A History of

INNOVATION

 U.S. Army Adaptation

 in War and Peace

Jon T. Hoffman

General Editor

CENTER OF MILITARY HISTORY

UNITED STATES ARMY

WASHINGTON, D.C., 2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A history of innovation : U.S. Army adaptation in war and peace / 

Jon T. Hoffman, general editor.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

1. United States. Army—Equipment—History—20th century. 2. 

United States. Army—Drill and tactics—History—20th century. 

3. Military weapons—United States—History—20th century. I. 

Hoffman, Jon T., 1955- II. Center of Military History.

UA25.h675 2009

355.80973—dc22 2009024607

First Printing—CMH Pub 40–6–1
iii

Contents

Page

Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vi

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

1 M1 Garand Rifle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

2 Radar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

3 The Benning Revolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

4 Air Observation Posts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

5 Armored Force Organization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

6 Tank Destroyer Force . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

7 The Bazooka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

8 Upgunning the Amphibian Tank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

9 Conquering the Hedgerows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

10 Special Patrol Groups . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

11 Airmobility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117

12 Airborne Radio Direction Finding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

13 Artillery Speed Shifter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

14 National Training Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155

Suggested Readings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165
iv

Illustrations

 Page

A soldier aims his M1 rifle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

John C. Garand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Garand in his workshop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Soldiers man an SCR–268 radar set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Col. William R. Blair . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

The 1938 prototype of the SCR–268 radar set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

The 29th Infantry musters at Fort Benning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

Lt. Col. George C. Marshall Jr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Marshall with some of his staff . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

An L–4 of the 29th Infantry Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

A light plane takes on fuel during maneuvers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

Col. William W. Ford and Lt. Col. Gordon J. Wolf . . . . . . . . . . . 45

M4 medium tanks line a street . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

A unit mounted on half-tracks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

An M8 75-mm. self-propelled howitzer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

A panzer unit sweeps across the Russian steppe . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

An M6 tank destroyer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66

An M10 tank destroyer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

A soldier fires a bazooka over a hedgerow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72

2d Lt. Edward G. Uhl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

Uhl holds an improved bazooka model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80

Tracked landing vehicles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

Col. William S. Triplet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

Soldiers rest in front of an LVT(A)4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

Tanks maneuver through hedgerow country . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92

Sgt. Curtis G. Culin III . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98

A Sherman tank plows through a hedgerow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100

Soldiers in their forward trench line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Men of the 3d Ranger Infantry Company . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

Soldiers of the 35th Infantry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111

Helicopters of the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) . . . . . . . . . 116

Maj. Gen. Hamilton H. Howze inspects a helicopter . . . . . . . . . 119

Troops deploy after Sikorsky H–34s lift off . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Operator’s station in a modified U–6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Herbert S. Hovey Jr. and other engineers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132

Harold M. Jaffe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134

M114 155-mm. howitzers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138

An artilleryman raises the firing jack . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141

Two soldiers maneuver their six-ton howitzer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

An M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146

A Sheridan tank rigged to look like a BMP vehicle . . . . . . . . . . . 151

Observer/controllers conduct an after action review . . . . . . . . . 153 
v

Foreword

Armies rely so much on past experiences to validate current practices that they are often regarded as inherently conservative organizations, resistant to meaningful change and innovation. Armed 

with doctrines and traditions developed over decades and even 

centuries to guide and sustain soldiers in combat, they have been 

understandably hesitant to adopt new, unproven methods of war 

without conducting extraordinarily time-consuming and detailed 

tests and reviews. Yet armies have often stood at the cutting edge of 

technological, organizational, and methodological change, for in the 

violent competition that marks their trade, survival has often gone 

to the smartest and most innovative force rather than to the largest 

or best armed one. Thus, however risky, innovation has over the 

ages become the hallmark of successful military establishments.

In the United States, the U.S. Army has a long history of innovation, 

from the exploits of the Lewis and Clark Expedition at the beginning 

of the nineteenth century to the medical and engineering advances 

associated with the construction of the Panama Canal begun at its 

end. But this particular collection of essays in A History of Innovation: 

U.S. Army Adaptation in War and Peace speaks to the purely military 

initiatives in weapons, tactics, organization, training, and other areas 

that directly impacted battlefield performance in the twentieth century. While many were successful, some were premature and others even failures, quickly abandoned or significantly modified after 

undergoing the test of combat. How Army leaders approached these 

innovations—how they sought to manage change—are stories well 

worth the telling since even those enterprises that proved problematic imparted their own lessons learned. This work then begins the 

important task of identifying those factors that encourage a culture 

of change and innovation—and those that militate against it. How 

much is due to institutional flexibility and how much to personal 

leadership are only some of the factors examined. By describing and 

analyzing the Army’s experiences in past innovations, these historical 

essays can assist today’s military leaders to become better thinkers 

and better innovators, making the past a servant of the future.

Washington, D.C. JEFFREY J. CLARKE 

1 October 2009 Chief of Military History
vi

Contributors

Terry L. Beckenbaugh is an assistant professor in the Department 

of Military History at the U.S. Army Command and General Staff 

College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. He received his Ph.D. from 

the University of Arkansas in 2001, specializing in the American 

Civil War and Reconstruction. He is currently working on a book 

about Maj. Gen. Samuel Ryan Curtis and the 1862 White River 

Campaign in Arkansas.

Thomas A. Bruscino Jr. is an assistant professor in the School of 

Advanced Military Studies, U.S. Army Command and General 

Staff College. He earned an M.A. in American history and a Ph.D. 

in U.S. military history from Ohio University (Athens, Ohio). 

His publications include Out of Bounds: Transnational Sanctuary in 

Irregular Warfare (2006).

Anne W. Chapman, a historian now retired from the U.S. Army 

Training and Doctrine Command, Fort Monroe, Virginia, is an 

active researcher in the fields of women in the military and the 

School of the Americas. She received her M.A. and Ph.D. degrees 

from the College of William and Mary. She has written several 

books, including The Origins and Development of the National 

Training Center, 1976–1984 (1997); The Army’s Training Revolution 

1973–1990: An Overview (1991); and The National Training Center 

Matures, 1985–1993 (1997).

William M. Donnelly received his Ph.D. in history from Ohio 

State University. An Army veteran of the Persian Gulf war, he 

is a senior historian in the Historical Support Branch, Histories 

Division, U.S. Army Center of Military History, Fort McNair, 

District of Columbia. He is the author of Under Army Orders: The 

Army National Guard During the Korean War (2001); We Can Do 

It: The 503d Field Artillery Battalion in the Korean War (2000); and 

Transforming an Army at War: Designing the Modular Force, 1991–

2005 (2007).

Christopher R. Gabel is an instructor and curriculum coordinator for the Department of Military History, U.S. Army Command 
vii

and General Staff College. He holds a Ph.D. in history from Ohio 

State University. His publications include The U.S. Army GHQ 

Maneuvers of 1941 (1991) and Seek, Strike, and Destroy: U.S. Army 

Tank Destroyer Doctrine in World War II (1985). Other areas of interest and scholarship are Civil War logistics and the Vicksburg 

campaign.

James L. Gilbert, a command historian now retired from the U.S. 

Army Intelligence and Security Command, Fort Belvoir, Virginia, 

earned B.A. and M.A. degrees from the University of Oklahoma. 

His books include The Most Secret War (2003), In the Shadow of the 

Sphinx (2005), and U.S. Army Signals Intelligence in World War II

(2004). 

Jon T. Hoffman is chief of the Contemporary Studies Branch, 

Histories Division, U.S. Army Center of Military History. A retired 

Marine Corps Reserve officer, he has an M.A. in military history 

from Ohio State University and a J.D. from Duke University. He is 

the author of USMC: A Complete History (2002); Chesty: The Story of 

Lieutenant General Lewis B. Puller, USMC (2001); and Once a Legend: 

‘Red Mike’ Edson of the Marine Raiders (1994).

John R. Maass received his Ph.D. in early U.S. history from Ohio 

State University. A former officer in the Army Reserve, he is a 

historian in the Contemporary Studies Branch, Histories Division, 

U.S. Army Center of Military History.

Edgar F. Raines Jr. received his Ph.D. from the University of 

Wisconsin. He is a senior historian in the General Histories Branch, 

Histories Division, U.S. Army Center of Military History. His published works include Eyes of the Artillery: The Origins of Modern U.S. 

Army Aviation in World War II (2000), and he is presently completing 

a manuscript on operational logistics in the Grenada campaign.

Mark J. Reardon, a retired armor officer, received his B.A. in history from Loyola College (Baltimore, Maryland) and an M.S. in 

international relations from Troy State University. He is a senior 

historian in the Contemporary Studies Branch, Histories Division, 

U.S. Army Center of Military History, specializing in World War 

II and the Global War on Terrorism. He is the author of Victory at 

Mortain (2002) and coauthor of American Iliad: The 18th Infantry 

Regiment in World War II (2004) and From Transformation to Combat: 
viii

The First Stryker Brigade at War (2007).

Wendy Rejan is the command historian for the U.S. Army 

Communications-Electronics Life Cycle Management Command, 

Fort Monmouth, New Jersey. She holds an M.A. in history from 

Monmouth University. Her areas of historical specialization are 

communications and electronics, the history of Fort Monmouth, 

Signal Corps research and development, and European history.

Mark D. Sherry received his M.A. and Ph.D. in history from 

Georgetown University. He is a historian in the Contemporary 

Studies Branch, Histories Division, U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, specializing in institutional history. He is the author of 

China Defensive (1996) and The Army Command Post and Defense 

Reshaping, 1987–1997 (2008).
ix

Acknowledgments

In addition to the authors of the chapters in A History of Innovation, 

many other experts and professionals contributed in significant 

ways. Noted military historians Allan R. Millett and Harold 

R. Winton shared their insights on innovation while reviewing an early draft of the manuscript. Eric Voelz of the National 

Personnel Records Center was invaluable in tracking down facts 

about soldiers and Army civilians. Molly A. Bompane of the U.S. 

Army Military History Institute assisted with photo research. 

Dennis Buley, Robert Giordano, Thomas N. Hauser (U.S. Army 

Intelligence and Security Command), Thomas Hurt, and David 

Noyes contributed photos and information for the chapter on 

airborne radio direction finding. John Moltz provided assistance 

on the speed shifter chapter. James T. Stensvaag of the U.S. Army 

Training and Doctrine Command helped finalize the National 

Training Center chapter. David Stieghan of Fort Benning supplied 

photos for that chapter. 

At the U.S. Army Center of Military History Chief Historian 

Richard W. Stewart thoroughly reviewed the manuscript and provided valuable guidance. Others at the Center also read drafts 

and offered useful suggestions: Chief of Military History Jeffrey 

J. Clarke, Assistant Chief of Military History John F. Shortal, and 

Histories Division Chief Joel D. Meyerson. Under the direction 

of Publishing Division Chief Keith R. Tidman, staff members—

Diane S. Arms, Beth F. MacKenzie, Carl E. Snyder—shepherded 

the manuscript into printed form.

Washington, D.C. JON T. HOFFMAN

1 October 2009 General Editor

 A History of

INNOVATION

INTRODUCTION

Jon T. Hoffman

Innovation may be defined in many ways, but simply put it is 

the creation of something new—whether it be a novel product 

or device, a different way to organize people or entities, an original process or method of doing things, or even a fresh use for an 

existing item. While ideas are a critical part of the concept, the 

term encompasses much more and requires that thought be transformed into action and practical use. Leonardo da Vinci may have 

conceived of a flying machine in the fifteenth century, but innovation occurred only hundreds of years later when others built 

aircraft that actually flew. Innovation has been a central component of mankind’s history, for without it we would still be living in 

caves and spending everyday trying to find enough to eat. It has 

been equally important in warfare and oftentimes tipped the balance between victory or defeat. With that in mind, the U.S. Army 

Game Plan for Fiscal Year 2005 made “inculcation of a culture of 

innovation” a primary leadership objective.

Given its impact on profits, innovation has been a major topic 

of study in the business world for decades. The subject has grown 

in intellectual importance in defense circles with the more recent 

advent of the concept of a revolution in military affairs. By its very 

definition, revolution presupposes major changes, and most of 

the literature in this field focuses on dramatic shifts in the methods of waging war, such as the adoption of gunpowder weapons 

or Germany’s unleashing of blitzkrieg at the outset of World War 

II. The current emphasis on Transformation encourages a similar 

search for extraordinary changes in capability. The advent of airmobility, described herein, rises to this level. But innovation covers 

a much wider range of activity, including relatively small changes 

that can still have a positive impact on battlefield effectiveness and 

save the lives of soldiers. Equally important, a number of unconnected enhancements, many of them seemingly minor in isolation, 
2 A History of Innovation

can eventually add up to a major improvement in overall capability, as occurred with the U.S. Army in World War II. Most of the 

innovations covered in this volume fit in this category of small but 

nevertheless important advances.

