., pp. 134-37.

16. Ibid., p. 137.

17. Ibid., pp. 137-38.

18. Ibid., pp. 138-41.

19. Ibid., p. 140.

20. Ibid., pp. 141-43.

21. Ibid., pp. 143-44.

22. Ibid., pp. 146-47.

23. Ibid., pp. 161, 169-75, 185.

24. Ibid., pp.374-75, 421.

25. Ibid., pp. 421, 428, 440, 531.

26. Herman S. Wolk, Planning and Organizing the Postwar Air Force, 1943-1947,

(Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1984), p. 169; J. Ronald Fox, Arming America:

How the U.S. Buys Weapons (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University, 1974), pp. 15, 110.

27. Walter Lafeber, America, Russia, and the Cold War, 1945-1966 (New York: John Wiley

and Sons, n.d.), pp. 5-7, 25-35, 79-80; John Lewis Gaddis, The United States and the Origins

of the, Cold War, 1941-1947 (New York and London: Columbia University Press, 1972), pp.

178, 245.
18

28. Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers: Economic Change and Military

Conflict from 1500 to 2000 (New York: Random House, n. d.) pp. 503-4. In Professor

Kennedy's opinion [pp. 90-93], "the sheer extent and destructive capacity of the nuclear

weaponry held [in 1986] in these two [American and Soviet] arsenals is an indication of

political incapacity or mental sickness, which threatens all daily life on this planet and

should be abolished or greatly reduced as soon as possible." Jacob Neufeld, The Development

of Ballistic Missiles in the United States Air Force, 1945-1960 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1990), pp. 56-64; Marcelle Size Knaack, Encyclopedia of U.S. Air Force Aircraft

and Missile Systems, Vol. II, Post-World War II Bombers, 1945-1973, (Washington, D.C.:

Office of Air Force History, 1988), pp. 161-75, Appendix I, pp. 486-92.

29. William H. Tunner, Over the Hump, (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1985),

pp. vii-viii, p. 110; Office of Statistical Control, Army Air Forces Statistical Digest, World War

II, December 1945, p. 127; Gordon Swanborough and Peter M. Bowers, United States Military

Aircraft Since 1908 (London: Putnam, 1971), pp. 157, 159, 213, 241, 262-64.

30. First Report of the Secretary of Defense, 1948, p. 70; "A Special Study of Operation

Vittles," Aviation Operations Magazine (April 1949); Tunner, The Hump, pp. viii, 9. In the

words of General Tunner, after World War II "came a political period in our national history

of cutting the military establishment to the bone, quickly and effectively. No part of that

establishment was hit harder than air transport."

31. Knaack, Bombers, Vol. II, p.20.

32. Robert F. Futrell, The United States Air Force in Korea, 1950-1953 (Washington, D.C.:

Office of Air Force History, 1983, Rev. Ed.), p. 5; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, pp. 292-93.

33. USAF in Korea, pp. 41-43, 687, 708-9; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, pp. 295, 299-301, 317.

34. USAF in Korea, p. 687, 709; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, pp. 316-19.

35. Tunner, The Hump, p. 9; Knaack, Bombers, pp. 99-156, 161-200, 479-94; Knaack,

Encyclopedia of U.S. Air Force Aircraft and Missile Systems: Post-World War II Fighters,

1945-1973 (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1978), pp. 69-77, 83-98, 101-11.

36. Tunner, The Hump, pp. 226-229.

37. Ibid., pp. 230, 236.

38. Ibid., pp. 247-48.

39. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, p. 311.

40. Air Mobility Command, Background Paper, "Evolution of Roles and Missions Authorities

Vested in AMC/USTRANSCOM, 1941-1943, August 6, 1993," p. 3.

41. Air Mobility Command, Background Paper, "National Airlift Policy, 1950-1953: A

Historical Perspective, July 21, 1993," p. 1

42. Ideas and Concepts, Vol I, pp.311-312; Memo, Theodore von Kármán, Director, AAF

Scientific Advisory Group, to Gen. of the Army H. H. Arnold, Commanding General, Army

Air Forces, December 15, 1945.

43. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, p. 327.

44. Ibid., p. 327; Holley, Buying Aircraft, pp. 537-38; Fox, Arming America, p. 254.

45. Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950-1953 (New York: Times Books,

1987), p. 975; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, pp. 293, 304, 419; Semi-Annual Report of the

Secretary of Defense, Jan-Jun 1954, p. 1; USAF in Korea, p. 708.

46. Semi-Annual Report of the Secretary of the Air Force, Jan-Jun 1953, pp. 268-70.

47. Holley, Buying Aircraft, p. 73; Fox, Arming America, p. 253; Federal Acquisition

Regulations, Description of Contract Financing Methods, Subpart 32.102.

48. Fox, Arming America, pp. 232-33, 255.

49. Michael H. Gorn, Vulcan's Forge: The Making of An Air Force Command For Weapons
19

Acquisition, 1950-1985 (Andrews AFB, Md.: Office of History, AFSC, 1989), 4th Printing, pp.

5, 22.

50. Ibid., pp. 7, 13, 26.

51. Ibid, p. 23.

52. Ibid., pp. 36-37.

53. Neufeld, Ballistic Missiles, pp. 74-75.

54. Gorn, Vulcan's Forge, pp. 36-44.

55. Ibid., pp. 45-49, 63; Walton S. Moody and Warren A. Trest, "The Air Force as an

Institution," Winged Shield, Winged Sword, A History of the United States Air Force

(Washington, D.C.: Air Force History and Museums Program, 1997), Vol. II, pp. 83-86.

56. Department of Defense Biography, "Gen. Bernard A. Schriever," March 1966; Vulcan's

Forge, pp. 51, 63-64, 66, 70-73.

57. Arming America, pp. 363, 379.

58. Ibid., pp. 359-64, 367.

59. Ibid., pp. 376-79.

60. Ibid., p. 126; Semi-Annual Report of the Secretary of the Air Force, January-June 1955,

p. 265; USAF in Korea, p. 711; Moody and Trest, "The Air Force as an Institution," Winged

Shield, Winged Sword, pp. 106-8.

61. Ideas and Concepts, pp. 610-11; USAF in Korea, pp. 709-10.

62. Ideas and Concepts, pp. 428-32, 452-59, 610-11.
20
21

CHAPTER II

FLEXIBLE RESPONSE AND THE BEGINNING OF THE C–5A

Like Dwight D. Eisenhower, who preceded him in the White House, John F. Kennedy

continued to fight the Cold War, though sometimes with different tactics. Kennedy shared

Eisenhower's tendency toward confrontation in Latin America, and went far beyond his

commitments in Southeast Asia, but he did not simply adopt the declared strategy of the

Eisenhower administration. Whereas Eisenhower and his advisers spoke of deterrence and

massive retaliation—going to the very brink of nuclear war to preserve the peace—Kennedy

emphasized highly mobile conventional forces, some of them trained in counterinsurgency,

that could fight limited wars, which would erupt from time to time during a period of nuclear

stalemate. Despite the difference in emphasis, both risked nuclear war, though to varying

degrees—Eisenhower over the survival of Taiwan and Kennedy when responding to the

Soviet deployment of nuclear missiles to Cuba. Indeed, Kennedy pushed ahead with strategic

missile programs, even as he invested in aircraft capable of deploying conventionally armed

troops throughout the world, and Eisenhower, despite his close association with strategic

weapons made some improvements in airlift.

In March 1961, during his first message to Congress on the topic of defense, Kennedy

declared that U.S. military forces should be made strong and mobile enough "to prevent the

steady erosion of the free world through limited wars." This statement resulted in the

substantial augmentation of airlift, including within a few years the purchase from LockheedGeorgia of the huge C–5A, which complemented the long-range C–141 and intratheater

C–130. The C–5A, besides providing a key element of the Kennedy administration's policy

of flexible response, corrected shortcomings that had existed for years. Whatever the failings

Kennedy inherited, trends in motion before his inauguration foreshadowed the development

of the new transport.1

The Effects of Flexible Response on Airlift Requirements and Doctrine

Airlift deficiencies, especially the lack of a long-range transport exclusively for bulk

cargo, had long been known. As early as October 1948, Maj. Gen. Laurence S. Kuter, the first

commander of the Military Air Transport Service (MATS), criticized the use of passenger

transports to move cargo and called for a civil cargo aircraft intended primarily for

commercial service but easily adapted to emergency military operations. Although General

Kuter's demands were modest, and despite the lessons of the Berlin airlift and the Korean

war, the aircraft industry did not develop the kind of commercial plane that Kuter wanted.

Development of an "air freighter" did not attract the interest of the public or the commercial

airlines. In fact, both the press and Congress questioned the need to modernize MATS.

The command's lack of clout may have resulted, in part, from the divided

responsibility within the Air Force for airlift—MATS handling long-range missions, and the

Tactical Air Command conducting intratheater operations such as dropping paratroopers.

Moreover, the interests of MATS and the commercial carriers sometimes clashed. In the late

1950s, Representative Daniel Flood, a Democrat from Pennsylvania who tended to support

the airlines, objected to modernizing MATS to do a job that, in his opinion, the commercial

carriers could do better. Sen. A. S. "Mike" Monroney (D—Oklahoma), another strong

advocate for the airlines, repeatedly urged that MATS have only a small fleet designed to

carry outsized cargo or to carry cargo to remote areas. Senator Monroney also recommended
22

that the government give commercial carriers guaranteed loans to build a cargo fleet which

would enable them to take care of most of the airlift requirements of the Department of

Defense.2

Ironically, while Kuter's appeal for a long-range cargo carrier languished, the Army's

concept of "flexible response" was beginning to gain momentum in influential circles, even

among naval leaders, who in the past had wholeheartedly supported strategic deterrence, in

which their service had a growing share. "Having reached the stage of mutual deterrence,"

Secretary of the Navy Thomas S. Gates declared in December 1957, "power to prevent limited

aggression and to win limited war becomes decisive." Unimpressed by Gates's words and

obviously speaking for his service as an institution, the Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Thomas

D. White, immediately retorted that "just as nuclear delivery capability constitutes a

deterrent to general war, so can this total fire power deter local war." General White thus

underscored the Air Force commitment to strategic deterrence based on nuclear retaliation.3

The Defense Reorganization Act, signed into law on August 6, 1958, realigned the

unified and specified commands and also repealed the authority of the service chiefs to

command their respective forces. Against this background, on July 1, 1958, the Military Air

Transport Service assumed responsibility for "Point-to-Point Airlift." Early in 1959, even

though the unified and specified commands had yet to provide MATS with detailed airlift

requirements, the Joint Chiefs of Staff agreed to take another look at the airlift studies

prompted by Gen. Maxwell D. Taylor while Army Chief of Staff. On June 30, 1959, Taylor

retired, but his successor, Gen. Lyman L. Lemnitzer, immediately asked for even more

strategic airlift than Taylor had. Taken separately, the changes in command structure and

the renewed interest in airlift might have gone almost unnoticed, but together they greatly

speeded the development of strategic airlift, as an essential component of flexible response.4

Meanwhile, the tempo of airlift-related activities had accelerated. In December 1956

and March 1957, respectively, two Department of Defense directives (Appendix 5) clarified

existing or spelled out newly acquired responsibilities of the Military Air Transport Services.

For example, the Department of Defense defined the Air Force mission of providing airlift

support to the Army to include the movement of personnel, supplies, and equipment to, from,

and within the combat area. The Defense Department also directed that most of the heavy

airlift—larger or longer-range than intratheater transports, and excluding those that flew

courier missions, delivering a few passengers or small amounts of cargo—be transferred to

MATS from the Tactical Air Command and the Navy.5

Following adoption of this limited approach to a single-manager concept, MATS

military transport operations were financed by a revolving fund, to which each military

service made payment for services rendered. Most routine or administrative transport

operations devolved upon the commercial airlines. In 1960, MATS scrapped the traditional

method of competitive bidding and began negotiating contracts with civil airlines, using the

rate floors prescribed by the Civil Aeronautics Board—a procedure obviously more lucrative

for the airlines. The new arrangement came with a price, however, for all MATS contractors

had to commit themselves to support the Civil Reserve Air Fleet (CRAF). Moreover, all

airline aircraft earmarked for the CRAF had to be up-to-date cargo planes or passenger

planes readily converted to carry cargo, a requirement that facilitated the upgrading of the

reserve fleet.6 During 1959 and 1960, General Tunner tackled the problem of obtaining the aircraft needed to

modernize MATS, which he commanded. His first proposal called for a MATS fleet consisting

of three types—a versatile work-horse transport, a carrier of outsized cargo, and a fast jet

passenger craft. Satisfying his proposal's last requirement should pose no great problem,

Tunner believed. Buying off-the-shelf any one of three commercial jets (either the Boeing 707,
23

Douglas DC–8, or Convair 880) would be relatively inexpensive and would enable MATS to

carry airmen and some light cargo in support of SAC's nuclear-armed B–47s and B–52s,

deployed worldwide. These immediately available commercial jets could also serve as stopgap

aircraft until MATS's other new strategic airlift planes—the work-horse and the bulky-cargo

carrier—arrived on the scene.7

General Tunner realized, however, that obtaining approval for the two costlier parts

of his modernization plan, or even for one of the expensive new planes, faced odds so

formidable as to be virtually impossible. Yet, MATS had nothing to lose in trying. Tunner

therefore argued that deletion or omission of either transport would sooner or later

compromise the airlift logistics system. As the MATS commander expected, his proposal, as

a whole, did not have a chance and was turned down by the Air Force, but one part of his

ambitious plan fared better than he had dared to hope.8 Unforeseen events contributed to Tunner's partial success. The Congo crisis of 1960, during which the

former Belgian colony plunged into anarchy, demonstrated anew the importance of moving

men and cargo quickly over extreme distances and underscored the existing deficiencies in

strategic airlift. The Congo operation, nicknamed New Tape, ended in January 1964, after

MATS C–124, C–133, and jet-powered C–135s had flown 63,798 passengers and 18,593 tons

of cargo. Most of the New Tape missions originated in either the United States or West

Germany, because of the difficulty in obtaining clearance for aircraft to fly over or take off

from the soil of France.9

The Big Lift exercise in the summer of 1963 was designed to show how the Military

Airlift Transport Service operating from bases in the United States might reinforce in record

time the military commands of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). During the

exercise, MATS crews flew a hodgepodge of aircraft—C–54s, C–124s, some C–130s, and a few

C–135s—dramatizing the need for a more homogenous airlift force. Big Lift succeeded,

however, in flying an entire Army division overseas for the first time, and doing so in an

impressive 63 hours and five minutes. The West German media did not fail to point out that

in a true crisis the deployment might well have had a different outcome. West German

reporters, with tongue in cheek, commented that American soldiers would be well served to

learn Russian, for in a true crisis Soviet troops advancing from the east would be on hand

to greet them.10 Despite the German reaction, Tunner could not be sure that Big Lift would

be enough to get the public at large, and Congress in particular, to support his modernization

program. Maj. Gen. James Ferguson, Director of Requirements in the Office of the Deputy

Chief of Staff for Development, could draw up the technical characteristics of the work-horse

or the outsize cargo plane that Tunner sought, but if Congress did not cooperate there would

be no money to buy either one.11

Another development outside of Tunner's purview, this one in 1960, helped shape the

future of MATS. On March 4, Generals White and Lemnitzer signed an agreement which

spelled out the numbers of Army units, troops, and tonnage of supplies that airlift forces

would be expected to deploy to various parts of the world within given periods of time. The

Chiefs of Staff of the Air Force and Army agreed that air transport ought to be able to deploy

one division anywhere in the world within seven to ten days and two divisions anywhere

within thirty days. However, officials of both military services admitted that, for the near

future, the agreement could serve only as a long-term objective. Even though the Air Force

received 47 percent of the defense budget, the service continued to stress the nuclear

retaliatory mission, and Congress showed little interest in MATS. Once again, Tunner set out

to capture the attention of Congress.12

Using all the influence he could muster, including the help of two Army

generals—Lemnitzer and Bruce C. Clarke, Commander of the Continental Army
24

Command—Tunner organized Operation Big Slam/Puerto Pine, a joint exercise that airlifted

some 21,000 Army troops and 11,000 tons of cargo from fourteen bases in the continental

United States to Puerto Rico, an island less than a thousand miles from the mainland.13

Begun on March 14, 1960, the two-week exercise came almost one month to the day after the

MATS commander appeared before a special House subcommittee, organized by Rep. Carl

Vinson, the Georgia Democrat serving as chairman of the House Armed Services Committee,

and headed by Rep. L. Mendel Rivers, a Democrat from South Carolina. The subcommittee

had sought to determine if the $120.4 million, included in the Defense budget request for

fiscal year 1961 to modernize the airlift forces, was enough for that purpose.14

Tunner considered the sum totally inadequate. In his testimony, Tunner insisted that

454 MATS aircraft were "obsolescent in speed, range and overall capability," but, as

subcommittee chairman Rivers observed afterward, "there was no sentiment whatsoever in

the Defense Establishment for the support of interim modernization of MATS, and there was

even open hostility in some quarters outside of the Defense Establishment." The MATS

commander had anticipated the negative reaction described by Chairman Rivers. It was in

this antagonistic climate that he organized Operation Big Slam/Puerto Pine.15

General Tunner's plans for Big Slam/Puerto Pine were characteristically thorough and

the results impressive, considering the forces available. Statistics told the story: 1,250 round

trips, with a total of 50,496 flying hours, with planes rolling into Puerto Rico like clockwork,

unloading troops who moved smoothly to dispersal areas. Clearly, the Air Force and Army

personnel proved themselves, but the MATS aircraft failed the test. The airmen worked to

the limit of their endurance (twelve hours daily or more) with planes that were slow, shortrange, and old. Because of the fleet's limited capability, only 10,000-to-11,000 tons of cargo

could be airlifted, including one light tank, a few trucks (some with empty gas tanks to

lighten the load), and artillery. Many troops landed without a single round of ammunition.16

As Tunner hoped, the joint exercise clearly served its purpose. Senators,

representatives, and important civilian and military members of the Eisenhower

administration came to Puerto Rico to see the airlift first hand, along with American and

foreign reporters. More than 350 of these reporters were flooding the media with on-the-scene

stories, and amid the deluge the most determined opponents of airlift modernization within

the American press began changing their minds. Commentators no longer accused MATS of

being a wasteful bureaucracy. Richard Fryklund, of the Washington Star, wrote that, from

the standpoint of equipment, the major Army-Air Force strategic airlift seemed to have

demonstrated its inadequacy, not because of inefficient leadership but because the Air Force

planes were too few and too old, and much of the Army equipment could not fit in any of the

available aircraft.17

The joint maneuver generated countless critiques, similar to that of the conservative

Washington Star, one of the nation's most respected evening newspapers. Hanson W.

Baldwin, military analyst of the more liberal New York Times, shared Richard Fryklund's

point of view. Sen. Dennis Chavez, chairman of the Defense Subcommittee of the Senate

Appropriations Committee, complained that MATS had to use outdated aircraft, some of

which had already outlived their planned useful life. The senator warned that MATS did not

have sufficient modern military aircraft "for the needs of the world in which we live today,"

adding that both Congress and the Executive branch "must take prompt actions in this area

of national defense."

Tunner's appraisal of the exercise proved remarkably candid. If his command had so

much trouble bringing equipment to an island this close to the United States, he observed,

how would it cope with a far away conflict. Should there be a serious conflagration in the
25

Middle East or Asia, he predicted, "the initial airlift could put down only one or two

companies, a force too small to hold a bridgehead. It would take at least a month to move in

a full [Army] division with re-supply."18

After Operation Big Slam/Puerto Pine changed popular and Congressional opinions,

events moved rapidly. On July 1, 1960, Congress appropriated an extra $200 million for the

Air Force to buy or modify existing airlift aircraft, earmarking $50 million of the additional

funds to begin the development of one of the two cargo planes proposed by Tunner and

approved by General Ferguson less than a year before. On November 15, following several

minor revisions, a final version of Specific Operational Requirement (SOR) 182 emerged,

calling for a long-range jet designed principally to haul cargo. On December 21, requests for

proposal were sent to Boeing, Douglas, Convair, and Lockheed, judged to be the most

qualified competitors. For all practical purposes, the new strategic cargo aircraft that was to

become one of the Air Force's favorite workhorses came into being during the last days of the

Eisenhower administration. Of the four competitors, Lockheed had a clear advantage because

of its experience in producing the C–130 tactical transport.19

On March 13, 1961, President Kennedy announced that the Lockheed Aircraft

Corporation had won the competition, which in 1963 produced the C–141 Starlifter. The

C–141 was designed for easy maintenance, efficient loading, and relatively short landing and

takeoff. Powered by four Pratt and Whitney TF33–P–7 turbofan engines, the C–141, with an

empty weight of 134,200 pounds, could to carry 70,000 pounds of cargo or 154 troops at more

than 500 miles per hour. The transport could haul 63,000 pounds of cargo nearly 4,000 miles

without refueling and exceed a range of 5,200 miles at reduced speed and payload. The first

squadron of Starlifters entered service in the spring of 1965.20

In the meantime, General Taylor's proposed flexible response, first advocated in the

early fifties, continued to gain momentum. The Air Force, committed to strategic deterrence,

remained ill prepared to carry out this strategic concept and its attendant requirement for

rapid airlift. In the field, the Tactical Air Command and the U.S. Strike Command

(STRICOM), the latter a new unified command formed from combat units of TAC and the

Army's Strategic Army Corps, soon found that the demand for tactical and strategic airlift

far outstripped resources. Moreover, the Army's plans clearly indicated that still more airlift

would be needed. For example, the Army intended to add about 3,500 troops to each airborne

division and to double the tonnage of equipment and supplies. The Army also intended to

triple the tonnage required to support a heavy infantry division, to increase the Strategic

Army Command's number of divisions from two to a minimum of six, and to make these

divisions as air-mobile as possible.21 Understandably, the Air Force became increasingly

concerned by the Army's aggressive planning.22

The Air Force's concern stemmed in part from the rapid growth of Army Aviation. By

1959, the Army air arm flew some 5,500 fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft, an increase of

4,800 since 1950, and had authorization to acquire 6,400. Since the Department of Defense

had recently waived the earlier weight restrictions, the Army's future purchases would

include a hundred twin-turboprop deHavilland short-take-off-and-landing transports that

could carry a 10,000-pound load, like the C–47, the legendary Gooney Bird of War II.

Other events during the late fifties and early sixties also prodded the Air Force toward

launching the costly C–5A program. In 1960, Deputy Secretary of Defense James H. Douglas,

inspired by the increasing Congressional support for preparing to fight limited wars,

recommended that future force structures deal with these conflicts. Although the Air Force

emphatically rejected Secretary Douglas's suggestion, as did the Department of Defense, the

institutional Air Force, and General LeMay in particular, believed that the victory might be
26

short lived. The Kennedy administration's acceptance of the concept of flexible response in

early 1961 hardly alleviated LeMay's concern. In the spring of 1962, when Secretary of

Defense McNamara directed a review of the Army's tactical mobility requirements, the Air

Force became concerned that the Army planned to acquire another Air Corps of its own and,

if Air Force airlift remained unsatisfactory, might attempt to take over the long-range

movement of troops.

General LeMay, like other leaders before him, recognized that playing ball with one's

opponent often proved the best way to frustrate a rival's ambitions. More important, even

before the end of the 1950s, LeMay had become convinced that overseas crises were bound

to arise and that the nation in future decades would unavoidably become involved in limited

wars. Despite his realization that airlift would be necessary for limited conflicts, as pointed

out by Tunner in early 1960, LeMay and the Air Force had to place an overriding priority on

strategic nuclear forces, in effect relegating airlift to the status of a poor relative and

postponing modernization of MATS for the foreseeable future.

The Vietnam War caused Army Aviation to expand substantially its mission,

responsibilities, and capabilities. Individual field commanders retained operational control

of the expanded assets even though the 1st Aviation Brigade had been activated in March

1966 to manage the logistics and training standards of Army Aviation units in Vietnam.

These actions reflected Army doctrine and seemed to indicate that the Army was not truly

thinking of reacquiring an air arm of its own.

In April 1966 Gen. John P. McConnell, the Air Force's new Chief of Staff, sought to

clarify the status of Army aviation when he signed an agreement with the Army Chief of

Staff, Gen. Harold K. Johnson, that allowed the Army to operate helicopters in the size and

numbers and needed for battlefield mobility and supply. In exchange, the Air Force acquired

the newly purchased deHavilland turboprops, known as CV—2s until they donned Air Force

markings and became C–7s. The McConnell-Johnson agreement may have indicated that the

Air Force of 1966, or at least its Chief of Staff, saw nothing to fear from Army aviation, or

simply that it wanted nothing to do with Army helicopters. Whatever the motivation, the

agreement did not square completely with Air Force doctrine that only an airman could

control Air Force units, for the smaller tactical transports in Vietnam, the C–7s and C–123s,

could be attached to Army commanders in time of emergency.23

In the meantime, the Air Force as early as 1961 had begun thinking about another

new, multi-purpose, long-endurance transport to complement the C–141. In October of that

year, the Military Air Transport Service received a qualitative operational requirement (QOR)

from Air Force headquarters for a successor to the turboprop Douglas C–133, which could

accommodate a strategic missile in its cargo bay but lacked reliability, as demonstrated by

several unexplained crashes, and ease of maintenance. After careful review of the QOR,

MATS officials concluded that the new transport should be available before mid-1967. Also

according to MATS, some 160 of these new aircraft would be required to support a limited

war contingency operation in a single theater, more in the event of a simultaneous emergency

elsewhere. Air Force headquarters subsequently drafted a specific operational requirement

designed to take care of the Army's known requirements. In August 1962, however, the

proposed transport, by then referred to as program CX—4, crashed because, in the Army's

opinion, it did not represent any "significant advance" over the C–141.24

The first jet transport designed primarily to haul cargo, the C–141, reflected the

deployment concepts of the late 1950s. As briefly stated by Generals White and Lemnitzer

in their initial agreement of 1960, the C–141 would also transport lightly equipped airborne

troops. In addition, the new transport had to satisfy two specific objectives: McNamara's
27

demand for cost-effectiveness; and the Military Air Transport Service's insistence that its new

jet be economical in peacetime airline-type operations.25

Although the C–141 offered impressive economies in cost per ton-mile (the cost of

transporting a one ton of cargo one mile), it could not carry bulky items of Army cargo like

bridges and tanks. McNamara, therefore, began to consider other options, such as a swingtail version of the Boeing 707 passenger jet. Another option, also requiring extensive

modification, involved extending fuselage of the C–141, which would increase take off and

landing distance. Since the C–141 would serve alongside any new transport, Secretary

McNamara decided to avoid investing the time needed to stretch the existing aircraft and

bring it into the inventory as quickly as possible. By 1969 the airlift of nuclear weapons and

total flying hours of the Military Air Command (MAC), as MATS had been redesignated,

began declining sharply, a reduction attributed to the increasing use of jet aircraft, the C–141

in particular. (See Appendix 6).26

In 1961, when the success of the C–141 appeared by no means certain, the Army

nevertheless wanted something more than the Starlifter—a transport capable of flying 4,000

nautical miles with a minimum payload of 135,000 pounds, a payload about twice that of the

C–141. In addition, a 15-foot-wide fuselage would be necessary to take care of bulky Army

equipment, and the transport would have to be capable of parachuting both cargo and troops.

Finally, in view of the nation's commitments, the new aircraft would have to be able to use

"less than ideal airfields."27

The Air Force did not argue the validity of the Army's requirements, but doubted that

they could be satisfied without postponing the transport's planned initial operational

capability (IOC) beyond 1967, the objective listed in the recent QOR. To begin with, new,

larger turbofan engines would have to be developed. Moreover, so large an aircraft would

probably require other significant technological advances that would cause further delay.

Despite its misgivings, the Air Force on June 20, 1963, released another version of the CX—4

SOR, which by and large promised the Army what it wanted. Most important, the revised

CX—4 would be designed to operate from what the Air Force described as "rear or supportarea fields," which might or might not prove synonymous with the Army's "less than ideal

airfields." The aircraft, moreover, would be reliable and have "maximum self-sufficiency,"

which meant that it would need "little or no prepositioned equipment" to remain operational.

This SOR, however, proved no more realistic than the initial one, and the CX–4 did not

materialize. The Army had nothing to do with this failure, which resulted from developments

at the highest levels of the Air Force.

The Imprint of Project Forecast

April 1963 saw the emergence of Forecast, a project suggested by Secretary of the Air

Force Eugene Zuckert, a former member of the faculty at the Harvard School of Business and

from 1947 to 1952 an assistant secretary to Secretaries of the Air Force Stuart Symington

and Thomas K. Finletter. Gen. Curtis E. LeMay, Air Force Chief of Staff since June 30, 1961,

enthusiastically supported Forecast, dedicated to the study of weapon systems for both the

near term and the distant future. Gen. Bernard A. Schriever, since April 1961 in charge of

the Air Force Systems Command, directed the project, which included analysis of Air Force

logistics support and the Army's requirements for airlift, two topics that were tightly

interwoven. Without hesitation, Forecast recommended development of a heavy logistics

transport aircraft even more advanced than the plane suggested by the Army and only

reluctantly endorsed by the Air Force in the revised SOR for the CX–4. Clearly, the airlift
28

recommendations approved by General Schriever proved more ambitious than Air Force

headquarters had anticipated. However startling the Forecast proposals may have seemed

at first, Schriever presented them forcefully and demonstrated that they made sense and

were potentially worthwhile. Yet, converting the airlift recommendations into a new transport

encountered unforeseen problems that took time to solve.28

Initiated by Project Forecast, the CX–Heavy Logistics Systems (CX–HLS) replaced the

proposed CX–4 and produced the Lockheed-Georgia C–5A, which flew under stringent

restrictions until February 2, 1983 and did not achieve its full potential 1986 and the advent

of the C–5B. Schriever hoped for a time to develop an even heavier transport, weighing a

million pounds compared to 840,000 pounds for the C–5A and C–5B, but abandoned the more

ambitious undertaking, probably because Secretary of Defense McNamara insisted that any

new transport achieve an initial operational capability in 1969 or be canceled.

Project Forecast, eventually endorsed by McNamara, did not attempt to define the

configuration of the new CX–HLS but pointed out that equipping it with only four engines,

instead of six as planned for the defunct CX–4, might bring significant savings. Based on a

200-aircraft program, a four-engine transport would eliminate the purchase of 400 engines,

perhaps twice that many if including the usual spares. In October 1963, General Schriever

instructed the Deputy for Advanced Systems Planning of the AFSC's Aeronautical Systems

Division (ASD) to work on a detailed design concept and technology study of the new

transport, now known as the CX–X.29

By the end of October 1963, guidelines for the CX–X conceptual design had been

devised, and many studies were in progress. As now envisioned, the CX–X would have a gross

weight of 550,000 pounds, a maximum payload of 180,000 pounds, a maximum speed of Mach

.75; and an unrefueled range of 5,000 nautical miles with a payload of 115,000 pounds. The

cargo compartment would be large—measuring 17 1/5 feet wide by 13 1/2 feet high and 100

feet long—with access through doors at the front and rear. At the designed takeoff gross

weight, the distance to become airborne would not exceed 6,000 feet. These requirements,

current studies revealed, could be nearly met with existing technology or completely fulfilled,

or even exceeded, depending on new approaches. Whereas today's technology and off-the-shelf

engines would produce disappointing performance, new engines and the use of lightweight

composite materials in the airframe would yield better results but require a greater

investment of time. Achieving the best results would require even more time and innovation,

making use of new materials and engines and also incorporating laminar-flow control, which

consisted of a series of holes in the wing to divert the flow of air and make sure the razorthin layer of air closest to the wing, the boundary layer, did not separate from the upper

surface of the airfoil and impede lift. When functioning as designed, such a device reduced

drag and, in theory at least, could extend by forty percent the range of a 400,000-pound

airplane.

On November 20, 1963, AFSC put together a draft Advanced Development Objective

(ADO) for the CX–X long-range logistics transport. Although general in nature, this

prospectus emphasized that performance objectives would have to be met. To do so would

require capitalizing on technical developments, particularly in such areas as high-bypass

turbofan engines, laminar flow control, a readily accessible cargo compartment, and a highflotation landing gear to spread the massive weight of the fully loaded airplane. The ADO

specified that the CX–X had to be able to carry a 100,000-pound payload 10,000 nautical

miles without refueling, and 180,000 pounds at lesser ranges. The CX–X cargo compartment

had to be compatible with the standard cargo handling system and provide rear-door loading.

Finally, the document projected a first flight in mid-1969, an initial operational capability in
29

late 1971, and a two-year production program, followed by long and useful service.30

On November 29, 1963, only six days after dissemination of the ADO, General

Schriever directed Maj. Gen. Robert G. Ruegg, Commander of the Aeronautical Systems

Division, to assume responsibility for CX–X development. Besides establishing a project office

to manage the initial activities, ASD would at once prepare a preliminary program schedule

and a request for proposal (RFP) to notify prospective contractors of what was wanted and

explain how their proposals would be evaluated. The RFP would also identify the probable

terms and conditions of the subsequent contracts for development and procurement. Schriever

informed Maj. Gen. Marvin C. Demler, Commander of AFSC's Research and Technology

Division, that engine proposals were likewise needed, since the new engines were the most

critical of the many elements of the CX–X requiring advanced technology. Demler knew

engines well, having served as an expert in propulsion for General Arnold during World War

II before becoming involved Silver Plate, the project to modify B–29s to deliver the atomic

bomb. The assignment of tasks to capable officers like Ruegg and Demler was easy, but

getting the institutional Air Force to endorse the CX–X Advanced Development Objective

proved an intricate process.31

Lt. Gen. Joe W. Kelly, Commander of the Military Air Transport Service which would

operate the new transport, found the CX–X ADO far too ambitious. MATS had not requested

so advanced a transport in its SOR, and, though Kelly recognized that Schriever's mandate

was to advance technology, he pointed out that his own obligation was to obtain for MATS

the most reliable airplane possible. From Kelly's viewpoint, the characteristics of the CX–4,

revised and then abandoned, had been well defined. Only "minor technical problems"

remained with the CX–4, and these could be solved with "current state-of-the art technology,"

enabling MATS to meet the requirement, now being emphasized, that a new transport attain

an early initial operational capability.

Intent upon advancing the limits of technology at Systems Command, Schriever could

not have disagreed more. He believed that the revised specific operational requirement for

the CX–4 envisaged an interim aircraft only, and an inadequate one at that. What MATS

needed, in the AFSC Commander's adamant opinion, was the best CX–X, and technological

advances proposed for such an aircraft could not be sacrificed for the sake of expediency. This

seemed especially important because the future new transport was due to stay in the

operational inventory for several decades.

Gen. Mark E. Bradley, Jr., Commander of the Air Force Logistics Command, agreed

with Schriever up to a point. His own reservations centered on the proposed 10,000-nauticalmile unrefueled range with a 100,000-pound payload. General Bradley also criticized the

CX–X cargo compartment which, regardless of its large size, could not accommodate the

200,000-pound solid-fuel rocket motors being developed by National Aeronautics and Space

Administration. When it came to the aircraft's IOC, the AFLC and MATS Commanders

disagreed entirely. General Bradley saw no urgency, claiming that "existing [transport]

aircraft should meet basic mission needs until 1971 which should give ample time to

introduce an optimum cargo carrier that would fulfill Air Force mission requirements until

1990."

Requests for Proposal for the Heavy Logistics System (CX–HLS), as the CX–X was

now known, went to prospective airframe and propulsion contractors on April 27, 1964. As

routinely done, the RFPs came on the heels of a Specific Operational Requirement (SOR) that

had been put together in March. SOR 214, as the document was labeled, initially rehashed

the Advanced Development Objective of December 1963 but underwent revision during the

following year. Hence, on May 5, 1964, the Air Force convened a briefing for the likely
30

bidders to explain better what the government had in mind, and to emphasize the project's

urgency, a factor, the Air Force knew, that was becoming increasingly crucial.32

On May 18, 1964, airframe proposals arrived from the Boeing Company, Douglas

Aircraft Company, General Dynamics Corporation, Lockheed-Georgia Company, and Martin

Marietta Corporation; the General Electric Company, Curtiss-Wright Corporation, and the

Pratt and Whitney Aircraft Division of United Aircraft Corporation submitted engine

proposals. On June 5, after rejecting the initial airframe proposals from General Dynamics

and Martin-Marietta, the Air Force negotiated contracts with the three remaining

competitors for parametric statistical studies of the airframe and with General Electric and

Pratt and Whitney for parametric studies of an engine. Such studies had been authorized by

the Department of Defense in December 1963, with some $17 million earmarked for this

purpose, as well as for development of experimental hardware. Despite demanding completion

of the studies by October 1964, a short deadline, the Air Force would, in retrospect, insist

that no other aircraft had ever undergone so thorough an analysis.33

While these predevelopment procedures, typical of any major weapon system,

unfolded, the question of an early IOC for the CX–HLS became increasingly important. In

1963, General Schriever, like General Bradley, had suggested the end of 1971 as a reasonable

target, but in Washington the Air Staff insisted that the aircraft should become operational

two years earlier. In effect, Air Force headquarters was following the lead of Secretary of

Defense Robert S. McNamara, the champion of cost-effectiveness, who insisted that the

service get the most for the money in developing, buying, and flying its airplanes. The C–124s

and C–133s that MATS used to carry outsized cargoes were proving excessively expensive to

fly; to promote cost-effectiveness they had to be replaced. The Air Force had two alternatives,

either procure the CX–HLS or purchase more C–141s. If the new aircraft could not be

available by the end of 1969, McNamara warned, additional C–141s would have to be bought

and modified to meet projected deficits in airlift, "and the basic justification for the CX–HLS

program would be eliminated." As far as the Secretary of Defense was concerned, every major

weapon system had to appear in a timely fashion and fit into overall defense priorities and

the objectives of the service acquiring it. In short, the urgent need for the new aircraft,

heretofore a MATS requirement questioned by many Air Force leaders, had now become

essential and beyond argument.34

In May 1964, Secretary McNamara authorized a larger C–141 fleet composed of 391

aircraft, of which 284 were funded and built. Since McNamara actually favored acquisition

of the CX–HLS, he made it clear that the purchase of additional C–141s could be rescinded

or adjusted downward and that any final decision would await the outcome in September of

ongoing Air Force and industry studies. At the same time, the Secretary continued to insist

that the aircraft achieve its IOC in 1969, thereby putting more pressure on the AFSC

Commander.35

Convinced that the CX–HLS would be a lost cause unless the Air Force was prepared

to meet Secretary McNamara's deadline, General Schriever looked for ways to speed the

acquisition process. For example, could the engine development schedule be accelerated?