To be included in this volume, an innovation generally had 

to meet four key criteria. First, it constituted a significant change 

in the Army’s way of doing things. Second, it proved to be effective in accomplishing the mission. Third, it was either unique or, 

if created at roughly the same time by other services or nations, 

came into being in the U.S. Army with little or no knowledge of, or 

copying from, the efforts of those competitors. Fourth, the Army 

or some element within it, not outside institutions or industry, 

drove development and implementation.

The few exceptions to these criteria merit attention because 

they round out a fuller picture of the innovation process. Neither 

the tank destroyer force in World War II nor the special patrol 

groups in Korea performed up to expectations, but these failures 

highlight the difficulty of making innovations achieve their desired 

ends. General George C. Marshall’s reforms at the Infantry School, 

the Korean patrol groups, and the National Training Center were 

also not entirely new ideas, but they illustrate changes that mainly 

involved methods rather than equipment. All too often discussions on innovation become overly focused on the advent of new 

technology and overlook the vital role of other less-tangible concepts that have just as much impact on ultimate success in battle.

It might seem overly restrictive to limit the scope of this work 

to innovations developed within the Army, especially since the 

scientific community and defense industry have increasingly 

been the source of new capabilities. While those outside entities 

will continue to play an important role, the growing significance 

of al-Qaeda and other nonstate actors is altering the landscape of 

conflict. Compared to past decades when the prospect of waging a massive war with the Soviet Union required sophisticated 

systems and the most advanced technology available, today’s 

terrorists blend into the population; fight primarily with simple 

weapons, such as improvised explosive devices (IEDs); and thus 

pose a different set of problems. Not only are their tactics more 

primitive, but the very austerity of their force (no fleets of tanks 

or helicopters) allows them to change their methods much more 

rapidly and easily. In this realm, technology is still useful but often 

secondary to critical factors, such as doctrine and organization. 

Frontline improvisation also assumes much greater importance, 
Introduction 3

as we already have seen in the form of soldiers finding their own 

ways to defeat or defend against IEDs rather than waiting for 

solutions from the research and development community. The 

Information Age, perversely enough, is perhaps reinforcing this 

trend away from the primacy of technology. It may rely on satellites and computers, but the way in which these devices are used 

is often more critical than their relative technical capability. The 

side that best manages the acquisition and processing of information for its internal use, while externally fashioning public perceptions first or making the deepest impression, will often have the 

upper hand.

Even if one sets aside the nature of warfare today, the fact 

remains that it is the soldiers in the field—those who have to 

fight—who should play a major role in determining what equipment they need to have and how they will operate. They will not 

often build their own devices, as Sgt. Curtis G. Culin III did at 

Normandy or the men of Battery B, 8th Battalion, 6th Artillery, 

1st Infantry Division, did in Vietnam. And they may not come up 

with new tactics or new organizational methods. But they fully 

understand the situations they face and therefore should drive the 

efforts of scientists and engineers and doctrine writers to develop 

the capability required to achieve victory. As the selected examples in this volume demonstrate, the Army has a long history of 

successfully developing new equipment, new organizations, and 

new methods, and has done so with a wide variety of processes. 

Transformation may be the latest buzzword for change, but it represents a challenge that earlier generations of soldiers and Army 

civilians have answered time and again. A culture of innovation is 

a part of the Army’s heritage, and that experience should inspire 

those who now serve to find equally creative answers to the problems of today and tomorrow.
A soldier aims his M1 rifle during fighting in Italy, June 1944. The 

Garand semiautomatic was widely considered to be one of the most 

effective American weapons of World War II. (George Silk/Time & 

Life Pictures/Getty Images)
1

M1 GARAND RIFLE

Thomas A. Bruscino Jr.

The Springfield Model 1903 was a sturdy, accurate, reliable rifle 

that served as the standard infantry arm of the U.S. Army for over 

three decades. Soldiers carried it onto the battlefields of World War 

I, and it was a constant companion in interventions throughout 

Latin America. Everyone who used it loved it. There was nothing 

wrong with the M1903, but the Army hoped to field an improved 

model that provided more firepower.

Like most other rifles of the time, the Springfield was boltaction, that is, after every shot the soldier had to pull back the 

bolt to eject the shell casing and push it forward to load the next 

round. The Army put great faith in the importance of the rifleman 

in battle and wanted to make him even more effective by increasing his volume of fire.1

 A semiautomatic rifle that could eject the 

spent cartridge and load a new round with no action other than 

the pull of the trigger would speed up the rate of fire. The most 

promising method for doing this was a gas-operated system. The 

driving force behind a bullet was the expanding gas generated 

by the explosion of the gunpowder in the shell casing. In theory, 

some of that gas could also be employed to drive back the bolt 

and eject the spent casing. Once the gas dissipated, a spring could 

push the bolt forward again and insert a new round into the firing 

chamber.

The Army had begun work on the concept around the beginning 

of the twentieth century, but developing a practical semiautomatic 

proved to be a difficult challenge. Although a variety of private 

inventors inside and outside the United States already had designed 

and built semiautomatic small arms for civilian use, a combat 

1 Kenneth Finlayson, An Uncertain Trumpet: The Evolution of U.S. Army Infantry 

Doctrine, 1919–1941 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 2001).
6 A History of Innovation

weapon presented a different set of problems. An effective infantry 

rifle needed to have enough power to inflict damage at long range, it 

had to be light enough for the average rifleman to carry it over long 

distances, and it needed to be durable enough to withstand high 

rates of fire and the rigors of field use. Commercial versions at the 

time were either too small or too fragile to handle the job.

Inventors from all over the world submitted their experimental rifles for testing by the Army. In addition, civilians and officers 

in the Army’s Ordnance Department were hard at work on their 

own designs. Despite all these efforts, nothing workable emerged 

for decades. The task, seemingly simple, was proving extremely 

complex.2

 In fact, no other country would succeed in developing a 

standard service semiautomatic rifle by the outbreak of World War 

II. Since no flash of inspiration was providing a solution, the only 

other alternative was a determined process of trial and error.

One man, John C. Garand, would prove up to the challenge.

Born on New Year’s Day, 1888, in the small town of Saint Rémi, 

Quebec, Canada, Garand moved to Connecticut with his family 

when he was twelve. He came from a modest background and 

had little formal education, but he was a tinkerer from a young 

age. Shortly after arriving in the United States, he dropped out 

of school and began working as a floor sweeper in a textile mill. 

He applied for his first patent before he was fifteen, and within 

a few years became a machinist at the mill. He also developed a 

serious interest in guns, working one summer at a shooting gallery, where he became an avid and first-rate target shooter. He 

joined the National Guard, but during World War I his design for 

a machine gun made him more valuable at home and earned him 

a job at the Bureau of Standards. Based on his efforts there, the 

Army’s Springfield Armory in Massachusetts hired him in 1919. 

He immediately began work on a semiautomatic rifle.3

Throughout the 1920s, the Army tested a variety of designs, 

none entirely satisfactory, including Garand’s. Part of the problem came from ammunition; no one could agree on a standard 

2 Constance McLaughlin Green, Harry C. Thomson, and Peter C. Roots, The 

Ordnance Department: Planning Munitions for War, United States Army in World 

War II (Washington D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of 

the Army, 1955), pp. 175–77. 3 John McCarten, “The Man Behind the Gun,” New Yorker, 6 February 1943, 

pp. 22–28; Edwin Teale, “He Invented the World’s Deadliest Rifle,” Popular Science, 

December 1940, p. 68; American National Biography, s.v. “John C. Garand”; Current 

Biography, 1945, s.v. “John C. Garand.”
John C. Garand tests an early version of his rifle in 1922. His 

persistence led to the first semiautomatic adopted by any 

country as a standard service rifle. (National Park Service)
8 A History of Innovation

caliber for Army rifles. By the end of the decade it seemed that the 

.276-caliber bullet offered more promise for use in a semiautomatic 

rifle, which compelled Garand to redesign his (though he wisely 

continued work on his .30-caliber version). His strongest competition came from John D. Pederson’s .276-caliber weapon. A battery of 

Army tests indicated that both showed promise. But in 1932 Army 

Chief of Staff General Douglas MacArthur insisted that any rifle 

be .30-caliber, to match the ammunition used with the Browning 

automatic rifle and Browning machine guns. Garand’s larger-bore 

rifle, already well-developed, took a lead it never relinquished.4

His advantage did not come from some leap in technology; his 

designs were consistently more simple, stable, and reliable than 

the competition. By the late summer of 1933 the Army designated 

his weapon U.S. Semiautomatic Rifle, Caliber .30, M1. In January 

1936 the Army adopted the M1 as its standard rifle.

That decision did not mean that innovation stopped. The basics 

of the rifle stayed the same; it weighed roughly nine and a half 

pounds, was made up of slightly more than seventy parts, was 

approximately forty-three inches long, and held an eight-round 

clip that loaded into the top of the gun. But over the next five years 

Garand, the Ordnance Department, and various Infantry Boards 

subjected the rifle to a series of brutal tests involving heat, cold, 

mud, sand, rain, rust, and high rates of fire. Based on these trials, 

Garand made significant enhancements to the design, including 

new front and rear sight assemblies, a more durable firing pin, 

improved clip action, and a better gas cylinder.5

 As he later told an 

interviewer, “A rifle isn’t much different from any other machine. 

You can always make improvements.”6

 Many of the flaws in the 

4 Julian S. Hatcher, The Book of The Garand (Washington, D.C.: Infantry Journal 

Press, 1948), pp. 110–11. 5 See ibid., p. 120 (some in the Army had assumed that Garand’s role in the 

production of the weapon was now complete, with one officer even suggesting 

that Garand be let go to save the money from his salary); Infantry Board test 

findings in Infantry Board Reports, boxes 1–65, Record Group (RG) 177, National 

Archives and Records Administration–College Park (NARA–CP), College Park, 

Md.; Engineering Branch, Industrial Service Small Arms Division, reports on tests 

of rifles and rifle parts, 1925–1943, in M1 Rifle file, box 3, RG 156, Records of the 

Office of the Chief of Ordnance, NARA–CP. See also Office of Under Secretary 

of War, Security, [formerly] Classified General Correspondence, December 

1940–March 1943, Petroleum–Russia, Rifles file, box 8, RG 107, Records of the 

Office of the Secretary of War, NARA–CP; Bruce N. Canfield, “The Unknown M1 

Garand,” American Rifleman, 142 (January 1994): 46–49. 6 McCarten, “Man Behind the Gun,” p. 24.
M1 Garand Rifle 9

M1 during these years came from problems with the specific and 

exacting machine tools necessary to manufacture the various parts 

of the gun. Most of the tools at the armory at the time of the initial 

production of the M1 were at least twenty years old, and some of 

them dated as far back as the Civil War. Garand tackled this problem as well, designing and building many of the tools that would 

be used in the mass production of his rifle.7

7 Harry C. Thomson and Lida Mayo, The Ordnance Department: Procurement and 

Supply, United States Army in World War II (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief 

of Military History, Department of the Army, 1960), pp. 160–65. On the complexity 

Garand in his workshop. His design of new 

machine tools to manufacture precision parts 

made it possible to mass produce a reliable 

weapon. (National Park Service)
10 A History of Innovation

Even with these initial problems, the M1 began to win over 

many diehard M1903 proponents with its durability, ease of use, 

accuracy, and high rates of fire. And it outperformed all challengers, including a late charge between 1938 and 1940 from the muchheralded semiautomatic rifle designed by Marine Corps reservist 

Capt. Melvin M. Johnson Jr. By 1941 the Marine Corps, a stubborn 

adherent to the Springfield, also adopted the Garand as its standard service rifle.8

 The men of the Army’s 27th Infantry Division 

had the usual reactions upon firing the rifle for the first time in 

November 1940; they found it to be accurate, with a well-designed 

safety, and they appreciated the smaller kick of the Garand compared to the Springfield. Lt. Gen. Ben Lear, commander of the 

Second Army, said, “From what everybody here tells me, this is a 

fine rifle. They should know.”9

With war on the horizon, production of the Garand at the 

Springfield Armory ramped up slowly but steadily. In September 

1937 the armory made ten rifles a day; two years later, one hundred 

per day; and by January 1941, six hundred a day. With the Army 

growing rapidly at that point, the government began placing large 

orders with the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. The civilian firm would produce over a half million Garands during the 

war, while Springfield, at its peak, turned out four thousand a day. 

All of the M1s produced by the end of World War II—over four 

million—came from Springfield and Winchester. The efficiency of 

mass production resulted in the cost dropping from over $200 per 

rifle in the beginning to just $26 per copy by 1945.10

of the machine tools necessary to produce a rifle like the Garand, see Hatcher, Book 

of The Garand, pp. 114–24. 8 For information on the Garand-Johnson controversy and the M1 and 

Johnson rifles demonstration (9 May 1940 report), see Industrial Service Small 

Arms Division, Administrative Branch, General Administrative Correspondence, 

1922–1942, RG 156, Records of the Office of the Chief of Ordnance, NARA–CP; 

Thomson and Mayo, Ordnance Department, pp. 165–68; Hatcher, Book of The Garand, 

pp. 128–39, 141–53. The softening of Marine opinion on the Garand was apparent 

in 1940; see J. H. Berry, “Notes on the M1 Rifle,” Marine Corps Gazette 24 (June 1940): 

24. Johnson himself wrote an article approving of the decision for the Marine Corps 

Gazette in 1941, which was reprinted in “Then and Now: The M1 Rifle,” Marine 

Corps Gazette 85 (April 2001): 51–52. 9 Anthony H. Leviero, “Men of 27th Hail the Garand Rifle After Its First Use 

on the Range,” New York Times, 19 Nov 1940. 10 For material on M1 production and on ordnance facilities expansion, see 

pertinent folders in boxes I-489, I-490, I-494, Industrial Service Small Arms Division, 

Administrative Branch, General Administrative Correspondence, 1922–1942, RG 

156, NARA–CP. See also Thomson and Mayo, Ordnance Department, pp. 173–74; 
M1 Garand Rifle 11

The Garand got its test in combat when the United States 

entered World War II in December 1941. From the very first, 

officers and enlisted men alike praised the weapon. General 

MacArthur, commanding forces in the Philippines, reported that 

the M1 operated magnificently, even in constant action in mud 

and dirt when it could not be cleaned or lubricated for days at a 

time. The press widely reported his conclusions, which dispelled 

any lingering doubts about replacing the Springfield. An editorial 

in the New York Times lauded the weapon: “There is every reason why John C. Garand, if he were that kind of inventor, should 

put his thumbs in his armpits, puff on his cigar and say, ‘I told 

you so ten years ago.’”11

The fighting on Guadalcanal in the summer and fall of 1942 

confirmed these impressions. The Marine Corps made the switch to 

the Garand later than the Army, and production of the rifle lagged 

requirements early in the war, so many of the marines on the island 

still carried Springfields. When elements of the U.S. Army’s 164th 

Infantry arrived to reinforce a Marine battalion in a desperate night 

battle in October, the marines immediately noted the difference as 

“the sound and the tempo of firing picked up tremendously.”12

An Army officer who fought there recalled: “From almost the first 

minutes of combat on Guadalcanal the Marines began wishing for 

a basic semiautomatic rifle. By the time we landed, we had to keep 

ours tied down with wire. Leathernecks were appropriating all 

they could lay hands on by ‘moonlight requisition.’”13 It was easy 

to see why. One soldier, Harry Wiens, remembered: “One excited 

Green, Thomson, and Roots, Ordnance Department, pp. 58–59; Hatcher, Book of 

The Garand, pp. 119, 153; John P. McConnell, “Rifle Factory,” Leatherneck 35 (July 

1952): 54–57; and Bruce N. Canfield, “The Winchester Garand,” American Rifleman

153 (April 2005): 46–49. 11 For information on M1 marketing, see pertinent folders in box I-489, Industrial 

Service Small Arms Division, Administrative Branch, General Administrative 

Correspondence, 1922–1942, RG 156, NARA–CP; “Garand Rifle Praised By Gen. 

MacArthur,” New York Times, 23 Feb 1942; “The Garand in Action,” ibid., 26 Feb 

1942; “Bataan Proves Garand Worth,” Washington Post, 23 Feb 1942; “Garand’s 

Test,” ibid., 26 Feb 1942; “Garand Rifle Praised by Gen. MacArthur,” Los Angeles 

Times, 23 Feb 1942; “MacArthur Puts O.K. on Garand Rifle in Combat,” Chicago 

Daily Tribune, 23 Feb 1942; “MacArthur Praises New Garand Rifle,” Christian 

Science Monitor, 24 Feb 1942. 12 Jon T. Hoffman, Chesty: The Story of Lieutenant General Lewis B. Puller, USMC

(New York: Random House, 2001), pp. 187–88 (quoted words). 13 Hatcher, Book of The Garand, pp. 141–42. See also Gerald H. Shea, “Lessons 

of Guadalcanal,” Marine Corps Gazette 27 (August 1943): 15–22.
12 A History of Innovation

Marine guide returned to the CP [command post] with a firm pronouncement that he was going to get himself an M1, even if he 

had to steal it. He had been guiding one of our sergeants, with his 

men following, when they met five [Japanese]. The Marine said 

he’d shot one, and the sergeant, armed with an M1, dispatched the 

other four before he could retract his bolt and chamber another 

round.”14

Praise for the Garand came from all services, ranks, and theaters. Many men appreciated its power, especially compared to 

the smaller carbine. As Richard E. Baumhardt, a Marine officer, 

recalled, “Officers are only supposed to carry a carbine. But the 

first time I ever shot anybody with a carbine the guy kept on running. And I said to myself that is not the weapon for me. So the 

first man who went down with an M1, I got his weapon and kept 

it with me.”15 Arnold L. Crouch, a soldier, came to a similar conclusion fighting in Europe:

My weapon was a carbine, a 30-caliber carbine—a short, light rifle. 

By short, I mean small. That was great during training back in the 

states because it weighed about half as much as an M1 rifle. But that 

night, out there in the foxhole, with all this activity going on you 

needed more power. When we went back to replenish our ammunition I found our company kitchens in the rear area and looked up 

one of the cooks. Their TE weapon (table of equipment) was an M1. 

I said, “Would you like a carbine? I’ll trade you mine for your M1.” 

And he said, “Gladly, I don’t want this damn thing.” And I said, 

“Well I want yours.” And so from then on I carried an M1. I wanted 

something that would reach out there with a little more accuracy.16

The troops also appreciated the weapon’s durability. A veteran 

said:

It was heavy. After marching ten or fifteen miles with the M1 slung 

over my shoulder, the M1 became very heavy. But bless John C. 

Garand who invented it. The M1 took rain, mud, windblown sand, 

bruises and abrasions. On a few occasions I took pieces of shrapnel 

out of the stock, but the M1 kept on working. If you banged someone on the head with the M1, even if they wore a helmet they knew 

they’d been hit. The army manual calls the M1 Garand a ‘robust’ 

weapon. Indeed it was. . . . I don’t know all that much about the 

14 Eugene H. Grayson Jr., “The 164th Infantry Regiment on Guadalcanal, 1942,” 

Infantry 88 (May–August 1998): 24–29 (quotation). 15 Robert G. Thobaben, ed., For Comrade and Country: Oral Histories of World 

War II Veterans (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2003), p. 118. 16 Ibid., pp. 271–72.
M1 Garand Rifle 13

other implements of war infantrymen might have used, but the M1 

was the best thing the army ever gave me.17

The troops became devoted, even affectionate, toward the 

M1. At the end of the war Audie L. Murphy, the most decorated 

American soldier of that conflict, remarked: “I believe in the 

force of a hand grenade, the power of artillery, the accuracy of 

a Garand.”18 Even when the men had little faith in other weapons, especially tanks, they still gave credit to the M1. One private 

wrote: “It’s true, all too true, that many of Germany’s weapons 

are superior to ours, in fact, sometimes I’ve thought the only two 

things we outclass Germany with is the Garand rifle and the fighting heart of the GI.”19 It was little wonder that in January 1945 

General George S. Patton declared “the M1 rifle the greatest battle 

implement ever devised.”20

For his efforts, the unassuming John C. Garand became something of a celebrity. He received many awards, including the Brig. 

Gen. John H. Rice Gold Medal of the Army Ordnance Association 

for meritorious service, the Alexander L. Holley Medal from the 

American Society of Mechanical Engineers, and one of the first 

Medals of Merit from the U.S. government. His name became synonymous with what was widely considered one of the greatest 

American technological advantages of the war.

Garand’s stature grew when he refused the opportunity to 

receive royalties for his invention. A New York Times editorial 

in November 1939 noted of the M1: “No other nation can ever 

use the rifle. Its self-effacing French-Canadian inventor, still 

an employee at the Springfield arsenal on a modest salary, has 

refused substantial offers both from foreign Governments and 

arms companies here. All his rights are vested exclusively in the 

country of his adoption.”21 The fact that he handed over the patent 

to the government earned him a great deal of credibility. Though 

he earned no royalties, he maintained that the invention gave him 

17 Jerry Countess, Letters from the Battlefield (West Conshohocken, Pa.: Infinity 

Publishing, 2005), p. 36. 18 Audie Murphy, To Hell and Back (New York: MJF Books, 1949), p. 273. 19 Hanson W. Baldwin, “Tanks and Weapons—I,” New York Times, 5 Feb 

1945.20 Ltr, Patton to Chief of Ordnance, 26 Jan 45, quoted in Edward Clinton Ezell, 

The Great Rifle Controversy: Search for the Ultimate Infantry Weapon from World War 

II Through Vietnam and Beyond (Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1984), p. 1. 21 “Our New Army Rifle,” New York Times, 27 Nov 1939.
14 A History of Innovation

“a lot of pleasure.”22 When the rifle became famous during the 

war, he shrugged off suggestions that he should be considered a 

hero. When asked about the M1, his typical response was: “She is 

a pretty good gun, I think.”23

The M1 remained the standard service rifle throughout the 

Korean War and saw duty as a sniper rifle for many years after 

that. Armies all over the world copied it with only slight variations. Garand himself continued working at the Springfield 

Armory until 1953, developing a follow-up service rifle and constantly tinkering to improve his designs. The M1 Garand, one of 

the great examples of Army innovation, came from hard work and 

constant experimentation. John C. Garand was the perfect man for 

the job.

22 “Garand Gave Rifle to U.S.,” New York Times, 4 Mar 1942. 23 McCarten, “Man Behind the Gun,” p. 22.

Soldiers of the 68th Coast Artillery man an SCR–268 radar set at 

the Anzio beachhead in Italy in February 1944. The ability to deploy 

mobile radar sets with troops in the field helped defeat enemy 

airpower during World War II. (National Archives)
2

RADAR

Wendy Rejan

The advent of aircraft as useful weapons during World War I led 

to an immediate search for ways to provide adequate warning of 

their approach, guide fighter planes to intercept them, and direct 

the fire of antiaircraft artillery to shoot them down. The U.S. Army 

began experimenting with various methods as early as 1918. A 

number of other military forces around the world, most notably in Great Britain, Germany, France, and Japan, were pursuing 

the same objective. Both the Army’s Coast Artillery and the U.S. 

Navy, as well as other major naval powers, were simultaneously 

looking at ways to detect ships beyond visual range. All of these 

efforts would go through two decades of trial and error, but by the 

late 1930s a number of researchers would reach a similar conclusion that reflected radio waves provided the best solution. Army 

scientists and engineers were among the leaders in this field, 

though they eventually adopted the Navy’s terminology for the 

method and its related equipment—radio detecting and ranging, 

soon shortened to radar. The U.S. Army’s radar work would be an 

important contribution to Allied victory in World War II.

The technical challenges were daunting enough, but the 

Army’s effort would stumble repeatedly over the competing interests of the branches. The Corps of Engineers had responsibility for 

searchlights and looked for a means to guide them rapidly onto 

their target. The Ordnance Corps was interested in a way to direct 

antiaircraft fire, and the Coast Artillery wanted to locate ships as 

well as planes. The Signal Corps began looking at radio detection 

for the same purposes because it involved electronics. At various 

times each branch ran its own development program and competed for extremely limited funds during the lean years of the 

1920s and 1930s. Moreover, the Navy and Army independently 

pursued similar efforts but generally did not share information.

There were two basic approaches to detect distant objects. Oneway methods relied on picking up some form of energy radiated 
18 A History of Innovation

from the target; two-way, or round-trip, techniques involved sending out some form of energy and gathering up that part reflected 

by the object being tracked. The initial focus was on one-way systems, since they seemed simpler and more practical. The types 

of radiant energy evaluated spanned the spectrum from infrared 

light and heat to sound and radio waves.

The U.S. Army looked at almost every conceivable approach 

and pursued some of them for many years. The transmission of 

radio messages by a ship or plane provided one possible means 

of location, but the target could easily avoid this by maintaining 

radio silence, so scientists discarded this option at an early stage. 

Engine ignition systems sent out another detectable signal, but that 

energy could be shielded at the source. Both the Air Service and 

the Signal Corps began looking at heat detectors in 1918 and produced a working system the following year. The Ordnance Corps 

picked it up but finally returned the effort to the Signal Corps 

in 1930. The Coast Artillery, however, kept an independent program in the same field for several more years. The interest of both 

branches cooled by 1936, when it became clear that the devices did 

not have sufficient range and were as likely to identify a cloud as 

a plane. Much early work also focused on sound, but because this 

form of energy traveled relatively slowly, it never did more than 

indicate where a plane had been. As the speed of aircraft increased 

in the 1920s and 1930s, this method grew increasingly obsolete. 

The growing destructive capability of bombers added urgency to 

the endeavor even as a solution continued to elude military forces 

around the globe.