General Demler agreed, after a "preliminary quick look," that development of a new engine

could possibly be accelerated by one year if "an additional thirteen million [dollars] is

provided in fiscal year 1965 and an expected decrease of 5 percent in propulsion performance

is acceptable," keeping in mind, however, that few things are more hazardous than combining

a new airplane with a new engine. Although the cost increase and loss of thrust predicted by

Demler seemed bad enough, worse news soon followed.36

Despite positive progress reports on the ongoing parametric studies, Maj. Gen. Charles
31

H. Terhune, who in mid-July had replaced Maj. Gen. Ruegg as ASD Commander, was even

more pessimistic than Demler. When queried by General Schriever, Terhune stated flatly

that a 1969 IOC was so unrealistic as to be virtually unattainable, even under the very best

of circumstances. To meet the goal, he added, would require accelerating not only the

development and acquisition of the engine but the entire program definition phase, flight

testing, and the aircraft production rate. Without doubt, this would cause serious

consequences. Engines not yet fully tested would have to power the flight-test aircraft and

also the first production models. The end result, Terhune warned, might well be a new

transport incapable of satisfying the MATS requirements for reliability and utilization.37

The Total-Package Procurement Concept

General Terhune had more to say. He called attention to another factor he considered

worrisome—the procurement concept conceived by Robert H. Charles, Assistant Secretary of

the Air Force for Installations and Logistics, and apparently endorsed by Secretary

McNamara. The total-package procurement concept (TPPC), as the new acquisition procedure

was called, envisioned that development, production, and support requirements for a system

would be bought under a single overarching contract. Moreover, price and performance

commitments would be finalized during the contract's definition phase. The procurement

technique advanced by Assistant Secretary Charles's procurement concept did not at first

sight did not seem excessively radical. Commercial airplanes were often bought in advance

of development, or before they were built or designed in detail. In such cases, commitments

were made to a fixed price on the basis of cost experience, and the contractor could not

change price or performance once a sale was consummated.38

Charles, who came to the Pentagon from the McDonnell aircraft company where he

had served as an executive, declared that the practice worked well for the civilian airlines

and should do so for the Air Force. His reasoning was flawed, however; indeed, he should

have known better, and perhaps did. In commercial airline equipment, the manufacturer

leads the way. In the commercial market, the manufacturer was the seller and "the seller

sells to the customer who may or may not feel ready for a new airplane." In the case of a

military airplane, however, it was the customer (in this case the Air Force) who established

requirements for the manufacturer. The difference can be reduced to that between readymade clothing, analogous to commercial airliners, and the tailor-made variety. Military

equipment, including airframes and other components, are tailor-made; when the military

customer decides he wants many more pockets in his suit instead of the usual number, he

gets them—the cost simply goes up.

To demonstrate the applicability of commercial buying techniques to military

procurement, Charles cited Pan American's purchase of the 707 from Boeing, which

functioned as the sole contractor and was responsible for the 707's Pratt and Whitney

engines. Pratt and Whitney did not answer to Pan Am but to Boeing, an early use of the

basic principles of the TPPC. The case of the CX–HLS (soon to become the Lockheed-Georgia

C–5A) would prove far more complex, however, for the winning prime contractor had to

incorporate new engines in one of several configurations under consideration. The Air Force,

therefore, decided to oversee development of the engines and, once they were working well,

to give them to the airframe contractor, whoever it would be, as government furnished

equipment. Then and only then, would the airframe contractor assume responsibility for the

engines—a decision agreed upon by the competing airframe contractors, which, the winner,

Lockheed, subsequently attempted to change.39
32

Just the same, most of the Air Force officials concerned with the acquisition of weapon

systems shared General Terhune's misgivings. They acknowledged that procurement

procedures could be improved but believed that the total-package procurement concept should

be tried out only on a program much smaller and less ambitious than the CX–HLS. In

addition, as Terhune repeatedly emphasized, the impact of the new procurement concept was

unforeseeable because "the full implications are not completely understood at the outset."40

General Schriever, a long-standing advocate of decentralizing weapon system

management and shifting it away from the Pentagon, anticipated Terhune's objections. The

AFSC Commander was the first to deplore the management reforms endorsed by Secretary

McNamara, for Schriever believed that the McNamara approach emphasized costeffectiveness and centralization, curtailing Systems Command's hard-won autonomy and

gradually eroding the importance of AFSC's system project offices.

Despite Schriever's protests, total-package procurement went ahead. On August 24,

1964, Assistant Secretary Charles and Dr. Alexander H. Flax, Assistant Secretary of the Air

Force for Research and Development, conferred with the Air Staff on the status of the

CX–HLS. Results of the parametric studies were still pending, but preliminary reports on

engine development had provided important data. To gain time, General Electric and Pratt

and Whitney had been awarded the previous week contracts totaling $10.7 million for

operating, through December 1964, scale models of their engines fitted with improved

components. Less encouraging to the uniformed leadership of the Air Force was the news that

Charles and Flax had come away from the session with the impression that the ASD

conferees doubted that a 1969 IOC could be achieved. On September 2, Headquarters AFSC

directed its Aeronautical Systems Division to show a more positive attitude, insisting that

it was "mandatory that the commander's direction be adhered to, i.e., `lean forward' and

exude confidence in meeting 1969 date when giving CX–HLS briefing in the Pentagon."41

Results of the parametric studies, initiated in June, became available on September

15, 1964, and yielded a wealth of technical data for evaluating alternate design proposals

relative to performance, costs, availability, and effectiveness. The firms competing to build

the engine defined the characteristics and technology for the propulsion system. The three

airframe contractors—Boeing, Douglas, and Lockheed—submitted designs based on gross

weights of 500,000, 650,000, and 750,000 pounds, though the last was ruled out almost

immediately. Besides gross weight, the variables included lift-to-drag ratio, number and types

of engines, cruise speed and altitude, and maximum payload.

The studies also indicated that long-range missions and operational economy required

a new engine design with better fuel consumption and thrust-to-weight ratio than available

with off-the-shelf types. Drive-through loading of the aircraft, fore and aft, offered operational

advantages at a minimum investment of weight and cost. From the standpoint of efficiency

and cost effectiveness, the cargo compartment should provide 2,400 square feet of floor space.

Finally, a high flotation landing gear would allow the aircraft to use poorly surfaced

airfields.42

The results of the parametric studies reflected Project Forecast's most ambitious plans

for a new subsonic transport; the giant aircraft would be revolutionary, not necessarily from

the technical standpoint, but because of its major impact on the movement of combat forces.

In any case, many conclusions of the studies had been known informally for quite some time,

prompting enthusiastic meetings between members of the Forecast staff with the Air Staff

and, especially, with representatives from the Deputy Chief of Staff (DCS) for Research and

Development (R&D), an office headed by Lt. Gen. James Ferguson. Amid the enthusiasm,

however, words of caution were heard. In late September 1964, for example, Dr. Flax was
33

still arguing with Maj. Gen. R. D. Curtin, Director, Development Plans, DCS/R&D, about the

validity of comparing the development timetable of the CX–HLS with those of the C–141 and

Douglas DC–8, since the latter two aircraft featured only minor departures in design from

commercial aircraft previously built, using modifications of engines already in operation. On

the other hand, the CX–HLS development schedule seemed far too compressed if based on

radically new engines, such as General Electric's GE-1/6 turbofan. Dr. Flax also questioned

the importance of the 6,000 pounds that a high-flotation gear would add to the aircraft

weight, and the "small" investment and operating costs required for such an addition, since

no figures were available and "smallness is a matter of degree or opinion."43

Undoubtedly, a great deal of urgent work remained to be done. In October 1964, in

accordance with the usual practice, the Air Force began estimating the initial cost of the

CX–HLS program, and the service appointed a source selection board on November 16.

Delays occurred, however. For example, the Air Force did not complete new requests for

proposal for both airframe and engine until December. Meanwhile, a revised CX–HLS report

was being prepared for General Schriever's signature. The report, in its final form, listed

potential alternatives and tradeoffs, endorsing as "mandatory" two items that MATS

desired—the use of a new engine and straight-through loading, the latter including a

kneeling landing gear that lowered the floor of the cargo compartment to truck-bed

height—but merely recommending incorporation of a high flotation landing gear to give the

airplane the capability for operating from support area airfields, which the using command

also wanted, though ultimately did not need, since the C–5A would operate from runways of

reinforced concrete. General Schriever sent the thorough and persuasive document to General

Ferguson on October 20. Within two months, the hard-fought CX–HLS project would get

under way.44

On November 21, 1964, Eugene Zuckert, in his capacity as Secretary of the Air Force,

presented the case for the CX–HLS program to the Secretary of Defense informing him that

the aircraft would be somewhat larger and therefore slightly heavier than previously

expected. The larger aircraft, Secretary Zuckert asserted, would be more cost-effective since

it would take fewer planes to carry out any given airlift mission. Furthermore, the scaled-up

airframe design did not represent a "large advance in the current state-of-the-art, and the

technological building blocks are in hand." Zuckert also expressed his confidence that a

satisfactory engine would be available in time to achieve an initial operational capability in

1969.45

On December 4, 1964, the Secretary of Defense authorized development and

procurement of three squadrons of heavy logistics aircraft—58 planes, test aircraft included.

This was only half the minimum the Air Force asked for, but McNamara did not rule out an

additional procurement. He also approved issuance of the requests for proposal, redesignated

the CX–HLS as the C–5A, and again insisted on a mid-1969 IOC. Although McNamara's

procurement decision required formal approval by the President, favorable action seemed

certain enough to allow the Air Force to proceed. President Johnson endorsed McNamara's

decision on December 22, 1964.46

The C–5A system project office, redesignated from CX–HLS office on December 10,

1964, issued a new request for proposal on the next day. This document, like its predecessor,

embodied the specific operational requirement of March 1964 (SOR 214), the amendments

adopted in May, plus the pending revisions to the SOR that were to become official on

January 5, 1965. The salient points of such revisions were the so-called October

specifications, identified in Schriever's report, sent to General Ferguson, and subsequently

approved by McNamara.47
34

To save time and money, the new request for proposal was only sent to the parametric

and engineering study contractors (Boeing, Douglas, and Lockheed for the airframe, General

Electric and Pratt and Whitney for the engine), since they obviously were the most qualified.

In other words, source selection competition ended, and the definition contracts went to the

manufacturers who had participated in the parametric study program. Despite the shortcut,

the new RFP lagged forty days behind the tight schedule outlined by the Aeronautical

Systems Division to make the C–5A operational before 1970. Terhune, the recently appointed

ASD Commander, did not hide his indignation from Schriever. The initial delay, the

inevitable doubling of effort that would ensue if more reasonable deadlines were not

established, and the lack of an orderly course of action during the program definition phase,

Terhune declared, would "jeopardize our chances of success in defining a system which does

not require numerous changes after contract award." The ASD Commander also pointed out

that these changes down the line would not only undermine the effectiveness of the totalpackage procurement concept, but also have an adverse effect upon meeting an IOC in mid1969 as required. General Terhune's protest proved ineffectual, though grounded in fact. The

RFP transmittal letters, and the many provisions of the total-package procurement document

approved in February 1965, indicated trouble to come.48

Since a new acquisition procedure was being used to procure the C–5A, the letters

accompanying the requests for proposal of December 11, 1964, had to be somewhat unusual.

They explained what the Air Force wanted, told how it intended to proceed, and generally

clarified most aspects of the total-package procurement concept. Certainly, the most pressing

requirements were clearly defined. Specifically, contract awards would follow the completion

of several phases. The first phase would be Concept Formulation, based on the results of the

earlier parametric studies. Contract Definition would come next, when the contractors would

receive fixed price contracts to write package proposals based on their concept formulation

inputs. In addition to defining its preliminary system design, every package proposal had to

detail the competitor's development activities, facilities design, plans, tests, production

schedules, logistics support, and cost.49

The Air Force also informed the companies that contractors, still qualified after

completion of the phases through contract definition, would have to sign the very same TPPC

acquisition contract which, in due time, would be awarded to the final winners of the

airframe and engine competition. Qualified contractors already realized the project's potential

magnitude, but the Air Force again emphasized that the C–5A program, although restricted

to a relatively small initial purchase, could eventually total as many as 200 aircraft. The

approved purchase of 58 C–5As, known as Production Run A, would almost surely be followed

by the procurement of another 57 C–5As, referred to as Production Run B. Finally, a last buy

of 85 aircraft, or Production Run C, was anticipated, and other purchases by commercial

cargo carriers might also materialize. Engine procurement followed the same pattern, though

the numbers differed; Run A covered 290 engines, Run B 285, and Run C 425, for a possible

grand total of 1,000. The figures underwent change when the engine contract was signed, but

the differences proved minimal.50

Not surprisingly, in view of the considerable financial value of the pending production

contracts, competition was fierce, and all contractor proposals arrived on December 21, 1964.

Despite the prompt responses, Secretary McNamara delayed his approval of the total-package

arrangement until February 25, 1965, even though Charles, the Assistant Secretary of the

Air Force for Installations and Logistics, had been presenting convincing arguments for

months in support of the new technique. In the words of Assistant Secretary Charles, "the

history of defense procurement was replete with staggering cost overruns and disappointing
35

technical performances," fiascos for which he offered no excuses. One possibly valid

explanation lurked in the background, however. The technological advances of the immediate

post-World War II period might have resulted in projects requiring extensive research and

development that unavoidably produced increasingly complex and costly weapons. Later, the

growing Soviet threat and the need to retain supremacy shifted the emphasis from

competition among contractors and economy to numbers and performance, even though

competition remained enshrined in procurement regulations and, in theory, still favored the

"lowest responsible bidder."51

Charles did not deny that traditional procurement approach could work well. Indeed,

most development contracts were negotiated in a highly competitive atmosphere, with

emphasis on technical excellence at the lowest possible cost. After a competitor won a

development contract, however, which as a rule barely represented 20 percent of the projected

work, the firm's financial problems were practically over. As Charles pointed out, "contractors

could afford to submit underpriced development estimates and exaggerated claims of

technical performances," since the government, once committed to the winner, had no easy

escape, and the contractor was assured of reaping significant profits during the ensuing

production run, which typically accounted for more than 80 percent of the total work.52

In these circumstances, the Air Force could ill afford the delays and extra costs that

would accrue in choosing a different contractor to build the airplane. By the same token, if

the experimental hardware did not satisfy the Air Force requirements, cancellation of the

production contracts would waste the money invested in development and postpone further

the introduction of a satisfactory version of the weapon into the Air Force inventory. Hence,

the initial production contract, follow-on production contracts, and contracts for spares,

aerospace equipment, and the like, were negotiated with the winner of the development

contract without any competitive bargaining. Of course, even under the old procedures, the

Air Force did its best to protect itself, and production contracts featured all sorts of built-in

provisions to keep the contractors in line. Sometimes, the arrangements worked very well,

the Strategic Air Command's B–52, manufactured by the Boeing Airplane Company, being

a case in point. Occasionally, cost overruns went wild, as borne out by the B–58, another

bomber produced for the same command by the Convair Division of the General Dynamics

Corporation.53

Against this background, and since development and production of the C–5A was not

expected to involve large steps beyond the technical expertise of the aircraft industry,

Secretary Charles's total-package procurement appeared highly attractive, at least in theory.

Moreover, it certainly met McNamara's requirement for cost-effectiveness, even though one

aspect of the new approach, promoting flexible-cost incentive formulas, was immediately

ruled out for two reasons. First, it conceivably could induce the contractor to reduce his cost

estimates at the outset in order to win the competition and ensure his future profit. Second,

it would be unlikely to reduce the cost to the government. Instead, as spelled out in the

transmittal letters of December 11, 1964, the companies had to submit cost proposals with

only fixed-price, incentive-sharing arrangements.

The letters of transmittal also explained that, because of the total-package

procurement concept, selection of a winner would not be based solely on the merits of an

aircraft design but on the "overall cost effectiveness over a ten-year operational period of a

system which complies with the Air Force stated requirements." Thus, production and

support, as well as development, were to be determining factors. Since competitors had to

submit cost estimates, or target prices, for a quantity of aircraft exceeding that to be initially

purchased, and production and support costs were estimated for several years in the future,
36

the contract contained a clause to protect the airframe and engine winners against

"abnormal" economic fluctuations until January 1968—a date some three years away, beyond

which the government could not estimate potential rates of inflation. From 1968 on, target

and ceiling prices would be subject to annual revisions, based on contractor costs, including

labor, material, equipment, and any additional subcontractor expenses. In essence, the

protection aided the airframe contractor, since he would be responsible for the total operation

of the aircraft system, including, after delivery of the engines, the correction of any deficiencies affecting performance.

Other provisions, however, seemed unlikely to please the manufacturers. For example,

contractor proposals were to specify the "highest" standards they expected to reach; such

standards would then become the Air Force's "minimum acceptable contract standards." Since

contractors traditionally outdid each other with exaggerated claims of performance, the new

provision came as an unpleasant surprise. Correction of deficiencies, also was an integral part

of the new procurement technique and it would be enforced from the start. Strict enforcement

seemed necessary because the Air Force, in order to save time, arranged for production to

begin before flight testing ended. If the tests revealed that the aircraft did not meet all the

specifications in the contract, the manufacturer would be compelled to make the necessary

corrections at his own expense. Finally, another important but unrelated clause pertained to

contract changes amounting to $100,000 or less, which would have to be made as requested

by the Air Force with no change in target cost, profit, or ceiling price.54

The C–5A Program Approved

On January 8, 1965, after a briefing on the many intricacies of total-package

procurement, Secretary McNamara gave his final approval, though not without qualifications.

These did not mean that the Secretary had lost his enthusiasm for the C–5A. On the

contrary, as a tool for carrying out the concept of flexible response, the C–5A program, at

least in the beginning, proved to be one of the rare occurrences during McNamara's tenure

as Secretary of Defense, when he and the unformed military leaders appeared to be in

complete agreement—an irony, considering the many problems that were to plague the

aircraft and the many difficulties attributed to the new procurement technique. Although

McNamara came from the world of heavy industry—the Ford Motor Company—he had been

a highly successful statistician for the Army Air Forces during World War II and brought to

the Department of Defense the financial and statistical orientation, and a caution, usually

associated with banking rather than manufacturing.55

Caution compelled McNamara to request that the plan undergo thorough review by

the Director of Defense Research and Engineering, the Assistant Secretary of Defense

(Comptroller), the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Installations and Logistics, and the

General Counsel. In addition, Congress would receive detailed information about the new

procurement technique. Given his interest in statistics and finance, McNamara insisted that

the C–5A enter service on time and at a reasonable cost. He directed that "the ground rules

and basis for computing total system cost effectiveness ... be clarified and explicitly defined

for all competitors as soon as possible, in order to avoid possible inconsistencies in

interpretation," which could carry the risk of delay in the start of development and slippage

of the C–5A's operational date. The risk of delay was very real, the Secretary of Defense

noted, and would have the greatest impact on "the time span allowed for government

evaluation of the contractor proposals," selection of the winners, and execution of contracts

with subject contractors.56
37

As recommended by Harold Brown, the Director of Defense Research and Engineering,

McNamara entrusted Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert to oversee the project and gave him

principal authority to decide the winners of the competition. This confidence in Zuckert may

have stemmed from his support of McNamara during the TFX [Tactical Fighter experimental]

controversy, when the Secretary of Defense tried unsuccessfully to compel the Navy and Air

Force to accept slightly different versions of the F–111 fighter. Although McNamara fully

endorsed the total-package procurement concept conceived by Charles, he proceeded with

circumspection, delayed his approval of the contract until February 1965, and seemed less

than certain that the new procurement concept would be totally successful.57

Since the Air Force believed, correctly, that McNamara would approve total-package

procurement, the service did not slacken its efforts to speed the development process, since

any delay might prompt the Secretary of Defense to cancel the program. Hence, on December

31, 1964, only ten days after receipt of the competing proposals, so-called project or program

definition contracts were issued to Boeing, Douglas, and Lockheed for the airframe, and to

General Electric and Pratt and Whitney for the engine. In short, production of the C–5A

seemed a foregone conclusion. Dr. Brown had recently told Dr. Flax that, should the new

procurement technique prove unworkable, the government could fall back on the conventional

procedure of a development contract, followed by a production one. To avoid weakening the

government's negotiating position, contractors had to be kept totally unaware of this alternative; officially, the definition contracts would have to remain the sole basis for the production

decision. Moreover, since the total-package procurement seemed the order of the day as far

as Secretary McNamara was concerned, the C–5A system project office had to keep on

clarifying for the contractors the intricacies of the new procurement technique.58

According to General Terhune, educating the contractors had been a difficult

undertaking from the start. Initially, the undermanned system project office received

insufficient guidance from the Air Force Systems Command, and other Air Force commands

and agencies failed to assign persons to the office from the outset. Because competitiveness

formed an essential part of the total-package procurement, engineers of the Aeronautical

Systems Division had to be careful not to reveal inadvertently to a competitor design

information received from another contractor. Nor could the Air Force engineers offer advice

about design proposals. Understandably, contractors were equally cautious when it came to

revealing information to a rival; they flooded the program office with written requests for

clarification but remained practically mute during the several explanatory briefings held by

program representatives.

In mid-January 1965, still concerned by the short time allocated for system definition,

program officials asked about the impact on schedules and costs if the definition period

should be extended, but the trial balloon was immediately punctured. Douglas did not want

additional time without an extra payment of $2 million to cover its additional costs, including

retention of its work force should it become idle because of the extension. Lockheed, behind

schedule as a result of resizing its aircraft, wanted an extension but did not mention money.

However, if the government should provide extensions and additional funds to other

contractors, Lockheed would certainly expect to receive the same financial compensation.

Boeing, believing it led in the competition, opposed an extension which could only benefit its

competitors, but if ASD insisted on an extension, Boeing also would want $2 million in

compensation. Reactions of the engine contractors proved similar; only the amounts differed.

Meanwhile, as of December 31, 1964, the airframe contractors had been paid $7.1 million

apiece for their endeavors, while each of the two engine contractors had received about $2

million. Yet, except for General Electric and Pratt and Whitney, the work apparently was
38

becoming far more costly than expected. Years later, an Air Force reviewing team reported

that, regardless of what the contractors had been paid, the entire competition had probably

cost each airframe competitor some $50 million. 5 9

Another important facet of the total-package procurement concept was program

funding. Whereas Dr. Brown had endorsed a request from the C–5A program office request

to deviate from the procurement funding procedures in place since the spring of 1957,

Secretary McNamara stated on February 25, 1965, that the C–5A production would not

receive special funding privileges. In other words, whoever won the C–5A contract would be

unable to reduce production costs by ordering ahead of time large quantities of material from

the various suppliers. The winning contractor would also be handicapped in dealing with

subcontractors since money would be provided only in fiscal-year increments, "as in the case

of any other major weapon system for the quantity programmed for the applicable program

year." In addition, contract terms limited governmental liability should the program be

terminated or reduced, and the contractor could not, of its own volition, accelerate the pace

of production. However, to ease the contractor's financial burden during the system

development, testing, and production implementation, McNamara permitted progress

payments for work actually completed to be increased to 90 percent from the usual 70

percent.60

The Study of March 1965: Weight and Engines

As Zuckert requested in mid-1964, the Air Force in March 1965 completed a cost study

of the C–5A program that included design, development, testing, evaluation, investment, and

operations through fiscal 1974. Studies like this one, done by the Aeronautical Systems

Division of the AFSC, were not unusual. The Air Force as a rule attempted to estimate the

future cost of a new weapon system using the cost data of related systems. In the case of the

C–5, the costs of the C–130, C–135, and C–141 provided the basis for comparison. Yet, as the

Air Force and Department of Defense knew, comparing costs in this fashion could be a risky

business. For example, the C–141 featured engines already developed and in use throughout

the aircraft industry. In contrast, no one knew for a time how many engines would equip the

C–5, or what kind of engines the Air Force and the winning engine contractor would provide.

Although the C–5 was expected to be well within the state of the art, its enormous weight

would require special engines with very powerful thrust, and an engine, after all, is an

airplane's most critical component. Total cost for 115 aircraft (refurbished test aircraft,

included) was estimated to approach $3.7 billion. The March 1965 study was intended to

serve as a standard to determine during the aircraft acquisition process if the proposals from

the contractors were reasonable. Cost estimates had already been computed on several

occasions and their importance explained to the contractors. Yet, the March document was

the first study encompassing not only the complexity of project engineering, but also a

providing a "paper weight model," an estimate of the weight of the future C–5A, a necessary

precaution in view of recent weight increases. Unfortunately, the Air Force cost study and

"paper weight model" of March 1965 proved futile gestures, when cost and structural

difficulties, the latter undoubtedly due to saving weight, beset the C–5A in later years.

As a basis for calculating the cost of the competing airframes, the Aeronautical

Systems Division used the Lockheed C–130, the Boeing KC–135, the Douglas C–133, and

another Lockheed transport, the C–141. Engine cost data came from the Pratt and Whitney

TF30 of the General Dynamics F–111, from the General Electric axial turbojet J93 of the
39

experimental North American B–70, and from the Pratt and Whitney TF33 of the C–141; the

KC–135 and C–141 provided data for avionics, ground paraphernalia, and training

equipment. Since transport and cargo planes did not need the same kinds of sophisticated

and often interconnected components as bombers and fighters, their operational requirements

as a rule were reasonably straightforward, and contractors had fewer opportunities to pad

their proposals with enticing claims of technical performance. For one reason or another,

however, cost overruns still occurred in transport and cargo craft.

Consequently, if most of the past failings of aircraft procurement identified by

Assistant Secretary Charles were valid, they cast doubts on the accuracy of the several billion

dollars in cost estimates calculated over the years by the Aeronautical Systems Division.

Moreover, predicting a program's total cost over a period of nearly ten years seemed an overly

ambitious and risky undertaking. Despite the doubts about its past work, by March 1965, the

Aeronautical Systems Division had reached a conclusion regarding the C–5. For 115 aircraft

(Production Runs A and B), ASD cost analysts came up with a minimum estimate of $3,219.9

billion and a maximum one of $3,740.2 billion. In short, ASD believed that no specific figure

could be established and that the total cost of only two production runs of the C–5A would

fall between the two estimates, a margin of roughly $500 million. The carefully hedged

estimate seemed to suggest the division's uneasiness in coping with both anticipated

increases in airframe weight and Secretary Charles's new procurement procedure.61

The Air Force knew all too well the problems inherent in airframe weight increases.

Such problems, like some of the procurement failings identified by Assistant Secretary

Charles, might also prove unexpectedly difficult to eliminate. Indeed, the terminology of

procurement underscored the difficulty. The development of any given weapon system

stemmed from initial requirements, put out by the armed services and promptly endorsed by

eager manufacturers. The requirements, however, because of their initial or tentative nature,

needed refinement. Even as they called for changes, the military services tended to become

complacent because contractors chose to ignore or minimize the impact of these numerous

modifications until the service became irrevocably committed to the development or

production contract. Like the other armed services, the Air Force had repeatedly but

unsuccessfully tried to solve the problem. Of course, the fault often lay with the purchaser,

as in the case of the Boeing B–47, when the Air Force rushed production while

simultaneously imposing a multitude of new requirements on the prime contractor. Similarly,

the Air Force made unrealistic demands on the builder of the B–58, thus contributing to

slippage of the IOC and high cost.62

Whatever the aircraft, weight increases tended to snowball, as they reduced

performance by increments. The easiest solution to added weight consisted of substituting

more powerful engines. In the case of the C–5, however, development of a new engine would

be a time-consuming and costly undertaking, and increasing the power of an engine not yet

tested verged on the impossible. Moreover, any substitution of a different powerplant created

new problems. Equipping an overweight aircraft with better or more numerous engines raised

fuel consumption, thereby increasing operational costs and reducing range; whereas

performance usually improved, the weight of extra fuel further taxed the aircraft structure

and decreased its payload. Hence, extensive and expensive structural modifications became

necessary before, during, and after the initial production run of a new or greatly improved

aircraft. On occasion, a similar investment became necessary years later to extend the plane's

operational life. In either case, unavoidable modifications generated very substantial profits

for the aircraft industry.63

The history of aircraft procurement persuaded the Air Force to give total-package
40

procurement a try. The odds of success seemed good, for the C–5A was not expected to

require technological advances too bold for the new contractual arrangements. Believing it

had thoroughly explained its requirements for a cargo plane during the preceding CX–X and

CX–HLS projects, the Air Force had become confident that the C–5A embodied the desired

performance and could be developed with a reasonable expectation of success. In addition, the

new procurement concept that Charles backed might satisfy an Air Force goal of long

standing by requiring "a tightening of design and configuration discipline, both in the

specifications on which the competitors will submit proposals, and in the work under the

contract." Since they were committed to cost and performance figures for production aircraft

before detail design began, all the competitors would be motivated to come up with a design

that would result in an aircraft economically produced, reliable, and easy to maintain. All

aspects of such a design would be directly influenced by actions taken "right from the start"

of the detail design period, whereas past procurement procedures had consistently failed to

assert influence so early. In final analysis, however, the key to the C–5 or any airplane of its

extraordinary size and weight had to be its engine. Without adequate thrust the future

transport aircraft could not go anywhere.

Weight: A Frustrating Start

Shortly after release in December 1964 of the request for proposals, the Air Force

optimism turned to consternation as program officials realized that the C–5A was gaining

weight. Weight had several aspects, the most basic among them being gross weight, the total

weight of a fully loaded aircraft, also known as take-off weight and including the "dry weight"

of the aircraft plus the crew, fuel, and payload. Operating weight, or operating weight empty,

included the basic dry weight of the airplane plus the weight of the crew, oil, crewmen's

baggage, stewards' equipment, and any emergency or extra items that might be required; it

excluded any ammunition on board and the weight of fuel, whether in external or internal

tanks, along with the fire-suppressant added to the fuel. Gross weight lay at the heart of the

C–5A's problem.

The conceptual, parametric studies of June 1964 had predicted that gross weight

would range from 645,000 to 681,000 pounds, and the Air Force assumed this figure would

be incorporated in the operational requirement. Yet, in the rush to release the requests for

proposal, errors occurred. Items that were part of the aircraft's operating weight empty were

not properly labeled and were now showing up in the gross weight, where they proved to be

"the major cause of increased weight." The items omitted, known in Air Force terminology

as "dead weight items," included ramps, doors, lights, tools, equipment tie-down chains, and

war readiness material (WRM) kits. Also included were the aircraft engines, provisions for

benches or individual seats for twenty flight deck personnel, and a special removable deck

above the cargo floor for eighty-seven troops. By 1965, the contractors realized that their

proposals had not taken into account all requirements and began to acknowledge weight

increases which, to the dismay of the Air Force, would bring the aircraft gross weight to

about 700,000 pounds. In other words, while the Air Force grappled with one weight increase,

another one was taking shape. Frenzied activity ensued, as harassed program officials sought

to reduce the C–5A's burgeoning weight.

Reducing the weight of any kind of aircraft always posed a challenge. In the case of

the future C–5A, it was particularly difficult because the number of engines fluctuated from

four to six as the Air Force refined the concept. The difficulty became evident in the request

for proposals of December 1964, which asked for a minimum engine thrust of 40,000 pounds
41

but did not list definite design characteristics, such as bypass ratios and specific fuel

consumption.

On January 24, 1965, ASD established an ad hoc weight control group of seven

engineers, but raised this total to twenty soon afterward. The engineers, most of whom were

weight control specialists, concluded that requirements in the request for proposals had

increased the airframe's dead weight by 16,799 pounds or roughly eight tons. Since the

review deleted no more than five "dead weight" items—those that did not contribute to

aircraft performance—for a meager decrease of 950 pounds, the only remaining solution lay

in tradeoffs, in effect adding to one category while subtracting from another. Hence, such

dead weight items as equipment tie-down chains, accommodations for troops, and aft toe

ramps would be counted as part of the aircraft's payload and included in its gross or takeoff

weight. Obviously, shifting weight from one category to the other would have no effect on the

aggregate weight, but just the same, the solution had merits. Transferring removable dead

weight items to payload would cut the aircraft operating weight empty by some 8,000 pounds.

This redistribution and an 8,000-pound reduction of the payload suggested by the December

1964 request for proposals would eliminate the 16,799 pounds identified by the ad hoc group

of engineers and bring the maximum weight of the C–5A to an acceptable level. Moreover,

elimination of the eight tons would lower fuel consumption, thereby opening the way for an

additional weight reduction by decreasing the aircraft's fuel load. Of course, the tradeoffs

would benefit some missions more than others, when, for example, the aircraft need not carry

all of the equipment now shifted to the payload category, or when it would fly out empty to

pick up cargo.64

The approved tradeoffs reflected the original Air Force concept of plane designed

expressly to carry cargo. The tradeoffs came into conflict, however, with public statements

by high-ranking officials and Air Force public information officers to the effect that "the C–5A

should be able to lift 600 or 700 troops up to 7,000 miles at over 500 miles per hour." To

make matters worse, Secretary McNamara, on the basis of erroneous Air Force data that

ignored the weight reduction tradeoffs, told a television audience that the C–5A could

accommodate 700 civilians or 600 fully-equipped troops. Although potentially embarrassing,

the claims were promptly put to rest as semantic errors, a fair explanation in light of the

official changes presented to the contractors in the spring of 1965.65

On March 23, 1965, the Air Force scaled down contractor requirements by issuing a

change notice to the request for proposals of December 11, 1964. The new document, included

in ASD's cost study that Secretary Zuckert had requested months before, reflected the recent

engineering study and the paper weight model, as it sought to reduce weight. The ASD

engineering study and paper weight model, however, were essentially management tools. As

a result, the change notice explicitly told the contractors that palletized seating for additional

troops, to be installed on the main cargo deck, should not be included in the aircraft basic

weight, because it would only be installed for emergency operations. To avoid further

misunderstandings on the part of either industry or the government, it specified that the Air

Force did not plan to use the C–5A on multi-purpose missions to transport substantial

numbers of paratroopers or passengers and had "no firm requirement" for either more

emergency exits or additional doors for paratroop jumps. The change notice also informed the

contractors that the aircraft payload was to be defined as deliverable cargo, a category that

excluded the removable seats or other accommodations for troops, WRM kits, pallets, tiedown nets, tie-down chains in excess of 1,750 pounds, and rear toe ramps, unless the item

was actually on board. Finally, the contractors were directed to accept a higher temperature

in the cargo area while the plane was on the ground; this change in air-conditioning would
42

save the weight and the cost of an auxiliary power unit.66

Despite these efforts, weight remained a problem. Even after the signing of the C–5A

contract in late 1965, General Schriever continued to express concern, commenting that, if

necessary, lighter and stronger synthetic materials should be selected and more efficient

structural design achieved to reduce weight wherever possible. Schriever retired as AFSC

commander on August 31, 1966, long before the problems with the C–5A received public

attention. As a staunch proponent of decentralization, he would remain convinced years later

that the concept of total-package procurement endorsed by McNamara had been faulty.

Others, however, would argue that the C–5A's most serious problems stemmed from the Air

Force's insistence on original weight specifications and Lockheed's unwise structural changes

to meet them.67
43

Endnotes

1. Anna Kasten Nelson, "President Kennedy's National Security Policy: A Reconsideration,"

Reviews in American History, Vol. 19, No. 1, pp. 1-12; George F. Lemmer, Strengthening

USAF Airlift Forces, 1961-1964 (Washington, D.C.: Air Force Historical Liaison Office,

February 1966), p.1; Walter L. Kraus and Staff, C–141 Starlifter, January 1959-June 1979

(Scott AFB, Ill.: Military Airlift Command History Office, n. d.), p. 23.

2. Kraus et al., C–141, pp. 1-31.

3. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. I, pp. 463-65.

4. Ibid., pp. 582, 586, 626.

5. Betty R. Kennedy, Headquarters Air Materiel Command History Office, "Evolution of Roles

and Missions Authorities Vested in AMC/USTRANSCOM, 1941-1993," August 6, 1993, p.4.

6. Annual Report of the Secretary of the Air Force, Fiscal 1961, pp. 296-297.

7. Tunner, The Hump, pp. 301-2.

8. Krause, et al., C–141, pp. 9-10.

9. History Office, Military Airlift Command, Anything, Anywhere, Anytime: An Illustrated

History of the Military Airlift Command, 1941-1991 (Scott AFB, Ill.: Military Airlift

Command, May 1991), p.99.

10. Ibid., pp. 103-4.

11. Official biography of Gen. James Ferguson, Sep. 1, 1969; Kraus et al., C–141, pp. 8-9.

12. Lemmer, Strengthening USAF Airlift Forces, p. 21; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 20.

13. Tunner, The Hump, pp. 307-13.

14. Ibid., pp. 305-9.

15. Ibid., p. 305; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 20-21.

16. Tunner, The Hump, pp. 310-12.

17. Ibid.

18. Ibid., pp. 312-13.

19. Kraus et al., C-141, pp. 20-23; Lemmer, Strengthening USAF Airlift Forces, p. 5.

20. Lemmer, Strengthening USAF Airlift Forces, p. 42; USAF Standard Aircraft

Characteristics [The Green Book], Vol. 2, Addendum 49, Mar. 1971; Gordon Swanborough and

Peter M. Bowers, United States Military Aircraft Since 1908 (London: Putnam, 1971), p. 354.

21. Lemmer, Strengthening USAF Airlift Forces, pp. 15, 17; Annual Report of the Department

of Defense, Fiscal 1962, p. 7.

22. Anything, Anywhere, Anytime, pp.99-101.

23. Ibid.

24. Kathleen Heintz, "The C–5A," Harvard University, John F. Kennedy School of

Government, Case Program (1976), p. 15.

25. Ibid.

26. Ibid., p. 6: Swanborough and Bowers, U.S. Military Aircraft, pp. 272-73; Michael H. Levy,

History of the C–5A Galaxy, 1961-1965: First Total-Package Procurement (Andrews AFB, Md.:

AFSC, October 1978), p. 6; Ltr, LeMay to Schriever, Mar. 9, 1963, Sup. Doc. 1 to Levy, C–5A,

1961-1965.

27. Francillon, "Galaxy," p. 272.

28. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 6; Ltr, Schriever to LeMay, Mar. 9, 1963, Sup. Doc. 1 to Levy,

C–5A 1961-1965; George

M. Watson, Jr., The Office of Secretary of the Air Force, 1947-1965 (Washington, D.C.: Office

of Air Force History, 1991), Chapter 9.