The Army program took a significant step forward in 1926 when 

Maj. William R. Blair became the officer in charge of the Signal 

Corps’ Research and Engineering Division. He had emigrated from 

Ireland with his parents at the age of ten in 1884, earned a doctorate 

in mathematics and physics from the University of Chicago in 1906, 

and spent a decade working for the U.S. Weather Bureau. Taking a 

commission as a major in the Army during World War I, he headed 

the Meteorological Section for the American Expeditionary Forces 

in France. After the war he joined the Signal Corps and began 

demonstrating a penchant for invention. One of the first devices 

he developed was a balloon-borne miniature weather station that 

radioed its information back to the ground.1

1Dictionary of American Biography, Supplement 7, 1961–1965, s.v. “Blair, William 

Richards”; Dulany Terrett, The Signal Corps: The Emergency, United States Army 
radar 19

Blair was instrumental in 

cutting off work on sound detection and focusing the Signal 

Corps’ meager resources on heat 

and radio. While the former 

already existed in a limited but 

working fashion, he believed the 

latter held greater promise even 

though it remained entirely theoretical. In 1930 he became director 

of the Signal Corps Laboratories, 

a new entity created by consolidating several research efforts at 

Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, in 

bare-bones wooden buildings 

erected for temporary use during 

World War I. Blair’s organization 

was small—less than a hundred officers, enlisted men, and 

civilians—and got even smaller 

following Depression-inspired 

budget cuts in 1933. The tiny 

outfit had to juggle many projects, and its task of locating aircraft had to compete with other 

priorities.2

The Navy first verified the 

possible use of reflected radio 

waves as a detection method 

against aircraft in 1930, as 

an accidental by-product of 

experiments in radio direction finding. Navy scientists found 

that passing airplanes created noticeable interference in the signals received from the transmitter involved in the tests.3

 The 

process of monitoring this difference in strength in the signal 

in World War II (Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, 

Department of the Army, 1956), pp. 31–32. 2 Harry M. Davis, “History of the Signal Corps Development of U.S. Army 

Radar Equipment, Part I, Early Research and Development, 1918–1937,” p. 18, 

U.S. Army Communications and Electronics Command Historical Office (CECOM 

HO), Fort Monmouth, N.J. 3 Ibid., p. 21, CECOM HO.

Col. William R. Blair became 

known a s the fa the r 

of American radar. His 

development of the concept 

of pulse detection formed 

the basis of Army research 

in the field of aircraft 

detection in the latter 

half of the 1930s. (U.S. 

Army Communications and 

Electronics Command)
20 A History of Innovation

came to be known as beat detection. This system could warn that 

an aircraft was in the area but not provide location information. 

Moreover, the transmitter and the receiver had to be placed far 

apart, because the strong signals generated by the former would 

otherwise drown out the weak reflection from the target.

The Army soon learned of the Navy’s activities in this field, 

but Blair thought the utility of that method was limited. In 1934 

he expanded upon the concept and described the theory of pulse 

detection—sending out radio waves in bursts and using the intervals to acquire them as they bounced back off the tracked object. 

Measuring the time a signal took to return provided a means to 

calculate range. Using narrowly focused antennas to send and 

receive the signals would determine the direction of the aircraft. 

He noted, however, that no radio equipment existed that could 

adequately perform this function.4

 The transmitters were not 

strong enough, the receivers were not sensitive enough, and a 

method to coordinate the rapid pulsing of the two devices or measure time in millionths of a second was not available.5

 The Naval 

Research Laboratory began pursuing the idea at the same time.

In the meantime, the Signal Corps, Corps of Engineers, and 

Ordnance Corps fought a bureaucratic battle over responsibility 

for developing this emerging concept. The War Department finally 

centralized all such efforts under the Signal Corps in February 

1936. But budgetary regulations prevented any transfer of funds 

from the other branches, and the department ruled that the Signal 

Corps would have to divert money from its existing programs to 

carry on the work. In the next fiscal year Blair devoted $75,000—

about half of his entire annual appropriation—to the task while 

still maintaining work on thirty-eight other projects that involved 

everything from portable radios (the eventual walkie-talkie) to 

sound-powered telephones, all of which would prove valuable in 

the coming war.6

By 1936 the Navy had a functioning pulse detection system 

similar to that envisioned by Blair, although the transmitter and 

receiver antennas were each hundreds of square feet in size and 

still deployed hundreds of yards apart, which made it impractical 

4 Ibid., p. 24, CECOM HO, shows Blair describing this method in his annual 

report submitted in July 1934, whereas Robert M. Page, The Origin of Radar (Garden 

City, N.Y.: Anchor Books, 1962), p. 36, says the Navy came up with the idea in 

March 1934. Both accounts avoid mentioning the other claim. 5 Page, Origin of Radar, p. 17. 6 Davis, “Signal Corps Development, Part I,” pp. 32–34.
radar 21

for shipboard use.7 While the Naval Research Laboratory’s program was more advanced than the Army’s, for the time being the 

two services continued their independent efforts to achieve the 

same goal. The Signal Corps surveyed corporate research centers 

in October to see if any could take over the aircraft detection effort, 

but determined that its own program was far ahead of anything 

then under way in American industry. The Army did make use 

of improved radio tubes being produced by civilian firms in the 

United States and overseas, though it also continued to perfect its 

own. These powered ever-stronger transmitters. Over the winter 

of 1936–1937 the Signal Corps Laboratories kept developing new 

antennas, each one smaller and better than the last. The transmitter antennas enhanced and focused the signal they emitted, while 

reception antennas became ever more sensitive in picking up faint 

return signals.

The Signal Corps Laboratories mounted these arrays of metal 

rods on the chassis developed for the old sound locators, which 

allowed the antennas to swing and tilt easily to scan the sky. 

Initially, two receiving antennas were used. A tall narrow one 

obtained readings for the elevation or height of the aircraft, while 

a low wide one provided the azimuth or direction of the target. 

Blair’s engineers also solved the toughest technical challenge 

of synchronizing the pulses of the transmitter and receiver. The 

Army Air Corps regularly provided planes for field tests of each 

new iteration of the equipment.

In May 1937 the Signal Corps Laboratories successfully demonstrated the concept in the field to the secretary of war, senior 

generals, and several congressmen.8

 The objective of the nighttime 

test was to guide a searchlight onto the target so that when the 

light flicked on the aircraft was already in the beam. The radar 

set achieved the goal nearly every time, though not entirely on 

its own as it turned out. Harold A. Zahl, one of the lead civilian 

7 Page, Origin of Radar, p. 85. 8 Ibid., pp. 128–29, places the Navy’s first successful test of a jury-rigged 

system on a ship in April 1937 and states that Army officials had observed these 

and earlier tests and that all designs were given to the Signal Corps Laboratories. 

Page provides no source to support his claims. The timing of the Army’s successful 

test in May 1937 would indicate that the Army had independently produced its 

own working version rather than copying from the Navy in the space of a month. 

Even if the Navy provided information to the Army, if it merely confirmed what 

the Army already was doing, that would not contradict Davis’s account that little 

or nothing came from the Naval Research Laboratory.
22 A History of Innovation

scientists working on the project, had noted that one searchlight 

in particular was most effective. After the dignitaries departed, he 

spoke to the corporal in charge. The soldier explained that in most 

cases he had been able to find the bomber in his binoculars with 

the aid of a local town’s lights reflecting off the clouds, thus allowing him to precisely direct the searchlight. His purpose had not 

been to make radar look better, but merely to outdo the aviators 

in the cat-and-mouse game the two branches habitually played 

against each other. He allowed, however: “That new secret gadget 

is all right. Why, every time you fellows turned on the control light 

it was pretty close to the target—almost as good as my eyes.”9

While the tests had not been as scientific in their methodology as planned, the radar set was proving increasingly practical. 

The effective range of detection had grown from a few miles with 

early models to more than 20 now, while azimuth and elevation 

readings were routinely within three degrees. It was but a short 

step, everyone realized, from using radar to guide a searchlight 

to transmitting the information directly to antiaircraft guns to aim 

them. Impressed by these tests, the Coast Artillery now wanted 

radar sets to find ships, while the Air Corps asked the Signal 

Corps Laboratories to develop a model to detect planes at long 

ranges (out to 120 miles) to provide early warning and tracking 

in support of fighter aircraft.10 Oddly enough, the Air Corps had 

only just canceled a separate program to develop radar for use in 

aircraft. That concept would languish for awhile until advances 

in ground radar helped solve the technical challenges inherent in 

smaller airborne sets.

Shortly after the tests the War Department provided $200,000 

for further development, the first money allocated specifically to 

the Signal Corps to fund radar. At the same time, the Signal Corps 

Laboratories divided the radio section into two groups, one overseeing traditional communications work and the other focusing 

solely on what was then termed radio position finding.

11 A mix of 

civilian and military engineers and scientists continued to collaborate on the effort but without Blair, who had retired at the rank of 

9 Harold A. Zahl, Electrons Away or Tales of a Government Scientist (New York: 

Vantage Press, 1968), p. 45. 10 Harry M. Davis, “The Signal Corps Development of U.S. Army Radar 

Equipment, Part II,” p. 53, and idem, “The Signal Corps Development of U.S. 

Army Radar Equipment, Part III, Long Range Radar—SCR–270 and SCR–271,” 

p. 5, CECOM HO. 11 Idem, “Signal Corps Development, Part II,” p. 15, CECOM HO.
radar 23

colonel in 1938. Although many had contributed valuable parts to 

the design, Blair’s original conception and overall direction would 

earn him the reputation of being the father of the American radar.

While the radar team members knew they had much work 

to do to perfect their creation, they already had solved the vast 

majority of the technical and scientific issues. Now it primarily 

was a matter of making the equipment smaller and more reliable. 

Even as the demonstration took place in spring 1937 with a set 

utilizing three separate antennas, the Signal Corps Laboratories 

had a new model under fabrication that would employ a single 

antenna to accomplish all the tasks.

Success brought a different problem, though, since the Army 

chief of staff now deemed the concept so important that he thought 

it required much greater secrecy. During the field tests he had 

noted civilian vehicles parked near the base and determined that 

anyone could easily observe the equipment and guess its purpose. 

He decreed a move of the radar section to the more-inaccessible 

environment of Fort Hancock on Sandy Hook. The transfer and 

the associated construction of new facilities resulted in a delay of 

several months. Tougher weather conditions in the new location 

also hampered the work, while a hurricane in the fall of 1938 actually destroyed parts of the latest model and delayed the tests necessary to approve it for service use.12

The Signal Corps deployed its radar set to Fort Monroe, 

Virginia, at the end of November 1938 for a major series of field 

tests. While the device fell somewhat short of the desired goal of 

no more than one degree of error in azimuth and elevation, one 

incident highlighted a new use. A strong wind had blown a target 

bomber far off course over the ocean, and the pilot was lost in the 

nighttime clouds. The radar operators radioed directions to get 

the plane back to base before it ran out of fuel, thus inaugurating 

the use of radar as an aid to navigation.13 In March 1939 the Army 

officially accepted the radar set as standard equipment, designating it as the SCR–268. The letters stood for Signal Corps Radio, a 

nomenclature specifically adopted for security reasons to conceal 

the true nature of the device.14

This initial model did not go into production, as the Signal 

Corps Laboratories continued work on a much better design. At 

12 Ibid., p. 45, CECOM HO.

13 Ibid., p. 52, CECOM HO.

14 Ibid., p. 26, CECOM HO.
24 A History of Innovation

the behest of the Army, civilian firms built ever-improving radio 

tubes, which translated into higher frequencies, smaller antennas, and greater accuracy. The Signal Corps built the first production SCR–268 in December 1940, just three months after Germany 

invaded Poland and initiated World War II.15 By the time the 

United States entered the conflict following the attack on Pearl 

Harbor, the operating forces had more than 350 sets. This device, 

with periodic enhancements, would be the mainstay for antiaircraft batteries of the Army and Marine Corps through 1944.

15 Page, Origin of Radar, pp. 133–34, indicates that the Navy had tested a 

system meant for employment on ships in January to March 1939, had made a 

production decision “at once,” and had 19 sets installed on ships by the time of 

Pearl Harbor. The Army, by contrast, had tested a set for field use in late 1938, 

had made a production decision in March 1939 and built the first production set 

in December 1940, and had 350 operating sets by Pearl Harbor. In later pages Page 

makes it clear that the “production” model of March 1939 underwent significant 

improvement in subsequent months, just as the Army set did.

The 1938 prototype of the SCR–268 radar set. This first mobile 

version proved effective in field tests at detecting the location 

of aircraft, and also led to an unanticipated new use of ground 

radar—to direct air traffic. (U.S. Army Communications and 

Electronics Command)
radar 25

From 1938 on, the Signal Corps Laboratories also worked on 

the Air Corps requirement for a long-range early-warning radar. 

This device did not have to be as accurate on azimuth and did not 

need to determine elevation at all, so the main task was to boost 

the power of the transmitters to increase distance. By June 1938 

the Signal Corps had a working model that consistently located 

targets at 85 miles. It received production approval following field 

tests in late 1939, at which point it obtained ranges in excess of 130 

miles. The Army designated the mobile version as the SCR–270 

and its fixed counterpart as the SCR–271. The first sets were in 

active use guarding the Panama Canal by October 1940. Hawaii 

had SCR–270 units in place by August 1941.

At 0702 on 7 December 1941, two minutes after they were 

scheduled to shut down operations for the day, two soldiers manning one of the radars on the island of Oahu noted the largest 

echo they had ever seen. The range was 136 miles. Thinking the 

equipment was malfunctioning, they checked it out but confirmed 

the target. At 0720 they reported their findings to the island’s air 

defense information center. The officer on duty, there just for training, believed it was a flight of B–17 bombers due in from the mainland and he took no action. Thirty-five minutes later, the Japanese 

dropped their first bombs on the vital installations and warships 

at Pearl Harbor. Although radar had not prevented surprise in this 

first battle, it had proven that it was technically ready to fulfill 

the task for which it had been designed. The Signal Corps would 

develop even better models later in the war, but the SCR–270 and 

–271 were good enough to remain in service till the very end.

The U.S. Army was not alone in developing effective radar 

equipment. The British had a system of early warning radars 

(using fixed towers up to 350 feet tall) in place to help them 

defeat the German Luftwaffe in the summer and fall of 1940 in the 

Battle of Britain. The Navy also had radar installed on nineteen 

warships by Pearl Harbor. Germany had functioning systems as 

well. Nevertheless, the work of the Signal Corps was concurrent 

with and independent of these efforts. Moreover, the Army’s role 

was important, because its radar sets were mobile and meant to 

accompany troops into combat. This made it possible to deploy 

the capability on short notice wherever it was needed, including 

to remote and tiny islands such as Midway, where it played a part 

in that critical battle in June 1942. By the end of the war, Army 

radar systems developed for a wide array of tasks had made a 

significant contribution to victory.
The 29th Infantry musters in front of its barracks at Fort Benning in 

1928. The regiment served as the laboratory for student officers who 

honed their warfighting skills leading units during force-on-force 

exercises. (U.S. Army Military History Institute)
3

THE BENNING REVOLUTION

John R. Maass

In the decade following the end of World War I in 1918, the training of infantry officers of the U. S. Army—regulars, reservists and 

National Guardsmen—remained mired in outmoded techniques. 

The Army’s leading training institution, the Infantry School at Fort 

Benning, Georgia, set the standard in its Company Officer Course 

(for lieutenants and junior captains) and its Advanced Course (for 

senior captains and majors).1

 In November 1927 Lt. Col. George C. 

Marshall Jr. became assistant commandant of the school and head 

of the Academic Department, which gave him direct responsibility 

for the curriculum. He set out on a bold course to overhaul both the 

method and the content of the instruction. Within a few short years 

Marshall and his staff remade the Infantry School into an institution 

that developed flexible, effective leaders for the modern battlefield.

George Marshall had graduated from the Virginia Military 

Institute in 1901, serving as cadet commander during his senior 

year and earning a commission in the infantry. He spent World 

War I in senior staff positions, playing a prominent role in planning the American Army’s two great offensives at St. Mihiel and 

the Meuse-Argonne. His work brought him recognition from the 

Army’s top commanders, and after the war he was General John J. 

Pershing’s chief aide. Marshall then served in the Philippines and 

China and taught briefly at the Army War College before taking 

up his duties at Fort Benning.2

1 A. B. Warfield, “Fort Benning, the Home of the Infantry School,” Infantry 

Journal 32 (June 1928): 573–80; Larry I. Bland, ed., The Papers of George Catlett 

Marshall, 5 vols. to date (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981–), 

1:319–20; Kenneth Finlayson, An Uncertain Trumpet: The Evolution of U.S. Army 

Infantry Doctrine, 1919–1941 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 2001), pp. 75–76; 

Ed Cray, General of the Army: George C. Marshall, Soldier and Statesman (New York: 

W. W. Norton, 1990), p. 111. 2 The Oxford Companion to World War II, s.v. “Marshall, General of the Army 

George C.”; Biographical Dictionary of World War II, s.v. “Marshall, George Catlett”; 
28 A History of Innovation

Marshall had a reputation, going back to his days as a cadet, 

of being cool, aloof, and formal. His stiff, austere manner was forbidding, particularly to those who served under him. This distant 

demeanor notwithstanding, his level-headed, imperturbable attitude “compelled respect” and spread a “sense of authority and 

calm.”3

 Although instructors and students at the Infantry School 

thought of him as a taskmaster, many came to praise his quiet 

creativity, innovative spirit, and sense of mission as he restructured the officer courses. Marshall always set high expectations, 

demanded results, and rewarded those who performed well. But 

he seemed to bring an added drive and reserved personality to his 

new billet. Shortly before he came to Benning, his wife had died of 

heart disease. Omar N. Bradley, an instructor at the school and a 

future five-star general, surmised that “to help overcome his grief, 

[he] threw himself into the job completely.”4

In early 1927 the chief of infantry reported that he had just 

revised the curriculum of the Infantry School “with great care.”5

A survey of regimental commanders a few months later found 

almost all of them satisfied with Benning graduates. Only three 

lamented the overemphasis on weapons firing, close order drill, 

physical training, and other basic subjects at the expense of “tactics 

and troop leading.”6

 Marshall also saw the same shortcomings; he 

believed that the tactical training had become “increasingly theoretical,” with much of it devoted to classroom lectures on doctrinal principles and the details of staff processes, such as the proper 

American National Biography, vol. 14, s.v. “Marshall, George Catlett, Jr.”; Richard 

W. Stewart, ed., American Military History, 2 vols. (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army 

Center of Military History, 2005), 2:43. 3 Omar N. Bradley, A General’s Life (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983), 

pp. 63–65 (quoted words); Forrest C. Pogue, George C. Marshall: Education of 

a General, 1880–1939 (New York: Viking Press, 1963), pp. 54, 286; Barbara W. 

Tuchman, Stilwell and the American Experience in China, 1911–1945 (New York: 

Macmillan, 1970), pp. 102, 370; Cray, General of the Army, pp. 5, 27; J. Lawton 

Collins, Lightning Joe: An Autobiography (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University 

Press, 1979), p. 50. 4 Bradley, General’s Life, pp. 64 (quoted words), 65; Pogue, Marshall, p. 286; D. 

K. R. Crosswell, The Chief of Staff: The Military Career of General Walter Bedell Smith

(Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1991), pp. 79–84. 5 Memo, Chief of Infantry for The Adjutant General, 26 Mar 1927, box 2032, 

Record Group (RG) 407, Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 1917–, National 

Archives and Records Administration–College Park (NARA–CP), College Park, 

Md. 6 Memo, Col C. W. Weeks for The Adjutant General, 1 Nov 1927, box 1949, 

RG 407, NARA–CP.
THE BENNING REVOLUTION 29

format of a formal operations 

order,7

 and that junior officers, 

instead of focusing on how best 

to defeat an enemy, were sinking 

“in a sea of paper, maps, tables 

and elaborate techniques.”8

Marshall wanted them to learn 

the art of tactical improvisation 

and creativity, not rote regurgitation of standard formulas. He 

thought the existing infantry 

doctrine was too cumbersome 

and complicated for wartime.

Marshall intended to thoroughly revamp the program, 

albeit in a gradual fashion so 

as to minimize opposition from 

traditionalists. The school’s 

commandant gave him an 

unobstructed hand. Marshall 

also benefited from Benning’s 

favored status and his own 

efforts to hand-pick talented 

instructors, many of whom 

would rise to become generals.9

The new assistant commandant 

launched his attack across a 

broad front, changing the content of the program, how the 

young officers applied that knowledge in field training, and even 

how the school imparted material to students.

Despite the chief of infantry’s satisfaction with the 1927 curriculum, one of Marshall’s first acts was to form a committee to 

rethink the entire program of instruction. Based on the group’s 

recommendations, Marshall advocated a major shift of hours to 

tactics, including an increasing emphasis on mechanized warfare. 

7 George C. Marshall, “Introduction” to Infantry in Battle, 2d ed. (Richmond, 

Va.: Garrett and Massey for The Infantry Journal, 1939), pp. vii (quoted words), viii; 

Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1933, p. 31, box 2048, RG 407, NARA–CP. 8 Ltr, Marshall to Maj Gen Stuart Heintzelman, 4 Dec 1933, in Bland, Papers, 

1:411.9 Pogue, Marshall, p. 249; Bland, Papers, 1:320.

Lt. Col. George C. Marshall 

Jr. at the Infantry School. 

He revolutionized the 

training of officers during 

his tenure as the assistant 

commandant and increased 

the readiness of the Army 

for war. (George C. Marshall 

Foundation)
30 A History of Innovation

The school would also teach students how to prepare and conduct 

challenging field training for their own units. By the time Marshall 

departed Benning, the number of hours devoted to tactics instruction in the Company Officer Course had nearly doubled from 221 

to 400. For the Advanced Course, it totaled almost 800 hours.10

Marshall further focused the tactical work on “a very practical 

system suited to officers who will be responsible for the development of a hastily raised wartime force.”11 The U.S. Army had 

faced that type of situation in World War I, but Marshall worried 

that the hard lessons had been forgotten in the aftermath of victory. He knew that the majority of troops in a future mobilization, 

even officers, would come directly from civilian life and would 

not have the skills and the experience to execute the type of complex operations that a professional standing army might be able 

to handle. “We must develop a technique and methods so simple 

and so brief that the citizen officer of good common sense can 

readily grasp the idea,” he maintained.12 He began by doing away 

with the production of overly detailed operations orders, arguing 

that commanders rarely had the time to develop and issue long 

written orders in wartime. He taught his officers to rely on brief 

written or even oral orders and stressed the use of basic, straightforward language rather than the jargon and rigid format found 

in training manuals.13

Following in the footsteps of his mentor, Pershing, Marshall 

was a devotee of open warfare—offensive maneuver—and wanted 

10 Infantry School Schedules, 24 Apr 1928, box 1948; Committee Rpt to Assistant 

Commandant, Infantry School, Fort Benning, Ga., 21 Apr 1928, box 519; Memo, 

Brig Gen Edgar T. Collins for The Adjutant General, 24 Apr 1928, box 1948; 

Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1933, box 2048; Memo, G. D. Arrowsmith for 

The Adjutant General, 31 Oct 1927, box 1949; Record of Communication Received 

from Lt Col Donald D. Hay, 19 Nov 1927, box 1949; Memo, Col C. W. Weeks for 

The Adjutant General, 1 Nov 1927, box 1949; Program of Instruction, Infantry 

School, 1929–1930, box 518. All in RG 407, NARA–CP. 11 Ltr, Marshall to Brig Gen Frank McCoy, 13 Apr 1929, in Bland, Papers, 

1:341.12 Marshall Lecture, “Development in Tactics,” in Bland, Papers, 1:336; 

Crosswell, Chief of Staff, p. 49; Pogue, Marshall, p. 251 (quotation); Infantry School 

Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1929, box 11, RG 177, Records of the Chief of Arms, NARA–CP; 

ibid., 30 Jun 1933, box 2048, RG 407, NARA–CP. 13 Larry I. Bland, “George C. Marshall and the Education of Army Leaders,” 

Military Review 68 (October 1988): 27–37; Marshall Lecture, “Development in 

Tactics,” in Bland, Papers, 1:336; Ltr, Marshall to Heintzelman, 4 Dec 1933, in 

Bland, Papers, 1:410; Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1928, box 1948, RG 407, 

NARA–CP; ibid., 30 Jun 1929, box 11, RG 177, NARA–CP.
THE BENNING REVOLUTION 31

to avoid the static trench battles that had entangled the European 

combatants in World War I and cost them millions of casualties. 

Marshall was convinced that the capability to execute fluid operations would be even more critical in future conflicts. To that end, 

he was one of the leaders in driving the Army to revamp its organization and doctrine. He wanted a triangular structure in which 

each unit had three subordinate maneuver elements, a more flexible arrangement than the existing square formations with four 

maneuver elements. He championed the concept of the holding 

attack as the standard operation that commanders at any level 

could adapt to a wide variety of situations. While one element 

fixed the attention of the enemy with fire or a frontal attack, another 

would maneuver against a flank, and the third would remain in 

reserve to exploit whatever opportunity arose. He believed that 

any leader could grasp this simple yet highly adaptable system.14

To ensure that students could actually implement these concepts, Marshall moved most of the tactics course out of the classroom and into the field. Several important modifications to the 

program reinforced this change of venue. He placed more emphasis on using the base’s infantry regiment as an element of practical instruction rather than simply a demonstration unit. Instead of 

watching a company or battalion execute a maneuver, the student 

officers now filled the command billets and led the way. To give 

each student more hands-on experience, Marshall argued for and 

won the right to reduce the size of the annual class. As a result, the 

young officers had more opportunities to talk through the material with instructors, whether in the field or in a classroom. While 

the reduction in class size at first blush seemed counterproductive 

since it resulted in fewer officers undergoing training, the Benning 

graduates, when they returned to their regiments, were expected 

to impart what they had learned to their contemporaries via unit 

schools. Thus, the overall impact of a smaller but better educated 

class was beneficial for the Army.15

The tactical problems themselves grew ever more challenging. 