29. Comments by Dr., Richard K. Smith on draft MS; Francillon, "Galaxy," p. 270.
44

30. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 12-15

31. Ibid., pp. 12-13; USAF Biography, "Maj. Gen M.C. Demler," September 15, 1968.

32. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 13-24.

33. Ibid., pp. 24-25; Memo, Lt. Gen. James Ferguson, DCS/Research & Development, to

AFSC, subj: CX-HLS Heavy Logistics Support Aircraft, Dec. 4, 1963, Sup. Doc. 10 to Levy,

C–5A, 1961-1965.

34. Testimony by Secretary of the Air Force Harold Brown, Hearings before Subcommittee

of the Senate Committee on Appropriations for Fiscal Year 1969, U.S. Senate, 90th Congress,

2d Sess, pp. 17-18; Henry L. Trewhitt, McNamara: His Ordeal in the Pentagon (New York:

Harper and Row, 1971), p. 157; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 16.

35. Office of Air Force Comptroller, Directorate of Data Automation, August 1970; Air Force

Historical Liaison Office, C-141 Summary, 1965; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 16-18.

36. Levy C–5A, 1961-1965, p.18; comments by Dr. Richard K. Smith on draft MS.

37. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 18-19.

38. Ibid., pp. 44-45; Hearings, Military Posture and Fiscal Year 1970 Appropriations for

Aircraft Procurement, before Committee on Armed Services, House of Representatives, 91st

Congress, First Session, Part II, July 1969, n.p.; Air Force Oral History Interview, Gen.

Bernard Schriever, June 10, 1973, p. 34.

39. Comments by Dr. Richard K. Smith on draft MS.

40. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 19.

41. Ibid., p. 19, 27; Msg, AFSC to ASD/RUCDGU, WPAFB, Ohio, Sep. 3, 1964, subj: 24 Aug

1964 CX-HLS Briefing to Air Staff, Dr. Flax, and Assistant Secretary Charles, Sup. Doc. 32

to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965.

42. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 25, 27; Francillon, "Galaxy," pp. 270-73.

43. Memo, A. H. Flax, Assistant Secretary of the Air Force, Research and Development, to

Maj. Gen. R. D. Curtin, Director Development Plans, DCS/R&D, Sep. 18, 1964, Subj: CXHLS, Sup. Doc. 33 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965.

44. Ltr, Gen. B. A. Schriever, AFSC Commander, to Lt. Gen. Ferguson, HQ USAF (AFRDC),

Oct. 20, 1964, subj: Systems Command Position, CX-HLS Program, Sup. Doc. 35 to Levy,

C–5A, 1961-1965.

45. Memo, Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert to Secretary of Defense McNamara, Nov. 21,

1964, subj: Heavy Logistics System/CX-HLS. Sup. Doc. 36 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965.

46. Program Change (Format B, F-4-036, F-4-080), Secretary of Defense Decision/Guidance,

to Implementing DOD Component (Air Force), Dec. 1964, Sup. Doc. 37 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-

1965; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 30-32.

47. SOR 214, HQ USAF/AFORQ, Mar. 25, 1964, rev. Jan. 5, 1965, Sup. Doc. 16 to Levy,

C–5A, 1961-1965; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 37.

48. Ltr, Maj. Gen. C. H. Terhune, Jr., ASD Commander, to Gen. B. A. Schriever, Commander

AFSC, Dec. 18, 1964, subj: C–5A Program Definition Schedule, Sup. Doc. 40 to Levy, C–5A,

1961-1965.

49. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 49-50; Gorn, Vulcan's Forge, pp. 74-75.

50. Fortune Magazine, Feb. 1965, p. 52; Chronology in Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. xiv; Levy,

C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 50, 58.

51. Knaack, Fighters and Bombers, passim; Robert Charles, Asst Secretary of the Air Force

(Installations and Logistics), "Effective Competition, A Key to Government Procurement,"

with background data, Defense Industry Bulletin (October 1965), n.p., News Release 147-65,

Office of Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public Affairs), Total Package, Mar. 12, 1965;

Herbert Cheshire, "Looking for New Contract Ideas? Try C–5A Plan," Purchasing Week, (Oct.
45

18, 1965), n.p.

52. Charles, "Effective Competition," n.p.; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 45.

53. Knaack, Bombers, pp. 205-83, 351-85.

54. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 43-44, 50-52, 58-59.

55. Ibid., p. 62; Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 157.

56. Memo, Secretary of Defense McNamara to Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert, Feb. 25,

1965, subj: (C–5A/CX-HLS) Heavy Logistics System, Tab E, Sup. Doc. 40 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-

1965; Ltr, Lt. Gen. T. P. Gerrity, DCS/Systems and Logistics, to L. Mendel Rivers, Chairman,

House Committee on Armed Services, et al., Mar. 25, 1965, Sup. Doc. 46 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-

1965; Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 55.

57. Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 12; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 63; Memo, Secretary of

Defense McNamara to Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert, Feb. 25, 1965, subj: (C–5A/CXHLS) Heavy Logistics System, Tab E, Sup. Doc. 40 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965; Knaack,

Fighters, pp. 223-56.

58. Memo, Director of Defense Research and Engineering to Assistant Secretary of the Air

Force (Research and Development), Dec. 11, 1964, subj: Project Definition Phase for CX-HLS

(C–5A) Aircraft, Sup. Doc. 38 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 47-48.

59. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 37-40, 60-61.

60. Ibid., pp. 61, 63-64; Memo, Secretary of Defense McNamara to Secretary of the Air Force

Zuckert, Feb. 25, 1965, subj: (C–5A/CX-HLS) Heavy Logistics System, Tab E, p. 3, Sup. Doc.

40 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965; Department of Defense Directive 7200.4, May 21, 1957.

61. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 45, 71-72.

63. Knaack, Bombers, pp 99-151, 351-85.

63. Knaack, Fighters and Bombers, passim; Richard K. Smith, "The Weight Envelope: An

Airplane's Fourth Dimension—Aviation's Bottom Line," Aerospace Historian, Vol. 33, No. 1

(Spring 1986), pp. 30-34.

64. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 44-46, 72-73.

65. Memo, Bernard V. Lowry, Deputy Director for Engineering, C–5A System Program Office,

to Col. Townsend, Director, C–5A System Program Office, Oct. 1, 1965, subj: C–5A Troop

Carrying Capability, Sup. Doc. 63 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 81-

82.

66. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 74-80.

67. Gorn, Vulcan's Forge, pp. 84-86.
46
47

CHAPTER III

BUILDING THE C–5A: PROBLEMS AND CONTROVERSY

Total-package procurement imposed special requirements on the acquisition process

for the C–5. For example, new procedures governed selection of the contractors. To begin

with, Secretary of Defense McNamara delegated selection authority to Secretary of the Air

Force Zuckert—an authority rarely exercised by a service secretary since the mid-1950s,

especially during the McNamara years, 1961-1968.

McNamara's seven-year tenure witnessed a succession of major events, notably the

beginning and escalation of the Vietnam War. Some of McNamara's personal contributions

to the Presidencies of Kennedy and Johnson, although highly controversial, withstood the

passage of time, lasting through the 1980s and into the 1990s. Among other things, his

overhaul of the airlift forces and acquisition of the C–5 had long-lived consequences.

Moreover, McNamara's handling of President John F. Kennedy's strategy of flexible response,

in which airlift and the C–5 played a critical part, showed an uncanny perspicacity and a

noteworthy wisdom.1

President Kennedy's national policies basically followed those of Truman and

Eisenhower, particularly when it came to fiscal restraint. Kennedy, however, emphatically

rejected President Dwight Eisenhower's continued strong reliance on nuclear weapons, a

strategy actually rooted on the Truman Presidency.2 In the late 1950s, the Army Chief of

Staff, Gen. Maxwell D. Taylor gained increasing support for the concept of flexible response,

causing Eisenhower and his Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles, to reconsider, though not

abandon entirely, their reliance on nuclear deterrence. They agreed that the increased power

of the Soviet Union's nuclear arsenal, along with its American counterpart, might cancel each

other and increase the likelihood of so-called wars of liberation or limited wars.3 Between

1958 and 1962, a series of crises in Lebanon, the Congo, Berlin, and Cuba underscored the

risk of direct military confrontation with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.4 In any case,

before the Lebanon landing, the Eisenhower Administration had not shared Maxwell Taylor's

opinion that using atomic tactical weapons against military targets in any limited war "would

be more likely to trigger off a big war than the use of twenty-ton block-busters."5

In 1961, upon ascending to the Presidency, Kennedy faced many problems. As the

Soviet Union's strategic nuclear arsenal grew, the American homeland was becoming more

vulnerable to a devastating surprise attack. Such an occurrence appeared unlikely but

remained a possibility several decades later. In the 1970s and early 1980s, according to one

scholar, David Alan Rosenberg, the United States government believed that a major nuclear

exchange would bring mutual disaster. Both nations "would suffer very high levels of damage

and neither could conceivably be described as a `winner'. This was true regardless of who

strikes first.... Whether the attack is a surprise and regardless of the targeting policy adopted

by either side."6 Fatalities would be so high (over a million in each country) that neither could

risk an all-out war. Should the Soviet Union attack Europe with a conventionally-armed

horde, Kennedy believed that flexible response might be the answer, but in a different form

than the Eisenhower administration had planned. Moreover, Kennedy, like Maxwell Taylor,

realized that Soviet-sponsored wars of liberation were likely to erupt and that attempting to

fight them with tactical nuclear weapons would result in rapid escalation. Nevertheless,

keeping the Warsaw Pact conventional forces uncertain as to the possible use of tactical

nuclear weapons would complicate Soviet planning. For these reasons, Kennedy instructed

Secretary of Defense McNamara to define the new strategy. McNamara codified the American
48

proposals and presented them to the European allies in 1961 and 1962, but the Europeans

did not accept flexible response until 1967.7

As McNamara quickly discovered, defining flexible response, as requested by President

Kennedy, was far easier that drafting a policy acceptable to the other nations of the North

Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), for all the nations had different requirements. The

British government, for example, recognized the need to provide conventional forces capable

of responding, without using nuclear weapons, to a major attack by the Warsaw Pact, but

Great Britain thought that the NATO build-up had to be very modest given the low likelihood

of such an attack. The Germans also recognized the need to provide for a conventional

response in certain limited circumstances but, in final analysis, "found it as undesirable

because it suggested a weakening of the nuclear deterrent and a willingness to fight a long

conventional war on European territory."8 As the principal American advocate of flexible

response, McNamara exercised masterful ambiguity, enabling the European allies to interpret

Kennedy's policy as they saw fit. the only exception being France. The Secretary of Defense

rarely displayed such diplomacy; he showed greater patience with the rigidity of foreign

governments that with opposition from Congress or the American military.9

In early 1958, rebellion in French North Africa toppled the government at Paris, and

Gen. Charles de Gaulle became prime minister with extraordinary powers. In December of

that year, he was elected president of France, which gave him the opportunity to achieve

goals that he had been nurturing for years, few of which were likely to please the United

States. The Suez Canal crisis of 1956, when Eisenhower had forced France and Great Britain

to cease operations to recapture the Suez Canal from Egyptian forces, convinced de Gaulle

that French interests often conflicted with those of the United States. The crisis, which

humiliated both the United Kingdom and France, revived de Gaulle's bitterness toward the

United States, which dated from perceived slights during World War II.

Trying to sell flexible response to NATO, McNamara encountered a prickly de Gaulle

determined to put French interests first. Although the American Secretary of Defense urged

NATO to adopt a series of military options between nuclear holocaust and abject surrender

and argued that a single authority, obviously in Washington, should control the nuclear

retaliatory forces, de Gaulle continued to develop an independent nuclear force under French

control. The Cuban missile crisis of 1962 seemed to confirm de Gaulle's fears that his country

might well become a radioactive wasteland in the event of a third world war. In 1966, after

blocking Britain's entry in the European Common Market, strengthening French ties with

West Germany, and extending diplomatic recognition to Communist China, de Gaulle ordered

NATO forces out of France, thus severing the air lanes upon which flexible response might

someday depend.10

Actually, the vulnerability of the United States to the loss of overseas bases and

landing or overflight rights had surfaced immediately after the fighting ended in Korea. The

Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Hoyt S. Vandenberg, had recognized the problem when he

suggested that airmobile logistics support could substitute for vulnerable depots located on

foreign soil.11

Another problem of long standing, high on Vandenberg's list of critical priorities, still

remained unsolved in the early 1960s, that of the Army's need for more airlift. In mid-1953,

on the heels of the Korean Armistice, the Army Chief of Staff, Gen. J. Lawton Collins, began

insisting that the Army should be made as air transportable as possible over great

distances.12 Ten years later, the Military Air Transport Services was still attempting to

convince the U.S. Strike Command (STRICOM) that the airlift forces were capable of

satisfying the Army's mobility requirements.13
49

Against this background, the airlift forces increased in importance, and acquiring the

C–5 took on greater urgency. Luckily for the Air Force, despite the many innovations of the

total- package procurement concept (TPPC), the future transport's detailed evaluation and

early selection process proved fairly smooth, even though there were no precedents for the

new method of procurement.14

Source Selection Board Proceedings

The Air Force C–5A Source Selection Board, established on November 16, 1964,

consisted of senior military and civilian officials appointed by the source selection authority,

Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert, formerly an assistant to Secretaries of the Air Force

Stuart Symington and Thomas K. Finletter, and an acquaintance of Secretary McNamara

since both had taught at the Harvard School of Business. General Terhune, Commander of

the Aeronautical Systems Division (ASD), headed the Selection Board, and three general

officers, one each from the air transport, logistics, and systems commands, served as voting

members. The three formed what was sometimes called the management group. The Selection

Board reviewed the findings of the Evaluation Group, which began its formal functions on

April 20, 1965. The Evaluation Group, at one time totaling as many as 500 military and

civilian experts appointed by the Selection Board, conducted a technical analysis of every

proposal, determined if it met Air Force requirements, but made no recommendations. The

Source Selection Board in turn examined the findings of the Evaluation Group and made nonbinding recommendations of winners of the airframe and engine competitions. Gen. Bernard

A. Schriever, Commander of the Air Force Systems Command (AFSC), General Howell M.

Estes, Jr., Commander of the Military Air Transport Service (MATS), who had replaced

General Kelly in 1964, and General Mark E. Bradley, Jr., Commander of the Air Force

Logistics Command (AFLC)—the three senior commanders directly involved in the C–5A

project—subsequently would inform the Air Force Council of their preferred choices, and the

council would give Secretary Zuckert its recommendations which, like those of the three

generals of the management group, were not binding. As a rule, the Air Force leadership

accepted the council's advice without question. In the case of the C–5A, however, Secretary

Zuckert bore the ultimate authority, exercising "maximum latitude in the selection process."15

Five airframe contractors initially competed. In June 1964, however, two of them, the

General Dynamics and Martin Marietta corporations, were eliminated after submitting

proposals and therefore, did not participate in the parametric studies authorized and funded

by the Department of Defense in December 1963. This left a total of five competitors, the

Boeing, Douglas, and Lockheed-Georgia companies for the airframe and the General Electric

Company and Pratt and Whitney Aircraft Division of the United Aircraft Corporation for the

engine. One of the basic provisions of total-package procurement specifically required that

all five competitors sign production contracts even though only two would eventually qualify

to carry them out. The contractors would immediately receive fixed-price agreements to define

their preliminary but detailed systems designs, which would become government property.

Although relatively small at the beginning, the C–5 contract promised to become extremely

lucrative, inspiring fierce competition. Probably for this very reason, none of the contractors

objected to the new competitive procedures, which obviously favored the Air Force in letting

the contract. Another provision allowed the Air Force to continue defraying, at least partially,

the expenses of the competitors until the final two winners emerged. On the other hand, postevaluation payments could be stopped should the Air Force determine that a proposal did not

meet established requirements.
50

On July 27, 1965, the Air Force Systems Command authorized weekly payments on

the propulsion system contracts throughout the entire competition. The money, intended to

verify engine components, would continue to be paid until the final winner was selected. As

it turned out, Pratt and Whitney hardly benefitted from the post-evaluation arrangement,

for Secretary Zuckert announced on August 5 that financing of Pratt and Whitney's interim

contract was being discontinued. General Electric, the only rival, had won the engine

competition. Official announcement, strictly a formality, would await the selection of a

contractor for the airframe.16

The Air Force rejected the Pratt and Whitney engine for three reasons: it consumed

excessive amounts of fuel; the projected cost seemed unrealistic; and the risks associated with

developing specific engine components—like the high-pressure compressor, the combustor,

and the high-pressure turbine—appeared prohibitive. Pratt and Whitney's president, H. E.

Mallet, attempted to rescue the project with a revised proposal emphasizing logistics support,

production capacity, engine weight, and ease of maintenance, but the Air Force rejected it.17

Selection of the airframe builder took more time than choosing a contractor for the

engine. To begin with, all three contractors —Boeing, Douglas, and Lockheed—submitted

enticing proposals, which arrived in April 1965. The evaluations lasted until August 18,

when the deliberations of the airframe Source Selection Board ended. Five days later the

board advised the Air Force Council that Boeing Airplane Company was the unanimous

choice. Procedures peculiar to total-package procurement now took effect, giving the

contractors the opportunity to respond to criticism from the Source Selection Board, forward

their proposed changes, and sign airframe contracts prepared by the Air Force in anticipation

of the final award.

Changes proposed by contractors and the attendant cost revisions, together with

signed contracts, reached the Air Force on September 4, 1965. Although Lockheed submitted

drawings for a highly attractive new design, source selection officials again favored the

Boeing entry. In their opinion, the drastic changes outlined by Lockheed could not be made

at such a late date without significant technical risk and the resulting likelihood of delays

in aircraft acquisition and increased costs. The Douglas proposal fell in the same category,

presenting definite advantages offset by technical risk. Once more, Boeing seemed unbeatable

with the "best technically balanced design" in the opinion of the board.

Source selection officials attributed Boeing's superiority to the blown-flap, a high-lift

device, that enabled the contractor to design an aircraft with a smaller wing area and lesser

gross weight. The mechanism used engine exhaust gas to control the boundary layer passing

over the trailing-edge wing flap, increasing lift, allowing a more satisfactory match between

takeoff and cruising speeds, and enabling the plane to operate with heavier loads from short

air strips. By improving lift the blown flap also resulted lower stalling speeds and safer

landings and takeoffs. Despite the aerodynamic edge conferred by this device, Boeing's

competitive success proved short-lived.

From the start, total-package procurement sought to insure that the unproven merits

of an aircraft design that existed only on paper would not dominate the selection process. The

concept tried to make costs of production, as well as logistics support of a weapon system,

part of the equation. In other words, the "total package" combined technical considerations

with cost-effectiveness, which McNamara began emphasizing immediately upon taking office.

From this standpoint of this combination, the Lockheed proposal, regardless of its technical

risks, might appear to be the best.

In estimating cost-effectiveness, the Air Force, relied on extrapolation from previous

programs, taking into account inflation as well as changes in the product, to develop a so-
51

called "most probable cost" formula, with which to reevaluate the new figures accompanying

the revised proposals. Every cost proposal envisioned a six-squadron force of 115 aircraft, in

two production runs. Only the first lot, referred to as Production Run A, underwent detailed

analysis. Run A totaled 58 aircraft, including five test versions that would later be brought

up to operational standard. The second lot, Production Run B, would consist of the remaining

57 aircraft. The cost of subsequent purchases, should the program be expanded to 200, was

not mentioned. The Air Force had not requested it, because production cost could not be

estimated with any degree of accuracy so far in advance.

Lockheed, whose first proposal had been the least expensive, once again fared well,

projecting a total-package procurement cost of $1.714 billion for the 115 aircraft in Production

Runs A and B. For the same number of aircraft, also including research and development

costs plus a target profit of 10 percent, Douglas wanted $1.793 billion and Boeing, $2.014

billion. Using its own formula, the Air Force concluded that the Lockheed program most

probably would cost $1.860 billion, Douglas $2.019; and Boeing $2.055. Since the Air Force

calculations did not include the target profit incorporated in the contractor figures, it was

clear that not one but all of the proposals were optimistic or willfully underpriced. The

proposed characteristics of the three designs proved similar enough to complicate decisionmaking even more, as substantiated by the following data:18
1 Horizontal Stabilizer neutral, landing gear in normal taxi position.

2 Operating Tare, or "tare weight," also called "dry weight," is the weight of the

airplane ready to fly, excluding crew, fuel and oil, payload, and miscellaneous

consumables.

52

Characteristics of Contractors' Proposals

................................................................

................................................................

.......................................................... Boeing

Douglas ................................................. Lockheed

Wing Area (Sq. ft.) .......................................................

................................................................

5,500 ..................................................... 6,200

........................................................... 6,200

Wing Span (Linear ft.) ....................................................

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215

222.8 .................................................... 222.7

Acft Length (Linear ft.) ...................................................

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222

208.8 .................................................... 236.2

Acft Height1 (Linear ft.) ...................................................

......................................................... 68.6

70.2 .................................................... 58.6

Usable Cargo Area (Sq. ft.) ................................................

......................................................... 2,804

2,807 ................................................... 2,747

Usable Cargo Vol. (Cu ft.) .................................................

......................................................... 39,106

43,900 .................................................. 37,837

Operating Tare Wgt.2 (Lbs.) ................................................

318,768 ................................................... 318,529
3 Disposable load is the difference between maximum takeoff weight (MTOW)

and tare weight, including the crew, fuel and oil, payload, and consumables. The

payload is a fraction of the disposable load, consisting of passengers, cargo

(military ordnance such as bombs or bullets), or any combination thereof.

4 Maximum takeoff weight (MTOW), also called gross weight, includes

everything. It is, however, eventually limited legally by the airplane's certificate of

airworthiness, which tends to err on the side of conservatism.

53

323,718

Disposable Load3 (Lbs.) ...................................................

......................................................... 416,232

378,171 ................................................... 445,282

Maximum Takeoff Wgt.4 (Lbs.) .............................................

725,000 ................................................... 716,700

769,000
54

Selection: The Low-Cost Bidder Prevails

After studying the findings and recommendations of the source selection officials and

management group, the Air Force Council before month's end passed on its recommendations

to General John P. McConnell, the new Air Force Chief of Staff, and to Secretary Zuckert.

In the military services, when it came to procurement, choosing the lowest cost bidder had

become almost an institutional imperative. Zuckert, who would resign from his position a few

days later (September 30, 1965), did not break with this tradition, for he chose the least

expensive proposal, Lockheed's, and General McConnell endorsed the decision, even though

the Source Selection Board favored the Boeing entry. Lockheed won because its bid was

cheaper by $300 million than Boeing's. Even General Schriever, whose misgivings over the

technical risks of Lockheed's initial aircraft design were not alleviated by the contractor's

revised proposal, did not criticize the selection. The only dissenting opinion, expressed openly,

came from Gen. Kenneth B. Hobson who had replaced General Bradley as Commander of the

Logistics Command in August 1965. As one of the three generals in the management group,

General Hobson insisted that the Boeing design would yield an aircraft technically and

operationally superior to other contenders at an acceptable additional cost.19

Unlike Hobson, General Estes, Commander of the Military Air Transport Service, was

pleased with the Lockheed proposal, and his opinion mattered because the C–5A would be

operated by his command. Also a member of the management group, Estes had been quite

vocal in support of the Lockheed proposal, arguing that only two of the competitors deserved

serious consideration because the Douglas design was "technically insufficient." Moreover,

Douglas's ceiling price, including the projected profit, might be the lowest for 58 aircraft, but

for 115 aircraft it surpassed Lockheed's bid by $118 million. The Boeing design, General

Estes conceded, promised an aircraft faster than the Lockheed, a factor contributing to the

greater cost of the Boeing airplane, but speed was not all that crucial. On the other hand, the

slower but wider Lockheed configuration would make loading easier, a critical advantage as

far as the MATS commander was concerned.20

Had Zuckert entertained any lingering doubts, the strong arguments by General Estes

in favor of the Lockheed proposal would probably have put them to rest. Lockheed's cockpit

design for the C–5A resembled the cockpit of the C–141, General Estes pointed out, and other

components would be common to both Lockheed aircraft. As the Air Force realized, Secretary

McNamara pushed commonality, along with centralized procurement, to cut costs.21

Other less obvious reasons may have influenced the decision in favor of Lockheed. One

analyst, Rene J. Francillon, has concluded that, "geopolitical considerations" may well have

been the decisive factor in awarding three equally large contracts in 1965 and 1966.

Francillon identified the three potential contracts. Douglas and Lockheed in California, and

Boeing in the state of Washington competed for the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL) and

the Supersonic Transport (SST). Boeing and Douglas, joined by Lockheed-Georgia rather than

Lockheed's West Coast operation, went after the C–5A. Each of the parent firms got one of

the three: Douglas and the state of California won the MOL contract; Boeing and the state

of Washington received the SST; and in October 1965 Lockheed- Georgia became prime

contractor for the C–5. This last award came at a critical time because C–141 production was

coming to an end, threatening to shut down the enormous, government-owned Marietta plant,

which Lockheed leased, and deliver a damaging economic blow to the state of Georgia.

Whatever the merits of Francillon's analysis, the two West Coast contractors suffered

unexpected setbacks, for both the MOL and SST contracts were subsequently canceled
55

because of the high cost of President Johnson's deepening involvement in Southeast Asia,

which, ironically, underscored the need for the C–5.

Whether politics, as Francillon claimed, or cost-effectiveness justified the choice of a

contractor, on September 30, 1965, Secretary of Defense McNamara publicly announced that

Lockheed had won the airframe production contract and that the total cost of the program's

first increment—the 58 aircraft of Production Run A, the only C–5s covered by a firm

commitment—would amount to about $2 billion, $1.4 billion for the airframe and $600

million for the General Electric engine. Compared with Lockheed's firm quote of $1.7 billion

for a 115 aircraft program (Production Runs A and B), the McNamara estimate seemed high,

even taking into account, as the Air Force had, that the bids submitted by the three airframe

contractors were surely underpriced, and perhaps higher still, if General Terhune were

correct in pointing out that the first aircraft built, Production Run A, would be the costliest

and that quantity production would reduce the unit cost.22

The Secretary of Defense in his public announcement described the immense size of

the C–5A, which would be more than 200 feet long and 63 feet high at the tail, with a wing

span of 220 feet. Maximum takeoff weight (MTOW) would probably exceed 760,000 pounds.

The new transport, Secretary McNamara added, would enhance dramatically Army mobility

during crises and decrease the time required to move large numbers of American forces

anywhere in the world. McNamara further stated that the C–5A would be much faster than

any Soviet cargo aircraft, though speed was not a primary requirement, and have twice the

capacity of the Soviet Antonov An-22 cargo plane. The characteristics described by Secretary

McNamara proved generally accurate as far as size was concerned, though the finished

product proved longer, 245.9 feet, and the tail higher, 65.1 feet. When he spoke of carrying

troops, however, the Secretary of Defense was wrong, for he used erroneous data provided

by the Air Force. Instead of shuttling large numbers of soldiers throughout the world, the

C–5A would carry cargo almost exclusively; it could accommodate only 75 troops in an

emergency.

On October 11, 1965, Maj. Gen. Harry E. Goldsworthy, Director of Production and

Programming, DCS/Systems and Logistics, authorized AFSC to enter into a contract with

Lockheed for the C–5A. This was less than two weeks after Secretary McNamara's public

announcement of September 30, and the contract retained the official date of October 11,

even though Lockheed did not sign it until December 17.23 Between October 11 and December

17, Lockheed officials asked for a new delivery schedule, among other changes. The original

schedule prescribed for the contract competition specified an initial operation capability in

1969 and deliveries timed to meet this deadline. One aircraft was scheduled to reach the Air

Force in June 1969, one in July, two in August, and three each month from September

through December. To be on the safe side, the Air Force stipulated that the winning

contractor would be liable for a daily penalty of $12,000 per aircraft not delivered by the end

of the specified month. This so-called "Liquidated Damages Provision" applied only to the first

16 aircraft scheduled for delivery (test aircraft excluded) and the maximum penalty was $11

million. These provisions appeared in the contract signed by all competitors, and Lockheed,

upon submission of its revised proposal, again accepted them without argument.24

There arose other portents of the many difficulties that soon beset the program.

Besides trying unsuccessfully to change the schedule, Lockheed also attempted to lower the

performance figures for its revised design, even though the Air Force had insisted that any

contractor-proposed performance characteristics, which exceeded established operational

requirements, would automatically become the guaranteed minimum. Finally, Lockheed also

challenged the contractual provisions covering the propulsion system. The Air Force would
56

purchase the C–5A engine and provide it to the airframe contractor as GovernmentFurnished Equipment (GFE). The engine had to meet performance specifications, determined

during the program definition phase, before the Air Force handed it over. Thereafter,

Lockheed had to assume full responsibility for the overall performance of the integrated

system. Although all parties had agreed on this approach, Lockheed now wanted to negotiate

a separate agreement with General Electric, making the engine contractor responsible for the

integration as well as the performance of the powerplant and its many components.

Understandably, General Electric wanted no part of Lockheed's new scheme.25

Buttressed by its legal staff, the Air Force stood firm and on December 16, one day

before signature of the contract, Lockheed gave up asking for changes. There were two

possible explanations for Lockheed's apparent surrender. One attributed it to the fact that

1965 was not a good year for the military aircraft industry in general and for Lockheed in

particular. Production of the C–141 at Marietta, Georgia, was about to end and Lockheed had

no comparable order to take its place. Nor had the firm developed commercial jets to compete

with the Boeing 707 and Douglas DC–8. As a result, Lockheed badly needed the C–5A

program to stay abreast of its two rivals. In addition, the new contract might provide a

windfall if Lockheed could develop and market a civilian version of the C–5A.

The other explanation, which did not surface until much later, focused on a littlenoticed concession that Lockheed had received, the so-called repricing or reverse-incentive

formula. Largely unnoticed at the time, the repricing formula had the potential for undoing

many of the reforms set forth in total-package procurement. In short, Lockheed stood to gain

far more from repricing that it could have obtained from the contractual changes it had

sought and then abandoned.

Thomas R. May, Vice President of Lockheed-Georgia, announced that the C–5A, like

the C–141, would be built at the Marietta plant. He offered assurance that Lockheed would

honor its commitments, comply with Air Force contractual provisions, and at no extra cost

to the Air Force integrate the General Electric engine into the modified Lockheed design.

Evidently, the Air Force had won the first round, but thanks to repricing one round could not

ensure victory.26

Under the total-package procurement concept—at least until the use of the repricing

formula—the fixed-price production contract for the airframe, signed by all competitors in

anticipation of the final award, contained a flexible incentive formula based on sharing costs,

above or below the target, at a ratio of 85 percent by the government and 15 percent by the

manufacturer. Because ASD's Cost Evaluation Group concluded that estimates by all the

competitors were too low, a clause enabled the Air Force to substitute a less generous fixedpriced incentive fee (FPIF) contract, with the government and the manufacturer sharing

evenly all costs below the target. For costs in excess of the target, the government would

assume responsibility for 30 percent and the contractor for 70 percent. Moreover, under the

FPIF option, the program's target cost and ceiling price could increase by only 3.2 percent.

Convinced, like the ASD Cost Evaluation Group, that Lockheed's winning low-cost bid ($1.7

billion for 115 aircraft) was unrealistic, Secretary of the Air Force Harold Brown, Zuckert's

successor, invoked the FPIF option on December 31, 1965, three days ahead of the specified

deadline. Substitution of the stricter FPIF for the flexible incentive caused Lockheed to

increase the target cost from $1,714 million to $1,768 million, the target profit from $172

million to $177 million, the target price $1,896 million to $1,945 million, and the ceiling price

from $2,229 million to $2,299 million.27

Brown seemed to share McNamara's lack of confidence, not so much in the total-
57

package concept as in its practical application. In 1964, while serving as Director of Defense

Research and Engineering, Brown had pointed out that if the new procurement technique

failed, the Air Force could return to a more traditional method. This comment may have

foreshadowed his willingness to chose the FPIF option and, perhaps, Schriever's continuing

search for means of reducing weight after the total-package contract had been signed with

Lockheed.

The FPIF option, adopted by Brown in late December 1965 and incorporated in the

basic airframe contract, AF 33 (657) 15053, shortly before Lockheed signed the agreement,

seemed ideal for total-package procurement. The fixed-price-incentive-fee approach sought

to encourage Lockheed to cut costs while meeting performance guarantees. Ordinarily, the

incentive feature might apply to performance and production, as well as costs, but not so with

the C–5A, since the total-package contract already covered these elements.

Except for the inclusion of a 3.2 percent increase in both the target cost and the

absolute ceiling price—the latter originally set at 130 percent of the target cost—all the

provisions originally spelled out for the three competitors survived intact. For example, the

target cost included 10 percent profit, and any costs above the absolute ceiling price would

be borne entirely by the contractor. Although the bids covered 115 aircraft, the costs had also

been estimated for each of the two production runs. In addition, the Air Force prorated

program costs according to production norms. Hence, the price of the first 58 C–5A aircraft

(Production Run A) was much higher than the price of the second 57 Run B planes, as

General Terhune had suggested.

Unfortunately for proponents of the C–5A program, the contract also included the

repricing formula designed to limit the losses Lockheed seemed certain to incur as the result

of its unrealistically low bid. In effect, repricing functioned like a flexible-cost incentive

formula, which the Air Force had ruled out for the C–5A. Under certain circumstances, the

repricing formula could increase enormously the price of a least a portion of Production Run

B, presumed to be less costly than the initial production run.28 ....................

The repricing formula, introduced probably in late 1965 by Robert H. Charles,

Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics, undercut the totalpackage procurement concept that he personally championed. Despite this contradiction, the

repricing formula became part of Lockheed's contract, replacing a flexible-incentive option

and remaining in the FPIF arrangement. The repricing formula would take effect should the

actual cost of the first 58 C–5As (Production Run A) exceed 130 percent of the target cost.

Moreover, Lockheed's potential gain could be stupendous, up to $2.00 for every dollar

spent—a profit that might well tempt the contractor to increase costs deliberately.29 On the other hand, some provisions of the contract mitigated the formula's potential impact. For

example, should the price of the first 58 C–5As increase sufficiently to trigger the repricing

formula, the price adjustment generated by the formula could not be added to these 58

aircraft (Production Run A) or to the first 32 aircraft of the 57-plane Production Run B, the

balance of the 115 C–5As the Air Force was buying. In other words, any upward adjustment

justified by the repricing formula would not apply to the first 90 C–5As. Moreover, the

government's liability under repricing could not exceed the ceiling price

of Production Run A, and the contract could be terminated at the government's convenience,

"in whole, or from time to time in part," by written notification. The clauses limiting liability

and permitting cancellation sought to dissuade the contractor from padding costs for

Production Run A, since the government might cancel subsequent purchases leaving

Lockheed to pay half the cost overrun on the aircraft already built. The contractor might run

the risk, gambling that the government lacked the resolve to stop production and would keep

on paying the bills. Except for Assistant Secretary Charles, a handful of procurement experts,
58

and some persons closely involved in the contract's final negotiation, including high ranking

personnel of the C–5A Project Office, few government officials either knew of the repricing

formula or realized its implications until too late.30

Historically, almost every weapon system encounters problems during the development

cycle. A consensus existed, however, that the C–5A was "within the state-of-the-art," and

Lockheed had emphasized the future transport's relationship to the successful C–141.

Compared with the C–5, the C–141 was much smaller in volume, about 100 feet shorter, and

almost 200,000-pounds lighter when empty. Moreover, the maximum takeoff weight of the

C–141 was half the C–5A's MTOW of 769,000 pounds. The critical difference lay in the larger

volume of the C–5A, which affected fuel consumption, range, and other performance

characteristics. As Richard K. Smith has pointed out, every plumber knows that doubling the

diameter of a pipe quadruples its volume, a principle that aeronautical engineers failed to

apply in their comparison of the two transports. Even under the best of circumstances, a

straight forward "scale up" of the C–141 to a C–5A, though viewed by many as such a simple

evolution, would not be an easy task. Yet, Lockheed, by all accounts, remained highly

optimistic, an attitude that reflected miscalculations, poor judgment, or perhaps bad faith.

For the present, however, Lockheed's demonstrated success with cargo aircraft and its

manufacturing skill lulled the Air Force into underestimating the magnitude of the task. Nor

did the Air Force foresee the financial loss and bitter polemics caused by severe problems in

developing the aircraft.31

In early 1966, wind tunnel tests showed that aerodynamic drag—to which the large

volume of the fuselage had contributed—would prevent the C–5A from meeting contract

performance specifications. Corrective action, including structural modifications to

accommodate more fuel, actually worsened the problem by increasing the aircraft's empty

weight well above the guaranteed maximum of 318,469 pounds stipulated by the airframe

contract of October 1965. By the end of 1966, after altering the basic design of its airplane,

Lockheed recognized that further changes would have be needed to keep the empty weight

within allowable limits.

The ASD project office endorsed Lockheed's decisions, but approval was automatic,

a mere formality, and not the result of an analysis of the impact of the changes the contractor

was proposing. This response by ASD reflected the principle of total-package procurement

and the contract with Lockheed, which gave the contractor total responsibility for the

transport's performance. In fact, Col. Guy M. Townsend, C–5A program director after

September 1965, assured Lockheed that, "We have no desire to inhibit in any way your

freedom of action to perform within the scope of the contract." In March 1966 Townsend

reaffirmed that, under the terms of the C–5A contract, the Air Force would neither have to

"approve," nor "concur with" new courses of action. Indeed, Air Force officials seemed to have

paid scant attention to Lockheed's difficulties until the spring of 1967, when the contractor's

cost overruns presented a problem they could no longer ignore.32

Engine Development: Difficult at Best

As a rule, designing and building a new engine takes more time that the same process

for an airframe. The engine, after all, serves as the very heart of the airplane for which it is

designed, whether a bomber, a fighter, or a gigantic new transport. Therefore, even though

the General Electric total-package procurement contract (AF33-657-15003) closely resembled

one awarded Lockheed for the airframe, the Air Force handled the two differently.33

The Air Force played a more active part in development of the engine for the C–5A,
59

since it would supply the powerplant to Lockheed as government-furnished equipment. The

Air Force therefore had to make sure that the engine met all technical specifications, and was

delivered in time for Lockheed to meet its production schedule. The total-package

procurement concept did not appear to present a challenge for the Air Force, because the

service did not expect any unusual problems with the large, new turbofan engine.34 Indeed, General Electric seemed well prepared to develop the new engine. The company had been

working for years on a high-pressure-ratio turbojet engine with some 50 percent greater

airflow capacity than the J85. Designated the GE-1 and originally intended to power a

subsequently canceled vertical takeoff or short takeoff and landing aircraft, the engine

underwent successful testing in November 1963 and became the basis for the demonstrator

engine for the C–5A. Starting with the high-pressure spool of the GE-1 for its C–5A

demonstrator, General Electric added a front fan to provide a high bypass ratio and increased

the pressure ratio and turbine temperature. The resulting operating cycle reduced fuel

consumption. Still, except for new cooling techniques in the turbine area, the demonstrator

engine, designated the GE-1/6, drew heavily on design features of the proven GE J79 and J93

engines. Initially run in December 1964, the GE-1/6 engine had a nominal by-pass ratio of

eight to one. After several months of highly successful testing, it won the engine competition

and was used to develop the high-bypass-ratio, 41,000 pound-thrust TF39 axial flow turbofan

engine initially earmarked for the C–5A. Later, following extensive modifications to the wing,

the C–5A would acquire the heavier but more dependable engines fitted from the start in the

C–5B.35

As should have been expected, the early testing revealed various technical problems.