When Marshall discovered that the instructors were repeatedly 

14 Marshall Lecture, “Development in Tactics,” in Bland, Papers, 1:335; Bradley, 

General’s Life, p. 66. 15 Chief of Infantry Annual Rpt, 1928–1929, p. 40, box 11, RG 177, NARA–CP. 

See also Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1933, p. 31, box 2048; Ltr, Marshall 

to the Infantry School Commandant, 19 Nov 1928, box 1946; Ltr, Maj Gen P.C. 

Summerall to Brig Gen Edgar T. Collins, 24 Jan 1929, box 1946. All in RG 407, 

NARA–CP.
32 A History of Innovation

returning to the same training areas for field exercises, he insisted 

on using all of the post’s hundred thousand acres to develop the 

skills of students and teachers alike. He believed that good tactics instruction “demands a wide variety of terrain and frequent 

contact with unfamiliar ground.”16 For similar reasons he replaced 

highly detailed maps, which were not likely to be available for 

real operations overseas, with simpler ones that had imperfections 

and conveyed less information; leaders thus had to look more 

closely at the actual terrain and evaluate it with their own eyes. He 

wanted to solve one of the biggest shortcomings in many young 

officers—a failure to use terrain to best advantage in maneuvering 

their unit and in positioning their heavy weapons.17

Marshall also put an end to what he called “rehearsed demonstrations of tactics,” adopting instead more realistic “free maneuvers,” which allowed student commanders wide latitude to react 

to the situations that developed.18 He added more night training 

and put the officers in charge of understrength units, thus replicating additional realities of combat.19 In every exercise he routinely 

threw unexpected scenarios or surprise situations at officers to get 

them used to reacting to the unforeseen. By putting students in the 

field leading a real unit across real terrain, he forced them to deal 

with real problems. His pedagogical approach was not to teach 

them how something could be done perfectly, but how to respond 

to adversity and learn from their mistakes.

To further emphasize “the strain and confusion of the battlefield,” Marshall invited senior officers to the Infantry School to 

talk about their wartime experiences.20 The program already had 

a block of historical instruction, but Marshall made it both more 

interesting and more demanding. Instead of requiring students 

to research and write a paper on a World War I battle, he allowed 

them to pick any military subject they wanted, including studies 

of great combat leaders. The young officers took turns presenting 

16 Memo, Marshall for Commandant, [Infantry School], 22 Dec 1927, in Bland, 

Papers, 1:323 (quotation); Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1928, box 1948, RG 

407, NARA–CP. 17 Committee Rpt to Assistant Commandant, Infantry School, 21 Apr 1928, 

box 519, RG 407, NARA–CP. 18 Ltr, Marshall to Heintzelman, 4 Dec 1933, in Bland, Papers, 1:410. 19 Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1928, p. 24, box 1948; ibid., 30 Jun 1933, 

box 2048. Both in RG 407, NARA–CP. 20 Memo, Infantry School for The Adjutant General, 14 Jan 1930, box 1948, 

RG 407, NARA–CP.
THE BENNING REVOLUTION 33

their findings to the entire class, which trained them not only to 

analyze historical examples but also to defend their conclusions in 

discussions with others.21

One of Marshall’s most fundamental changes to the program 

was to reduce the emphasis on what was called the school solution, the pre-approved answer that students were expected to 

come up with when facing a given tactical situation. Instead, he 

encouraged the officers to generate original and even unorthodox 

ideas. To reinforce this, he made it a policy that “any student’s 

solution of a problem that ran radically counter to the approved 

school solution, and yet showed independent creative thinking, 

would be published to the class.”22 Equally important, officers 

in the course found that they were free to “disagree at times on 

questions of military education, regardless of rank,” in an atmosphere “of tolerance of ideas which encourages open and free 

discussion.”23

Marshall set this tone by personal example. He routinely 

joined the class in the field and initiated impromptu debates 

on military topics. Often he would describe a tactical situation, 

then pick out one student to give an off-the-cuff oral operations 

order. After fellow officers critiqued it, the colonel weighed in 

with his thoughts. He implemented a similar program for the 

faculty, holding occasional meetings during the school year to 

review and discuss emerging tactics and weapons. His goal 

was to continually update the curriculum and not allow it to 

remain fixated on how things had been done. Marshall’s tutoring had the desired effect. Infantry school students noted that 

the instructors were ready to look beyond existing manuals for 

new ideas.24

Marshall’s reforms at the Infantry School carried far beyond, 

changing the approach to training officers throughout the Army for 

years to come: Approximately two hundred future generals passed 

through the course as students or instructors during his tenure. A 

veteran of the program remarked that Marshall had undermined 

the Infantry School’s “complacency, renewed its enthusiasm, and 

21 Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1928, p. 26, box 1948, RG 407, 

NARA–CP. 22 Bradley, General’s Life, p. 66. 23 Bernard Lentz, “Refreshing at the Infantry School,” Infantry Journal 36 

(January 1930): 57, 58 (quoted words), 59. 24 Bland, Papers, 1:320; Infantry School Annual Rpt, 30 Jun 1929, box 11, RG 

177, NARA–CP; Lentz, “Refreshing at the Infantry School,” pp. 57–59.
34 A History of Innovation

trained a new generation of ground force leaders.”25 By the time 

the United States entered World War II, Marshall’s changes had 

made the Infantry School an important factor in the Army’s mobilization plans. In the course of that massive conflict he directed 

just the type of force he had envisioned, one composed of millions of citizens. They were able to rapidly transform into soldiers 

largely due to the training concepts, doctrine, and force structure 

Marshall had advocated a decade earlier.

To be sure, Marshall was not the first military educator to 

improve instructional techniques or enhance the realism of military training. Nevertheless, through innovation and determina25 Bland, “George C. Marshall,” pp. 27–29, 30 (quoted words), 31–37; 

Biographical Dictionary of World War 11, s.v. “Marshall, George Catlett”; Ltr, Marshall 

to Brig Gen Courtney Hodges, 15 Jan 1941, in Bland, Papers, 2:389.

Marshall with some of his staff at the Infantry School, including 

future Generals Joseph W. Stilwell (seated second from left)

and Omar N. Bradley (standing second from left). (George C. 

Marshall Foundation)
THE BENNING REVOLUTION 35

tion he was able to change the content and methodology of the 

courses available to Army infantry officers in the years leading up 

to World War II and thereby make his mark on an entire service. 

His success partially explains how the Army, which came relatively late to armored, airborne, amphibious, and other advanced 

forms of warfighting, was able to catch up so quickly with—and 

in some cases surpass—other armies around the world. The revolution that Marshall instigated at Fort Benning illustrates what a 

single enlightened leader can achieve when he is determined to 

put good ideas into practice.
An L–4 of the 29th Infantry Division flies over a battery of M2 

105-mm. howitzers in England in March 1943. The integration of 

light aircraft into artillery units increased the effectiveness of indirect 

fire. (National Archives)
4

AIR OBSERVATION POSTS

Edgar F. Raines Jr.

Not long after American entry into World War II, the U.S. Army 

field artillery acquired its own aircraft, pilots, and ground crews 

to function as air observation posts. The primary mission was to 

provide flexible and responsive aerial observation for directing the 

fire of batteries. Although the Army’s aviation component strenuously objected to this innovation, it came about due to a confluence of many factors—changes in the art of war; the evolution of 

field artillery doctrine in the United States; technological advances 

in airframes, engines, and communications; tactical adaptation to 

the realities of combat; the personalities and leadership skills of 

certain individuals; and pure chance.1

World War I had highlighted a key facet of modern industrialized warfare, the increasing ability of indirect firepower to influence the maneuver of ground forces. To be successful, attackers 

needed enough supporting firepower to neutralize or outweigh that 

employed by the defenders. Coordination between artillery and 

infantry on the offensive, however, was problematic at best because 

communications—in the form of pigeons, runners, wire, and spark 

gap radios—were so primitive. Most artillery support consisted of 

map fire, the only method of concentrating the fire of more than one 

battery. Guns dropped high explosives on certain specified coordinates for fixed lengths of time and then moved to another set of 

1 This account is drawn from Edgar F. Raines, Jr., Eyes of Artillery: The Origins 

of Modern U.S. Army Aviation in World War II, Army Historical Series (Washington, 

D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2000). In addition, the following 

general works are invaluable: Boyd L. Dastrup, King of Battle: A Branch History of 

the U.S. Army’s Field Artillery (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, 1993); Janice E. McKenney, The Organizational History of Field Artillery, 

1775–2003, Army Lineage Series (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, 2007); and John B. Wilson, Firepower and Maneuver: Evolution of Divisions 

and Separate Brigades, Army Lineage Series (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center 

of Military History, 1998).
38 A History of Innovation

targets, all according to a prearranged schedule that gave the infantry no flexibility once the operation got under way. Aerial observers 

also could control fire, but even greater communications difficulties 

between air and ground severely limited their utility. Although the 

U.S. Army achieved victory using these methods, its heavy casualties produced widespread agreement that the tactics and techniques 

of the war were only a starting point requiring further work.2

Beginning in 1929 a series of mid-level and junior officers at the 

Field Artillery School at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, notably Maj. Carlos 

Brewer, Maj. Orlando Ward, and 1st Lt. Edwin L. Sibert, developed 

the battalion fire direction center, which used improved radios and 

a standard plot to mass the fires of physically separated batteries on 

an unplanned target. Proponents spent much of the decade of the 

1930s simplifying methods and overcoming skepticism and downright opposition in some quarters within the field artillery. By 1938 

the new chief of field artillery, Maj. Gen. Robert M. Danford, had 

concluded that the last major gap in the new system was the lack of 

a dedicated, reliable aerial observer to fill in when terrain shielded 

targets from ground observation. Obtaining that capability, however, was an ongoing problem that proved difficult to solve.3

Arguments over the organizational ownership of air observers 

dated back to World War I. The artillery had taken the position 

that its own officers should serve in this role. When not in the air 

they would be with their regiment and thus up to date on the location of friendly and enemy forces and the ground commander’s 

scheme of maneuver. Aviators took the stance that any individual 

assigned to man an aircraft in any capacity had to be trained by 

and belong to the aviation force. The latter view prevailed in the 

War Department and persisted as settled policy until 1942 despite 

the efforts of senior artillerymen to reverse it.4

2 The best overview of the American experience in World War I is Edward 

M. Coffman, The War To End All Wars: The American Military Experience in World 

War I (New York: Oxford University Press, 1968). For the tactical employment of 

artillery and its liaison with infantry, see Mark E. Grotelueschen, The AEF Way 

of War: The American Army and Combat in World War I (New York: Cambridge 

University Press, 2006), pp.1–9, 83–141, 238–79, 343–64. 3 David A. Shugart, “On the Way: The U.S. Field Artillery in the Interwar 

Period” (Ph.D. diss., Texas A&M University, 2002), provides the most detailed 

account of the development of the fire direction center. 4 William J. Snow, Signposts of Experience (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Field Artillery 

Association, 1941), pp. 158–59; Rpt, Maj Gen Mason W. Patrick, n.d., sub: Final 

Rpt of Chief, Air Service, American Expeditionary Forces, in Maurer Maurer, 

ed., The U.S. Air Service in World War I, 4 vols. (Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala., and 
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 39

The two branches also had more fundamental disagreements 

regarding overall warfighting doctrine. In seeking to more effectively integrate its operations with the infantry, the field artillery was pursuing a combined arms approach. Only by knitting 

together the efforts of all the arms, argued proponents, could the 

Army achieve victory, because the combat power generated by 

the integrated whole was greater than the sum produced by its 

various parts. The Air Corps, on the other hand, was seeking to 

distance itself from the remainder of the Army. Many air power 

advocates asserted that long-range bombardment, operating 

independently of ground forces, could deliver a knockout blow 

against government centers and industry, thus making it impossible for an opponent to continue the war. Centralized control of 

air assets under the command of an experienced aviation officer 

would permit their efficient employment against these strategic 

targets. Parceling out aircraft to support ground force commanders, as was common in World War I, would merely divert precious 

resources from the main aerial campaign. In this intellectual environment, aviation officers devoted their energy and enthusiasm to 

bombardment, and observation became a backwater.5

Technological development created a third discontinuity 

between the aviation and artillery communities. By 1938 the Air 

Corps was well along in the transition from biplanes to highspeed monoplanes. Since observation aircraft needed to carry an 

observer and a heavy camera in addition to a pilot and machine 

guns, they were at a competitive disadvantage against single-seat 

fighter aircraft. In World War I the latter type had enjoyed a speed 

advantage of 10–20 miles per hour over observation craft. By the 

late 1930s the disparity was almost 100 miles per hour. If there 

was one lesson that aviators drew from World War I, it was that 

speed saved their lives. The new chief of the Air Corps, Maj. Gen. 