In January 1966, the first full-scale engine, after just three hours of accumulated testing

time, failed because of a faulty bearing retainer. When testing resumed, the re-built engine

lost three first-stage turbine blades when fatigue cracking appeared at stress concentration

points. Other technical problems arose, and sometimes the Air Force caused delays. For

example, General Electric made it clear early in 1966 that it needed to know before April of

that year which model B-52 would serve as the engine test bed. The Strategic Air Command

(SAC) proved willing to part only with a B-52B, even though C–5A engineers insisted that

the bomber would not meet the required flight criteria because its aging structure imposed

restrictions on speed. Not until the end of May 1966 did SAC agree to release in October a

faster, more modern B-52E.36

The first successful flight test of the TF39 engine in the B-52E test bed did not occur

until June 29, 1967, several months behind schedule. However, the impressive flight lasted

an hour and 45 minutes, producing thrust levels equal to two J57 engines at takeoff power,

as the powerplant performed at 5,000 foot intervals up to an altitude of 35,000 feet.

Numerous other flight tests conducted throughout the rest of 1967 yielded equally

encouraging results. During a six-hour flight in late September, for instance, the engine

functioned perfectly at 30,000 and 40,000 feet, attaining speeds from Mach 0.43 to 0.89.

During another flight, the engine maintained 100 percent of its expected fan speed at 50,000

feet. 3 7

Amid these accomplishments, some difficulties arose over which the contractor had

no control whatsoever. For example, the Air Force's Arnold Air Development Center, near

Tullahoma, Tennessee, began modifying a test cell to accommodate the TF39 in June 1966.

The modification, expected to take a year, was necessary because no test stand in the United

States was large enough to handle so huge a huge turbofan engine. The Air Force, however,

did not complete the test stand until December 1967, despite the urgency. The complexity of

the Arnold Center's new test cell, plus the scarcity of electric motors with sufficient
60

horsepower to satisfy testing criteria, accounted for the six-month slippage.38

An Old, Familiar Pattern

As approved by Secretary of Defense McNamara in February 1965, the contract for

the purchase of 115 Lockheed C–5A aircraft—Production Run A, 58 aircraft, definitely on

order, with a firm option for Production Run B, another 57 planes—called for an aggregate

payment of $3,388.23 million. In October, the C–5A Program Office raised this figure to

$3,388.23 million because this higher amount seemed a better estimate of ultimate cost of

developing the airframe and engine. As the year 1966 began, the Air Force reduced the new

total by $159.84 million to a maximum of $3,228.39 million. In the ensuing months, both

Lockheed and General Electric started reporting unexpected increases in their overhead

expenses for such things as personnel insurance, and heating and air-conditioning of

buildings. The use of premium overtime, which required an extra 10-percent pay differential

for work performed between 6 p.m. and 6 a.m., also raised costs. Other less clearly defined

sources of cost increases included the purchase of engineering data and rising costs of subcontracting. To maintain schedules, in 1966 concerned only with Production Run A, Lockheed

needed more money.39

Daunted by the thought that Secretary McNamara might very well cancel the

Production Run B should the C–5A fail to meet its operational deadline of 1969, the Air Force

in February 1965 endorsed the estimate of $3.3 billion for a program totaling 115 C–5As.

This action coincided with official approval of total-package procurement but occurred one

month before the official release of the one-year cost study sponsored by Zuckert. The 115

aircraft included five test aircraft from among the 58 C–5As of Production Run A; these

would later be modified to operational standard. Whereas Air Force headquarters spoke of

115 aircraft, the Aeronautical Systems Divisions referred to a total of 120. How had this

discrepancy occurred?

The Aeronautical Systems Division explained the different totals by pointing out that

the Air Force, until total-package procurement went into effect, had planned to follow

traditional procurement procedures in acquiring its new cargo plane, which became the C–5A

in December 1964. Under the old method, the Air Force would have bought five prototypes,

tested and evaluated them, and then purchased 115 production aircraft from the same

contractor. Hence, ASD, after excluding some $52 million in research and development funds

for fiscal years 1964 and 1965, assumed that the program's $3.3 billion total cost had been

based on the procurement of 120 aircraft, including the prototypes.

Air Force headquarters apparently saw no reason to change the cost of the program

approved by Secretary McNamara in December 1964, and the definitive budget document,

which reflected total- package procurement, carried the same price tag of $3.3 billion. The

Air Force adopted the budget document during the summer months of 1965, and the

Department of Defense accepted it in late September. The subsequent contract with Lockheed

on October 11 covered only the first increment—the 58 C–5As of Production Run A,—of the

budgeted total of 115 C–5As, test aircraft included. The Air Force justified retention of its

$3.3 billion overall cost by reasoning that it was no longer purchasing "test aircraft," as under

the old system, "but rather test data to validate" the designs previously developed.40

Linking the 120 aircraft to money, as the Air Force apparently did, seemed logical.

After all, the $3.3 billion program cost was a mere estimate at the end of 1964, and totalpackage procurement, if actually tried, might or might not reduce anticipated program costs.

Indeed, as late as March 1965 analysts at the ASD, troubled by weight increases in the
61

airframe and unfamiliarity with the total-package concept, could no do more than predict that

the cost of 115 aircraft would vary between $3.2 billion and $3.7 billion. The Air Force's

retention of the 120-aircraft total, whereas Secretary McNamara insisted that the program

called for 115, did not result in clash within the defense establishment. Clearly, the

Department of Defense would not challenge an Air Force program already approved by

Secretary McNamara; for example, the repricing formula escaped notice. Perhaps the

Lockheed contract reflected enough of the vagueness of the budget document to justify the

Air Force's thinking in terms of test aircraft in lieu of test data. On the other hand, if

significant cost overruns should occur, as the Air Force apparently thought likely, the cost

increases would be minimized if spread over 120 aircraft instead of 115—an obvious

advantage when trying to satisfy Secretary McNamara's demand for cost-effectiveness.

Obviously, juggling the numbers of aircraft could not eliminate the financial crisis that

surfaced in 1966, but the Air Force worked out a solution for the initial shortfall in funding.

Since the research and development (R&D) funds for the C–5A were used up, except for the

amount reserved for basic tools, the Air Force shifted tooling funds to the procurement

account for Production Run A. The funding shift released $104 million to pay for the extra

expenses through June 30, 1966, a diversion that raised actual R&D costs beyond $210

million by the end of fiscal 1966 but in doing so solved the problem at hand. Elmer B. Staats,

Comptroller General of the United States, subsequently warned the Air Staff that the onetime shift of $104 million did not create a precedent. Later, in the midst of the C–5A

controversy, the Air Force was strongly criticized because it did not ask Lockheed to

segregate genuine tooling costs from R&D tooling funds shifted to Production Run A. This

was a serious oversight since any increases in the cost of Production Run A would alter the

cost of subsequent production runs.

Late in January 1967, Lockheed again asked for more money, an additional $79.26

million above and beyond the funding contained in the contract for fiscal 1967. The firm

needed the additional money by late February in order to continue working through June 30,

1967, the final day of the of fiscal year. The Air Force, after withdrawing funds set aside for

profits in fiscal 1967 that the contractors had not earned, managed to provide the necessary

funds, bringing total expenditure for the 12-month period to $667.1 million—almost $80

million over the established budget.

Cost increases during the procurement cycle were nothing new, but the additional

sums sought by Lockheed proved mind-boggling on two counts: first, because of the amount

involved; and, second, because in total-package procurement contractors were expected to deal

with setbacks, financial or otherwise, without seeking relief from the buyer. Not surprisingly,

when appearing before a Senate subcommittee in connection with Department of Defense

appropriations for fiscal 1968, Secretary McNamara had some explaining to do before an

unsympathetic audience.41

Secretary McNamara's centralization of authority in the hands of civilians—especially

in his own hands and those of his program analysts—made him no more popular with the

Congress at large, abounding in supporters of the military establishment, than he was with

high-ranking uniformed officers. In addition, the Secretary's efforts to close military bases

he considered superfluous did not increase his popularity among those members of Congress

whose home districts lost the installations. Military bases, like weapons manufacturing,

meant jobs. Representative Mendel Rivers a South Carolina Democrat and since 1965 Carl

Vinson's successor as Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, pushed hard for

Air Force's new transport, in part, perhaps, because MAC had a major base in his district.

Rivers, however, remained an implacable foe of McNamara, who nevertheless earned the
62

respect Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. Indeed, McNamara served as Secretary of Defense

for seven years, exerting a powerful influence at least through 1965, but when his authority

began to fade, largely because of his disillusionment with the Vietnam War, it faded quickly.42

Although Secretary McNamara did not resign until February 29, 1968, he may already

have been on his way out when, on January 25, 1967, he testified before a Senate

subcommittee on the status of the C–5A. Although the bitterest controversy lay in the future,

the aircraft's mounting development costs were already causing great concern. Outwardly

unperturbed, the Secretary explained that: "The cost estimates for this airplane were not

satisfactory. We knew it before the contract was let." McNamara further pointed out that a

spokesman for one of the contractors participating in the C–5A competition was quoted by

a news magazine as admitting afterward that "it was a liar's contest," and had always been

a "liar's contest," when the airframe and engine manufacturers were dealing with the

government. Although total-package procurement in its first application may not have

eliminated unrealistic bids and inflated claims of performance, McNamara believed the new

method of procurement had served warning on the aircraft industry that "the moment of

truth" was at hand. In October 1967, the C–5A program's appropriation for fiscal 1968 was

set at $735.67 million, but this apparently successful outcome actually represented the calm

before the storm.43

A Tortuous, Downhill Road

In March 1967 the Air Force notified Lockheed that the C–5A contract would be

canceled if the firm did not cure the airplane's ongoing technical ailments, many of them

related to weight. Issuance of a so-called "cure notice" was a rather drastic measure, seldom

used by the Air Force. In any case, the Air Force's toughness received no publicity. Moreover,

Air Force contract summaries and management reports began omitting data on cost increases

because disclosure "might put Lockheed's position in the common stock market in jeopardy."

Official records do not indicate, however, who in the Air Force bureaucracy ordered the cure

notice or was responsible for deleting the cost data, but sworn testimony later would indicate

that someone had decided to protect Lockheed. During an April 1969 Congressional hearing,

Col. Kenneth N. Beckman, already selected to become director of the C–5A program in July

when Colonel Townsend would receive promotion to brigadier general and become Deputy for

Systems Management, confirmed under oath the omission of data on cost increases. An

earlier memorandum, signed on October 9, 1968, by Trenton Boyd, the Air Force Deputy

Auditor General, corroborated Colonel Beckman's statement.44

Though some of the management actions taken in early 1967 appeared puzzling, they

formed a pattern. On one hand, the Air Force notified Lockheed that it would cancel its

contract if performance did not improve; on the other, the Air Force seemed to go out of its

way to safeguard the contractor's reputation which, should it be sufficiently tarnished, might

actually threaten survival of both the program and the contractor. In other words, the Air

Force wanted its new aircraft and, in order to get it, would willingly help Lockheed survive.

Bernard D. Nossiter, a staff writer of The Washington Post, later would suggest that General

McConnell, the Air Force Chief of Staff, had concealed from Secretary McNamara the

magnitude of Lockheed's cost overruns. A memorandum for Secretary of Defense McNamara

from Defense Comptroller Robert N. Anthony confirmed Nossiter's statement in a

memorandum to Secretary of Defense McNamara. "You must be warned," Anthony had

written on November 24, 1967, "that the McConnell memo of November 15 conveys incorrect

information about the C–5A costs." In short, as Nossiter first reported on May 13, 1969,
63

General McConnell in November 1967 was telling Secretary McNamara that the cost of the

total C–5A program remained below the Air Force estimate of March 1965, when it had in

fact risen more than $400 million above that figure.45

When they concealed from Secretary McNamara the magnitude of Lockheed's cost

overruns and technical difficulties, Air Force officers responsible probably did so out of fear

that the Secretary of Defense might cancel the C–5A which, in their opinion, remained a

national necessity. The cost overruns, technical problems, and actual concealment of such bad

news became public knowledge in the spring of 1969. A. Ernest Fitzgerald, a civilian cost

analyst and management systems deputy to Leonard Mark, the Air Force Assistant Secretary

for Financial Management, testified about the C–5A before Congress, beginning in November

1968, and became, if not the most famous, at least the most revealing witness of the

controversy over costs and concealment.

Fitzgerald served as a member of a special steering committee charged with tracking

C–5A development. In this capacity, he attempted from the start to identify engineering

problems that could account for the growing cost overrun. Fitzgerald caused trouble for the

Air Force officers assigned to the project, like Col. Guy Townsend, the C–5A program director

until mid-1969, who apparently believed that the civilian analyst had exceeded his authority

and infringed on the responsibilities of the system project office.46

Meanwhile, on March 2, 1968, Lockheed-Georgia Company publicly displayed the first

C–5A at Dobbins Air Force Base, near Atlanta. President Johnson delivered the principal

address and emphasized that the new aircraft would revolutionize military air transportation

by rapidly flying large numbers of troops and their battle equipment anywhere in the world.

Following the President's address, Mrs. Harold Brown, wife of the Air Force Secretary,

formally christened the C–5A with the nickname Galaxy. Within two years, even this

seemingly innocent milestone would become controversial.47

The C–5A made its first flight on June 30, 1968, from Dobbins Air Force Base,

Georgia, remaining aloft 94 minutes and apparently encountering no major problems. Four

other C–5As took to the air within the next 12 months, and all reportedly performed well. For

example, on June 15, 1969, the second C–5A landed at a record weight of 600,000 pounds,

stopping within 1,500 feet. With a maximum takeoff weight (MTOW) of 762,000 pounds,

aircraft number 2 also became the heaviest aircraft ever to leave the ground. On June 17,

1969, another C–5A, number 5, flew at a speed of Mach 0.8 at 35,000 feet and later reached

an altitude of 40,200 feet. Other impressive milestones followed: the C–5A became the

heaviest aircraft to refuel in flight, taking on 100,000 pounds of fuel from a KC–135 tanker;

it attained a ramp weight of 768,158 pounds; and it carried 307,912 pounds of fuel with a

simulated cargo of 197,640 pounds, landing within 1,200 feet. In addition, measured drag at

cruising speeds proved two percent less than anticipated, signifying that the C–5A's range

and payload might surpass expectations. 4 8

Even as it boasted about the C–5's successes between 1967 and 1969, Air Force

officials continued during the same period to minimize the aircraft's technical problems. For

example, in mid-1968 the Aeronautical Systems Division noted that the C–5A's guidance

subsystem, flight-tested for several months in a C–141A, did not meet specifications. The

official records of ASD also indicated a need for design changes to eliminate malfunctions of

the new aircraft's doppler radar, radar altimeter, and multi-mode radar. The division,

however, reported no details on any of these important problems.49 .................

After McNamara's departure from the Pentagon early in 1968, high-ranking Air Force

officials remained concerned that the C–5A program might be canceled or reduced. The Air
64

Force leadership therefore continued to suppress information considered detrimental to the

C–5A, a category that included measures the service had taken to penalize the contractor.

For example, when Lockheed delivered five C–5As for flight testing, with various components

that did not meet specifications, the Air Force withheld some $3.7 million from payments due

to the contractor, but this punishment did not become known until 1970, and then only as

the result of a General Accounting Office investigation prompted by accusations leveled

against Lockheed by a former employee.50

During these difficult years, the engine program also exceeded its budget. The General

Electric cost overruns proved minimal, however, compared with those of Lockheed. Perhaps

for this reason engine development went practically unnoticed during the C–5A controversy.

In any case, the Air Force scrupulously documented General Electric's problems, which were

typical of the development of a large and complex turbofan like the TF39. In June 1968, after

the number of test engines had increased, the program remained behind schedule. As the

year 1968 ended, engine testing still lagged; only 8,000 of the planned 10,300 test hours had

been completed. Some eight months later, however, testing of the TF39 mounted on one of

SAC's B-52Es reached its conclusion. The program achieved its goal on August 29, 1969,

when the engine accumulated the last of 258 hours of successful operation during 67 flights.51

Completion of the B-52E/TF39 testing program did not mean that all engine tests were

over or that every engine problem was solved. The problems that remained did not seem

especially serious, however. For example, in October 1969 the TF39 aft engine mount, located

on the turbine's mid-frame, failed during a static test, but the failure did not affect on-going

flight tests or the normal operation of the C–5As being delivered to the Military Airlift

Command (MAC), as MATS had been redesignated in January 1966. Similarly, a labor strike

at the General Electric plant in Evendale, Ohio, proved inconsequential. Colonel Beckman,

the new director of the C–5A program, ordered immediate shipment to the Engine Buildup

Unit of the Rohr Corporation's Winder Plant in Georgia of all heavy frame engines already

accepted by the Air Force. The Evendale strike, which started on October 27, 1969, and lasted

several months, could have been damaging, if Lockheed's deliveries of the transports had not

already fallen behind schedule.52

In the meantime, the Air Force agonized over Lockheed's continued cost overruns. As

indicated by the cure notice of March 1967, and the withholding of payments due Lockheed,

the Air Force had not and would not overlook the aircraft's technical deficiencies or the

contractor's recurring production slippage. In 1968, however, the most crucial problem

remained cost, a problem aggravated by the contract's repricing formula and the formula's

potential affect on the price of future C–5As. As the year drew to a close, attempts by the

system project office at Wright-Patterson AFB, to reconcile Lockheed's cost estimates with

those of the Air Force proved unsuccessful. The Air Force now had to choose between

ordering additional aircraft from Production Run B without knowing the real cost of the first

C–5As, or postponing further procurement—two equally unattractive alternatives.53

Playing Hard Ball

The terms of the total-package procurement contract signed in 1965 with the

Lockheed-Georgia Company and the General Electric Company of Evendale, Ohio, provided

for the purchase of additional aircraft and engines at predetermined prices. Specifically, the

first purchase, the only one contracted for, involved 58 aircraft, including test versions, and

228 engines. The second purchase, referred to as Production Run B, numbered 57 aircraft and

279 engines; and the third, Production Run C, 85 aircraft and 429 engines. Production Runs
65

B and C. however, remained options that the Air Force had to exercise prior to January 1,

1969, or they would expire and the service would have to renegotiate the contracts.54

Because of the lucrative repricing formula in the original contract, Lockheed officials

were especially eager for the Air Force to order at least the second production run. If the Air

Force canceled Production Run B or ordered fewer aircraft than the number at which the

repricing formula took effect, Lockheed could claim contract termination damages and could

take its case to the Armed Services Board of Contract Appeals. The Air Force did not want

to cut the program short and run the risk of litigation. It wanted its new transports and as

many of them as possible.55

According to Ernest Fitzgerald, the Air Force Chief of Staff, General McConnell,

became so outraged when he first learned of the repricing formula that his instinctive

reaction had been to cancel the entire C–5A program, even if it meant hauling troops in

"C–47 Gooney Birds." With the passage of time, however, McConnell's temper cooled, and he

realized that C–5A program was too far along, and the aircraft too badly needed, to be

abandoned. Just the same, the C–5A remained a vexing problem in late 1968, especially since

money, as a result of the protracted war in Southeast Asia, was in short supply. Moreover,

the Air Force was well aware of the war's growing unpopularity, public discontent with the

military, and Congressional concern over the high cost of weapon systems.56

Taking Secretary McNamara's optimistic Congressional testimony of January 25,

1967, as the ideal, the outcome of the Air Force contract negotiations with Lockheed, going

on in 1969, was unlikely to satisfy either the service or the contractor. Fitzgerald, who for

years had a roving charter to examine programs and recommend ways of cutting costs,

believed that the key to fiscal discipline lay in alerting either Secretary McNamara or Under

Secretary of Defense Paul Nitze. Once he and his fellow analysts brought a problem to Nitze

or McNamara, Fitzgerald said, "we could get a favorable ruling" for the recommended

solution. McNamara and Nitze, however, were busy with a war and with other aspects of

national security policy, and, as Fitzgerald pointed out, there was "no follow through" on their

decisions.57 For example, although McNamara had begun to learn the magnitude of the cost

overruns in the C–5A program by the time he left office, he most likely remained unaware

of the repricing formula.

On March 1, 1968, the day after McNamara's departure, Clark Clifford, a special

counsel to President Truman from 1946 to 1950, became Secretary of Defense. He served less

than a year, for the Republican administration of Richard M. Nixon assumed office in

January 1969. Nixon chose Melvin R. Laird, a former Representative from Ohio, to head the

Department of Defense.58

Apparently, Clark Clifford did not become deeply involved in the C–5A program until

his term as Secretary of Defense was nearly over, but his contribution nevertheless proved

significant. In January 1969, after months of frustrating negotiations with Lockheed,

Secretary of the Air Force Harold Brown notified the company that the Air Force intended

to go ahead with procurement of the Production Run B, an action that Secretary Clifford

approved. Since the cost dilemma had not been resolved, Brown's letter of intent was possibly

nothing more than an attempt to gain time and ensure that the deadline for exercising that

option would be extended. Regardless of Brown's actual intent, Lockheed later claimed that

the letter of intent formed a binding commitment.59

Meanwhile, in November 1968, Senator William Proxmire, a Wisconsin Democrat,

personally informed Clifford of Congressional concern over the cost overruns in the C–5A

program. Any new procurement of these aircraft, Proxmire declared, should await the results

of an on-going investigation of the program by the General Accounting Office. Since he was
66

about to step down as Secretary of Defense, Clifford acted cautiously. He endorsed Secretary

Brown's letter of intent but recommended that the new contract, Production Run B

Supplemental Agreement number 235, limit the government's obligation to the purchase of

only 23 aircraft. This restriction would reduce Production Runs A and B from 115 to 81

C–5As, enough to equip four squadrons with 16 aircraft each, but a total short of the 90

aircraft the government could procure before the repricing formula took effect. Lockheed may

not have received official notice of Secretary Clifford's purpose, but the terms of the Air Force

supplemental agreement for Production Run B made it quite clear that the firm could not

take for granted the continuation of the C–5A program.60

Supplemental Agreement number 235 to the Lockheed contract obligated only $48.8

million for an initial increment of 23 additional C–5As programmed for fiscal 1970. In

addition, the agreement reduced Lockheed's monthly production schedule from four aircraft

to three. If the cost problem could be solved and all the aircraft of Production Run B actually

procured, production would last until the end of June 1972. The Air Force believed that

stretching out production would ease annual funding, which seemed necessary because money

was scarce. According to Secretary Clifford, the stretch-out would also give the new

administration more time to decide whether to fund the entire Production Run B. As written,

Supplemental Agreement number 235 put Lockheed on notice that continuing failure would

cost the firm money. If the program were terminated or canceled before the fiscal year 1970

funds were allocated, Lockheed would be entitled only to $30.5 million. Although an advance

authorization for fiscal 1971 provided as much as $52 million, only $23 million was set aside

to cover termination and cancellation during that year. Finally, similar clauses, but without

specified monetary amounts, covered fiscal year 1972.

The supplemental agreement of early 1969 seemed to have resolved the issues of

December 1968, but progress proved largely an illusion. In mid-1969, the Air Force tried once

more to ascertain the extent of the contractor's cost overruns, to determine the re-pricing

formula's potential impact, and to work out other problems including on-going production

slippage. Lockheed, with an eye to future production, indicated that it wanted to purchase

components and parts for all 57 aircraft of Production Run B with the $48 million specifically

earmarked for procurement during fiscal 1970 of the 23 C–5A called for in the supplemental

agreement. Since Lockheed's gambit would reduce Air Force leverage over the program. the

service balked. The new crisis made little difference, however. for the C–5A program had

become so notorious that higher authorities were exerting control of what had started as an

Air Force.61

Catching the Public Eye

Despite Congressional authorization of an additional $624 million for the C–5A in

fiscal 1969, criticism of the C–5A on Capitol Hill was growing. Senators William Proxmire,

a Wisconsin Democrat, Stuart Symington, a Democrat from Missouri and the first Secretary

of the independent Air Force, and Richard Schweiker, a Pennsylvania Republican, as well as

Representatives William Moorhead, a Pennsylvania Democrat, and Martha W. Griffiths, a

Democrat from Michigan, led the complaints about the rising cost of the new transport.

Ernest Fitzgerald not only ignited the fires of opposition with his initial testimony on

November 13, 1968, he fanned the flames in three subsequent appearances before the Joint

Economic Subcommittee headed by Senator Proxmire, and before other Congressional panels.

Considerations other than Fitzgerald's charges exacerbated the controversy over the C–5A's

technical shortcomings, Lockheed's cost overruns, and Air Force's concealment of relevant
67

information. These factors included the hardening of public and Congressional attitudes

toward military spending—a trend given impetus by the long and costly Vietnam

conflict—and the media's relentless coverage of the program's difficulties.62

When first testifying in November 1968, Fitzgerald somewhat reluctantly confirmed

Senator Proxmire's assumption that the Production Runs A and B, the purchase of 115 C–5As

and their spare parts, would cost about $5.2 billion, almost $2 billion more than estimated

by the Air Force in 1965. Actually, the program's cost overruns, which triggered Senator

Proximire's initial inquiries, no longer remained the only issue. A question arose in the spring

and summer of 1969 whether the Air Force concealed facts, failed to disclose information

needed by the Congress, and manipulated records. Amid the charges of duplicity, Air Force

justifications of C–5A cost increases proved inconsistent at best. In 1969, the Air Force

claimed that the original cost estimate pertained to a smaller C–5A, did not include spare

parts, had not taken into account for the immediate higher labor cost caused by the

competing demands of the Vietnam conflict. Fitzgerald not only denounced these claims but

also stated that the Air Force falsely denied knowledge of the warnings that he and others

had submitted on the C–5A's mounting expenses. He cited in particular a memorandum

written as early as December 1966 in which Col. Larry M. Killpack, a member of the

Directorate of Production and Programming on the Air Staff, informed General Goldsworthy

of numerous cost overruns and concluded: "my quick analysis of the situation is that

Lockheed is in serious difficulty on the C–5A."

In testimony during June 1969, Fitzgerald suggested that pressure from elected

representatives might have influenced the Air Force to increase the order for C–5As.

Although he did not identify any of these elected officials, the next day, the next day's

newspapers gave front-page coverage to Fitzgerald's statement, pointing out that the main

assembly plant for the C–5A was located at Marietta, Georgia, in the home state of

Democratic Senator Richard B. Russell, Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

The soaring costs of military hardware had been investigated before, but the injection of

politics and the brandishing of the name of a Senator as powerful as Russell enlivened the

C–5A controversy, capturing the attention of the media and through them reaching the

general public.

Meanwhile, as a result of Fitzgerald's November 1968 testimony, Congress early in

1969 interrogated others deeply involved with the C–5A. Those who testified included Colonel

Beckman, due to become the C–5A's new program director in July 1969. When questioned

on April 29, 1969, by Representative Moorhead of the House Government Operations

Committee, Beckman confirmed that management reports within the Pentagon had been

altered to conceal cost overruns and protect Lockheed's position on the New York Stock

Exchange. Following Colonel Beckman's testimony, Senator Proxmire in May 1969 asked the

Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) to investigate whether there had been any

violation of securities law in the C–5A procurement.63

The Air Force, meanwhile, relieved Fitzgerald of his most important duties, isolating

him from oversight of major weapon systems—a decision attributed to Assistant Secretary

Charles and apparently anticipated and condoned by Secretary Brown prior to his departure

early in 1969. By the time of this Air Force action, The Washington Post's extensive publicity

of Fitzgerald's first testimony had already jeopardized the cost analyst's future. On November

25, 1968, the Air Force personnel office had revoked Fitzgerald's career status on the grounds

of a "computer error." Career status, which afforded some protection against arbitrary firing,

required three years of uninterrupted federal service but somehow the computer that credited

him with at least this much service had erred, or so the Air Force said.64
68

The testimony of Fitzgerald and other witnesses prompted Senator Proximire to ask

Robert Charles, the Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics who

had relieved Fitzgerald of meaningful duties, to give his version of Lockheed's problems and

the Air Force's documentation of them. Charles did not deny that he had personally or

indirectly arranged the deletion of references to technical problems, schedule slippage, and

cost overruns. He insisted, however, the deleted information had actually been nothing more

than preliminary estimates, requiring actual proof later on. By way of proof, he pointed out

that the C–5A's technical performance exceeded both Lockheed's proposed performance and

the firm's contractual commitments. Charles thus concluded that the C–5A purchase was,

"the best contract ever entered into by the Air Force."

When asked if Lockheed could have purposefully underbid its competitors on the belief

that it could recoup its losses through later design changes, Charles did not deny such a

possibility. Total-package procurement sought to halt this practice, he said, but Lockheed

"may have believed that we wouldn't hold them to the contract. And there would be some

merit in such belief; after all, we hadn't in the past." When it came to the much criticized

repricing formula, Mr. Charles explained that it had been designed only to prevent

"catastrophic losses" by the company. In any case, he reiterated, the Air Force had the option

of canceling the contract "in whole, or from time to time, in part," by written notification.65

Charles resigned on May 5, 1969, a few days after his last testimony. His departure

was accompanied by that of Thomas H. Nielsen, who in January 1968 had replaced Leonard

Marks as Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Financial Management. Charles's

replacement as Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics was Phillip

N. Whittaker who, like Robert Seamans, President Nixon's new Secretary of the Air Force,

came from the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), where he had served

as an assistant administrator. Personnel changes were not unusual in the first months of a

new administration, but on May 1, when announcing the new appointments, Secretary of

Defense Laird had directly linked the departures of Charles and Nielsen to the woes of the

C–5A program. Laird announced that he fully intended to straighten out the financial tangle

that had ensnared the C–5A—a task that would prove surprisingly difficult.66 .........

As a first step toward solution of the C–5A problem, Laird immediately directed

Secretary of the Air Force Seamans to review the C–5A Program. This evaluation, conducted

by the new Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics, became known

as the Whittaker Report. Released to the press in late July 1969, it concentrated on

procurement and contracting transactions between 1965 and 1969, before the Nixon

administration had taken office. The report mentioned problems with the integration of

subsystems, subsystem reliability, and structural fatigue. It further stated, however, that:

"An extensive evaluation by Air Force and NASA experts has revealed no major design

deficiencies in the [Lockheed] aircraft or [General Electric] engines, and there is a high

probability that all range, payload, takeoff and landing performance requirements will be

met." Even so, Whittaker and his colleagues conceded that Lockheed's description of the

C–5A's performance outlook seemed overly optimistic.67

The year 1969 brought other disturbing news for the Air Force and the C–5A.

Although the investigation by the General Accounting Office bogged down because Lockheed

refused to make available cost data requested by the Air Force on behalf of Proxmire's

subcommittee, the manufacturer remained in trouble. At the Marietta, Georgia, plant

engineers struggled to solve stubborn technical problems. In addition, financial problems

While Lockheed faced these difficulties, rumors circulated that Fitzgerald had been leaking classified shook the foundations of the parent corporation in Burbank, California.

information to Congress. Secretary Seamans, the suspected source of the rumors, quickly and
69

unequivocally denied their validity, but Fitzgerald was not appeased. He kept insisting

publicly that his efforts to reduce inefficiency and waste had been frustrated by both the Air

Force and Lockheed. Finally, in November 1969, Spencer J. Schedler, Nielsen's successor as

Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Financial Management, engineered a reorganization

of his office that eliminated Fitzgerald's position and, since he had been deprived of the

The Civil Service Commission would rule in September 1973 that Fitzgerald had been improperly fired protection of career status, in effect fired him.

and had to be restored to duty and receive the pay he had lost. He returned to work for the

Air Force on December 10, 1973, as a deputy for productivity management, but he had no

real authority and only trifling responsibilities. In 1974, his attorneys filed several lawsuits

on his behalf, one of which claimed that the Air Force had arbitrarily demoted him after his

reinstatement. Another was a personal damage suit against those who had conspired in his

illegal firing. In 1982, after years of litigation that almost reached the Supreme Court, the

lawsuits ended in a settlement. The Air Force paid $200,000 to defray part of his legal

expenses and agreed to give him a job truly comparable to the one he had originally held.68

Nevertheless, 1969 was not entirely bad for the Air Force and its C–5A. Perhaps

because of the Whittaker Report's encouraging appraisal, the Senate voted 64 to 23 against

an amendment offered by Senator Proxmire to strip from the fiscal 1970 military

procurement bill $533 million earmarked for the aircraft. Prior to the vote, Senator

Symington spoke forcefully in favor of buying additional C–5As. Despite the steep escalation

in costs, Symington argued, spending the money for the huge aircraft was consistent with the

effort to cut the military budget and reduce American commitments overseas. "It may be a

poor buy," Senator Symington observed, "but what is bought is essential for our national

security."69

The defeat of the Proxmire amendment ended a turbulent moment in the C–5A

program. The conduct of the governmental parties involved in the program's development—a

combination of consistently good intentions and often devious means—would be vindicated

beginning in August 1970, when carefully selected C–5As started flying strategic airlift

missions, albeit under stringent weight restrictions, in support of American combat

operations in Southeast Asia. Yet, as the new Republican administration set about solving

the C–5A's financial difficulties, it faced a multitude of costly and difficult that would require

new wings for the airplane.

Considering the many C–5A problems in the late 1960s, it is difficult to understand

why the Air Force or the Department of Defense did not cancel the new transport. Had they

done so, however, they would have spent $1.7 billion for a maximum of six incomplete and

Even more unimaginable at that time was the notion that in July 1985—20 years after the C–5A structurally deficient transports.

program began—the C–5B, a second version of the transport, would take to the air. In the

interim, the C–5A created a history of its own.
70

Endnotes

1. Nelson, "Kennedy's Policy," pp 1-12; Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 168.

2. Nelson, "Kennedy's Policy," pp. 1-12; Annual Report of the Secretary of Defense, Fiscal 1966,

pp. 3-12.

3. Nelson, "Kennedy's Policy," pp 1-12.

4. David Alan Rosenberg, "The History of World War II, 1945-1990: A Conceptual

Framework," in Essays in International History, On Cultural Grounds (Chicago: Imprint

Publications, 1994) pp. 211-212; Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 125.

5. Jane E. Stomseth, The Origins of Flexible Response: NATO's Debate over Strategy in the

Sixties (New York: St. Martin's, 1988). p. 16.

6. Rosenberg, "The History of World War II, 1945-1990," pp. 211-12.

7. Stromseth, Origins of Flexible Response, p. 3.

8. . Ibid., pp. 3-4, 181-82.

9. Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, pp. 168, 178.

10. Anything, Anywhere, Anytime, pp. 154-57; Francillon, "Galaxy," p. 273; Stromseth, The

Origins of Flexible Response, pp. 3, 176, 181; The Columbia History of the World, p. 1080;

Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, pp. 168-80; Annual Report of the Secretary of Defense, Fiscal

1966, pp. 252-53.

11. Ltr, Gen Schriever, AFSC Commander, to Lt Gen Ferguson, Hq USAF (AFRDC), subj;

Systems Command Position, CX-HLS Program, Sup. Doc. 35 to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965.

12. Ideas and Concepts, pp. 311-312; Memo, Theodore von Kármán, Director, Army Air Forces

Scientific Advisory Board, to Gen H. H. Arnold, Commanding General, Army Air Forces,

December 15, 1945.

13. Annual Report of the Secretary of Defense, Fiscal 1962, pp. 6-7; Anything, Anywhere

Anytime, pp. 103-104.

14. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 95.

15. Ibid., pp. 99-100, 103; Watson, History of the Office of Secretary of the Air Force, chapter

9.

16. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 104; Office of Secretary of Defense News Release 510-65,

August 5, 1965.

17. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 104-105.

18. Ibid., pp 103-107, 112-115, 119.

19. Ibid., p. 120; Watson, History of the Office of the Secretary of the Air Force, p. 505; telecon,

author with Jacob Neufeld, Chief, Air Staff Branch, Office of Air Force History March 13,

1989.

20. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 120.

21. Ibid., pp. 120-121.

22. Ibid., p. 121; Francillon, "Galaxy," p. 269; Engine and Airframe Contract Data, n. d., in

files of the Secretary of the Air Force, 1972.

23. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 81, 121; History, Aeronautical Systems Division, 1965, Vol.

I, p. 183; Lockheed-Georgia press release, n. d.; Standard Aircraft Characteristics (AGF 2,

Vol. 2, Addn. 53) July 1975, p. 3.

24. Levy C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 121, 125-126.

25. Ibid., p. 127.

26. Ibid., pp. 125-128; "The War Business," Wall Street Journal, June 3, 1969; Peter W.

Brooks, The Modern Airliner, (Manhattan, Kansas: Sunflower University Press, 1982.),

passim.
71

27. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 129.

28. Ibid., pp. 51-52, 114-116; Engine and Airframe Contract Data, n. d., in files of the Office

of Secretary of the Air Force, 1972; Fox, Arming America, pp. 227-229.

29. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 132.

30. Ibid., p. 52, 132.

31. Ibid., pp. 44, 46, 120; Comments by Dr. Smith on draft MS; Lockheed-Georgia Company

Brochure, C–5 The Versatile Giant, n. d.; USAF Standard Aircraft Characteristics, C–141,

Mar 71, C–5A, Jul 75.

32. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965 p. 131; Memo, Col Guy M. Townsend, Director, C–5 SPO, to F. A.

Cleveland, C–5 Deputy Program Manager, Lockheed-Georgia, March 1, 1966, Sup. Doc. 78

to Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965.

33. Knaack, Fighters, p. 71; ASD History, Calendar Year 1965, Vol. I, p. 186.

34. Engine and Airframe Contract Data, n. d. in files of the Office of Secretary of the Air

Force, 1972; ASD History, Calendar Year 1965, Vol I, pp. 185-186.

35. Aviation Week and Space Technology (May 1965), p. 22; Francillon, "Galaxy," p. 271.

36. ASD History, January-June 1966, Vol. I, pp. 194-197.

37. ASD History, January 1967-June 1968, Vol. I, pp. 142-143.

38. Annual Report of the Secretary of the Air Force, Fiscal 1968, p. 472.

39. ASD History, January-December 1966, Vol. I, pp. 193-194.

40. ASD History, January-December 1966, Vol. I, p. 193; Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 6, 113.

41. Testimony by Secretary of Defense McNamara, January 25, 1967, Hearings before a

Subcommittee of the Senate Subcommittee on Appropriations, Department of Defense

Appropriations, Fiscal 1968, 90th Congress, 1st Session, p. 380.

42. Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, pp. 267, 270-271.

43. Testimony by Secretary of Defense McNamara, January 25, 1967, cited above; The Wall

Street Journal, "The War Business," June 3, 1969; Annual Report of the Secretary of Defense,

fiscal 1968, p. 476.

44. Hearings before a Subcommittee of Committee on Government Operations, House of

Representatives, 91st Congress, First Session, Government Procurement and Contracting,

Part 4, pp. 1179, 1217.

45. Bernard D. Nossiter, The Washington Post, May 13, June 3, 1969.

46. Hearings of the U.S. Congress Joint Economic Committee, November 13, 1968; Berkeley

Rice, The C–5A Scandal: An Inside Story of the Military-Industrial Complex (Boston:

Houghton Mifflin, 1971), pp. 34-35; Hearings of the House Armed Services Committee,

Military Procurement for Fiscal Year 1971, Parts I & II, March-June 1969, pp. 2981-2982;

Wall Street Journal, "The War Business,", June 3, 1969; Nossiter, The Washington Post, June

29, 1969.

47. ASD History, January 1967-June 1968, Vol. I, p. 137.

48. Ibid., July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp. 170-171.

49. Ibid., July 1967-June 1968, Vol. I, pp. 143, 147; Wall Street Journal, "The War Business,"

June 3, 1969.

50. Government Accounting Office Investigation of Charges Concerning Unsatisfactory

Management Practices in the C–5A Aircraft Program at Lockheed-Georgia, submitted to the

Department of Defense, 1970.

51. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp. 172-176.

52. Annual Report of the Secretary of the Air Force, fiscal 1966, p. 364; ASD History, July

1969-June 1970, Vol. I, p. 210.

53. The Washington Post, April 30, 1969.
72

54. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol I., p. 163.

55. Ibid., July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 191-192.

56. Richard Harwood, Washington Post, Aug 10, 1969; A. Ernest Fitzgerald, The High Priests

of Waste (New York: Norton, 1972), p. 213.

57. Testimony of Secretary of Defense McNamara, January 25, 1967, Hearings before the

Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations for Fiscal Year 1968, U.S. Senate, 90th

Congress, First Session, pp. 121-122, 380; Bernard D. Nossiter, The Washington Post, June

29, 1969.

58. Department of Defense Fact Sheet, Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Public

Affairs, 1976; Trewhitt, McNamara's Ordeal, p. 158.

59. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, p. 164.

60. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p. 132; Bernard Nossiter, The Washington Post, November 27,

1968; Aerospace Daily, November 27, 1968; ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp.

163-164, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 191-192.

61. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, pp. 191-192.

62. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp. 163-165; Harold B. Meyers, Fortune

Magazine, August 1, 1969; Bernard Nossiter, Washington Post, June 29, 1969.

63. House Government Operations Subcommittee on Military Operations, Hearings on

Government Procurement and Contracting, Part 4, April 1969, pp. 1176-1227; Bernard

Nossiter, The Washington Post, April 3, 1969, June 3, 1969; Philadelphia Inquirer, May 1,

1969.

64. Michael Gettler, Armed Forces Management, December 23, 1969; Parade Magazine (The

Washington Post) April 5, 1970; "The War Business," Wall Street Journal, June 3, 1969.

65. New York Times, May 3, 1969, Bernard Nossiter, The Washington Post, May 3, 1969.

66. Bernard Nossiter, The Washington Post, May 1, 1969; Philadelphia Inquirer, May 1, 1969.

67. Armed Forces Journal, September 6, 1969, p. 13; ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol

I, pp. 192-193.

68. Hearings before Subcommittee on Economy in Government of the Joint Economic

Committee, Economics of Military Procurement, 91st Congress, Second Session, Part I, pp.

254-255, 260-271.

69. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, p. 200; Bernard Nossiter, The Washington Post,

September 10, 1969; Baltimore Sun, September 10, 1969.
73
74

CHAPTER IV

SETTLEMENT OF THE C–5A PROGRAM

AND ANOTHER PROCUREMENT REFORM

President John F. Kennedy, in his first defense message to Congress in March 1961,

announced the buildup of the airlift forces to support flexible response, a new national policy

to counter the Soviet ability to attack the territory of the United States and its allies.1

President Kennedy also endorsed immediate development of the CX-HLS (Heavy Logistics

System) that became the Lockheed-Georgia C–5A strategic transport, the only truly gigantic

airplane of this type under consideration in the early 1960s. Some two decades later, despite

charges of fraud and deception, scandals of every kind, various aerodynamic and structural

problems, and shocking cost increases, an improved model, the C–5B, took its place alongside

the original plane, by now radically modified.

Developing transports to haul heavy cargo in support of flexible response cost vast

sums, even though Robert Charles, a former executive of the McDonnell Aircraft Corporation

now serving as an Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics,

championed the total-package procurement concept (TPPC), designed to control expenditures

and satisfy Secretary of Defense McNamara's insistence on cost-effectiveness. TPPC seemed

simple, but was never carried out in detail, did more harm than good, and damaged the

reputation of the Air Force.

In October 1965 the Air Force chose the C–5A over a cargo craft proposed by Boeing

that the leaders of several major commands and other high ranking military officials

preferred. Lower cost gave Lockheed a decisive edge, but the C–5A strategic transport

afforded some remarkable features (See Appendix 1), including the quick and efficient loading

of such bulky equipment as two main battle tanks or 24 attack helicopters. A kneeling

landing gear lowered the cargo deck to truck-bed height for loading from the front or rear,

something that only the C–5A could do.2 Offsetting these advantages, the aircraft's wing

succumbed to metal fatigue in as few as 7,500 flying hours, one fourth of the projected useful

life. After January 20, 1969, when President Richard M. Nixon assumed office, the Air Force

continued to reduce the payload, while attempting to fix the wings, but this proved as futile

as trying to mend a broken leg with band aids.3

The Nixon administration's Department of Defense did not underestimate the

magnitude of the problems left unsolved by the Johnson administration and still troubling

the C–5A program. Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird, especially, worried about the likely

repercussions of the C–5A controversy on other military projects at a time of extreme

discontent with the Vietnam War and the rising cost of weapons procurement. Laird expected

that deficiencies in aircraft subsystems and in the airframe itself, along with the probable

results of on-going investigations by the Securities and Exchange Commission and the

General Accounting Office, would fuel the dispute involving Lockheed and the defense

establishment.

Because the Air Force needed the C–5A, the most urgent and overriding consideration

was to ensure continued production. Ideally, the Air Force would resolve swiftly the dispute

with Lockheed, but an ideal solution seemed improbable. Moreover, irreconcilable differences

over the program's cost overruns and the aircraft's engineering problems seemed likely to

persist. The coming years, 1970 especially, promised more turmoil.
75

Money, A Continuous First Priority

The cost estimates worked out by the Air Force and endorsed by Secretary McNamara

in February 1965 were generous—between $3.2 and $3.4 billion for 115 C–5As, including five

test aircraft later to be brought up to operational standard. Actually, the government's

maximum estimate of $3.4 billion was double the amount of the low-cost bid for the same

number of aircraft, which had earned Lockheed its contract. In the context of total-package

procurement, all these estimates covered the cost of spare parts and made allowance for

inflation. Even so, the $3.4-billion maximum estimate of 1965 failed the test of time.

Testifying under oath, a civilian cost analyst employed by the Air Force, A. Ernest Fitzgerald,

in November 1968 predicted a total price to $5.2 billion, a staggering cost overrun of $1.8

billion. The difference among Lockheed's initial estimate, that of the Air Force, and the

projection by Fitzgerald cried out for an explanation.

On May 2, 1969, a few days before his resignation, Assistant Secretary Charles still

denied the validity of Fitzgerald's estimate of a $1.8-billion overrun and insisted that the

actual amount would be a mere $382 million. Charles's explanations apparently reflected a

1964 Air Force cost estimate of $3.1 billion for 120 aircraft. He did not mention the number

of aircraft involved, however, and the net result of his lower estimate was to trigger counterclaims that raised Fitzgerald's $1.8 billion to $2.1 billion. Seemingly unperturbed with this

result, Charles justified his $382 million cost increase by subtracting from the $2.1 billion

overrun the costs of spare parts ($855 million) and design changes ($350 million), along with

$500 million to compensate for inflation—three potential sources of cost increase that totalpackage procurement was designed to prevent. The explanations offered by Charles lacked

credibility, since the repricing formula, which undercut total-package procurement, had

already come to light.

Charles had apparently refused from the start to implement whole-heartedly the totalpackage method of procurement which he had personally championed. On May 14, 1969,

shortly after Charles departed. Robert Seamans, the new Air Force Secretary, announced that

the first two production runs of C–5As, 115 aircraft and spare parts, would indeed cost $5.2

billion, the amount cited in the Fitzgerald's testimony. Like Charles, Seamans insisted that

the $3.4 billion Air Force estimate of 1965 had neither included spare parts, estimated at

$840 million, nor provided for inflation, some $500 million, nor earmarked $350 million to

cover the cost of engineering modifications. The increases listed by Seamans mirrored those

Charles identified, and both stemmed from sources that total-package procurement was

supposed to eliminate. The new Secretary of the Air Force also insisted that the $3.1-billion

estimate cited by Charles pertained to a smaller version of the aircraft which the Air Force

chose not to order. Actually, the cost increases itemized by Seamans were similar enough to

those identified by Charles to indicate that the new Secretary and the former Assistant

Secretary had closely monitored closely the C–5A financial data.

Reconciling the divergent Air Force versions of events set forth by Charles and

Seamans appeared futile. Moreover, the war in Southeast Asia, which beset the Johnson

Administration, continued under Nixon and clearly required the services of the C–5A. These

circumstances may well have explained Secretary of Defense Laird's decision to stop

discussing the cost overruns. Hence, a few months after his appointment, Secretary of

Defense Laird in June 1969 took issue with Seamans's acknowledgment of a $2 billion

overrun, declaring that a preliminary analysis by the General Accounting Office indicated

that the increase in contract cost was only about $500 million.4

In September 1969 the Senate voted to reject the Proxmire amendment and continue
5 See Appendix 2.

76

the C–5A program, and immediately afterward Secretary Laird endorsed the Air Force's final

decision of June 1969 to cut the program from 115 aircraft to a total of 81. This did not end

the arguments over funding, because the program's eventual cost remained unknown. The

C–5A Program Office had unsuccessfully attempted throughout 1968 to ascertain the extent

of Lockheed's cost overruns, but uncertainty over the true costs persisted. The Air Force knew

how much money Congress had appropriated since the program's inception,5 and it knew how

much had been expended thus far, but it could not identify Lockheed's financial status

relating to the C–5A. Moreover, the contractor's defensive behavior throughout 1969 and the

first six months of 1970 did nothing to clarify the financial picture.5

The Unsolved Financial Dilemma

In mid-1969, after the Air Force indicated it would purchase only 23 of the 57 aircraft

in Production Run B, the buyer and seller were practically at each other throats. Lockheed

officials contended that the January 1969 Supplemental Agreement 235 to the original

Lockheed contract, which limited the government's obligation to a "first" additional purchase

of just 23 Run B aircraft, was not valid. The contractor also insisted that the letter of intent

signed by Secretary of the Air Force Brown prior to his departure was binding and committed

the Air Force to buy all 57 C–5As of Production Run B. In contrast, Lt. Gen. Duward Crow,

Comptroller of the Air Force, argued that the Air Force had committed itself only to "the

right to buy the planes"; and Robert Moot, the new Comptroller of the Department of

Defense, stated that the order for more than the 23 planes depended specifically on the

authorization of funds for them by Congress. However, Thomas R. May, now President of the

Lockheed-Georgia Company, told the Senate Armed Services Committee in July 1969 that

as of May 30, 1969, Lockheed had spent almost $1.57 billion on the 58 C–5As of Production

Run A, for which the government had paid only $1.52 billion.

Since only a handful of C–5As had been completed by mid-1969, the Air Force seemed

the sure loser in the struggle over the C–5A. Bluntly put, albeit delicately phrased at the

time, in the event Lockheed decided to cancel the contract and stop production, the terms of

the agreement would compel the service to pay over $1.5 billion for less than a dozen

aircraft.6

In the spring of 1969, Lockheed's threat to take its case to the Armed Services Board

of Contract Appeals troubled Air Force leaders. As time went by, the situation grew even

more serious. Besides obligating $48 million to Lockheed for production increments in fiscal

years 1970 through 1972, Supplemental Agreement 235 contained an advanced-buy

authorization for fiscal 1970 not to exceed $52 million. If the government failed to fund these

fiscal year production increments before November 30, 1969, Lockheed, in accordance with

the contract's termination and cancellation clause, would be entitled to $30.5 million. In the

event of cancellation, commitments for all or part of Production Run B, such as the 23

aircraft identified by the supplemental agreement, would become void and contract options

between Lockheed and its subcontractors would lapse. Furthermore, Lockheed would

probably be unable to continue Production Run A and would have to lay off 20,000 employees.

Lockheed's subcontractors and vendors, in turn, would also dismiss a significant number of

their workers. Finally, according to the Aeronautical Systems Division (ASD) of the Air Force

Systems Command (AFSC), even a lesser delay by a Congress in appropriating the necessary
77

funds might conceivably result in a $400 or $550 million increase in the price of Run B.7 The Air Force, although exasperated by the growing problems with the C–5A, seemed to understand

Lockheed's difficulties. Instead of requesting termination, the Air Force noted that Lockheed

could request an adjustment in price and delivery if it incurred additional costs or a delay

in production. Such a solution could serve the same purpose as the contract's repricing

formula, perhaps without arousing further controversy. Other indications arose that the Air

Force was determined to find a conciliatory solution that would satisfy both Lockheed and

the service and, above all, serve the nation's best interests. For example, a section of the July

1969 Whittaker Report, prepared by Air Force and NASA experts, which the press had either

not received, overlooked, or ignored, addressed the cost of inflation, endorsing conclusions

reached by the Aeronautical Systems Division and casting a more favorable light on Lockheed

and on the $2.2 billion cost overrun.8

Back in May 1969, Phillip N. Whittaker, the recently appointed Assistant Secretary

of the Air Force for Installations and Logistics, had reconvened an ASD cost survey team

which, in anticipation of Supplemental Agreement 235, attempted a thorough review of the

C–5A's financial status. The team's updated findings, presented on July 3, 1969, to Maj. Gen.

Harry E. Goldsworthy, the new commander of the Aeronautical Systems Division, became the

basis of the cost evaluation included in the Whittaker Report.

The ASD team's conclusions included a prediction that Lockheed's production costs

would increase further and raise the price of the aircraft to the government. The team

attributed the increase to three factors: an inflationary trend in the American economy;

extension of the aircraft delivery schedule over a longer period; and reduction in the monthly

aircraft production rate from four to three, the last two a result of Supplemental Agreement

235.

The ASD team's report did not whitewash Lockheed contribution to the overruns,

noting that "it is impossible to differentiate between the effect of inflation on the increased

costs and the effect of optimistic contractor estimates and/or contractor efficiency." The

suggested causes had already been noted, Charles himself admitting that Lockheed could

have underbid purposely in order to secure the C–5A contract. As for the contractor's

efficiency, the cure notice issued in 1967 clearly reflected the Air Force Systems Command's

low opinion of Lockheed's early efforts.

The ASD report also raised two other extremely important points. First, materiel and

manufacturing efforts accounted for "the major portion [of the cost overruns]." This had been

anticipated by General Schriever, AFSC's former commander, now retired, who all along

believed the contractor would have to use exotic and expensive new materials to satisfy the

future transport's ambitious technical performance requirements. As Air Force headquarters

was beginning to find out, Schriever's early misgivings over the technical risks of Lockheed's

C–5A design had been well founded. Second, the report revealed that the Air Force had

raised the cost of future C–5As, including those aircraft of Production Run A not yet built,

because of soaring inflation rates. The increase, which the Air Force considered fair, might

not be enough to satisfy Lockheed.9

Cutting Losses

The Nixon administration's decision to decrease the total C–5A procurement from 115

to 81 was the very outcome that Lockheed had been fighting since January 1969, when the

original C–5 contract was modified by Air Force Supplemental Agreement 235. Change Order

521, which embodied the decision, was a unilateral Air Force document, prepared by ASD,

revised by the Air Force Systems Command as well as the Air Staff, and issued by Air Force
78

Secretary Seamans on November 25, 1969. The fourth paragraph of Change Order 521 stated

specifically that:

The government reserves all rights to challenge as unauthorized any

expenditures made or costs incurred on Production Run B other than on the

Fiscal Year 1970 increment of 23 (twenty-three) aircraft and associated

equipment. The government does not by this paragraph relinquish any or all

other rights it may have under this contract or otherwise to challenge any or

all costs incurred or expenditures made under any portion of this contract.10

Predictably, Lockheed-Georgia reacted to Change Order 521 as it had to Supplemental

Agreement 235. Its attorneys argued, as they had before, that the basic agreement committed

the government to purchase all 57 Aircraft of Production Run B; therefore Change Order 525

amounted to an arbitrary and illegal revision of the contract. The government's apparent

intransigence, said the Lockheed attorneys, represented an illegal use of duress, forcing the

contractor to accept a cut in production. While the attorneys argued, Lockheed notified its

subcontractors to stop work and informed them of a partial termination, which would require

Lockheed and its subcontractors to negotiate repricing agreements and termination

allowances on the basis of twenty-three aircraft actions that could only raise the aircraft's

ultimate cost.

After further negotiation with the contractor, the Air Force, in accordance with

established procurement procedures, found itself compelled to forward on February 18, 1970,

Lockheed's formal appeal to the Armed Services Board of Contract Appeals. The Air Force

had tried to avoid this development, and for good reason, since Lockheed had suffered

genuine losses that might impress a review panel. An ASD concurrent cost study, predicated

on a total production of 81 C–5As (58 aircraft in Production Run A and 23 in Run B),

revealed that Lockheed, after spending in excess of $3.1 billion, could expect a probable

reimbursement of less than $2.6 billion, leaving the contractor with a loss of nearly $650

million. General Electric stood to lose $2 million after spending $778 million to develop and

manufacture an engine for the transport. Lockheed's own errors no doubt contributed to its

loss, but the Armed Services Board of Contract Appeals, the normal mechanism for litigating

disputes of this sort, might find it difficult to apportion blame between contractor and the Air

Force.

In the meantime, indications appeared that Lockheed's financial position might be

more precarious than the company's attorneys wished to admit. In February 1970, the same

month Lockheed's case reached the Board of Contract Appeals, the President of the LockheedGeorgia Company, Thomas R. May, disclosed at a press conference that his firm had proposed

a new delivery schedule that reduced monthly production from three aircraft to two, thus

increasing the cost still further, and postponed completion of the 81 C–5As from June 1972

until February 1973. This change was necessary, May claimed, for a number of reasons. It

provided the 22-month lead-time needed between receipt of the order and delivery of the

finished aircraft, and forestalled the need to suspend operations for perhaps two years. May

indicated that stretching out the program, instead of halting production, was essential

because of possible future C–5A orders from the Air Force or foreign governments, and

because of potential orders for the proposed L-500, Lockheed's hoped-for commercial

derivative of the huge transport.

A month later, on March 2, 1970, Daniel J. Haughton, Chairman of the Board of the

Lockheed Aircraft Corporation, in a letter to Deputy Secretary of Defense David J. Packard,
79

acknowledged Lockheed's worsening financial plight. Work on all of Lockheed's defense

contracts would cease unless the company received between $600 and $700 million, most of

it for the C–5A program. Lockheed, Haughton declared, could not wait for the board of

contract appeals to "establish final amounts due the company from the Defense Department."

Moreover, the company would require interim financing before the end of December 1970 to

maintain "uninterrupted performance" of the C–5A contract. Bills for subcontracting, labor,

and materials fell due periodically; and Lockheed could not assume the "financial burden

while awaiting the outcome of [years] of litigation resulting largely from drastic innovations

in procurement procedures utilized by the military services."

Although Haughton, the Lockheed chairman, conceded in his letter some "deficiencies"

on Lockheed's part, he insisted that total-package procurement caused the company's woes.

Adopting the untried technique, he said, was "imprudent and adverse to our respective

interests"; the concept had proved "virtually unworkable." Nor did he see much interest on

the part of the Air Force in correcting existing contracts on terms acceptable to the

contractors, or any attempt "to recognize that litigation is a seriously inadequate avenue."

With Lockheed apparently backing away from litigation, the Assistant Secretary of the

Air Force for Installations and Logistics, Phillip Whittaker, promptly created a contract

negotiating committee headed by Maj. Gen. Edmund O'Connor, ASD's vice-commander.

Working with Lockheed representatives, the new ASD committee drew up a proposed

memorandum of agreement as the basis for a new C–5A contract. This document reached

Deputy Secretary of Defense Packard and Chairman Haughton in May 1970, only two months

after Packard received Haughton's letter. Another year would pass, however, before the two

parties, each jockeying to get the most favorable settlement, would reach a final agreement.

During these twelve months, unusual financial transactions had to be worked out as the Air

Force once again confronted serious problems with the C–5A, though a few positive

developments had surfaced.11

On the positive side, the Securities and Exchange Commission's investigation, initiated

in May 1969, reported in mid-1970 that no Air Force or Department of Defense personnel,

military or civilian, had benefitted from the alleged cover-up of Lockheed's technical and

financial difficulties. Some of Lockheed's managers did not fare so well. The SEC report

contained no evidence of illegal trading, but it did disclose that a number of Lockheed

executives had sold their company stocks at the top of the market, in late 1965 when

Lockheed's future seemed assured and in 1966 and 1967 before the Air Force presented the

company with a cure notice. At this time, the company's stock fluctuated between $60 and

$70 a share. Thanks in part to extensive media coverage of the C–5A controversy, the price

of a share declined to $30.00 in 1969 and plummeted below $10.00 in 1970.12

Another event, eagerly awaited by the Air Force, occurred in September 1970, as the

first squadron in the Military Airlift Command (MAC) attained initial operational capability

(IOC) at Charleston Air Force Base (AFB), South Carolina. The IOC lagged more than a year

behind the original schedule, and several months beyond a revised date established on

December 17, 1969, when MAC took delivery of its first C–5A. In the next six months, MAC's

transport training unit, the 443rd Military Airlift Wing at Altus AFB, Oklahoma, received

its allocated complement of aircraft—initially eight but later reduced to six and then

four—and three of the eight C–5As earmarked for Charleston AFB, South Carolina, arrived

there in June 1970. The buildup at Altus and Charleston slowed because of MAC's decision

to reserve five aircraft for its own use. The operational C–5As at Charleston, moreover,

experienced considerable difficulty with their landing gear, forcing postponement of the

squadron's IOC until September.13
80

Despite the delay and the problems encountered with some of the C–5As that reached

the operational inventory, MAC's September 1970 IOC was encouraging. Although the

contractor's financial status kept getting worse, this decline had been expected, and the

memorandum of agreement worked out by General O'Connor's committee provided options

to take care of Lockheed's most urgent difficulties. One option would "increase the percentage

of the ceiling which could be paid out in progress payments from 90 to 95 percent, without

increasing the progress-payment rate," which remained once a week. Another would add $200

million for the known effects of the repricing formula contained in the contract, in advance

of the actual time when such funding might need to be applied "under the strict terms of the

contract."14

As a start, the appropriations for fiscal 1970 provided an extra $225 million to cover

amounts in excess of the target cost for Production Run A; in addition, Lockheed was

authorized to receive $34 million for research and development and $481 million for

production. On June 11, 1970, the Senate Armed Services Committee earmarked $200 million

in contingency funds to meet Lockheed's weekly progress payments. The money, however,

was not easily obtained. Still angry about the spiraling costs, Senator William Proxmire

pointed out that the General Accounting Office's investigators had been unable to find out

how Lockheed had spent the money already received for the C–5A program. Proxmire tried

to prevent the Senate Armed Services Committee from approving any contingency funding

before Lockheed had fully disclosed its cash position. Just a few weeks before the vote on the

fate of contingency funding, the Wisconsin senator began arguing that Lockheed's financial

crisis "has been caused by its commercial venture, the L-1011 aircraft, and not by its

government contracts."15

Senator Proxmire was not alone in his opposition to making more money available

to Lockheed. Colleagues in the Senate as well members of the House objected to what

Proxmire described as the government's "bail out" of Lockheed, but the C–5A program

counted many Congressmen as staunch supporters, notably South Carolina's Mendel Rivers,

Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, in whose district the Charleston-based

C–5As would operate. Not once during the controversy, had Rivers's determination wavered.

Halting the C–5A program would be like "cutting our nose to spite our face," the chairman

declared in June 1969, adding soon afterwards "regardless of what this plane costs, we need

it, and we must have it." In June 1970, many politicians, including President Nixon's

Secretary of the Treasury, John Connally, shared Rivers's opinion. Consequently, the House

by a vote of 90 to 48 rejected an amendment, introduced by Otis Pike, a Democrat from New

York, to eliminate the extra $200 million. The Senate defeated a similar amendment,

presented by Richard Schweiker, a Pennsylvania Democrat, 48 to 30. Even though the vote

was closer in the Senate, the program seemed safe for the time being, as much because of the

jobs lost if Lockheed should fail as in recognition of the company's past contributions to

American military and civil aviation.16

Defeat of the Pike and Schweiker amendments accelerated Air Force efforts to sustain

the C–5A program, making sure it was truly saved rather than merely granted a stay of

execution. Commercial banks and airlines, which had already lent Lockheed about $450

million, agreed in September 1970 to lend Lockheed another $250 million if it could reach a

favorable settlement of the C–5A dispute with the government. Lockheed needed the

additional loan to proceed with production of its L–1011 Tristar jetliner. Because of a sharp

decline in the commercial aviation business, the California-based corporation had received

only a hundred or so firm orders for the L–1011—fewer than half the number needed to cover

production costs.17
6 A summary of the salient changes to the engine contract and the final cost

arrangement is included in Appendix 3, along with similar information on the

restructured airframe contract.

81

On December 30, 1970, Deputy Secretary of Defense Packard outlined for Senator

John C. Stennis, a Democrat from Mississippi and Chairman of the Senate Armed Services

Committee, the critical aspects of the current situation. Prolonged litigation, said Packard,

would leave Lockheed with "insufficient cash and inadequate commercial credit to finance the

continued operation of vital defense programs." Moreover, the company needed additional

government funding and bank support to forestall bankruptcy, and Lockheed's failure,

because of the intricate relationship among Lockheed and other defense contractors and

suppliers, could set off a disastrous chain reaction in the American aerospace industry.

Packard also told Stennis that the disputed costs amounted to $758 million, and that

there were two ways to settle the C–5A dispute: either fund the contractor fully, with

litigation determining whether the Air Force ordered 81 or 115 aircraft and what effect the

repricing formula would have on the final cost to the government; or persuading Lockheed

to abandon legal proceedings in return for funding the amount at issue except for $200

million, a loss that Lockheed would have to absorb. Whichever alternative might prevail, the

Air Force would have to exert "a more active role" in program management, and "provide all

the funds to complete the C–5A program." Packard, however, preferred the second alternative

because it offered a prompt and permanent solution.18

The immediate solution favored by the Defense Department did not please the

Lockheed Corporation, and Daniel Haughton wasted no time in reiterating the soundness of

the corporation's legal position. In a letter of January 5, 1971, Lockheed's chairman protested

Packard's trying to resolve the C–5A dispute by forcing the company to lose $200 million, an

"excessive and unwarranted penalty," according to Haughton. Lockheed would therefore

proceed with litigation.

Real or feigned, Haughton's indignation could not endure. Faced with dwindling

production funds for the C–5A, he agreed on February 1, 1971, to accept the $200 million

fixed-loss settlement. As a result, Lockheed forfeited $100 million already spent but due to

be recouped under the terms of total-package procurement. Repayment of the balance would

begin in January 1974 with annual payments of $10 million or ten percent of profits,

whichever was greater.

On May 6, 1971, Secretary of the Treasury Connally announced that President Nixon

would ask Congress to provide a $250 million loan guarantee to ward off Lockheed's potential

bankruptcy, and a bill to that effect was introduced on May 13. Although worded to cover

"major businesses in danger of failure," the loan guarantee focused on saving Lockheed,

which would receive most of the money. General Electric was not forgotten, however. On

September 15, after months of intensive negotiation to forestall possible litigation and

eliminate administrative problems, the engine manufacturer signed a new contract

restructured by the government on the pattern subsequently adapted to the Lockheed

airframe contract.6 The new agreement reduced the original 279 engines for Production Run

B to a maximum of 176, reflecting the procurement of just 23 aircraft.19

Effective May 31, 1971, Supplemental Agreement 1000 replaced the C–5A contract of

October 1965, as amended over the years, and marked the official demise of the total-package

procurement concept during its first application. In point of fact, Secretary of Defense Melvin
82

Laird had repudiated the TPPC in mid 1969, when he ordered the reform of procurement

policies, and Deputy Secretary Packard responded by unleashing major changes in the

weapon system acquisition process. Packard reintroduced, if only for certain weapons

programs, the practice of prototyping or conducting "fly-off" competitions between systems

vying for development contracts. In any case, even though Supplemental Agreement 1000

restructured an existing contract, it promoted some of the new administration's basic

procurement concepts.20

To begin with, under the terms of Supplemental Agreement 1000, Lockheed agreed

to waive all existing claims as well as rights to performance incentive payments, and to give

up any "profit or fee for spare parts and other...items to be supplied." In addition, Lockheed

agreed to accept "extraordinary management controls" by the government. The agreement

also canceled a number of provisions that had been part of Charles's total-package

procurement contract. The deletions included responsibility for total system performance; the

pricing of government-imposed changes; repricing; and adjustment for economic fluctuations.

Finally, the new agreement included management practices that, in effect, totally rescinded

McNamara's policy of centralization. Supplemental Agreement 1000 sought to combine

increased management controls with decentralization.

The so-called "Packard Initiatives" for major Air Force weapon projects had by late

1969 shifted the Program Element Monitor for the C–5A from the Air Staff to the Air Force

Systems Command. By May 1971, when the new agreement with Lockheed became effective,

general officers were routinely assigned as program directors, rather than colonels.

Essentially functioning as managers, directors of system project offices controlled every

important aspect of the program to which they were assigned. Under the decentralized

Packard policy, AFSC expected its system project offices to balance performance, schedule,

and cost in the programs they managed. Other refinements in acquisition policy specifically

addressed the problem of controlling costs, but these appeared too late to affect the C–5A

program. Nevertheless, under the close control of Brig. Gen. Warner E. Newby, who had

replaced Colonel Beckman as C–5A program director on July 21, 1970, the revamped program

overcame incredible technical difficulties, acquired respectability, and ultimately provided a

major asset for America's strategic airlift forces.21

Another Crisis

Weight problems can affect any aircraft, and Lockheed's gigantic C–5A proved

especially vulnerable. In the spring of 1965, the Air Force reduced some of the C–5A's

technical requirements for the specific purpose of decreasing the proposed transport's weight.

Yet, even though the final design submitted by Lockheed featured the heaviest operating

weight among the competitors, it promised the lowest cost, which clinched the September

decision in favor of that firm. The Air Force, however, did not reduce those technical

requirements affecting operational performance, and Lockheed embarked on a difficult course

of action, shaving weight without undercutting effectiveness.22

The C–5A contract, when signed by Lockheed, stipulated that the aircraft's guaranteed

tare weight—the weight when ready to fly, excluding the crew, fuel and oil, payload, and

various consumables—would not exceed 318,469 pounds. Lockheed was within this weight

envelope in January 1966 and even reduced the figure to 311,546 pounds the following

month, but ensuing wind-tunnel tests revealed that aerodynamic drag would prevent the

aircraft from having the required range. Changes in the shape of the airframe to increase

range required structural modifications that raised the aircraft's tare weight to 319,778
7 The Fowler flap is set into a wing's trailing edge in a manner similar to a

split flap, but the Fowler moves backward and swings downward thus increasing

wing area and camber -- and therefore lift -- with a minimum amount of drag.

83

pounds triggering another weight reduction effort. In the process of saving weight, the

contractor altered the original high-lift airfoil design by switching from a double-slotted,

trailing-edge flap and leading-edge Krueger flaps to a conventional Fowler flap on the trailing

edge and slats on the leading edge.7 Although other changes would have to be made to reduce

weight, the immediate results appeared encouraging. In late 1966, the C–5A's estimated tare

weight was 319,274 pounds, a 504- pound reduction from the highest figure. By 1967,

however, Lockheed's apparent improvements began impressing Air Force officials as hollow

achievements, possibly the result of deliberate deceit.23

The most serious weight-related problem, one the Air Force would not completely solve

for almost two decades, surfaced before the awarding of the C–5A contract but escaped notice.

The request for proposals issued by the Air Force in 1964 instructed the competing airframe

companies to specify technical performance values—like the range and payload of the new

transport—that would become part of the contract. Wing area was not one of the items

specified in the contract. To remain competitive in technical performance, Lockheed increased

the wing area (and lift) of its revised design, which also increased tare weight of the proposed

airframe. To meet the technical performance requirements, however, Lockheed decreased the

estimated weight of its new wing structure even below that of earlier and smaller one. In

reviewing the proposal, the Air Force focused exclusively on overall tare weight and never

challenged the unexplained reduction in the weight of one vital component, the wing.

By early 1967, Air Force officials realized that the stress values of the new transport's

wings left little margin for potential static overloading or the effect of metal fatigue. Lockheed

agreed to deal with the problem, but subsequent events proved the contractor to be either

unwilling or unable to comply. By mid-1970, when wing fatigue began to occur, the fortieth

C–5A was being assembled and Lockheed employees were already machining wing parts for

the sixtieth airframe. The time had passed for a major redesign of the wing structure.

Moreover, the recently revealed dispute over cost overruns, the Congressional debates about

the airplane, and the attendant reduction in C–5A procurement tended to obscure the

importance of providing a stronger wing.24

Other problems also arose long before production started. The contractor's engineers

conceived of the C–5A as a larger version of the C–141, and grossly underestimated the

technical difficulties involved in increasing the diameter of the fuselage. Moreover, Lockheed

had not conducted sufficient wind tunnel tests on scale models of the airframe before signing

the unique total-package procurement contract. Indeed, in its eagerness to win the production

contract, Lockheed might well have minimized wind-tunnel testing or ignored the problems

the tests revealed, just as the firm could have deliberately have underbid its rivals.

From the start, the C–5A required materials handling procedures and manufacturing

techniques different from those of the C–141. Installing the huge stringers, which held the

airframe structure together during fabrication, required extra workers; special machine tools

had to be designed or altered, and more expensive materials took the place of aluminum. At

the plant in Marietta, Georgia, the costly use of titanium, metal bonding, honeycomb

structures, and chemical milling helped keep the aircraft's weight meet the contract

specifications.25
84

In November 1968, eight months after the beginning of the Category I tests, which

sought to discover deficiencies in design, Lockheed detected cracks in the fuselage frame of

one C–5A. The cracks varied in size, but some were one-eighth of an inch wide and 12 to 16

inches long. Lockheed attributed the cracks to overstressing that resulted from parts being

poorly fitted on the assembly line. The ultimate cause, Lockheed believed, was a lack of

coordination among various subcontractors. In early December, engineers from the program

office met with their counterparts at Lockheed to evaluate measures to resolve the problem

and prevent its recurrence. Although admitting that Lockheed had made some efforts to

correct tooling and design errors, Air Force officials insisted that the manufacturer draw up

a comprehensive plan for engineering inspections to locate and correct discrepancies.26

Structural failings, like the cracks in the C–5A's fuselage, sometimes occur in a new

aircraft. Environmental corrosion or accelerated metal fatigue, the latter often the result of

pushing the aircraft beyond its designed performance envelope, induced structural failure.

Even though the Air Force knew the dangers of corrosion and metal fatigue from its

experience with other aircraft, the problem with the C–5A was not corrected immediately and

would reappear several years later in a more serious form. On September 29, 1971, an

outboard engine on a C–5A turned to full power for takeoff at Altus AFB, Oklahoma, pulled

free of its mount, resulting in the immediate grounding of all C–5As.27

In the meantime, other flaws appeared in the C–5A. During 1968 and 1969, testing

of the first two aircraft disclosed that the main landing gear did not work properly. The

enormous landing gear assemblies were an innovation. Located amidship beneath the

fuselage, they were constructed in four, six-wheel gear bogies which rotated ninety degrees

and folded inward after takeoff, and there were also four wheels to support the aircraft's

nose. Lockheed attributed the landing gear's malfunction to the "interim configuration" of the

first two C–5As, which functioned as test aircraft. The next aircraft, however, experienced

Correction of the failings in the landing gear took several years. In January 1971, following completion similar problems.

of an engineering study headed by Raymond L. Bisplinghoff of the Air Force Scientific

Advisory Board, Lockheed started recording malfunctions of the 28-wheel landing gear truck,

and found out that on an average one malfunction occurred for every eight cycles of

extraction and retraction. Lockheed's attempts to improve the landing gear's electronic

controls proved futile, and the system had to be largely redesigned. As a result, a simplified

system involving relays and switches replaced the solid-state electronics. The Air Force

determined that the simplified system extended by 68 percent the mean time between failure,

and decreased the man-hours devoted to maintenance by nearly 50 percent. Over a period of

The committee's report, completed in June 1970, reached mixed conclusions. The committee found the ten years, this might well cut operation and maintenance costs by $23 million.

design of the landing gear sound from an engineering standpoint, and blamed the gear's

overly intricate construction for the problems, which were not "likely to cause a major

accident if proper emergency procedures are followed." Just the same, the committee

As a result of Category II testing, which simulated actual operations, the C–5A Program Office recommended that operational C–5As periodically undergo landing-gear system testing.

realized that the pneumatic kneeling device for the nose landing gear, designed to load cargo

more efficiently, would never work as planned. A hydraulic system, more reliable and easier

to maintain, replaced the pneumatic system on all but four aircraft. The ten-year savings in

operations and maintenance funds resulting from the substitution of the hydraulic system

were expected to reach $7 million. Finally, Lockheed successfully modified the landing-geardoor locks, which sometimes popped open in flight; installation of the new locks on all C–5As

was completed in mid-1973.28

The leading edge slats posed another problem. The 14 slats on each wing, manipulated

by hydraulic actuators, occasionally failed to extend properly during landings. The system's
8 One "g" is the measure or value of the gravitational pull of the earth, or of a

force required to accelerate or decelerate any freely moveable body at the rate of

approximately 32.16 feet per second per second.