Henry H. Arnold, frankly doubted whether modern observation 

Washington, D.C.: Albert F. Simpson Historical Research Center and Office of Air 

Force History, Headquarters, United States Air Force, 1978), 1:104–06. 5 For the aviation perspective, see Robert F. Futrell, Command of Observation 

Aviation: A Study in Control of Tactical Airpower (Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala.: U.S. 

Air Force Historical Division, Research Studies Institute, Air University, 1956), 

pp. 1–5, and Tami Davis Biddle, Rhetoric and Reality in Air Warfare: The Evolution 

of British and American Ideas About Strategic Bombing, 1914–1945 (Princeton, N.J.: 

Princeton University Press, 2002), pp. 128–75. On combined arms, see Jonathan M. 

House, Combined Arms Warfare in the 20th Century, Modern War Studies (Lawrence: 

University Press of Kansas, 2001), pp. 96–104.
40 A History of Innovation

planes could survive over the battlefield. In 1939 he substituted 

light bombers in place of observation craft for long-range reconnaissance, and later he proposed using heavier bombers in this 

role. Arnold and many of his subordinates, however, were still 

thinking of the ground battle in terms of the slow tempo of 1918, 

for which preplanned fires based on aerial photographs would 

suffice. The combination of long-range reconnaissance relying on 

aerial photography also conveniently fit with the Air Corps’ doctrinal interest in the fixed targets of a strategic bombing campaign. 

Artillerymen, on the other hand, believed that modern combat 

required an observer who could identify targets and control tactical fire while he was in the air.6

Artillery officers also were dissatisfied with available observation aircraft for a different but related reason. They wanted a 

rugged plane that could operate out of forward locations, which 

would facilitate cooperation with the firing battalions, provide 

longer loiter time over the front, and decrease the significance of 

an aircraft’s maximum range. In addition, from an artillery point 

of view, a slower plane was much more conducive to scrutinizing activity on the ground. The Air Corps emphasis on acquiring 

the fastest and most capable aircraft worked at cross purposes. 

The resulting observation planes were large, heavy, complicated 

machines that required sophisticated maintenance and a welldeveloped airfield, characteristics that mandated they be based 

well to the rear.7

In 1934 the Air Corps and the field artillery began looking for 

an alternative aircraft that would satisfy the latter branch, but it 

took four years for artillery officers to discover a suitable candidate. At the Cleveland Air Races in September 1938 the Germans 

exhibited their Fiesler Storch. Much smaller than the standard 

American observation plane, it was slower, more maneuverable, 

and could operate from a much shorter field. General Danford and 

6 Irving B. Holley Jr., Evolution of the Liaison-Type Airplane, 1917–1944, Army 

Air Forces Historical Studies (Washington, D.C.: Headquarters, Army Air Forces, 

1945), p. 60; Howard K. Butler, Army Air Corps Airplanes and Observation, 1935–1941 

(St. Louis, Mo.: Historical Office, United States Army Aviation Systems Command, 

1990), pp. 160–61, 170, 174–75. 7 Rpt, Brig Gen A. Hero, 29 Jan 1919, sub: Report of Field Artillery Board, 

American Expeditionary Forces, on Organization and Tactics, Morris Swett 

Technical Library (MSTL), Field Artillery (FA) School, Fort Sill, Okla.; H. W. 

Blakeley, “We Must See With Our Own Eyes,” Field Artillery Journal 29 (May–June 

1939): 215–18.
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 41

the other ground combat arms chiefs immediately pressed Arnold 

to develop an American counterpart. He agreed to include a token 

number in each observation squadron, but it took the Air Corps 

two years to deliver the first models of the O–49, as the American 

version of the Storch was designated, for field testing.8

One other possibility remained, at least until the O–49 became 

available in large numbers. While Air Corps design goals in the 

1920s and 1930s had emphasized greater speed, range, and reliability in aircraft, some manufacturers seeking to exploit the civilian market had stressed simplicity, ease of maintenance, and low 

cost. By 1929 they had produced a distinctly different type of 

plane, the light aircraft. Planes in this class were small, usually 

carrying only one passenger in addition to the pilot. Consisting 

of steel-tube frames, fabric covering, fixed landing gear, and light 

low-power engines, they operated in the range of 60–120 miles per 

hour, which met the field artillery specification for slow speed. 

Only two-thirds the size of the O–49, they were more easily concealed on the ground and also presented a smaller target in the 

air. The most popular of the domestically produced machines, the 

Piper Aircraft Corporation’s lightly instrumented J–3 Cub, was 

almost stall proof, which meant that pilots could master it with 

comparatively little training in contrast to high-performance Air 

Corps models.9

The Munich Crisis in the fall of 1938 suggested that a general European war might erupt at any moment. It also put great 

pressure on Danford to solve the aerial observation problem as 

soon as possible, because he saw this capability as crucial in helping the new artillery doctrine achieve its full potential. He therefore launched a two-pronged effort. He directed the Air-Ground 

Procedures Board at the Field Artillery School to examine the air 

observation problem in depth, and subsequently expanded the 

scope of its charter to include testing materiel. At the same time 

he began a concerted effort to change War Department policy. In 

early 1939 he approached Arnold with an informal proposal that 

the Air Corps supply aircraft, pilots, and ground crews for observation units attached to and operating under artillery direction; 

8 Holley, Evolution, pp. 60, 62–67. 9 Devon Francis, Mr. Piper and His Cubs (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 

1973), pp. 16–68; Hershel Smith, Aircraft Piston Engines: From the Manly Baltzer to 

the Continental Tiara (New York: McGraw Hill, 1981), pp. 191–214; Piper Aircraft 

Corporation, How to Fly a Piper Cub (Lockhaven, Pa.: Piper Aircraft Corp., 1946), 

p. 15.
42 A History of Innovation

the artillery would supply the observers. Arnold rejected the proposal. The next year Danford staffed a formal proposal to create 

air observation units composed of men and equipment belonging 

only to the field artillery. The General Staff rejected the plan on 

the grounds that the Air Corps had not had a fair opportunity to 

prove the utility of existing observation organization using modern equipment.10

In 1941 Danford renewed his campaign, this time with additional outside support and evidence to buttress his case. Although 

most Air Corps officers treated light aircraft condescendingly, 

some ground officers were much more conversant in this realm. 

10 Memo, Col F. C. Wallace, Executive Officer, Office of Chief of FA, for The 

Adjutant General, 15 Jul 1940, in General Headquarters, General Correspondence, 

1940–1942, 665 (Fire Control Installations), Record Group (RG) 337, Records 

of Headquarters, Army Ground Forces, National Archives and Records 

Administration–College Park (NARA–CP), College Park, Md., summarizes 

Danford’s January 1939 meeting.

A light plane takes on fuel at a country filling station during 

the Carolina maneuvers in late 1941. The simplicity of these 

aircraft made them perfect for the air observation post mission. 

(Smithsonian Institution)
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 43

Many of the latter had obtained private pilot licenses in the 1920s 

and 1930s. Some, such as Col. George S. Patton Jr. and Maj. Dwight 

D. Eisenhower, had even purchased their own planes. All of them 

were enthusiastic about the military potential of light aircraft. 

In 1936 1st Lt. Joseph M. Watson Jr. of the Texas National Guard 

began using his own plane to direct artillery fire during summer 

camp. By 1941 he had perfected his technique and made several 

converts to the idea of the field artillery owning its own aircraft, 

most notably Third Army commander Lt. Gen. Walter Krueger. 

Even more important, Watson had alerted light aircraft companies 

to a potential military market at a time when the Army Air Forces 

(a major command established in July 1941 that encompassed all 

aviation elements) was proposing that the industry’s greatest contribution to the war effort would be to shut down production for 

the duration.11

In response to Watson’s interest, William T. Piper, the president 

of Piper Aircraft Corporation and an Army veteran of the SpanishAmerican War and World War I, mounted a lobbying effort in the 

War Department. Assistant Secretary of War for Air Robert A. 

Lovett became an early convert of shifting production from the 

O–49 to light aircraft because the latter would use fewer strategic materials. When the Air-Ground Procedures Board reported 

that the J–3 Cub (military designation L–4) was an acceptable but 

inferior substitute for the O–49, Piper organized a demonstration 

flight of light aircraft to participate in the Army’s 1941 maneuvers. 

Under field conditions the light aircraft, especially the L–4, actually outperformed the O–49 and gained many new supporters for 

field artillery aviation.12

Despite this evidence, Arnold still opposed light aircraft in the 

observation role. Convinced they would fail in combat, he expected 

artillerymen would then demand high performance planes to reequip their squadrons. He believed that the simplest way to solve 

11 Intervs, author with Col Michael J. Strok, 30 Jun 1982, and with Lt Col Henry 

S. Wann, 27 Aug 1982; both in Historians files, U.S. Army Center of Military History 

(CMH), Washington, D.C.; Intervs, L. B. Epstein with T. I. Case, c. 1976, and with 

Watson, 14–15 Sep 1976, in J. M. Watson Papers, U.S. Army Aviation and Troop 

Command History Office, St. Louis, Mo.; Interv, R. J. Tierney with T. I. Case, Piper 

Aircraft Corp., 21 Feb 1962, U.S. Army Aviation Digest files, U.S. Army Aviation 

Museum Library (AML), Fort Rucker, Ala. 12 Memos, [J. E. P. Morgan], sub: History of the First Grasshopper Squadron 

and sub: Grasshopper Washington Story, in John E. P. Morgan Papers, U.S. Army 

Military History Institute (MHI), Carlisle, Pa.
44 A History of Innovation

this problem was to smother the program before it started. He was 

so successful in the byways of the War Department that Danford, 

to save the initiative, went directly to the Secretary of War Henry 

L. Stimson. A field artillery veteran of World War I, Stimson was 

sympathetic and handed Danford off to the Assistant Secretary of 

War John J. McCloy. Another field artillery veteran of that conflict 

with bad memories of liaison with aviation on the Western Front, 

McCloy brokered a deal in early December 1941 that allowed 

Danford to test the concept.13

To lead the test group, Danford selected veteran artilleryman 

and light plane pilot Lt. Col. William W. Ford. In the wake of the 

1940 maneuvers, Ford had published an article in the Field Artillery 

Journal that outlined the deficiencies of Air Corps observation and 

proposed that the artillery acquire its own light aircraft units to meet 

the requirement. Ford also provided the first detailed rebuttal to the 

argument that light aircraft could not survive in combat. The U.S. 

Army could not land in Europe, he reasoned, unless the Army Air 

Forces established at least air parity with the German Luftwaffe. In 

those circumstances, a combination of maneuverability, pop-up tactics, and close cooperation with friendly antiaircraft artillery would 

permit light planes to survive and complete their missions.14

Ford and a light aircraft advocate from the Ohio National 

Guard, Maj. Gordon J. Wolf, formed a planning cell to develop a 

training schedule, tentative organization, and test program. Maj. 

Rex W. Chandler, Danford’s primary adviser on aviation matters 

and the former secretary of the Air-Ground Procedures Board, 

assisted them. Chandler, one of the field artillery’s leading authorities on communications technology, argued vehemently and successfully that the light planes should be equipped with the latest 

radios. Although concerned about the weight penalty, Ford agreed. 

Chandler then used his close contacts with the Signal Corps to 

secure prototypes of push-button FM two-way voice sets just off 

13 Ltr, Maj Gen (Ret.) R. M. Danford to Maj Gen E. A. Salet, 28 Apr 1967, in Robert 

M. Danford Papers, MHI; Speech, Brig Gen R. E. Chandler, 10 Nov 58, sub: Talk 

Delivered at the Grad Exercise, U.S. Army Aviation Training Detachment (Fixed 

Wing), Gary Army Air Field, Camp Gary, San Marcos, Tex., in Rex E. Chandler 

Papers, MHI; Diary, John J. McCloy, 31 Oct, 1, 3, 5, 17 Nov, and 4 Dec 1941, in John 

J. McCloy Papers, Special Collections, Amherst College Library, Amherst, Mass. 14 W. W. Ford, “Wings for Santa Barbara,” Field Artillery Journal 31 (April 

1941): 232–34; Ltr, Brig Gen (Ret.) W. W. Ford to author, 20 Jun 1982, Historians 

files, CMH; W. W. Ford, Wagon Soldier (North Adams, Mass.: Excelsior, 1980), 

pp. 105–14, 118.
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 45

the assembly line. Thus from the very beginning of its existence, 

the air observation post program enjoyed the advantage of the most 

advanced military communications technology in the world.15

In line with the emphasis that Ford placed on aerial maneuverability in combat, training of the test group at Fort Sill involved 

showing the students, all holders of civilian pilot licenses, the 

extremes to which they could take both the aircraft and themselves in flight. Once instruction was complete, the group divided 

into two flights, one each assigned to an artillery brigade and to a 

divisional artillery unit.16

15 Interv, Maj Gen W. A. Harris with Col G. J. Wolf, c. 1983, and Ltr, Ford to 

author, 20 Jun 1982, Historians files, CMH. 16 Interv, R. J. Tierney with Lt Col T. F. Schirmacher, Mar 1962, U.S. Army 

Aviation Digest files, AML; Rpt, Lt Col W. W. Ford, Director, Air Training, to 

Col. William W. Ford (left) and Lt. Col. Gordon J. Wolf, following 

their promotion ceremony at Fort Sill in 1942. The two officers 

orchestrated the successful test of the air observation post 

concept, proving it superior to the Army Air Forces’ competing 

idea. (U.S. Army Center of Military History)
46 A History of Innovation

The tests, conducted in March and April 1942, exercised the 

procedures and techniques that the pilots and ground crew would 

have to use in coordination with firing battalions in combat, but 

also incorporated head-to-head competition. The flight assigned to 

support divisional artillery conducted a shoot off with an Army Air 

Forces observation squadron. In this evaluation, field artillery aerial observer 1st Lt. Robert W. Cassidy obtained dramatically better 

results, both in speed and accuracy, in directing fire. A second contest pitted fighter planes equipped with gun cameras against the 

flight assigned to the artillery brigade. The resulting film graphically illustrated the vulnerability of light aircraft, but the camera 

mounted on an antiaircraft gun at the artillery landing strip demonstrated that in making attack runs the fighters had been vulnerable 

to ground fire. The results provided evidence to support both sides, 

but most senior ground officers embraced the air observation posts. 