85

erratic performance convinced Lockheed that airflow and the aircraft's maximum takeoff

weight (MTOW) caused the problem. In 1969, the manufacturer decided to redesign the

"moving island portion" of the slat system.29

Besides dealing with cracks, the slats, and the landing gear, the Air Force encountered

problems with the doppler radar, the radar altimeter, and other important subsystems and

components. In 1969, however, the Air Force began struggling to solve the C–5A's most

critical, most stubborn, and costliest problem. In July, the wing of a full-scale, statiC–test

vehicle failed during a simulated 2.25-g pull-up maneuver with a payload of 265,000 pounds.8

Failure occurred at approximately 125 percent of the design load, although the specification

required for this test was 150 percent. Project Wing Strap strengthened with aluminum

braces the wings of all C–5As The work, which reduced maximum takeoff weight from the

planned 769,000 pounds to 575,000, ended by mid-1970; but the problem, far from being

solved, was just beginning.30

Damage Control

The most urgent goals facing the newly appointed Secretary of Defense, Melvin Laird,

as he inherited the C–5A program in 1969, included calming public opinion, enlisting

Congressional support, and solving Lockheed's financial plight. The company's rehabilitation

would mean nothing, however, if the C–5A did not perform as expected, and technical

problems persisted. The Air Force had long suspected many of these problems but on occasion

had failed to realize their potential seriousness. Although the Air Force had sometimes been

less than alert, total-package procurement had limited the participation of the Air Force and

the C–5A program office in Lockheed's development and production of the aircraft. The

original C–5A contract likewise restricted the Air Force in its ability to correct technical

deficiencies. Indeed, given manufacturer's past success, the need for Air Force interference

seemed laughably improbable. If the unthinkable should happen and Lockheed-Georgia fail,

one incredulous Air Force official joked, "We will get the sheriff and go to Atlanta."31

In February 1970, following the January discovery of wing cracks on a C–5A

undergoing preparation for the Wing Strap modification, Air Force Secretary Seamans

directed the Air Force Scientific Advisory Board, assisted by a disinterested panel of experts

in aerodynamics, to conduct a technical study of the C–5A's wing structure. The review

proceeded under the direction of Dr.

Bisplinghoff, both a member of the Scientific Advisory Board and Dean of Engineering at the

Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Although at first concerned exclusively with the

aircraft's wing structure, the scope of the Bisplinghoff committee's study soon expanded when

Secretary Seamans asked it to review the landing gear, avionic subsystems, and overall

performance of the aircraft.32

The committee decided that the aircraft's flight performance met specifications and

that the contractual changes approved by the C–5A program office had not adversely affected

technical performance. However, the avionics subsystems needed significant improvements

in order to provide a "versatile and comprehensive navigation, flight control and landing
86

capability." In addition, the multi-mode radar and the inertial doppler navigation equipment

were proving operationally unreliable. To provide pitch, roll, and heading information, the

committee recommended adding a third attitude heading reference unit to the inertial

doppler navigation equipment.33

The Bisplinghoff Committee's salient conclusions seemed grim. The sophisticated

multi-mode radar system performed so poorly, the committee stated, that the Air Force

should replace it with a less complex, commercially available system, or use an interim stateof-the-art weather and mapping radar until the performance of the multi-mode radar

improved. As for the wing, which had led to the formation of the Bisplinghoff Committee, the

report recommended, at the least, further strengthening the fuselage and wing, preferably

linked to restrictions on payload and mean takeoff weight and modifications to the wing that

would channel the flow of air inboard of the tip closer to the root, thus reducing the wing

loading. Whatever was done, the C–5A seemed unlikely to last as long as planned because

of high operational stress levels caused by the effect of weight and sudden maneuvers on a

flawed wing structure.34

In June 1970, the results of the Bisplinghoff review caught the attention of the media.

Allegations surfaced that the C–5A's many structural problems would limit the aircraft's life

to one-fourth of the 30,000 flying hours sought by the Military Airlift Command, that no

possible fix could prolong the existing wing's lifetime to that extent, and that the Air Force

should consider beginning all over by designing an entirely new wing! Secretary Seamans did

his best to quell the rumors and answer the media's charges, openly stating that a major

redesign of the wing was "very unlikely." Seamans admitted that additional modifications to

the wing structure and other measures would be required to provide an operationally useful

airplane, but he insisted that the committee report reaffirmed his conviction that the C–5A

"can perform the primary mission for which it was built."35

Of course, Lockheed's ongoing financial problems and the C–5A program's highly

publicized cost overruns fueled the flames of media curiosity. Obviously, any modification,

structural change, or subsystem replacement would again raise the aircraft's already

formidable cost. Supplemental Agreement 1000, Lockheed's restructured contract of May

1971, stopped the reporters' new line of questioning, at least for a while, by giving greater

control to the Air Force in general and the C–5A Program Office in particular. The program

office, now freed from the restrictions of total-package procurement, could closely scrutinize

Lockheed's management and quality control activities, two areas where the contractor had

been inattentive at best.36

With its new oversight responsibilities, the C–5A Program Office's total manpower

jumped from 72 in July 1970 to 105 in June 1971. The number of officers almost doubled,

while the civilian complement, larger than the military element to begin with, rose by 30

percent. Despite reinforcing the program office, the task facing the Air Force remained

staggering, for Lockheed was in deep trouble. Even though Lockheed's monthly production

rate had declined to just two C–5As, the company might not be able to meet even this

timetable while making the necessary adjustments on the production line. Testing of the few

aircraft available for that purpose still lagged. The Bisplinghoff Report focused attention on

the aircraft's most important problems; but defects of lesser magnitude remained, some

innate in the aircraft's design, others due to poor workmanship, and these, too, had to be

eliminated.37

Air Force project officials knew only too well how a flaw, undetected or seemingly

minor, could have serious, even fatal, repercussions. On June 6, 1970, Gen. Jack Catton, the

MAC Commander, piloted the first operational C–5A, to Charleston AFB. As the plane
87

touched down, a tire on one of the main landing-gear trucks blew out, and a wheel came off

another truck and bounced wildly down the runway, an especially embarrassing mishap since

it happened before an assemblage of military officers and civilian officials, including Rep.

Mendel Rivers, an enthusiastic supporter of the new transport. General Catton told reporters

that a lock washer was probably defective causing a nut to become unscrewed and allowing

the wheel to fall off. "What we don't know," the general added, "is why the washer came off."

A few months later, while maintenance men were purging a fuel tank to find a leak, a C–5A

caught fire and exploded, killing one mechanic and injuring another.38

Safety, on the ground or in the air, was a constant concern to the Air Force. The Air Force

had encountered malfunctions of weapon systems before and knew it had to correct even the

smallest flaw. Not every attempt to correct a failing succeeded fully or immediately, but the

service pressed on.

Metal fatigue and corrosion, often interrelated and always difficult to predict, proved

especially hard to correct. Titanium metals and bonded honeycomb panels used in the C–5A

to reduce the aircraft's weight, were highly susceptible to both problems. Moreover, cracks

in high-strength, light-weight metals and plastics spread rapidly; the fracture could start in

a corroded area—in a fastener hole, for example, or in a scratch or a poorly designed element

of the aircraft structure. The effects of corrosion and fatigue were demonstrated by the

accident in September 1971 at Altus AFB, which destroyed an aircraft when the number one

engine and pylon tore loose from the wing of a C–5A preparing to takeoff. Investigation

revealed a 1.35-inch-long crack on the inboard titanium longeron. Fatigue failure of the

inboard cap of the aft pylon truss accounted for the separation.39

The root cause, however, lay in the design of the pylon's aft truss and therefore

required the development of a new pylon. In the meantime, during the temporary grounding

that ensued, all pylons were inspected. Those with a great many flying hours or cracked aft

trusses, were judged defective and replaced on 21 C–5As, using existing pylons, those with

poorly designed aft trusses. The replacements, either taken from storage or removed from

grounded aircraft, went into service by the end of May 1972, enabling 18 engines to remain

in service. A newly designed pylon survived thorough testing and by 1972 had accumulated

52,000 cyclic test hours, thus guaranteeing a minimum service life of 13,000 hours. Installing

the new pylon began in April 1972 and ended the following year, after every C–5A had

received the new pylons.40

Nor could the Air Force overlook the poor performance of the C–5A's avionics systems.

Lockheed's testing of numerous new avionic components remained two years behind schedule.

Moreover, many of these components were prototypes yet to be integrated in the aircraft. In

other words, no one truly knew how they would work when melded into a unified system.

Indications abounded that the problems of some of the most important subsystems would not

be easily solved. For example, the original configuration (C model) of the multi-mode radar

consistently performed so badly that, as recommended by the Bisplinghoff Committee, a

commercial weather and mapping radar system developed by the Bendix Corporation

underwent testing as a substitute. Unfortunately, the Bendix system would at most provide

an interim solution, and at an unacceptably high cost. The C–5A Program Office therefore

recommended continuing the development of the existing multi-mode radar program, and the

Air Force Systems Command agreed. Hence, an improved configuration of the original C

model was installed in one aircraft and tested in June 1970. The operational reliability of the

multi-mode radar's updated configuration (the C–plus model) improved, and renewed testing

of the basic C model provided answers to many of the system's remaining deficiencies and

limitations. Pending replacement sometime in late 1972 of the updated C–plus configuration
88

by a further improved D model, MAC limited radar operation to horizontal modes (ground

mapping, weather contour, and beacon operation). In addition, to minimize maintenance and

conserve spare radars, and avoid depleting production capacity in sustaining operations of

the Military Airlift Command, the C–5As used only one radar frequency band on an asneeded-basis, and with a 20 percent reduction in power.41

Installation of the new D-model multi-mode radar started as expected in October 1972,

and was supposed to end within two years, around October 1974. Installation of the updated

hardware proved a major undertaking, but the new multi-mode radar, if not a complete

success, represented a significant improvement over the C model. The defects of the C and

C–plus radars had been eliminated, and the D configuration functioned as a true multi-mode

radar, not only capable of operating in the horizontal mode, but also in the vertical (radar

approach, contour mapping, terrain following, and terrain avoidance). Reliability remained

a problem, however, but program officials optimistically believed the subsystem might become

fully effective before too long.

Another of the Bisplinghoff Committee's recommendations also proved impractical.

The panel suggested improving the reliability of the Northrop company's inertial doppler

navigation system by substituting a new inertial measurement unit supplied by Litton

Industries. The Litton device performed well, but converting to its use would have cost $52

million and required a five-year effort. Instead, the Air Force settled for updating the

Northrop radar in 1972, although the manufacturer continued to have problems of quality

control.42

The last major problem, the wing cracks initially responsible for convening the

Bisplinghoff panel, remained unsolved; indeed, if anything, it seemed to have become worse.

As intended, the Wing Strap modifications reinforced the strength of the C–5A wings, but the

additional weight of the necessary braces induced metal fatigue. By November 1970, an

already reinforced wing developed numerous cracks in a full-scale fatigue test. This setback

prompted Bravo Mod, a second modification of the wing accomplished in 1971. Pending

completion of Bravo Mod, the projected flying life of existing C–5As declined from 30,000

flying hours to no more than 2,250. Bravo Mod was expected to extend the C–5A's service life

from 2,250 to about 7,000 flying hours—a long way from the earlier 30,000 hours.43

To alleviate the urgent wing problem, the Air Force endorsed the Bisplinghoff

Committee's recommendations to incorporate a Lift Distribution Control System in the C–5A.

This system involved the re-rigging the ailerons to decrease lift on the outboard wing sections

and increase lift on inboard wing sections, thus reducing wing bending movements at the

inner and mid-span wing joints. Development testing of the Lift Distribution Control System

ended successfully in 1972, and testing of production hardware was scheduled for 1973. The

Lift Distribution Control System was expected to increase the C–5A's service life from the

current estimate of 7,000 hours to a total of 13,000 hours, without exacting more than a

nominal penalty in performance. The modification would cut range by no more than five

percent, and lower the aircraft's operating ceiling by only 1,000 feet. Until the Lift

Distribution Control System entered service, an Operational Utilization Management

Program, initiated by the program office to increase the C–5A service life, imposed

operational restrictions on the airplane. These required reduced-power takeoffs, imposed a

fuel load of 130,000 pounds for local training flights, reduced the frequency of touch-and-go

landings, and called for rotating aircraft through the training cycle instead of using a few

specifically for the purpose. Manual uprigging of ailerons in flight, which altered the lift

distribution over the wing in order to reduce bending at the wing root, became a standard

flying technique. Air Force engineers concluded, however, that reducing the weight of fuel
89

carried on board provided the best method of preventing metal fatigue decrease restrictions,

though transferring fuel from tank to tank to equalize weight during flight would also help.

These restrictions reduced the aircraft's range, of course.44

The C–5A Problems That Remained In 1972

As early as 1970, Category I testing, initiated by Lockheed in February 1968 to

uncover design deficiencies, had identified a multitude of flaws in the airframe. The Air Force

Systems Command assumed responsibility for making corrections deriving from the Category

I tests. This work could only be done where a skilled work force with heavy equipment could

rebuild an airplane, insofar as necessary, not only making structural changes to correct

problems but also updating various components and incorporating any changes made on the

assembly line since the aircraft entered service. Modifications dictated by the Category II

tests, which evaluated the aircraft's performance in a simulated operational environment,

would be handled by both the contractor and the Air Force Logistics Command's San Antonio

Air Materiel Area. Officials of the Aeronautical Systems Division estimated in 1970 that the

updating the C–5A fleet would require 800,000 manhours; Lockheed, in contrast, estimated

1.4 million manhours. Pit Stop, the contractor's team approach to depot-level work, involved

replacement of "urgent items" on operational aircraft, for example, those affecting safety.45

Lockheed, however, could not start work as soon as the Air Force wanted. Because the

San Antonio facility could handle a great deal of the required depot-level work with Air Force

civilians, paid less than Lockheed labor, the Air Force decided that the air materiel area

would do most of the updating, beginning in December 1970. Since the C–5A production line

continued to operate during the updating and modification program, the Lockheed work force,

using space in the Marietta plant, faced the task of incorporating critical changes in the

aircraft being built there. The need to build and update at the same time promised to

interfere with scheduled production, already proceeding at a leisurely pace. Moreover, the

Lockheed had to be ready to deploy its Pit Stop teams on short notice to assist the San

Antonio Air Materiel Area.46

The Air Force had experience in updating and depot-level repairs, a definite

advantage. Even though some of the C–5A's deficiencies were unique to that aircraft, most

defects proved easy to fix, of the kind routinely found in a typical new weapon system.

Despite the public debate and widespread misgivings, it was just a question of time before

the C–5A program began to fulfill expectations and contribute to the war effort in Southeast

Asia. Performance of the General Electric TF39 turbofan engine, for example, steadily

improved, as the General Electric Company promptly took care of any deficiencies. After

C–5A pilots reported in mid-1970 that the engine's anti-icing system malfunctioned when the

aircraft operated for long periods under heavy icing condition, the manufacturer need only

one year to develop an improved anti-icing system for evaluation at the Air Force Arnold

Engineering Development Center, Tennessee, and further testing at the General Electric's

Evendale plant in Ohio. Test results were good, and the improved system began functioning

by the end of March 1972.47

Despite success in updating, modifying, and sometimes replacing components, one

critical problem stood out—structural weakness of the wing. It would take more tests, more

money, and many more years to solve this problem. On January 25, 1972, Secretary Seamans

informed the House of Representatives that the life expectancy of the C–5A's wing fell far

short of the required 30,000 hours. At this time, the secretary admitted, the Air Force still

estimated projected a lifetime of between 7,000 and 8,000 flying hours after modification of
90

the wing; but the service had already taken measures to minimize fatigue and developed

plans to increase the aircraft's service life to 20,000 flying hours. Secretary Seamans was

referring to the utilization restrictions that the program office had recently imposed on

operational C–5As, as well as to the various modifications being considered and the Lift

Distribution Control System under development and soon to be tested.48

In the last days of January 1972, immediately after addressing Congress, Secretary

Seamans directed formation of an independent wing structural review team. The team,

consisting of approximately 100 engineers, went to the Lockheed-Georgia facilities, examined

thoroughly the C–5A's airframe and wing structure, and recommended ways to increase the

plane's useful life. Although the team's report was not expected before March 1973, the Air

Force received some advance information earlier. The review panel concluded that, with the

exception of the wing, the C–5A was unquestionably a 30,000-flying hour aircraft, and

modifications could extend the lifetime of the wing. Without the future Lift Distribution

Control System, the C–5A's flying life expectancy would be between 8,000 and 10,000 hours;

with the control system, the plane's life span approached the 11,000 to 16,000-hour range.

Besides forming an independent team of engineers in January 1972, Secretary

Seamans directed Lockheed to undertake a special study of the C–5A's problems, a part of

a so-called Wing Life Improvement Program that the firm had already begun. The Wing Life

Improvement Program, although focusing on the wing, dealt with other components and

included full-scale fatigue testing, the fatigue-tracking of individual aircraft, and the

analytical condition inspection of selected aircraft undergoing depot-level maintenance. In

addition to the many reviews directed by Secretary Seamans at the beginning of the year,

Secretary of Defense Laird in May 1972 requested that the Office of the Air Force Deputy

Chief of Staff for Research and Development cooperate with the Air Force Systems Command

in a fact-finding effort to assess the C–5A's current capabilities, determine which major

modifications were needed to upgrade the aircraft's performance, and estimate realistically

the costs of these potential changes.49

Amid the continuing investigations, fact-finding studies, and projected improvements,

the Military Airlift Command reviewed the C–5A program as 1972 came to a close and

decided that the aircraft's future looked promising. The command pointed out that the C–5A's

structural problems were not unique, nor even novel, and had often appeared in new

production aircraft. MAC's leaders believed that close congressional scrutiny of the program

and resulting publicity had led many people to assume that the C–5A would not remain in

the inventory long enough to be cost-effective, an assumption, these officials asserted, that

would prove totally unfounded. The C–5A had already shown that it could perform its day-today strategic airlift role very well, and that the aircraft's first actual deployment—to

Southeast Asia—had been particularly impressive.

The Military Airlift Command did not belittle the C–5A's structural deficiencies, and

admitted the aircraft's service life had been a problem of increasing magnitude since the first

major structural-test failure of 1969. The problem, however, needed to be viewed in proper

perspective. Design objectives for the C–5A called for a maximum takeoff weight of 728,000

pounds, with a maximum cargo of 220,000 pounds and a maximum maneuver load of 2.5gs.

Command officials acknowledged in late 1972, that pending successful completion structural

demonstration testing, operational C–5As remained under strict restrictions. In other words,

as validated by previous structural testing, the aircraft were still operating at about 80

percent of designed capacity. Maximum takeoff weight could not exceed 712,500 pounds,

maximum payload 174,000 pounds; and the maximum maneuver load only 2.0 gs. However,

in the command's opinion, this reduction in payload did not result in a crucial decrease in
91

performance because distance and weather normally limited actual C–5A payloads to less

than 186,000 pounds.50 Between the arrival of the Nixon Administration in 1969 and the end of 1972, Lockheed had moved

away from the brink of bankruptcy, and the near collapse of the C–5A program had been

averted. Total-package procurement no longer applied, the C–5A production was almost

completed, and numerous aircraft deficiencies were corrected or nearly so. A major structural

problem remained, but the Air Force had identified its causes, effects, and most of the

modifications necessary to rectify it. Leaders of the Military Airlift Command could now

believe without reservation that the C–5A program would prove a real contribution to the

nation's airlift fleet.
92

Endnotes

1. Nelson "Kennedy's Policy," pp. xx.

2. Francillon, "Galaxy," pp. 270-71.

3. Comments by Dr. Richard K. Smith on draft MS.

4. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp. 165-66.

5. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, p. 209.

6. Senate Armed Services Committee, Hearings on Military Procurement for fiscal 1971, Part

II, May-June 1969, pp. 2162, 2184; United States Air Force Statistical Digest, fiscal 1970,

Table 31, p. 108.

7. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 191, 199-200.

8. Ibid.,p. 200.

9. Ibid, pp. 194-99; The Washington Post, August 20, 1970.

10. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 191-200.

11. Ibid., pp. 201-4, 207.

12. New York Times, June 3, 1970; Armed Forces Journal July 18, 1970; U.S. Securities and

Exchange Commission, Report of Investigation in re Lockheed Aircraft Corporation HO-423,

May 23, 1970.

13. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, p. 213; July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, p. 130.

14. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 207-8; United States Air Force Statistical

Digest fiscal 1971, p. 102, Table 31.

15. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, p. 208; The Washington Post, May 21, 1970;

Wall Street Journal, May 21, 1970.

16. Washington Star May 25, 1969; Fox, Arming America, pp. 428-29; The Washington Post,

April 29, May 29, 1970; Armed Forces Journal, May 9, 1970, p. 7; New York Times,

September 12, 1970.

17. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, p. 121; Wall Street Journal, May 21, 1970.

18. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, p. 122.

19. Ibid. pp. 123-24.

20. Ibid., p. 123; Gorn, Vulcan's Forge, pp. 86-87; Philadelphia Inquirer, April 30, 1969.

21. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, pp. 123, 125; Gorn, Vulcan's Forge, pp. 88-91.

22. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 74-82, 120.

23. ASD History, January-December 1966, Vol. I, pp. 197-98, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I,

p. 169; USAF Standard Aircraft Characteristics, AFG 2, Vol. 2, Addn 53, Jul. 75, p. 5; AFSC

History, January-December 1978, Vol. I, p. 130.

24. ASD History, January-December 1978, vol. I, p. 130.

25. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 195-96.

26. ASD History, January 1967-June 1968, Vol. I, p. 143; July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, p. 179.

27. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp. 86-87; MAC C–5A Briefing, n. d., p. 29;

Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 640; Knaack, Bombers, pp. 138-39.

28. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., pp. 22, 27; ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, p. 135.

29. ASD History, July 1968-June 1969, Vol. I, pp. 177-79.

30. ASD History, January 1967-June 1968, Vol. I, p. 143; July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp.

216-17; MAC Briefing, n.d., pp. 21-22.

31. Fox, Arming America, pp. 244-45.

32. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 216-18; Armed Forces Journal, March 28,

1970; The Washington Post, May 29, 1970.

33. ASD History, July 1969-June 1970, Vol. I, pp. 219-20.
93

34. Ibid., p. 221; Ltr, Rene Francillon to author, March 1996.

35. Armed Forces Journal, June 20, 1970; The Congressional Record, August 13, 1970.

36. The Washington Post, June 18, 1970.

37. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, p. 125.

38. Armed Forces Journal, June 13, 1970; Boston Globe, October 18, 1970.

39. ASD History, July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, p. 188; July 1973-June 1974, Vol. I, pp. 166-67;

MAC Briefing, n.d., p. 24.

40. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp. 86-87; MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., pp. 29-30.

41. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, pp. 140-41; July 1971-June 1972, pp. 95-96.

42. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, vol. I, pp. 140-41; July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp. 95-

96; July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, pp; 186-88.

43. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., pp. 22, 27.

44. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, p. 85; July 1973-June 1974, Vol. I, p. 165; MAC

C–5A Briefing, n.d., p. 22.

45. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, pp 137-38.

46. Ibid, pp. 137-39.

47. Ibid, pp. 136-37; July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp. 82-83.

48. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, p. 85.

49. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., pp. 27-28; ASD History, July 1973-June 1974, Vol. I, p. 165.

50. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., p. 22, 28-29.
94

CHAPTER V

THE END OF THE C–5A PROGRAM AND THE BEGINNING OF THE C–5B

By the time production ended in 1973, the C–5A had become a key element in a

national military strategy of flexible response, but the cost overruns and controversy that

surrounded its development and production utterly discredited a once-promising technique

for controlling the cost of weapons, total-package procurement, and nearly bankrupted

Lockheed, the prime contractor. When Lockheed, General Electric, and the Air Force

incorporated essential changes like a redesigned wing and desirable features like an

improved General Electric engine, the C–5A not only performed as designed but also served

as the basis for the C–5B which entered production in the 1980s. In effect, the older A-models

became C–5Bs.1 .........................................................

The C–5A became operational during the Vietnam War, which ended for the United

States with the ceasefire of January 1973. In November 1970, only two months after MAC's

first C–5A squadron attained an initial operational capability at Charleston Air Force Base

(AFB), South Carolina, airdrop tests began under simulated operational conditions. The

TADJET program, as it was known, combined Category I and II Transport, Airdrop, and

Jettison tests. TADJET took place between April and August 1971 at Fort Bragg and Pope

AFB, both in North Carolina, and experienced no serious difficulties. The first 40,000-pound

cargo drop occurred on April 29, 1971, and on the same date, the first jump by paratroopers

took place from a C–5A flying at an altitude of 2,000 feet and at an airspeed of 130 knots.

On June 30, 1971 only a few months behind schedule, the Air Force achieved its goal of

dropping 73 paratroopers from a single C–5A flying at an altitude of 2,000 feet and at an

airspeed of 130 knots. The TADJET program, completed in August 1971, proved the C–5A

to be an outstanding airdrop platform for both cargo and paratroopers. When a C–5A dropped

four 40,000-pound pallets sequentially on a single pass, the total change of pitch above the

horizontal, as the weight cleared the cargo compartment, amounted to only seven degrees.

By mid-1972, more than 1,400 paratroopers had jumped safely from the C–5A, even though

the main purpose of the aircraft was to carry bulky cargo.2

By September 1971, the Air Force could with confidence furnish a C–5A to haul cargo

in support of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration's Skylab space station

program. On the 27th and 28th of that month, NASA and Air Force personnel at Ellington

Air Force Base, Texas, tested procedures and equipment for loading and unloading the Skylab

Mobile Medical Laboratory, part of the Apollo XVII flight recovery operation. In December

1972, a C–5A flew the unit from Ellington to North Island Naval Air Station at San Diego,

California, where it was subsequently loaded aboard the prime recovery vessel, USS

Ticonderoga. These important accomplishments tended, however, to be obscured by

continuing concern over the recurring slippage in production and the aircraft's unsolved wing

problem.3

Overseas Deployment

The structural weakness of the C–5A's wings brought stringent operating precautions

and flying restrictions to ensure safety and minimize the impact of fatigue on the aircraft's

already limited service life—a mere fraction of the 30,000 hours of flying time for which the

plane was designed. Because Air Force officials insisted that air refueling put considerable

stress on this aircraft—when in actuality the shortage of Boeing KC–135 tankers used in
95

refueling may have caused the problem, or at least contributed to it—this valuable technique

had to be abandoned. To make up for the shortage of KC–135s, the Air Force would buy a

tanker version of the Douglas DC–10 commercial transport.

Even though the C–5As left the factory fully equipped for inflight refueling, the Air

Force felt it could not take advantage of this asset, citing the restrictions on maneuvers by

the transport. The restrictions, intended to extend the useful life of the C–5A, reduced

maximum takeoff weight to 712,500 pounds, maximum payload to 174,000 pounds, and range

to 3,250 nautical miles, the last a result of a lesser weight of fuel. Despite the restrictions,

no other aircraft in the world could even come close to matching the C–5A in performance4

As the leaders of the Military Airlift Command pointed out, the transport could do a

valuable job regardless of program slippage and operational limitations. For example, a

round-the-world flight in July 1970 demonstrated the range of the C–5A without aerial

refueling, but the flight was more a stunt than a serious test of operational effectiveness.

During the next twelve months, other flights without air refueling to Pacific and European

bases succeeded admirably, departing either from Charleston, Dover, or Travis AFBs as part

of operational testing.

The C–5A fell far short of perfection, as even its most enthusiastic supporters had to

admit. Besides the plane's intrinsic structural problems, logistics support of the C–5A

remained marginal, and maintenance and reliability continued to be unsatisfactory. The

number of C–5As not operationally ready because of supply failure gradually dwindled after

December 1971. Those not operationally ready because of maintenance problems fluctuated

around 40 percent, and 60 or 70 hours of maintenance were required to keep a plane in the

air for one hour. Dismal though these numbers were, the Air Force expected reliability to

soar as depot modifications ended and mechanics acquired experience with the aircraft.5

The C–5A did not appear in South Vietnam in a truly operational capacity until

August 1971, but in the months that followed the aircraft played a major role in the

Southeast Asia airlift. In April 1972, when most American forces had left the theater as part

of a planned withdrawal, North Vietnam invaded the South; air units had to be redeployed

from the United States to Southeast Asia to contain the North Vietnamese Easter offensive.

Besides flying cargo across the Pacific, the C–5A flew missions in the theater of war, on one

occasion helping move some 3,000 South Vietnamese troops and 1,600 tons of cargo in just

nine days. Before the Easter offensive, MAC had been reluctant to let any of its fifty-odd

C–5As risk the threat surface-to-air missiles (SAMs). Unlike the C–141s and C–130s, the

C–5As did not carry radar homing and warning devices to alert crews that a missile radar

was tracking their airplane.

On May 3, 1972, a single C–5A, flying three sorties from Yokota Air Base, Japan,

carried six Army M48 tanks, each weighing 98,000 pounds, to the forward airfield at Da

Nang in South Vietnam. As the C–5A came to a stop, its cargo door opened and ramps

extended so the tank drivers could start their engines and drive off under their own power,

a sequence that took just seven minutes. Total time on the ground in the dangerous forward

area amounted to 30 minutes or less. Immediately after this airlift, C–5As moved M41 tanks

and M548 tracked vehicles to Da Nang and to Cam Ranh Bay, also in Vietnam.6

The C–5A accomplished another spectacular mission on May 11, 1972, making a

nonstop unrefueled flight of 8,019 statute mile from Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, to

Charleston Air Force Base, South Carolina. The flight lasted 16 hours and five minutes, at

an average ground speed of 527 miles per hour, and set a new nonstop distance record for the

C–5A. Altogether, C–5As flew 109 special assignment missions in Southeast Asia during May,

transporting 5,450 tons of cargo. In late 1972, as the United States rushed weapons into
96

South Vietnam before a truce could take effect and limit deliveries to replacing items already

in the inventory, the C–5As, between October 28 and November 28, flew 69 special

assignment missions without in-flight refueling. They airlifted 3,000 tons of cargo that

included 32 Northrop F–5 Freedom Fighters and 66 Cessna AT–37s for the South Vietnamese

Air Force, as well as CH–53 helicopters and mine-sweeping equipment for the U.S. Navy, and

helicopter parts and communication equipment for the U.S. Army.7

C–5A cargo aircraft again demonstrated their unique advantages after the Arab

armies of Syria and Egypt attacked Israel on October 6, 1973, advancing from the Golan

Heights and across the Suez Canal. Although the United States took immediate action to

help Israel, a refusal by Arab petroleum producers to sell oil to nations supporting Israel

deterred America's European allies from granting landing or overflight rights to aircraft

bound for Israel. The ban on aerial refueling still handicapped the C–5A, complicating the

employment of that airplane, which like all other American military aircraft, could stage only

through Portugal's Lajes airfield in the Azores before flying over the Straits of Gibraltar to

Lod airfield in Israel—an average distance from the United States of 6,450 nautical miles.8

On October 13, 1973, a week after the invasion but only nine hours after President

Nixon ordered the first emergency resupply operation, a C–5A loaded with 193,000 pounds

of cargo was on its way to Israel. All the American equipment that reached Israel before the

ceasefire of October 24 arrived by air, and MAC C–5As flew 145 missions in less than two

weeks. Twenty-nine of these missions airlifted vitally-needed M48 and M60 tanks, cargo that

could be carried only by the C–5A.

Notwithstanding the success of the aerial resupply of Israel, the entire operation

brought into sharp focus a problem that would trouble the Air Force for years to come. That

problem, first pointed out in 1953 by the Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Hoyt S. Vandenberg,

involved the military risks of depending on overseas bases, which might be neutralized by

either military or diplomatic action or simply prove inadequate. In late 1973 and early 1974,

after petroleum diplomacy had barred flights to Israel from bases on the mainland of Europe,

Gen. Paul Carlton, MAC's new commander, explained to the Congress that the limited

facilities at Lajes Field in the Azores and the one-an-hour-refueling capacity at Lod Field in

Israel severely limited strategic airlift during the Arab-Israeli conflict. After unloading

supplies and before returning to the United States to pick up more cargo, the aircraft had to

be refueled, a difficult undertaking because of the limited refueling capability at Lod. General

Carlton revealed that MAC transports actually loaded more tons of fuel in Israel than the

tons of cargo they delivered there. Fortunately, the Israelis had plenty of fuel, the MAC

commander added, otherwise, the resupply operation would have ground to a halt in a hurry.

Despite the progress in aeronautical technology, Carlton said, unexpected difficulties

always could develop—a case in point being the impact on range and payload caused by the

C–5A's flawed wing—and the problems associated with the airlift to Israel could not be

allowed to occur again. Until strengthened wings would enable the C–5A to engage in aerial

refueling, the aircraft should fly only to airfields within the plane's unrefueled range and

capable of rapid unloading and refueling. Since few countries could duplicate Israel's reserves

of fuel, the Military Airlift Command should be able to deliver a million or more gallons of

fuel each day. .........................................................

In conclusion, General Carlton underlined the importance of aerial refueling. Boeing

KC–135 tankers had proved indispensable for the rapid delivery of fighters to Israel.

Strategic transports of the Military Airlift Command also required air refueling if they could

not be absolutely sure of refueling on the ground en route to the destination, or if the

command wanted to avoid reducing an aircraft's payload in order to extend its range, but for
97

now the mid-air technique could not be used. The entire C–141 fleet lacked equipment for

refueling in mid-air, which Lockheed would add when converting the C–141A into the

stretched B-model. The C–5As were capable of aerial refueling, but current flying restrictions

excluded maneuvers that put excessive stress on the aircraft's wings, and air refueling fell

in that category. Moreover, the Air Force had bought the KC–135 expressly to serve the

bombers of the Strategic Air Command and fighters of the Tactical Air Command, not the

strategic transports. What was needed, Carlton said, was a large, wide-bodied, Advanced

Tanker Cargo Aircraft (ATCA), which entered service as the KC–10 in 1982.9

Although the changes advocated by the MAC commander received widespread support

within the Air Force, they did not materialize overnight. All 270 C–141A Starlifters were

eventually fitted for air refueling, but the modification became part of a program to stretch

the fuselage and increase cargo capacity. As a result of the process, the modified C–141A

acquired a new designation, the C–141B. Lockheed, which had built the A-model, completed

the conversion into C–141Bs two weeks ahead of schedule for $491 million—nearly $20

million below the cost listed in the contract.10

A Mixed Victory

Back in 1971, a strike against the AVCO Corporation, manufacturer of the wings for

the C–5A, caused Lockheed to stop the production line and lay off employees. Once again the

prime contractor's production schedule appeared threatened, and Air Force officials sighed

with relief when the labor dispute resulted in only minor delays. The 81st and final C–5A

rolled out of Lockheed's Marietta plant on January 31, 1973, and the Military Airlift

Command accepted delivery of the aircraft on May 18th, only three months later than

currently expected. The C–5A program, however, remained several years behind the original

schedule, the quantity of aircraft had been significantly reduced, and the aircraft's service life

was shortened by the structural weakness of its Avco-built wings.

The San Antonio Air Materiel Area in January 1973 assumed responsibility for the

engines that powered the C–5A. The General Electric Company delivered the last of 464

TF39 engines in 1972. Many of these were TF39-1A models, with better performance and a

longer operating life than those which originally powered the C–5A. After January 1972, all

engines overhauled at San Antonio underwent upgrading before being released as TF39-1As.11

Its lingering problems notwithstanding, the accomplishments of the C–5A during both

the Vietnamese and Arab-Israeli wars left scant doubt about its usefulness. Indeed, by the

time production ended, American political and military leaders agreed that the C–5A was a

very special flying machine—an awe-inspiring sight as it whistled through the sky. The C–5

resembled a winged building, six stories high at the tail, almost as long as a football field,

and large enough to house 14 jet fighters, 50 Cadillacs, or any 174,000-pound assortment of

military equipment.12

Despite its cavernous size, the C–5A proved easy for pilots to handle. Although

stringent operating restrictions remained in effect in 1973, the aircraft demonstrated amazing

operational performance. For example, its rate of climb at sea level reached 1,890 feet per

minute, and its average cruising speed approached 450 knots. Moreover, the aircraft's four

General Electric TF39-1A axial flow turbofan engines, each with a diameter of 16 feet and

capable of generating 41,000 pounds of thrust, could produce enough electricity for a city of

50,000 people. With maximum allowable payload and without air refueling, the C–5A could

fly 3,250 nautical miles, and its ferry range was more than twice that distance. With one

aerial refueling, when that technique was permitted, aircraft carrying its maximum designed
98

load could reach almost any point on the globe.

Another important feature of the C–5A was its ease of loading and unloading. Since

the cargo compartment opened at both ends, a truck or tank could drive in before takeoff and

at the destination drive out under its own power, with no need for backing and filling.

Integral cargo-loading ramps, stowed fore and aft in the cargo compartment, facilitated entry

and exit. Finally, standard cargo-pallet rails, rollers, and restraints formed an integral part

of the heavy duty cargo floor, folding away when not in use to provide a level deck.13

The C–5A also featured special avionics to permit it to hug the terrain at low altitude

and pinpoint targets for airdrop at night or in adverse weather. Although many of these

subsystems had presented difficulties, by 1973 they were functioning as designed. The

aircraft could not land on unimproved airstrips, however, because the shock from rough

surfaces, transferred through the fuselage, imposed a strain on the badly designed wings.

Hence, the high-floatation landing gear, intended for dirt surfaces, was not needed. Similarly,

the ability to use terrain-following radar at an altitude of a few hundred feet did no good

because at such low altitude the rough air savagely buffeted the C–5A's vulnerable wing.

Despite these operating constraints, by 1973 the C–5A had proved itself a useful aircraft.

As Gen. Howell M. Estes, then in command of military airlift, had predicted in 1966, the

C–5A did not radically advance the aeronautical art, but for the first time it allowed the

Military Airlift Command to fulfill a much broader spectrum of requirements. These

airplanes would enable MAC to move a fully equipped Army division wherever such a force

might be needed.

The end of C–5A production in January 1973 seemed the ideal time to assess the cost

of the program. The airplane had proved far more expensive that planned, but no consensus

existed as to why this happened. In 1971, Deputy Secretary of Defense David Packard

declared that "the Air Force asked for more features on the C–5A than were really

necessary," adding significantly to the cost. The Air Force disagreed, arguing that it sought

only those features justified by experience. Secretary of the Air Force Seamans adamantly

supported his service, insisting the C–5A reflected years of airlift operations from Berlin to

the Congo and the Middle East to Southeast Asia. Gen. David C. Jones, the Air Force Chief

of Staff, judged the C–5A to be a "fine aircraft...a good aircraft," and blamed total-package

procurement for the excessive cost overruns that had already surfaced. General Jones

conceded that certain overly ambitious specifications had contributed to the rising cost, but

he also pointed out that Lockheed had erred in trying to meet Air Force demands for range

and payload without increasing the tare weight. As a result, the wing structure proved too

light to withstand the cumulative effects of landings, takeoffs, and aerodynamic drag.14

Whatever the reasons, Air Force leaders found the cost of the C–5A shockingly high

compared to initial estimates. Only eight years before, on the eve of signing the contract in

October 1965, the Air Force anticipated a maximum cost for 115 airplanes of $3.4 billion,

which seemed a very generous sum, since it was about twice the amount of Lockheed's

winning bid. This estimate projected a unit cost of $29.5 million, nearly five times the

C–141A's unit cost of $6.3 million.15

Moreover, total-package procurement covered near-term inflation along with spare

parts, and the Air Force provided the prime contractor with General Electric engines as

government-furnished equipment. Lockheed also had free use of Air Force facilities. In

November 1968, when Congress began investigating the cost overruns, the estimated price

of the C–5A program had soared to more than $5 billion, or about $43 million for each of 115

aircraft. By mid-1973, when C–5A total production ended at 81 aircraft, the Aeronautical

Systems Division of the Air Force Systems Command calculated two sets of figures for the
99

C–5A program. The first one set a unit price of $46.92 million, representing the total sum

paid to Lockheed for each C–5A, regardless of the aircraft's condition. A second figure, the

only valid one, calculated a unit cost of $55.37 million, which included the extra $9.45 million

the Air Force had to spend on each and every C–5A for modifications. The aggregate cost of

improvements, logistics support, aerospace ground equipment, and the replenishment of

stocks of spare parts for the next five years brought the total cost of 81 aircraft to $4.48

billion, one billion more than initially agreed upon, and for 31 fewer airplanes.16

The $55.37-million price tag attached to each C–5A in 1973 clearly justified the

program's reduction from 115 to 81 aircraft, three of which by then had been lost in

accidents. Yet, other factors contributed to the reduction. By 1970, accumulated testing had

already identified several problems with the aircraft's landing gear, cracks in the fuselage of

an early C–5A, the structural weakness of the wings, and malfunction of the doppler radar

and radar altimeter. The seriousness of the structural problem affecting the wings of the

C–5A grew more acute as time passed until the Air Force could not be sure that the aircraft

would actually perform as planned unless the wings were rebuilt. After the Senate voted in

September 1969 to continue the program, Secretary Laird immediately endorsed the Air

Force's previous decision to limit the program to a total of 81 airplanes. When production

ended in 1973, the Air Force made no move to reinstate the canceled portion of the contract,

despite the success of the C–5A in Southeast Asia and during the Arab-Israeli war.

Re-winging the Fleet

The flying restrictions imposed on the C–5A did not prevent the aircraft from

performing day-to-day strategic airlift missions, but it seemed impossible that the C–5A could

ever achieve its intended lifetime of 30,000 flying hours unless the aircraft received a new

wing. Static fatigue tests, along with the appearance of cracks in the wings of operational

aircraft earlier than expected, left no doubt that the C–5A wing structure had a service life

of about 8,000 flying hours—roughly one-fourth of the design objective.

The Israeli airlift in late 1973 indicated that the demands on American strategic airlift

would increase in the future. Indeed, early in 1974 Secretary of Defense James R. Schlesinger

expressed his belief that the mobility of military forces held key to the future ability of the

United States to help deter conventional conflict in Europe. In August, General Jones, the

Air Force Chief of Staff, announced his decision to combine all airlift, tactical and strategic,

in the Military Airlift Command. The decision to transfer tactical airlift from the Tactical

Air Command to the Military Airlift Command and to make MAC a specified command

reporting to the JCS was reaffirmed two years later, in mid-1976, and became effective on

February 1, 1977.17

While the organizational structure of airlift underwent overhaul, the Air Force

assembled an independent review team to examine the physical structure of the C–5A. In the

spring of 1973, after more than a year of intensive work, the review panel affirmed that,

except for the wing, the C–5A had the potential to perform as a 30,000-hour aircraft, but that

the wing in its present condition could not survive much more than 8,000 hours of flying. The

review team decided, moreover, that ad hoc repairs would not suffice and recommended

designing and testing a heavier and more rugged wing. In November 1973, work began on

what become known as the H configuration. The design used stronger center and inner wing

boxes with a modified outer wing box, while retaining only the leading edges, pylons, trailing

edges, and flaps from the original wing. In August 1974, John L. McLucas, the new Secretary

of the Air Force, approved the H modification for the C–5A. Approval by the Secretary of
100

Defense Schlesinger followed in October, but he stipulated that the Air Force make sure that

the redesigned wing could truly provide 30,000 hours of service.

The so-called H modification consisted of four phases: design of the new wing; fatigue

and flight testing of two wing kits; production of wing kits; and installation of the rebuilt

wings on the aircraft. The new H configuration was designed to reduce stress levels, provide

better fastener systems and materials, and increase resistance to fatigue and fracture. To do

all this, the wing had to survive a stress level of 12,000 pounds per-square-inch; prove

through appropriate tests that it could endure 60,000 flying hours; and meet new military

damage-tolerance specifications.18

In 1975, despite a downturn in the economy, an overall shortage of defense money,

and the admittedly high cost of the H modification, the Department of Defense authorized

the program's first two phases—design and testing. Though the go-ahead decision seemingly

had nothing to do with recent strategic airlift operations, it followed on the heels of Operation

Babylift, a tragic demonstration of the C–5A's versatility. Early in the year, when the

Republic of Vietnam began collapsing under a North Vietnamese assault, MAC C–141s and

C–5As rushed military supplies into the South and carried refugees out of the country. The

Military Airlift Command airlifted some two thousand orphans out of South Vietnam in

record time, but one C–5A, damaged when it experienced decompression of the cargo

compartment shortly after taking off from Saigon's Tan Son Nhut airfield, attempted an

emergency landing, but crashed short of the runway, killing 172 passengers, many of them

infants.19

Despite the deadly accident, this humanitarian effort underscored the importance

of the small C–5A fleet, but risking unarmed C–5As in a combat environment raised

questions in Congress. In November 1975, General Carlton, when asked how far forward the

C–5A would operate in combat, he replied that C–5As had already been used at Saigon and

Da Nang despite the threat of the North Vietnamese SAMs. How far forward the aircraft

might operate in the future would depend on whether the Joint Chiefs believed that carrying

particular freight to a given point was important enough to justify endangering the airplane.

Neither General Carlton nor his successors in command of MAC could make this decision

unilaterally.20

Despite the increasing importance attached to aerial mobility, and the role of the

C–5A in providing it, the rebuilding of the plane's wing progressed slowly. Although Deputy

Secretary of Defense William P. Clements authorized the Air Force to proceed with the first

two phases, design and testing, in June 1975, Lockheed did not receive the sole-source

contract until December. Consequently, Phase I work on the design could not begin until

January 1976. Moreover, in August of that year, even though the modification program's first

two phases were still under way, the program was expanded to include a new outer wing box

to replace the modified one. The Air Force believed the expansion of the program to be cost

effective—an unchallengeable justification during a period of fiscal austerity—because a new

outer box reduced the time required for inspection and repair while increasing the likelihood

of achieving 30,000 hours in the air.

Cost effectiveness and the urgent need for the aircraft prompted the Air Force to

convince officials of the defense department to give Lockheed a sole-source contract for the

remainder of the C–5A's wing rebuilding program. The Air Force presented an abundance of

details to justify Lockheed's receiving its second sole-source contract for re-working the wing.

Lockheed had designed and produced the C–5A; and the company therefore possessed the

necessary technical skill, industrial capacity, and experience not only to design and test the

new wing—the program's first two phases—but to manufacture and install it.
101

Although the Air Force's San Antonio Air Logistics Center had the skilled labor and

the equipment to install the strengthened wing boxes, it could not assume that task because

the facility was booked for years to come updating B-52 bombers. The Air Force realized that

hiring a contractor other than Lockheed to take over wing rebuilding would involve technical,

manufacturing, cost, and scheduling risks. The intricate equipment required for the program

would compel any new contractor to make a considerable capital investment. As a result,

finding a substitute for Lockheed and its subcontractors could delay the program up to 21

months, whereas Lockheed was expected to meet the delivery schedule without adversely

affecting the operations of the Military Airlift Command. Finally, other aerospace companies

had not expressed any serious interest in competing for this contract.21

In September 1977, although recent fatigue tests had reaffirmed that the C–5A

airframe, excluding the present wing. should last for more than 30,000 hours of flying, the

Air Force embarked in a new structural program to make sure that the aircraft, with its

flawed wing, could operate safely for a mere 8,000 hours. Despite some seven years of

operating restrictions, test results in 1977 revealed that the service life of the wing had

declined from 8,000 to 7,100 hours. Moreover, the Air Force's Scientific Advisory Board

reviewed the data and verified this disappointing conclusion.22

Although a stronger wing was desperately needed, the intricacy of the program

dictated caution. In December 1977, after reviewing Lockheed's proposed effort, ASD's

Advisory Group described the contractor's approach as conservative and expressed confidence

that the work would proceed smoothly. The schedule, however, could be accelerated only by

beginning to rebuild the wings concurrently with testing, something that would require

careful planning.

In June 1978, Lockheed completed the design of the new wing, the program's first

phase. Completion of Phase II, fatigue and flight testing of two wing kits, was not expected

before June 1983. During Phase II, one set of wing boxes would be installed on a C–5A

earmarked for static fatigue tests and subjected to the equivalent of 60,000 hours; the second

set would be tested on an operational C–5A. Phase II carried a price tag of $184.4 million.

This sum included some $19 million representing the price of the two prototype wing kits

built for Lockheed by the Avco Corporation, Lockheed's major subcontractor and

manufacturer of the C–5A's original wing. By the end of October 1978, typical of the usual

cost spiral, Avco's estimate had risen from $19 million to over $25 million, a problem for

Lockheed to solve.23

Although the first two phases of the wing-strengthening program proved expensive,

Air Force officials realized that this amount was a mere downpayment on the entire program.

Nevertheless, Air Force and independent specialists regarded the re-winging program as cost

effective, since it was one-fifth as expensive as replacing the C–5A with a new aircraft.

Nevertheless, the total acquisition cost of the new wings, estimated in 1975 dollars, was $1.5

billion. Converted to unit costs the work would increase significantly the C–5A's price of

$55.37 million, determined by the Aeronautical Systems Division in mid-1973 shortly after

production of the aircraft ended.24

Meanwhile, danger signals were appearing all over the world. A chaotic revolution

headed by the Ayatollah Khomeini overthrew the Shah of Iran, and in 1979 Khomeini's

followers seized the American Embassy and took hostages. In the same year, American

intelligence reported the presence of a Soviet combat brigade in Cuba, and at year's end

Soviet military forces began invading Afghanistan. Although rapid reinforcement of the North

Atlantic Treaty Organization forces remained the major concern of American defense

planning, these ominous events raised the possibility of simultaneous deployments to meet
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threats in different quarters of the globe. A buildup of American strength and the acquisition

of costly new weapon systems, tactical and strategic transports included, would take time,

however, and in 1980 it had barely begun. In the meantime, the C–5A modification program

continued at a slow pace.25

In 1979, the Air Force and Lockheed began negotiating contracts for last two phases

of the wing rebuilding program—Phase III, production of the repair kits, and Phase IV,

installation of the strengthened wing on each C–5A. Phases III and IV, however, had to await

successful testing of the new wing structure, Phase II, which began on August 28, 1979, and

ended on May 9, 1980, five months ahead of schedule. In July 1980, the Air Force Scientific

Advisory Board reviewed the conduct of the tests and concluded that Phase II provided an

excellent approximation of operational usage and fostered confidence in the integrity of the

design. A second series static fatigue tests, started in June 1980 and ended in June 1981, a

year ahead of time.

In the meantime, on May 15, 1980, Lockheed finished installing the second prototype

wing kit on the C–5A for flight testing and evaluation that started in mid-August at Dobbins

AFB, Georgia. This program, totalling 55 flying hours and emphasizing flutter and similar

problems, lasted through December 1980. A year of operational testing by the Military Airlift

Command would follow.26

The Scientific Advisory Board's highly complimentary appraisal of the Phase II tests

suggested that the beginning of Phase III would not be delayed and perhaps might be

advanced. In late 1978, wary of accelerating the program, the Air Force had tentatively

programmed Phases III and IV to begin in January 1980 and January 1982, respectively. The

aircraft completion schedule—from March 1983 for the first re-winged C–5A to July 1987 for

the 76th and last—provided for completion of all work before any single aircraft accumulated

more than 8,000 flying hours, the old wing's projected lifetime. The deadlines for individual

phases might slip, but the goal of completing the program before the most heavily used

airplane attained 8,000 flying hours had to be met; venturing beyond that total was simply

too dangerous.

As it turned out, Phase III and Phase IV of the re-winging program started as

originally planned. In Phase III, the Aerostructures Division of the Avco Corporation in

Nashville, Tennessee, manufactured the wing's center, inner, and outer sections from

aluminum alloys that featured great strength and resistance to corrosion. Avco received this

metal from the Aluminum Company of America's plant in Lafayette, Indiana, and from

Martin Marietta Aerospace in Torrence, California. Lockheed bore the responsibility for

assembling and installing the rebuilt wings, a task made more difficult because the new wing

boxes had to fit the leading edges, pylons, trailing edges, and flaps retained from the old

wings. Lockheed also used thicker material for the major structural components and

subassemblies like the upper and lower skin panels, the beam caps and beam webs of the

wing sections, and the joints at wing stations. In addition, Lockheed had to improve the

fastener system, the methods of drilling the fastener holes, and procedures for assembly.

Though the on-going rebuilding program would not affect the basic aerodynamic shape

of the original C–5A wing, changes required to reinforce the wing to the so-called H

configuration added 18,000 pounds to each aircraft. This increase amounted to less than five

percent of the C–5A's empty operating weight—or tare weight—of 326,962 pounds, but of

course it meant reducing the C–5A's payload weight and fuel capacity by an equivalent

amount. The recently devised lift distribution system, retained for the re-winged C–5As,

helped compensate for the extra weight by improving takeoff, climb, and cruise

characteristics. Moreover, reducing cargo weight by some 16,000 pounds (about one-fifth of
103

the tare weight) enabled the C–5A, with its rebuilt wing, to maintain a 769,000-pound takeoff

gross weight at no sacrifice in range.

Finally, besides extending the wing's flying life to a minimum of 30,000 hours—the

primary objective of re-winging—the program ensured a degree of structural soundness that

ended the previous operating restrictions. For example, the C–5A could now carry a payload

190,000 pounds rather than 164,000 pounds, while the tare weight increased by more than

50,000 pounds—from 314,000 to 376,000 pounds. The Air Force could not have asked for a

better outcome; not only did the re-winging accomplish its purpose, the program was

accelerating. Perhaps Lockheed, no longer building C–5As, could devote all its resources to

making repairs.27

Despite this eventual success, hammering out a contract had taken time and frayed

tempers. In 1979 and 1980, the Air Force spent more than a year preparing a statement of

work for the Phase IV wing installation contract, but Lockheed balked. The Air Force favored

a firm fixed-price contract, an approach that, the service's procurement officials believed,

would benefit both the company and the Air Force. Although special clauses would protect

Lockheed from unforeseen economic and business setbacks throughout the multi-year

program, the company showed no enthusiasm, obviously preferring a less stringent form of

contract. As far as the Air Force was concerned, the wing problem had been the fault of the

manufacturer, who had fabricated the wings with material that was much too thin and

reduced the weight of this component without obtaining specific permission from the Air

Force officials. Lockheed, however, argued that the company had acted in accordance with

the weight requirement the Air Force had established for the aircraft. Having barely escaped

bankruptcy, Lockheed was in no position to bargain. and in mid-1980 the company accepted

the Air Force's terms.28

In the meantime, to make sure that Lockheed's reluctance to sign the multi-year

contract would not delay the whole program, the Air Force gave Lockheed a short-term,

though renewable, production contract worth $5.9 million. This agreement, issued on January

16, 1980, enabled Avco, Lockheed's subcontractor, to order the materials and parts it needed

to begin making the wing boxes. Because the contract covered only three months and

Lockheed continued to balk, the Air Force extended it for another three months, and finally

renegotiated the agreement when the full production contract was awarded. On July 23, the

long period of frustrating negotiations ended, as Lockheed finally signed the $68-million firm

fixed-priced contract offered by the Air Force. This basic production contract covered fiscal

1980's increment of four sets of wings, with options for fiscal 1981 through 1984. The multiyear program reflected the assumption that all options would be exercised, which turned out

to be the case. Avco began fabrication of the wing parts in August 1980, and machining

operations for major wing panels commenced in September. Actually, the entire modification

program progressed smoothly, and the 76th and last re-winged C–5A rejoined the operational

fleet in mid-1987, as scheduled.29

Facing New Challenges

The protracted negotiation of the firm fixed-price re-winging contract demonstrated

that contractors disliked this type of agreement; it certainly did not mean that the Air Force

merely engaged in pointless haggling over a program in which it had lost interest. On the

contrary, the Air Force and Department of Defense were willing to do anything within reason

to speed the process. In the face of widespread political instability, American vital interests

overseas seemed more vulnerable than ever, increasing the importance of aerial mobility.
104

Gen. David Jones, now the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, warned that an emerging

power vacuum in Southeast Asia demonstrated the global nature of American defense

interests. As General Jones pointed out, American vital interests more often lay "close to the

Soviet Union and far from us while they [the Soviets] have no truly vital interests far from

them and close to us. So they have a geographic advantage, particularly in Southeast Asia."

Similarly, the distant Persian Gulf was another potentially explosive area that could, at a

moment's notice, require strategic airlift in quantity. The many logistical problems

experienced in 1973, when Syria and Egypt attacked Israel, underscored the American

concern about responding, except with long-range and air-refuelable aircraft, to a crisis

generated by an oil-producing Arab state like Iran.30

The Air Force, to be sure, sought to solve the many problems presented by modern

airlift in the late 1970s, but the effort encountered serious obstacles. These included: the

reduction in C–5A procurement suggested in 1969 and approved the following year; the

limitations of C–141As for long-range airlift until they were converted into B-models; and

persisting dependence on the tactical C–130s, still effective but obviously aging. Another

concern involved two related issues: cost versus money. The former appeared constantly

growing, while the latter seemed perennially harder to get.

The issue of replacing the C–130 first surfaced when the turboprop tactical transport

was still new. In 1963, as Project Forecast was recommending development of the CX Heavy

Logistics Support Aircraft, which became the C–5A, the study also called for developing a

vertical-short-takeoff-and-landing (VSTOL) aircraft to take the place of the C–130. The

VSTOL project proved overly ambitious, however, and required technological innovations

which, if theoretically possible, would require unrealistic outlays of money. In 1970, following

Deputy Secretary of Defense David Packard's criticism of unnecessary features on the C–5A,

the Air Force reduced the performance required of the VSTOL.

Scaling down the VSTOL's performance characteristics did not necessarily signal the

end of the project. Also in 1970, the Air Force endorsed the Tactical Air Command's request

for the "urgent development of a short-takeoff-and-landing (STOL) aircraft with greater

payload and operational capability than the existing C–130." In accordance with Secretary

Packard's policy of using prototypes to control weapons development costs, the Air Force

Systems Command prepared proposals for an Advanced Medium STOL Transport (AMST).

In 1973, Boeing and Douglas received contracts to build and test two prototypes each, but a

lack of money would present an insurmountable obstacle. Although the U.S. Army and the

Military Airlift Command backed procurement of the AMST, the escalation of costs, from $5

million per aircraft in 1970, to twice that much in 1977, and an estimate of $20 million by

1982, killed the production of either prototype.

The demise of the AMST in late 1979 did not surprise the Air Force. The high unit

cost of the proposed transport prompted the decision, but shibboleth of cost-effectiveness

played a part. The AMST, like the C–130, operated as an intratheater aircraft, but a new

transport capable of both tactical and strategic airlift would be more cost-effective, and, in

the opinion of MAC's leadership, have a better chance of acceptance in Washington when

funds were scarce. Well aware of the fascination with cost-effectiveness, the Air Staff had

been planning for several years to acquire just such an aircraft. The C–X, as this dualpurpose transport became known, would be larger than the C–141, but smaller than the

C–5A. Although the C–X would retain many features of the defunct and expensive AMST,

it would have to be comparatively cheap to develop and operate and also reliable and easy

to maintain.31

Various factors sustained interest in the projected C–X. The stretched C–141 would
105

not be available before 1982, for example, and re-winging the C–5A wing would extend

through mid-1987. Because the C–5A could not fulfill all future strategic airlift

requirements, Air Force leaders in 1980 wanted the C–X contract to be awarded no later than

August 1981, with the goal of reaching an initial operational capability with 16 aircraft in

the fall of 1987, just after the last of the rebuilt C–5As entered service.32

President Ronald W. Reagan took office in January 1981, following a campaign that

emphasized the need for increased military preparedness. Although aerial mobility did not

head the list of the new President's priorities, Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger's

explanations in presenting the President's rearmament requests to the House Military

Appropriations Subcommittee on March 19, 1981, had to be especially encouraging for the

Military Airlift Command. Weinberger favored procurement of the Advanced Tanker Cargo

Aircraft, which became the KC–10, and the C–X transport.33

In the following months, some members of the House Appropriations Committee

objected to the C–X program, favoring instead an existing wide-bodied aircraft such as the

C–5, the DC–10 (precursor of the advanced tanker), or a modified Boeing 747. Before the end

of 1981, however, the McDonnell-Douglas Corporation would receive a contract for the C–X,

which became the C–17. Procurement of the C–5B, an improved version of the C–5A, also

came under serious consideration; and Lockheed, in effect, reopened the C–5 assembly line,

incorporating in the new version the modifications added to the original.34

The beginning of the 1980s thus started on a note of optimism for the Military Airlift

Command, which had renewed confidence in the C–5A. Since 1970, after surviving severe

Congressional and public criticism, along with engineering and financial crises, the C–5A

demonstrated its remarkable usefulness, despite a flawed wing that resulted in stringent

operating restrictions. The aircraft, moreover, was still in its infancy. No C–5A had

accumulated as many as 8,000 hours of flying time against the new assured minimum total

of 30,000 flying hours, made possible by the rebuilt wing. In short, because of the rebuilt

wings, the C–5A's full potential was yet to be realized.

As time would show, the Air Force's confidence in the C–5A would prove be justified,

in spite of some disappointments and a few failures. Early in 1980 Air Force Secretary Hans

M. Mark reported that tests of a C–5A with the new wings showed that, contrary to

expectation, the use of unimproved landing strips could seriously damage the aircraft. "I

know that originally we thought C–5s should be able to do that but we were wrong,"

Secretary Mark admitted. The C–5's gigantic size also created problems at small hardsurfaced airfields which could not be used by other aircraft until a C–5A departed and made

room. In late 1983, a re-winged C–5A presented difficulties in aerial refueling. Boom

operators in the tails of KC–135 tankers experienced depth perception problems when

refueling C–5As at night. The camouflage paint scheme on the C–5A made it difficult to judge

the distance between the boom nozzle and the transport's flush-mounted fuel receptacle, even

when using the tanker's floodlights. The use of wider camouflage stripes on the area from the

C–5A's radome at the nose to the windscreen, and on the fuselage above the windscreen and

around the fuel receptacle, solved the problem and led to a similar modification of the entire

C–5A fleet.35

Whatever problems remained or might yet arise, the C–5A would continue to prove

its worth. The fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 heralded the end of the Cold

War—the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. Nevertheless,

airlift requirements would, if anything, increase because of potential threats to American

security existing in Asia, the Middle East, and the Western Hemisphere.36

After several humanitarian airlift operations and a successful armed intervention in
106

Panama, American airlift, including the new C–5B, responded when Iraq on August 2, 1990,

invaded neighboring Kuwait. This act of aggression prompted President George Bush to order

an immense deployment to the Arabian peninsula to protect the Gulf states from further

Iraqi aggression and liberate Kuwait. Under the code name of Desert Shield, the deployment

began on August 7th. Desert Storm, the combat phase of the operation began in January

1991 and lasted until March 10, when an Iraqi defeat and the liberation of Kuwait ended the

fighting.

From the start of the Iraqi invasion, it was apparent that the rapid arrival of landbased air power would be essential. Although aircraft carriers in the area had moved into

position to deliver air strikes, their lack of long-range, high-capacity aerial tankers impeded

the effectiveness of their squadrons. In these circumstances, airlift proved critical, for it could

deliver troops and cargo within hours; sealift, with a far greater carrying capacity, would

obviously take weeks if not months. Indeed, in a matter of only five days, C–5 and C–141

transports airlifted to Saudi-Arabia a brigade of the 82d Airborne Division, and the men and

equipment needed to sustain five fighter squadrons, totalling 120 aircraft, and an AWACS

contingent.37

Altogether, Desert Shield and Desert Storm required the services of 80 percent of the

Air Force's C–141 fleet and 90 percent of the C–5s. These aircraft moved nearly three

quarters of the air cargo and one third of the personnel airlifted into the Gulf region. Since

the C–5's capacity by far exceed that of the C–141, the deployment afforded an impressive

vindication of the often criticized C–5 Galaxy.
107
108

Endnotes

1. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 263; Lemmer, Strengthening USAF Airlift Forces, pp. 15-17;

Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, p.6.

2. ASD History, July 1970-July 1971, Vol. I, pp. 130-31.

3. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., p. 24; ASD History, July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, pp. 184-85.

4. MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., p. 22.

5. ASD History, July 1970-June 1971, Vol. I, pp. 128-30; July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp 83-

85.

6. Ibid., July 1972-June 1973, p. 184; Carl Berger, Ed., The United States Air Force in

Southeast Asia, An Illustrated Account, 1961-1973, Rev. Ed. (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air

Force History, 1984) p. 189, Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 316, 635-36, 640; ASD History,

July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, p. 184.

7. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, pp. 83-85; July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, p. 184.

8. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 641-42,

9. Ibid., vol. I, pp. 311, Vol. II, pp. 643-44.

10. William Head, Reworking the Workhorse: C–141B Stretch Modification Program (Warner

Robins AFB, Ga.: Warner Robins Air Materiel Area History Office, 1984) pp. 29-39, 74-82.

11. ASD History, July 1971-June 1972, Vol. I, p. 83; July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, pp. 179-85.

12. Rice, The C–5A Scandal, pp. 1-3; MAC C–5A Briefing, n.d., p. 22.

13. Lockheed brochure, n.d.; Rice, The C–5A Scandal, p. 2; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 637.

14. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 637-38, 655.

15. Levy, C–5A, 1961-1965, pp. 114-19; T.O. 00-25-30, Unit Costs of Aircraft, Guided Missiles,

and Engines, June 30, 1975.

16. ASD History, July 1972-June 1973, Vol. I, pp. 182-83.

17. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 645-47; ASD History, January-December 1978, Vol. I, pp.

131-34.

18. ASD History, January-December 1978, Vol. I, pp. 131-35.

19. Ibid.. Vol. II, pp 131-35; Ideas and Concepts, Vol II, pp. 636-37.

20. Ideas And Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 636-37.

21. ASD History, January-December 1978, Vol. I, p. 134-36.

22. ASD History, October 1979-September 1980, Vol. I, p. 164.

23. Ibid., January-December 1978, Vol. I, pp. 135.

24. Ibid., October 1979-September 1980, Vol. I, p. 164.

25. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 650.

26. ASD History, October 1979-September 1980, Vol. I, pp. 168-69.

27. Ibid., January-December 1978, Vol. I, pp, 134-36, 166; October 1979-September 1980, Vol.

I, p. 166.

28. Ibid., October 1978-September 1979, Vol. I. p. 138; October 1979-September 1980, Vol.

I, pp. 163, 168; Fox, Arming America, pp. 226-27.

29. ASD History, October 1978-September 1979, Vol. I, p. 138; October 1979-September 1980,

Vol. I, p. 168.

30. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, pp. 648-52.

31. Ibid., pp. 652-58; ASD History, October 1979-September 1980, Vol. I, pp. 131-32.

32. ASD History, October 1979-September 1980, Vol. I, p. 163.

33. Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p. 364.

34. ASD History, October 1980-September 1981, Vol. I, pp. 131-32; and October 1981-

September 1982, Vol. I, pp. 165-66.
109

35. ASD History, October 1982-December 1983, Vol. I, p. 194; Ideas and Concepts, Vol. II, p.

655.

36. Jay H. Smith, An Oral History: Gen. Hansford T. Johnson, Commander in Chief, U. S.

Transportation Command and Air Mobility Command (Scott AFB, Ill.: Office of History, Air

Nobility Command, Dec. 1992) p. xi.

37. Richard P. Hallion, Storm Over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf War (Washington, D.C. and

London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), passim.
110

CHAPTER VI

AN ASSESSMENT

The C–5A strategic transport, which became operational in 1970, fulfilled general

airlift requirements that were a quarter of a century old, and in doing so helped bring

together strategic and tactical airlift assets which, for various reasons, remained fragmented

after World War II. Competing demands and unyielding budgetary constraints compelled the

service to delay as long as it could the acquisition of a huge and costly strategic transport.

The basic requirements finally satisfied by the Lockheed C–5A were first identified

back in 1945 by Theodore von Kármán, Director of the Army Air Forces Scientific Advisory

Group. At that time, von Kármán told Henry H. Arnold, Commanding General of the Army

Air Forces, that the aerial transportation of entire armies had to become a principal goal of

the future Air Force. Although Arnold did not disagree, he was concentrating on the

forthcoming independence of the Air Force and refused to allow a possible conflict over air

transport to jeopardize that goal.

When the new Air Force became a reality in 1947, at least one element of von

Kármán's dream of the future had to be deferred. The independent Air Force had scant

enthusiasm for flying Army forces about the world, at least in part because the Army Air

Forces had emphasized the decisive impact of strategic bombing to gain its new status.

Facing increasingly dangerous foreign threats after World War II, the new Air Force prepared

to defend the nation with its atomic strike force. When the bomber achieved intercontinental

range, the United States adopted a strategy of deterrence through retaliation. The probable

enemy, the Soviet Union, simultaneously made technological progress of its own, and by 1950

American atomic monopoly disappeared. Convinced that the Strategic Air Command, armed

with nuclear weapons, could win a major war, the Air Force invested heavily in bombers and

intercontinental ballistic missiles. In the process, strategic airlift for the most part supported

SAC's strike forces.

Deterrence and retaliation formed the basis of national strategy throughout much of

the Eisenhower administration. The administration of John F. Kennedy, who took office in

January 1961, immediately endorsed a strategy of flexible response, which revived the

concept of strategic airlift that von Karman had proposed. Flexible response required a fleet

of transports that would enable the nation to react quickly to limited wars by moving

conventionally armed military forces rapidly over great distances. The C–5A itself became

embroiled in controversy, however, and had to overcome serious problems before succeeding

as a long distance carrier of out-sized cargo. The C–5A proved costlier than initially expected,

causing a reduction in the size of the program before the plane's achievements were fully

appreciated.

The stagnation of post-World War II military airlift, finally corrected by the coming

of the C–5A, reflected tradition and personalities. The Air Force emphasized combat aircraft

over transports with a traditional consistency. Even the Army Air Service of the early 1920s

thought primarily in terms of fleets of bombers, leaving the development and use of

transports to the struggling airlines. World War II, however, cast a new light on the forgotten

transports. Army leaders like Gen. Douglas MacArthur and Lt. Gen. George C. Kenney

demonstrated in the Southwest Pacific that both strategic and tactical airlift could be crucial

in waging wars over great distances. Nevertheless, bombing remained the raison d'etre of the

Army Air Forces, resulting after the war in the air arm's emancipation from the Army and

its emergence as an independent service. .....................................
111

The Army Air Forces, after years of effort, gained its independence on September 18,

1947, but under the National Security Act, signed by President Harry Truman on July 26,

1947, numerous secondary functions and powers remained to be transferred before the new

Air Force became the equal of the Army and Navy. Although the allocation of airlift assets

had at best a secondary importance, former Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal,

nominated by President Truman as the first Secretary of Defense, promptly tackled the

problem of air transport. .................................................

On June 1, 1948, Forrestal created the Military Air Transport Service (MATS), which

absorbed both the Air Transport Command, the long-range air transport arm of the Army Air

Forces, and the Naval Air Transport Service, the World War II long-range air transport arm

of the U.S. Navy. Although operated by the Air Force, the Military Air Transport Service

functioned until 1966 as the strategic airlift fleet of the new Department of Defense. Tactical

airlift, including battlefield troop carrier activity, did not become a part of MATS.

The strategic airlift forces soon demonstrated their increasing importance as well as

the worsening obsolescence of many of their aging transports, hastily acquired during World

War II from manufacturers of commercial airliners. Within weeks of the creation of the

Military Air Transport Service, the Soviet Union blockaded all land routes into Berlin. In

response, the United States launched Operation Vittles, a large scale airlift orchestrated by

Maj. Gen. William H. Tunner, well known for his wartime airlift successes.

For more than a year Operation Vittles operated around the clock and ensured the

survival of the two- and-a-half-million people surrounded in the western sectors of Berlin.

Vittles finally ended in August 1949, after airlifting more than two million tons of supplies,

when Soviet authorities lifted the blockade. Success, though complete, was not easy, because

the available transports—most of them Douglas C–54 Skymasters—were old and slow.

Contrary to the expectations of airlift leaders, the Berlin operation did not result in the

purchase of new transports. Procurement money remained scarce, and the shocking news

in 1949 that the Soviet Union had detonated its first atomic device, reinforced the fiscal

ascendence of the Strategic Air Command.

The confrontation between the Communist powers and the West erupted in violence

on June 25, 1950, when troops of Communist North Korea invaded the Republic of Korea, an

attack that could be interpreted as a first step toward world conquest by the Soviet Union

and its proxies. To avoid the risk that the Korean fighting would escalate into a third world

war, President Truman decided not to use atomic weapons in Korea, and instead to limit the

conflict as America's European allies insisted. In short, the North Koreans, joined late in

1950 by the Communist Chinese, would be opposed under the auspices of the United Nations,

even though the United States would provide most of the necessary forces. In keeping with

his decision to wage a limited war, the President accepted the recommendations of the United

Nations not to attempt to unify Korea, but to remain content to restore the territorial

integrity of the Republic of Korea.

Despite the limited military objective of the United States, the Korean war lasted until

July 27, 1953 before ending in a truce. The struggle provided the impetus to re-equip the Air

Force with large quantities of new bombers, fighters, and fighter-interceptors, which, were

rushed into production. Few of the new types incorporated any important technological

advances so that, while numbers increased, most of these new aircraft would become obsolete

shortly after the war. There was one exception, however, the Boeing B-47, a replacement for

the Strategic Air Command's B-29s and B-50s. This jet-powered bomber included radically

new features, but its short range prevented it from attacking distant targets without aerial

As for the airlift forces, despite outstanding and often heroic performance throughout the Korean refueling or the use of overseas bases.
112

conflict, their post-war status hardly improved. General Tunner faced a bleak situation in

1950 when he took command of all air transport and troop carrier operations in the Far East.

Years of budgetary restrictions had prevented the Military Air Transport Service from

modernizing the airlift fleet, and the training of pilots and maintenance crews proceeded

sluggishly. Transport aircraft of the Far East Air Forces, already in the area when North

Korea attacked, proved too old and too few. Tunner, as wartime commander in the combat

theater, received some additional transports, mostly new twin-boom Fairchild C–119s that

evolved from the Fairchild C–82. The C–119 impressed Tunner as being a good tactical

aircraft, but being new it still exhibited some mechanical bugs. Despite these problems, the

airlift organization managed to carry out such missions as the urgent deployment of troops,

the dropping of paratroops, and the speedy delivery of tons of vitally needed cargo from Japan

to Korea. ............................................................

Another mission, the life-saving aerial evacuation of casualties during the three-year

war, required the help of the Civil Reserve Air Fleet. This new organization, consisting of

about 350 commercial aircraft leased from the airlines, was initially formed in 1951 to assist

the Military Air Transport Service in periods of crisis or conflict. However valuable the

reserve fleet might prove, the use of an auxiliary pool of civilian airliners was bound to be

costly.

The Korean conflict initiated a major defense build up. Although the new Eisenhower

administration endorsed the maximum possible fiscal restraints, the arms race continued

unabated after the war and dictated otherwise. At best, the President could try to get the

biggest bang for the buck, which to him meant nuclear-armed bombers rather than

conventional forces. Consequently, Air Force budgets, which increased significantly when the

war broke out, kept on growing year after year. The bigger Air Force budgets, however,

hardly helped the status of the military air transport, strategic or tactical. Only two new

transports, the Douglas C–133 and the Lockheed tactical C–130, entered service between the

end of the Korean conflict and the beginning of the 1960s.

General Tunner understood the power of nuclear weapons and the deterrent effect of

the Air Force's strategic strike force, but he argued that the airlift mission remained

important despite the continuing neglect of the transport aircraft. Even before the Korean

conflict ended, Tunner openly criticized the scattering of transport assets among the Navy

and Marine Corps as well as the various commands of the Air Force, all of which had

different utilization standards that bred duplication and inefficiency. Being short of

transports was bad enough, General Tunner bluntly declared, but wasting those available

Once the Korean fighting ended, the Air Staff considered consolidating strategic air transports and was inexcusable.

tactical troop carriers, but gave up when both the Air Force's Tactical Air Command and the

Army strongly objected. Troop carrier units, TAC argued, were combat units and their merger

with a military airline into one air transport organization would combine combat operations

with support or service functions, a combination judged unacceptable. Whereas the Korean

conflict did not change the basic organization of transport aviation, it established its

importance beyond challenge.

Shortly after the conflict ended in an armistice, Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Hoyt

S. Vandenberg, declared that the Air Force logistics function should be as strategically mobile

and flexible as the combat components it supported. Besides being costly, as Vandenberg

observed, the alternative of prestocking supplies at overseas bases involved risk because, at

the onset of war, an aggressor might deny the United States use of these very installations.

At the same time that General Vandenberg stressed the importance of logistics and the

necessity of ensuring strategic mobility and flexibility, the Army Chief of Staff, Gen. J.
113

Lawton Collins, began insisting that to meet world-wide threats the Army should become as

air- transportable as possible, a demand that would be frequently repeated in the years to

come. Neither Vandenberg nor Collins offered a new strategy based on aerial mobility; other

leaders would later address that task.

The low priority of the airlift forces did not improve over the next few years. In truth,

the Military Air Transport Service had no reason for optimism until July 1958, when General

Tunner became commander—an assignment he had clearly earned and very much wanted.

As he had during the Korean War, the new MATS commander faced a grim situation, this

one including overseas crises that required the costly participation of numerous civilian

airliners. Logically, this should have assured the command of more aircraft, but

circumstances conspired against it. The American airline industry in 1958 was not making

the profits it expected and feared that forthcoming jet-powered planes, plus the growing

competition from foreign airlines, would worsen its financial plight. Since the airlines,

according to Tunner1

, were already getting a quarter-billion dollars per year from the

government for providing passenger service to military personnel and leasing aircraft to

MATS, they viewed military air transport as a competitor and lobbied Congress to prevent

its modernization, enlisting members of the press in the campaign. Tunner fought back,

however, cultivating allies on Capitol Hill and in the nation's newsrooms.

Although the threat posed by the airline industry should not be underestimated, the

gravest danger to the Military Air Transport Service came from the Eisenhower

administration's defense policy of deterrence and massive retaliation, and its efforts to hold

down taxes and balance the federal budget. Under these circumstances, Tunner believed that

his command was being squeezed to death. Despite sizable budgets, the priorities that

dictated Air Force procurement policy worked against airlift. Expensive though they were,

nuclear bombs and the crews and aircraft to deliver them remained cheaper to maintain than

a combination of nuclear and conventional forces, with the necessary air transport.

Consequently, forces like airlift that seemed non-essential lost the annual battle of the

budget. Even the Air Force's Tactical Air Command, a true war-fighting organization, enjoyed

a lower priority than SAC. True, TAC could get money for fighters capable of dropping

battlefield nuclear weapons, but its conventional forces underwent substantial reduction.

Cuts in the Tactical Air Command's conventional forces created additional problems

for the Army, because both inter-service agreements and tradition required the ground forces

to depend on TAC for airlift and air strikes in support of troops. Although the Army on

several previous occasions had turned down closer coordination with the Air Force on airlift

matters, General Tunner knew that the leaders of the late 1950s had changed their minds.

Since Tunner could not alter Air Force policy, he sought outside allies; Army leaders stepped

forward, and their timing could not have been better.

In January 1955 President Eisenhower acknowledged that certain contingencies might

justify the use of mobile forces to help indigenous troops and protect American interests. At

that time, the Army's strategy and force structure focused on a large-scale war, probably in

Europe, and fought with nuclear weapons,2 but the Army Chief of Staff, Gen. Maxwell D.

Taylor, was drafting a non-nuclear strategy of flexible response that rapidly gained

momentum. By 1958 the Army had embraced limited war concepts that required extensive

help from strategic and tactical airlift. Tactical airlift could only be provided sparingly by the

Tactical Air Command, now committed mainly to assist the Strategic Air Command in a

general war or to function as an independent nuclear force in a limited conflict. For flexible

response, the Military Air Transport Service had a fleet of more than 1,000 four-engine

strategic transports, but the total combined military aircraft with commercial types from the
114

Civil Reserve Air Fleet. There were reasons for hope, however. After several hearings in late

1958 and early 1959, Congress resolved the airline industry's financial problems. Generous

contracts to move military forces went to various airlines, provided they acquired modern

cargo craft specifically earmarked for the Civil Reserve Air Fleet—an outcome that pleased

General Tunner.

In 1959 the Air Force Chief of Staff, Gen. Thomas D. White, like his Vice Chief, Gen,

Curtis E. LeMay, supported the administration's basic defense policy, including the possible

use nuclear weapons to win limited conflicts. Yet, White had been instrumental in bringing

the recent airline crisis to an end and had actually authorized General Tunner to argue the

case for military airlift during the Congressional hearings. Under mounting pressure from

supporters of flexible response, which enhanced the Army's role in limited conflicts and

increased the importance of strategic airlift, the Air Force Chief of Staff again came to

Tunner's assistance. In January 1959, White approved Tunner's plan to conduct a large-scale

exercise of his command's capability to airlift a significant number of Army troops and

equipment. General White may have privately doubted Tunner's ability to secure the Army's

full participation, but just in case he did, the Air Force allocated funds to pay for the

maneuver, though less than the amount Tunner requested.

Spartan funding did not deter General Tunner from moving quickly. Besides

cultivating the friendship of Mendel Rivers, a powerful Congressman from South Carolina,

Tunner worked closely with the Army Chief of Staff, Gen. Lyman L. Lemnitzer, and Gen.

Bruce C. Clarke, who headed the Continental Army Command. General Tunner not only

obtained the Army's full cooperation but, with the help of his very effective staff, planned the

maneuver in record time.

Known as Operation Big Slam/Puerto Pine, the exercise began on March 14, 1960. The

highly publicized two-week joint exercise airlifted 21,000 Army troops and 11,000 tons of

cargo from various bases in the United States to Puerto Rico, an island less than a thousand

miles from the mainland. Although the Air Force and Army personnel proved themselves, the

transports of the Military Air Transport Service failed the test. In some 1,200 round trips,

totalling more than 50,000 flying hours, the aging fleet of slow, short-range transports could

deliver only 1,000 tons of cargo, including one light tank, a few other vehicles, and some

artillery. Many of the Army troops, moreover, arrived without a single round of ammunition.

Big Slam/Puerto Pine demonstrated the pitiful performance of the available MATS

transports, as Lemnitzer, Clarke, and Tunner intended. Almost all the reporters and

Congressmen who had opposed MATS became ardent supporters of modernizing strategic

airlift. The exercise clearly had a profound effect. In July 1960, the Congress appropriated,

for the purchase or modification of long-range transports, $200 million more than the Air

Force requested. Most important, these extra funds earmarked $50 million to begin

development of the Lockheed C–141, which heralded a new era in airlift. With the tide

running in favor of MATS, the Vice Chief of Staff, LeMay, an officer well known for his

opposition to any change that might adversely affect the Strategic Air Command, did not

challenge the C–141 program.

In 1961, following President John F. Kennedy's personal endorsement of both the

strategy of flexible response and the quantity purchase of the Lockheed C–141, the Air Force

began to think of another new, multi-purpose, long endurance aircraft to replace the spacious

but mediocre Douglas C–133 turboprops. To that end, the Military Air Transport Service

received in October a qualitative operational requirement issued by the Air Staff. The

proposed replacement for the C–133 did not materialize in its initial form. In June 1962, the

Army wanted no part of the proposed transport, then known as the CX-4, because it did not
115

represent any significant improvement over the forthcoming C–141. Secretary of Defense

Robert S. McNamara, who from the start had questioned the cost effectiveness of a new force

of large cargo aircraft, suggested that part of the money saved by giving up the CX-4 could

be spent to stockpile equipment at depots overseas. The Army, though acknowledging the

need for transports to carry out-size cargo like tanks, agreed with McNamara that prepositioning and rapid sealift might be the best way to bring mechanized forces into an

As General Vandenberg had emphasized after the Korean war, stockpiled supplies at bases overseas, overseas theater.

besides being costly, might well invite the enemy to attack them directly or neutralize them

through diplomatic pressure. From this point of view, McNamara's suggestion seemed both

risky and inefficient. Strategic airlift afforded a better alternative which might, at least in

part, pay for itself from the start by reducing dependence on costly leased aircraft. Moreover,

a strong airlift force, deploying an air-transportable reserve from the United States, would

reduce the number of American ground forces stationed overseas. This concept, tested in a

recent exercise, led to the transfer of several fighter wings from Europe and Asia back to the

United States, at substantial savings in the Air Force budget. LeMay, who replaced White

as Chief of Staff in July 1961 expressed determination that the strategy of flexible response

and the Army's growing role would not undermine the importance of the Air Force. In the fall

of 1963 he linked the Air Force and its modernized airlift to flexible response and publicly

acknowledged that the country's powerful nuclear forces ". . . cannot by themselves deter

limited war or protect U.S. interests when limited war occurs." For him, strategic airlift had

become an essential element of national defense.3

Actually, General LeMay's public announcement of the shift in policy to support a

build-up in strategic airlift forces followed closely completion in April 1963 of a classified Air

Force study, Project Forecast. This series of reports covered new, highly sophisticated weapon

systems for both the near term and distant future and made a favorable impression on

LeMay. The list of new weapon systems included a heavy logistics transport aircraft far more

advanced than any ever suggested by the Army. The anticipated characteristics of the new

transport would solve the dilemma faced by Air Force and Army leaders following the Army's

rejection of the CX-4 project. Moreover, the technological advances of the Forecast transport,

which would stay in the operational inventory for several decades, made the new project very

attractive. It would be cost effective and therefore likely to secure Secretary McNamara's

approval more easily than the ill-fated CX-4. ..................................

After being designated successively as the CX-X and CX-HLS, the Forecast transport,

supported by General LeMay, was approved in December 1964 by Secretary McNamara, who

redesignated it the C–5A. Although McNamara favored acquisition of the Lockheed C–5A,

he insisted on carefully controlling costs. Unless the C–5A attained an initial operational

capability in 1969, he proposed to adopt a more cost- effective course of action and buy an

improved version of the C–141 instead. The Air Staff, however, accelerated the procurement

process to ensure that McNamara's deadline would somehow be met.

In the ensuing years, whether under the leadership of General LeMay or Gen. John

P. McConnell, who became the Air Force Chief of Staff in February 1965, or General John

D. Ryan, who took over in August 1969, the Air Force's interest in the C–5A program never

faltered. The service continuously sought to make sure that the C–5A's problems as well as

those of its contractor would not be allowed to destroy the program. The Air Force attitude

in part reflected a fear that Army aviation, which already included a hundred twin-turboprop

transports comparable in size to the C–47 of World War II, would somehow lay claim to at

least a share of strategic airlift.

The Air Force had other reasons during the late 1950s and early 1960s to nurture the
116

costly C–5A program. In 1960, Deputy Secretary of Defense James H. Douglas, aware of the

increasing Congressional interest in meeting the threat of limited war, recommended that

force structure be based on the possibility of limited war. Although the Air Force

emphatically rejected Secretary Douglas's suggestion, as did the Department of Defense, the

Air Force in general and LeMay in particular believed that the emphasis on limited war

might yet prevail. Official endorsement of the flexible response strategy in early 1961 hardly

alleviated General LeMay's concern. In the spring of 1962, when Secretary of Defense

McNamara directed a review of the Army's tactical mobility requirements, the Air Force

became convinced that the Army planned to acquire an expanded air arm of its own,

comparable to the old Army Air Corps. Moreover, should the Army remain dissatisfied with

the Air Force's airlift policies, a revived Air Corps might provide the means of taking over

strategic airlift.

General LeMay, like other leaders before him, recognized that playing ball with an

ambitious opponent could provide the best way of sidetracking the threat. LeMay already

realized that overseas crises were bound to occur and that the nation in future decades would

unavoidably have to fight limited wars. Although he sometimes vigorously emphasized the

importance of airlift to national defense, for example endorsing Tunner's views in early 1960,

the Air Force and LeMay still relegated airlift forces to the status of poor relations and

remained content to postpone indefinitely the restructuring of the Military Air Transport

Service. General Tunner argued that his command should be reorganized as the Military

Airlift Command (MAC), with greater emphasis on military operations, expanded use of

airlift by all agencies of the Defense Department, and adequate representation for all three

services on its staff. Tunner's recommendations fell on deaf ears, however, and reorganization

of the Military Air Transport Service was deferred for several more years.

MATS became the Military Airlift Command on January 1, 1966, following the

increasing commitment of U.S. forces to Southeast Asia and the immediate acceleration of

strategic airlift programs. The production rate of the Lockheed C–141 increased, the Air

Force received large-scale deliveries of C–141s in 1966, and 14 squadrons of the new aircraft

became operational in 1967.

Lockheed's production of the larger C–5A did not fare as well as the C–141 program.

Despite the firm's efforts, the C–5A's initial operational capability, scheduled for 1969,

slipped significantly, and the much-needed large cargo plane did not reach South Vietnam

in a truly operational capacity until August 1971. In the months that followed its debut, the

aircraft played a major role in strategic airlift to Southeast Asia. Yet, the C–5A's spectacular

post-Vietnam accomplishments dramatized the importance of strategic airlift and, therefore,

facilitated the Military Airlift Command's eventual ascent to the status of a specified

command.

This is not to say that the Vietnam War did not affect significantly the future of both

the strategic and tactical airlift forces. From the start, the conflict altered the existing

doctrinal and institutional underpinnings of airlift policy. As the war progressed, it confirmed

the logic of a consolidated airlift organization with the status of a combat command, a change

finally supported by influential leaders of the Tactical Air Command and of the airlift

organizations in overseas theaters. The change of opinion among these leaders—believed fully

justified by the wartime activities of all types of airlift operations, whether tactical, strategic,

or battlefield—reflected a critical institutional readjustment.

To begin with, the Vietnam war caused MAC, TAC, and Army Aviation airlift

organizations to expand substantially their mission responsibilities and capabilities. The rise

of Army Aviation was meteoric,4 a ten-fold increase in helicopters and fixed-wing aircraft over
117

seven years. Individual field commanders retained operational control of the Army assets

even though in March 1966 the 1st Aviation Brigade had been activated to manage the

logistics and training standards of Army Aviation units in Vietnam. The management and

command structures conformed with Army doctrine and seemed to indicate that the Army

was not truly thinking of reacquiring an air arm of its own. Still, Army Aviation's growing

importance in Vietnam remained of concern to the Air Force, for the Army's battlefield airlift,

like its Air Force counterpart, increased in technological sophistication and capability.

Whereas the Military Airlift Command did not expand as dramatically as Army

Aviation, MAC's wartime contributions were impressive. Despite a limited number of new

C–141 strategic transports, their speed enabled one of them to deliver more cargo than four

of the aging Douglas C–124 Globemasters during a given period of time. The C–130s of the

Air Force tactical airlift units, however, served as the mainstays of intratheater mobility

operations and for much of the

routine logistics effort within Southeast Asia.

The Air Force's strategic and tactical airlift successes during the Vietnam conflict did

not by themselves account for the consolidation of these forces. The Air Force's perception

that the Army still intended to rebuild its own Air Corps and the efforts to counter any such

project may have speeded the 1974 consolidation of its airlift assets, ironically so since in

April 1966 General McConnell, the Air Force new Chief of Staff, had signed an agreement

with the Army Chief of Staff, Harold K. Johnson, that in effect yielded any claim to the

Army's helicopters in exchange for the Army's large fixed-wing transports. Despite Air Force

doctrine that air units must remain under the centralized control of airmen, McConnell and

Johnson agreed that in cases of operational need, Air Force aircraft performing supply, or

troop-lift functions in the area of a field army, could be attached to, and therefore controlled

by, the subordinate tactical echelons of the field army.

By the end of the Vietnam War many other indications appeared suggesting that

changes affecting strategic and tactical airlift forces were all but inevitable. In August 1967

the Tactical Air Command's troop carrier wings were redesignated tactical airlift wings, a

change that implicitly suggested, but did not establish, a linkage with the military airlift

wings of the newly-established Military Airlift Command. Another example that strategic and

tactical airlift forces could be consolidated effectively arose from the formation in October

1966 of the 834th Air Division, which controlled all theater airlift and airlift support

operations in South Vietnam. By early 1969, the Air Division commander could order the

strategic C–141 transports to perform extra intratheater sorties in support of the local airlift

effort. The increasing use of MAC transports in tactical airlift operations demonstrated that

treating the strategic airlift forces as an airline rather than a combat force had become

unrealistic.

In the meantime, however, the Air Force as well as the other military services clung

to their traditions and fiercely defended their individual turf. The advent of the Military

Airlift Command ended a partnership between the Air Force and Navy that began in 1948

when the Air Transport Command and the Naval Air Transport Service merged to create

MATS. When on February 1, 1977, MAC emerged as a specified command, equal in status

and authority to any other Air Force combat command, the Navy and Marine Corps managed

to retain a small independent portion of their individual transport fleet.

Over the years, the Air Force had moved warily toward changing the status of airlift.

Following the long delayed creation of the Military Air Command, Air Force Manual 2-4,

Tactical Airlift, and Air Force Manual 2-21, Strategic Airlift, drew a careful distinction the

two missions and forces. As time passed, the Air Force ensured stagnation of airlift policy by
118

retaining the same division in the governing doctrinal publications. The operational record

of the Vietnam War persuaded the Air Force in mid-1972 to revise Air Force Manual 2-21,

but the revision sharpened the organizational distinction between strategic and tactical

airlift. The new manual, however, accepted its predecessor's provisions for transferring

temporary control of one airlift force to the commander of another, thus acknowledging that

new airlift aircraft like the C–141, and operational experience with them, made such

transfers acceptable. The revision, by endorsing the use of strategic airlift on missions within

a theater, also confirmed that consolidation of airlift forces was out of the question, at least

for the near future, since the Air Force did not intend to alter existing organizational

arrangements.

Though the air transport forces had definitely grown in importance as well as

capability since 1960, advocates of airlift kept a low profile, believing that emphasizing the

accrual of minor gains might jeopardize a future breakthrough. The days of General Tunner

were gone, and the post-Vietnam War period proved an inopportune time to find support for

consolidation of the airlift forces. In late 1972 budgets were tight, the public had little

sympathy for military spending, and the President and Congress faced serious problems,

including not only ending the Vietnam conflict but other possible crises in the Middle East

and elsewhere.

The war against Israel, initiated by Egypt and Syria in October 1973, dramatized the

importance of the C–5A. Restrictions on U.S. landing rights and overflights during the

conflict—in part a result of a threatened refusal by oil-producing Arab states to supply

nations supporting Israel—underscored the importance of global mobility as well as the

unique contribution of the long-range C–5A. MAC overcame the restrictions on routes and

refueling bases to provide a constant flow of supplies that helped Israel prevail. This success

and the emergence of a new generation of Air Force leaders combined to help bring about the

subsequent designation of MAC as a specified command future status.

Of course, the Air Force had strong backing from the Department of Defense in

eventually making this change. Early in 1974, Secretary of Defense James R. Schlesinger

described the global mobility of American military forces as being essential to deter future

conventional wars. In August of that year Gen. David Jones, the new Air Force Chief of Staff,

decided to combine all the service's airlift, strategic and tactical, in the Military Airlift

Command. Meanwhile, Gen. Paul Carlton, MAC's commander since 1973 and already known

for his progressive ideas, outlined for the Congress his command's problems and suggested

this unification as means to improve future airlift operations. Nonetheless, in 1977, when

MAC finally became a specified command, many in the Air Force still questioned the wisdom

of the decision. Even after the war against Iraq, when the C–5 fleet again made outstanding

contributions, numerous high-ranking Air Force officers, commanders of so-called true combat

commands in particular, continued to resent the ascendence of the airlift forces, perhaps

thinking how many new fighters might be bought for the price of a single C–5 transport.
119
120

Endnotes

1. William H. Tunner, Over the Hump (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, reprint

1985), pp. 290-91.

2. Robert Charles Owen, Creating Global Airlift in the United States Air Force, 1945-1947:

The Relationship of Power, Doctrine, and Policy (Department of History, Duke University,

dissertation, 1992), pp. 195-247.

3. Ibid., pp. 302-11.

4. Ibid., pp. 345-84.
121
APPENDICES
123
124

APPENDIX 1

ESTIMATED MISSION PERFORMANCE BASED

ON CONTRACTOR REVISED PROPOSALS OF SEPTEMBER 4, 1965.

LONG-RANGE MISSION

..............................

....... Required Boeing Douglas Lockheed

Takeoff distance (ft)................... 8,000

8,000 ........................ 7,350

8,000

Landing Distance (ft)................... 4,000

3,460 ........................ 3,620

3,700

Range (n.m.) ..........................

........................... 5,500

5,500 ........................ 5,125

5,747

Payload (lb) ........................

100,000 100,000 100,000 100,000

Cruise Speed (kn) 440 446 440 440

Rate of Climb (fpm) 400 400 440 480

Takeoff Weight (lb) -- 665,000 666,700 712,000

Load Factor 2.5 2.5 2.5 2.5

SHORT-RANGE MISSION.

Required Boeing Douglas Lockheed

Takeoff Distance (ft) 8,000 8,000 7,350 8,000

Landing Distance (ft) -- 4,040 4,270 . . 4,340

Range (nm) 2,700 2,775 2,605 3,278

Payload (lb) 200,000 200,000 200,000 200,000

Cruise Speed (kn) 440 470 440 440

Rate of Climb (fpm) 400 400 440 470

Takeoff Weight (lb) -- 665,000 666,700 712,000

Load Factor 2.5 2.5 2.5 2.5+

OVERLOAD MISSION.

Required Boeing Douglas Lockheed

Takeoff Distance (ft) 10,000 9,930 8,800 9,700

Landing Distance (ft) -- 4,440 4,620 4,780

Range (nm) 2,500 2,569 2,391 2,831

Payload (lb) 265,000 265,000 250,000 265,000

Cruise Speed (kn) 440 440 440 440

Rate of Climb (fpm) 100 150 300 340
125

Takeoff Weight (lb) -- 725,000 716,700 769,000

Load Factor 2.25 2.25 2.25 2.25

Abbreviations.

fpm feet per minute.

kn knots.

nm nautical miles.

lb pounds.
126

LANDING PERFORMANCE.

1,000-Nautical-Mile Flyback Mission Without Refueling.

Required Boeing Douglas Lockheed

Landing Distance (ft) 4,000 3,650 3,790 3,860

or or or

4,000 4,000.................... 4,000

Payload (lb) 100,000 100,000 100,000 100,000

. . or or or

. . . 167,000 132,000 123,000

2,500-Nautical-Mile Flyback Mission Without Refueling.

Required Boeing Douglas Lockheed

Landing Distance (ft) 4,000 3,920 4,120 4,190

or or or

4,000 4,000 4,000

Payload (lb) 100,000 100,000 100,000 100,000

or or or

120,000 82,000 72,000

Abbreviations

fpm = feet per minute

kn = knots

nm = nautical miles

lb = pounds

SOURCE: History, Aeronautical Systems Division

July 1965-June 1966, Volume I, pp. 109-110.
127

APPENDIX 2.

C–5A PROGRAM FUNDING.

R&D Funding by Fiscal Years*.

(In dollars)

Fiscal

Year Appropriated Committed Obligated Expended

1966 158,866,000 158,854,477 158,854,447 158,842,613

1967 278,653,555 278,562,597 278,562,597 278,552,044

1968 341,900,000 341,743,934 340,639,978 314,636,457

1969 126,000,000 124,514,816 123,722,867 55,899,555

1970 34,200,000 25,031,321 21,304,771 18,728,063

Total* 939,619,555 928,707,115 923,084,660 826,658,732

*/ Excluding $52 million used to fund

the program definition phase.

Production Funding by Fiscal Years.

(In dollars)

Fiscal

Year Appropriated Committed Obligated Expended

1967 388,400,000 387,251,002 385,600,654 383,599,038

1968 440,000,000 423,614,715 417,668,687 394,467,938

1969 494,000,000 452,345,508 443,688,393 414,106,111

1970 481,000,000 372,621,702 371,477,071 296,246,831

1970** 225,000,000 225,000,000 225,000,000 218,385,944

Total 2,028,400,000 1,860,832,927 1,843,434,805 1,706,805,862

**/ These funds were expected to cover amounts over the

Production Run A's target costs. The same

rationale accounted for the extra $34.2 million

of R&D funds appropriated in Fiscal Year 1970.

SOURCE: History, Aeronautical Systems Division,

July 1969-June 1970, Volume I, p. 209.
128
129

APPENDIX 3

LOCKHEED SUPPLEMENTAL AGREEMENT 1000,

MAY 31, 1970.

The agreement replaced the basic C–5A total package procurement contract, AF 33

(657) 15053, of October 11, 1965, as amended through May 31, 1970. Under the terms of the

new contract, restructured by Supplemental Agreement 1000, the Lockheed-Georgia Company

agreed to:

1. Waive all existing claims as well as rights

to performance incentive payments.

2. Give up any "profit or fee for spare parts

and other provisioned items to be supplied."

3. Accept "extraordinary mangement controls" by

the government.

Supplemental Agreement 1000 also nullified and, therefore, removed from the

contractor's purview a number of provisions that had been part of the basic total package

procurement contract.

Included in such provisions were:

1. Total system performance responsibility.

2. Pricing of changes.

3. Repricing.

4. Adjustment for economic fluctuations.
130

GENERAL ELECTRIC'S RESTRUCTURED CONTRACT,

SEPTEMBER 15, 1970.

The restructured engine contract of September 15, 1970,

superseded the General Electric Company's total package procurement

contract, AF 33 (657) 15003, of October 1965, but retained the

number of engines--228-- contracted for to equip the first aircraft

purchase (the 58 C–5A aircraft of Production Run A). The new

contract, however, decreased the second purchase of engines from

279 to 176 to match the reduced acquisition of Run B C–5A aircraft

(decreased from 57 to 23), bringing total engine procurement to 404

against a grand total of 81 C–5As.

The General Electric contract of 1970 established an 85-15

percent sharing arrangement between the government and the

contractor, with a target price of $665.9 million.

Target Target Ceiling Estimated Estimated

Cost Profit Profit Price Profit

Government

Interpretation $602.6 $60.6 $766,2 $766.2 $18.8

General Electric

Interpretation $696.7 $60.6 $909.8 $804.8 $50.4

Settlement $609.8 $56.1 $802.6 $785.6 $35.0

The new G.E. contract was patterned on the Lockheed C–5A

contract restructured by Supplemental Agreement 1000. As a result,

the basic engine contract's controversial provisions were

eliminated as were clauses that might lead to extensive litigation.

The provisions and clauses left out of the new contract included:

1. Abnormal fluctuations in the economy.

2. Repricing formula.

3. Changes in the contractor's cost share.

4. Adjustment for changes in the law.

SOURCE: History, Aeronautical Systems Division

July 1970-June 1971, Volume 1, pp. 121-125.
131

APPENDIX 4

THE C–5A YEARLY PRODUCTION AND STATUS.

Fiscal Year Testing Operational Total

Category I Category II

1968 1 - - 1

1969 */ 3 1 -4

1970 1 2 8 11

1971 - - 27 27

1972 - - 19 19

1973 **/ - - 19 19

5 3 73 81

*/ Justifying the concern that Lockheed might cancel the

aircraft production, the Air Force by mid-1969 had given

$1.52 billion to the contractor but had acquired only

four C–5As.

**/ A subcontractor strike caused Lockheed to delay delivery

of the last C–5A from February 1973 to May 1973.

Reduction of production rates and accompanying delivery

slowdown affected the C–5A program on several occasions.

In 1969, when the program was under review and money was short, the

Air Force decreased Lockheed monthly C–5A production rate from 4 to

3. The decision at the time was expected to postpone the end of

production to June 1972.

In February 1970, claiming that it could not survive

otherwise, Lockheed asked and was authorized to reduce the C–5A

monthly production from 3 to 2. This would delay the end of

production to February 1973. To the Air Force's relief, the final

slippage proved to be short and did not extend beyond May 1973.

SOURCE: History, Aeronautical Systems Division,

July 1971-June 1972, Volume I, p. 86.
132
133

APPENDIX 5.

DOD Directive 5160.2, "Single Manager

for Airlift Service," 7 December 1956.

- -

Designated the Secretary of the Air Force as the Single Manager for Airlift Service.

- -

Integrated all scheduled airlift under MATS as the Single Operating Agency for Airlift

Service.

- -

Directed that most of the Tactical Air Command's (TAC) and the Navy's heavy airlift

assets be transferred to MATS.

- -

Allowed for MATS' retention of the technical services (air photographic, air rescue, air

communications, air weather, and flight service), if desired.

- -

Provided for the establishment of what became in 1958 the Airlift Service Industrial

Fund (ASIF).

- -

Required MATS to contract with the commercial carriers for airlift in peacetime to

ensure their economic development and availability during war. Directed the

development of an expanded mobilization base through the "maximum feasible" use

of civil airlift--in other words, the Civil Reserve Air Fleet program.

DOD Directive 5160.22, "Clarification of Roles

and Missions of the Departments of the Army and the

Air Force Regarding the Use of Aircraft," 18 March 1957.

- -

Restated USAF mission of providing airlift support to Army to include airlift of

personnel, supplies, and equipment to, from, and within the combat area.

- -

Restricted Air Force aeromedical airlift to from the combat area to outside hospitals.

- -

Prohibited the Army from procuring strategic and tactical airlift aircraft, although

Army could own aircraft for command liaison, communications, observation,

reconnaissance, fire adjustment, survey and small-scale airlift requirements within

the combat zone.
134

SOURCE: HQ AMC/HO/Betty R. Kennedy, GS 12/5754/6 Aug 93, p.4.
135
136

APPENDIX 6.

MAC AIRLIFT MISSIONS AND FLYING HOURS

1965-1985

Year ............................

..............................

Missions ..........................

..............................

Flying Hours

1965 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

719 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

39,234

1966 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

520 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

31,958

1967 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

405 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

24,397

1968 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................. 390 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..............................

21,308

1969 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................. 235 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .............................. 9,170*

1970 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................. 323 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .............................. 7,566

1971 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................. 341 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

6,075

1972 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

320 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

6,655..........................
137

1973 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

319 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

4,485

1974 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

382 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

4,470

1975 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

307 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,512

1976 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

166 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,291

1977 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

139 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,124

1978 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

207 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

4,860

1979 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

154 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,216

1980 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

143 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,528

1981 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

96 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

2,440

1982 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

123 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,277.5

1983 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
138

..............................

122 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,349.3

1984 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

105 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,279.1

1985 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

123 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

..............................

3,827.5

*The sharp decline in flying hours starting with 1969 may have been

the result of greater use of jet aircraft, particularly the C-141,

to transport nuclear cargo.

SOURCE: Rprts (U), MAC DCS Ops/DOOMS/Nuclear Airlift Section,

"Mission Summaries," 1965-1984; "Mission/Sortie Summary--1985;"

and "Flying Hour Summaries," 1965-1985.
139
140

APPENDIX 7.

THE COST AND REPRICING FORMULAE INSERTED IN THE

LOCKHEED CONTRACT.

The Lockheed contract provided that the government would

assume 70 percent of cost overruns up to 130 percent of the target

cost. If the target cost were $1 million, the target profit would

be $100,000 (10% x $1 million), and the target price for the

government would be $1 million + $100,000 = $1.1 million. If the

actual cost proved to be $900,000 (an underrun), then Lockheed's

profit would be $100,000 + 30% x ($1 million - $900,000) + $100,000

+ $30,000 = $130,000. If the actual cost proved to be $1.1 million

(an overrun), then Lockheed's profit would be $100,000 - 30% x

($1.1 million - $1 million) = $100,000 - $30,000 = $70, 000.

If the actual cost of the plane proved to be $1.310 million,

then Lockheed's profit would be zero, since Lockheed would assume

30% of he overrun up to $1.3 miilion (130% x $1 million) and 100%

of everything over that: Profit = $100,000 - 30% x ($1.3 million -

$1 million) - 100% x ($1.310 million - $1.3 million) = $100,000 -

$90,000 - $10,000 = 0. If the actual cost exceeded $1.310 million,

Lockheed would lose money.

The repricing formula was designed to limit the amount of

money Lockheed would lose. Assume a target cost for Production Run

A of $831.9 million (therefore a target price of 10% more or $915.1

million) but an actual cost of $1,425.9 million, so that Lockheed

is losing $419.3 milion on Run A. However, the 130% cost ceiling

for Run A has been exceeded, triggering the repricing formula.

Assume a Production Run B target cost of $489.9 million:

1)Actual Cost Run A/Target Cost Run A - Run A Ceiling%=%

Variance

or $1,425.9 million/$831.9 million - 130% = % Variance

and % Variance + 41.4%

2)(% Variance x 2) + 100% = Target Cost ....... ............... Adjustment Factor (TCAF)

TCAF = (41.4% x 2) + 100%

= 182.8%

3)TCAF x Run B Target Cost = New Run B Target Cost

182.8% x $489.9 million = $895.5 million

4)New Run B Target Cost x 130% = New Run B Ceiling

$895.5 million x 130% = $1,164.2 million
141
142

Appendix 8.

Lockheed Aircraft Corporation Numbers

and Air Force Serial Numbers

LAC Numbers ..........................

.............................

AF Serial Numbers ....................

........................... Model.............................

Quantity

500-0001/0005.........................

.............................

66-8303/66-8307 .....................

........................... C–5A

..........................................................5

500-0006/0013.........................

.............................

67-0167/67-0174 .....................

........................... C–5A..........................................................8

500-0014/0031.........................

.............................

68-0211/68-0228 .....................

........................... C–5A.............................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

500-0032/0058.........................

.............................

69-0001/69-0027 .....................

........................... C–5A.............................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

500-0059/0081.........................

.............................

70-0445/70-0467 .....................

........................... C–5A.............................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
143

500-0082 ...........................

....................................................... 83-1285

..........................................................

C–5B . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................

1

500-0083/0086.........................

.............................

84-0059/84-0062 .....................

........................... C–5B..........................................................4

500-0087/0096.........................

.............................

85-0001/85-0010 .....................

........................... C–5B.............................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

500-0097/0112.........................

.............................

86-0011/86-0026 .....................

........................... C–5B.............................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

unknown............................

................................................... 87-0027/87-0045.............................

C–5B . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.............................

19

C–5 Acceptances 1969-1989

Model 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979

1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989C–5A 5 20 24 19 10 1 1Rewinging 1 14 18 17 17 9C–5B 1 8 13 23 5
144

C–5 Attritions

Date Serial No. Unit Locations Primary Cause

May 25, 1970 67-0172 AFFTC Edwards AFB, CA Ground FireOct. 17, 1970 66-8303 Lockheed Marietta, GA Ground FireSep. 27, 1974 68-0227 443d MAW Altus AFB, OK Ground FireApr. 4, 1975 68-0218 60th MAW Nr Saigon, Vietnam Impropermaintenance; aft door complex blew out damaging control and hydraulic linesAug. 29 '90 68-0228 349th MAW (Assoc.) Ramstein AB, Germany N o tdetermined* Source: Rene Francillion, "Galaxy, Mighty Lifter," Air International, (November 1944), pp.269-271. Reprinted by permission.
145
146

BIBLIOGRAPHIC NOTE

A few of the many records and books consulted in writing this volume deserve special

mention. Michael Gorn's Vulcan's Forge: The Making of an Air Force Command for Weapons

Acquisition, 1950-1985 proved extremely valuable as did the histories and studies prepared

by Michael Levy and the other historians of the Aeronautical Systems Division of what was

then the Air Force Systems Command. Robert Frank Futrell's Ideas, Concepts, and Doctrine:

Basic Thinking in the United States Air Force, 1907-1984 lived up to its ambitious title. Other

essential works included Buying Aircraft: Materiel Procurement for the Army Air Forces by

Irving Brinton Holley, Jr.; Arming America: How the U. S. Buys Weapons by J. Ronald Fox;

and "Creating Global Airlift in the United States Air Force, 1945-1977: The Relationship of

Power, Doctrine, and Policy," a doctoral dissertation that Robert Charles Owen submitted to

the Department of History, Duke University, in 1992.
147
148

Abbreviations

ADO Advanced Development Objective

AFB Air Force Base

AFLC Air Force Logistics Command

AFSC Air Force Systems Command

AMC Air Materiel Command

AMST Advanced Medium STOL Transport

ARDC Air Research and Development Command

ASD Aeronautical Systems Division

ASPR Armed Services Procurement Regulation

ATCA Advanced Tanker Cargo Aircraft

CPFF Cost-Plus-Fixed-Fee

CPPC Cost-Plus-Percentage-of-Cost

CRAF Civil Reserve Air Fleet

CX-HLS Cargo, Experimental—Heavy Logistics System

DCS Deputy Chief of Staff

DEW Distant Early Warning

DOD Department of Defense

FEAF Far East Air Forces

FPIF Fixed-Price-Incentive-Fee

GAO General Accounting Office

ICBM Intercontinental Ballistic Missile

IOC Initial Operational Capability

IRF Inflight Refueling

MAC Military Airlift Command

MATS Military Air Transport Service

MTOW Maximum Takeoff Weight

NASA National Aeronautics and Space Administration

QOR Qualitative Operational Requirement

RAND Research and Development Corporation

R&D Research and Development

RDC Research and Development Command

RFC Reconstruction Finance Corporation

RFP Request for Proposals

SAC Strategic Air Command
149

SAM Surface-to-Air Missile

SEC Securities and Exchange Commission

SOR Specific Operational Requirement

STOL Short Takeoff and Landing

STRAC Strategic Army Corps

STRICOM U.S. Strike Command

TAC Tactical Air Command

TADJET Transport, Airdrop, and Jettison

TFX Tactical Fighter, Experimental

TPPC Total-Package Procurement Concept

UN United Nations

USSR Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

VTOL Vertical Takeoff and Landing

WRM War Readiness Materiel