General Krueger wrote a particularly strong endorsement.17

One last hurdle remained, namely, Army Ground Forces commander Lt. Gen. Lesley J. McNair, a field artilleryman and one of 

the most trusted advisers of Army Chief of Staff General George C. 

Marshall Jr. Although McNair had high regard for Ford (who had 

served directly under him in the late 1920s), he was not convinced 

that the Army Air Forces observation squadrons had received a 

fair test, and he also needed General Arnold’s cordial cooperation 

in training ground forces to deal with hostile aviation. As chance 

would have it, however, McNair was away on an inspection when 

the test results arrived at Army Ground Forces. The command’s 

chief of staff, Brig. Gen. Mark W. Clark, who had observed some 

of the tests and even taken an orientation ride with Ford in a light 

plane, endorsed them favorably to the War Department. Marshall 

approved the proposal on 6 June 1942.18

The program assigned a section (two planes, two pilots, and 

at least three ground support personnel) as an organic part of 

Commandant, FA School, 30 Apr 1942, sub: Rpt Test of Organic Air Observation 

for FA: Training Phase, Fort Sill, Okla., 15 Jan–28 Feb 42, Historians files, CMH. 17 Interv, Laurence Epstein with Col D. L. Bristol, 1 Jul 1975, U.S. Army Aviation 

and Troop Command History Office, St. Louis, Mo.; Intervs, author with Col R. 

F. Cassidy, 29 Jan 1991, and with Lt Gen R. R. Williams, 20 Feb 1991, Historians 

files, CMH. 18 Memo Slip, Maj Gen M. W. Clark for Secretary, Headquarters, Army Ground 

Forces (HQ AGF), 30 Apr 42, sub: Service Test of Organic Air Observation for 

FA, in HQ AGF, General Correspondence, 1942–1948, 353/1 (Restricted) (FA Air 

Observation), RG 337, NARA–CP; Ford, Wagon Soldier, pp. 125–27.
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 47

each firing battalion, each higher artillery headquarters, and each 

artillery staff section at the corps level and above. Over the next 

several months Ford established a training base, organized sections, and created a logistical system to supply them in the field. 

Throughout this period he had to endure constant sniping from 

the Army Air Forces, which had the unintended effect of making 

McNair a strong supporter. Ford was also under great pressure to 

send crews into combat as quickly as possible.19

On 9 November 1942 three L–4s took off from the aircraft carrier Ranger to support the invasion of North Africa. Friendly fire 

caused the first to crash on the beach, while enemy antiaircraft 

fire brought down the second. The third plane reached its destination, an improvised landing field at a racetrack, but when the 

pilot took off on an observation mission, more friendly fire forced 

him to return. The Army had rushed the aircraft into the invasion 

force without the opportunity to train with the ground troops, 

who were prone to shoot first at any strange plane that might be 

a threat. Over the next several months intensive air-ground training solved that problem, but the next commitment of air observation posts to combat in southern Tunisia produced an even more 

disturbing result. During the entire campaign, artillery battalions 

conducted only one observed-fire mission using an L–4. Soldiers 

on the ground understood the reasons. The terrain—isolated hills 

rising from a flat plain—was ideal for ground observers, while 

the pop-up tactics taught at Fort Sill proved singularly unsuited 

in these circumstances. Only the forceful support of McCloy prevented the termination of the program at this point.20

Morale among pilots and ground crewmen fell because of the 

perception that they were being misused. Then their logistical system, which worked well enough in the United States, broke down 

completely. In an effort to remedy the situation, the II Corps artillery officer, Col. Charles E. Hart, attached a young air observation 

post pilot, 1st Lt. Delbert L. Bristol, to his staff. A hard-charging 

19 Memo, Brig Gen I. H. Edwards, Assistant Chief of Staff, G–3, War 

Department General Staff, for Commanding General, AGF, 6 Jun 1942, sub: Organic 

Air Observation for FA, Microfilm A1387, U.S. Air Force Historical Research 

Agency, Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala. 20 Edgar F. Raines Jr. “Disaster Off Casablanca: Air Observation Posts in 

Operation Torch and the Role of Failure in Institutional Innovation,” Air Power 

History 49 (Fall 2002): 18–33; Paul A. DeWitt, “The Air OP of the Armored Artillery,” 

Military Review 24 (September 1944): 33–34; O. W. Martin, “Armored Artillery at 

Sened Station,” Field Artillery Journal 33 (August 1943): 569–72.
48 A History of Innovation

Missouri National Guardsman who had served as Ford’s adjutant, 

Bristol cobbled together enough supplies to keep the planes in 

the air, bucked up morale, fired two nonperforming pilots, and 

junked pop-up tactics in favor of extended aerial patrols of the 

front. His performance was so successful that Hart gave him permanent responsibility over administrative and logistical support 

and technical supervision of all air sections assigned to the corps. 

In the process Bristol created a model copied by all other artillery 

sections at echelons above divisions. More important, his reforms 

produced immediate results in combat. When II Corps shifted to 

the mountainous central Tunisian front and joined in the Allied 

offensive that culminated in the German surrender in North 

Africa, air observation posts proved indispensable in breaking 

through the enemy defenses. Thereafter, the field artillery could 

not get enough light aircraft, and other ground arms coveted them 

as well. Hart, subsequently a lieutenant general, credited Bristol 

more than any other individual for the success of air observation 

posts in combat during World War II. 21

Air observation posts became an integral part of the U.S. 

Army’s artillery system between 1942 and 1945. Only the British 

Army had anything at all comparable, but it pursued a much different organizational philosophy. The British squadrons, which 

had developed independently and parallel to the American effort, 

consisted of mixed Royal Artillery and Royal Air Force personnel 

and were assigned only at corps level. Their impact was limited by 

their smaller numbers and organizational distance from frontline 

units.22

In World War II American air observation posts were deeply 

imbedded in the combined arms team, enhancing the effectiveness of artillery support to infantry, armor, and other combat units. 

Occasionally, they played a major role—as at Anzio in 1944 where 

aerial observers prevented the Germans, who held all the high 

ground, from gaining a major advantage over Allied forces in the 

beachhead. For the most part, they served a less sensational but 

21 Intervs, author with Strok, 30 Jun 1982; Rpt, Col C. E. Hart, Artillery Officer, 

II Corps, to CG, AGF, [1943], sub: Employment of Artillery of the II Corps during 

the N Tunisian Campaign Ending in the Capture of Bizerte and the Surrender 

of the German Forces in N Africa, in II Corps Artillery, “Employment of Field 

Artillery of II Corps in Northern Tunisian Campaign,” Miscellaneous Bound Ms, 

MSTL, FA School. 22 H. J. Parham and E. M. G. Belfield, Unarmed Into Battle: The Story of the Air 

Observation Post (Winchester, U.K.: Wykeham Press, 1956), pp. 17–29. 
AIR OBSERVATION POSTS 49

still valuable function. Luck, widespread recognition in professional circles of a serious tactical shortcoming, the ready availability of off-the-shelf technology, and input from a number of fathers 

gave birth to this tactical-technical-organizational innovation that 

proved to be one of several key elements that enabled American 

artillery to dominate its counterparts in the Axis armies.23

23 For an account of the role of air observation posts at Anzio, see Interv, Col 

B. R. Kramer and Lt Col R. K. Andreson with Brig Gen O. G. Goodhand, 9 May 

1978, MHI; Interv, author with Col J. W. Oswalt, 13 Jan 1982, Historians files, CMH; 

Ltr, Lt A. W. Schultz to Capt B. A. Devol, IX Corps Artillery Air Officer, n.d., in 

Memo, Lt Col G. J. Wolf, 15 Jun 44, sub: Informal Information, in Field Artillery 

School, Department of Air Training, “Training Memoranda,” Miscellaneous Bound 

Ms, MSTL, FA School.
M4 medium tanks line a street in Luneville, France, in the fall of 

1944. While it was no match individually for most German tank 

models, the mass-produced Sherman, coupled with a better 

armored force organization and combined arms tactics, played a 

substantial role in achieving victory. (National Archives)
5

ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION

Mark D. Sherry

The U.S. Army lacked a useful armored capability in its arsenal 

at the outset of World War II in September 1939. The National 

Defense Act of 1920 had deactivated the fledgling Tank Corps and 

assigned responsibility for developing armored forces to the infantry, although in practice the cavalry also fielded its own mechanized units. The two branches worked independently, developing 

competing equipment and doctrine. Bureaucratic inertia and 

infighting, coupled with a lack of resources, resulted in meager 

armored forces built around a mix of outmoded World War I–era 

tanks and a handful of experimental vehicles. The German blitzkrieg across the Low Countries and France in May 1940 served 

as a clarion call to change. Fortunately, before undertaking its 

first armored operations in North Africa in November 1942, the 

U.S. Army benefited from more than three years of observation 

of the main European belligerents. But instead of merely copying, 

the Americans improved upon what they saw, particularly in the 

areas of unit organization and training.1

Germany was the clear leader in armored warfare in the early 

years of World War II, organizing and training to conduct mobile 

operations as a cohesive combined arms force. As the U.S. Army’s 

Armored Force commander, Maj. Gen. Adna R. Chaffee, noted 

to Congress in April 1941, “The success of the German armored 

tactics has as we know been great and has rendered obsolete the 

tactical procedures of World War I.”2

 Although the structure of 

1 Marvin A. Kreidberg and Merton G. Henry, History of Military Mobilization 

in the United States Army, 1775–1945 (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 

1955), pp. 480–90, 554–80, 587–98; Robert Stewart Cameron, “Americanizing the 

Tank: U.S. Army Administration and Mechanized Development within the Army, 

1917–1943” (Ph.D. diss., Temple University, 1994), pp. 274–327. 2 Statement of Maj Gen Adna R. Chaffee, Commanding General of the 

Armored Force, United States Army, to the Subcommittee of the Committee 
52 A History of Innovation

German armored divisions varied, the units typically fielded a 

regiment of three tank battalions, a motorized infantry brigade of 

two regiments (two battalions each), and a regiment of primarily 

towed artillery. (A motorized unit traveled to the battlefield in soft 

vehicles, such as trucks, and dismounted to fight on foot. A mechanized, or armored unit, in contrast, could fight from its vehicles, 

which boasted armor protection.) The Germans often task-organized below the division level, with tank and infantry regimental 

headquarters swapping some subordinate units and controlling/

maintaining the resulting combined arms forces.

German innovation in doctrine and organization more than 

offset the raw numerical, and sometimes qualitative, superiority 

in tanks enjoyed by Great Britain and France. Early in the war 

British armored divisions had two armored brigades (three tank 

battalions each) and one support group (two motorized infantry 

battalions and one artillery battalion). The tank-heavy organization was primarily designed to breach strong defensive positions, 

much as armor had been used in World War I. Unlike its German 

counterpart, it was not intended to be an independent force for 

exploiting a breakthrough. British commanders also tended to 

fight as they were organized, employing their armor and support 

brigades on separate missions without any cross-attachment. The 

French had developed light mechanized divisions to carry out 

advance guard and screening missions, thus augmenting their 

horse cavalry, but they did not begin to organize armored divisions until the war was under way and then concentrated on a role 

similar to the British.3

The U.S. Army’s interest in armored forces during the interwar 

years had been limited, in part by its focus on fighting a future war 

primarily with infantry as the main maneuver arm supported by 

field artillery. While the infantry espoused a doctrine of medium 

on Appropriations, Apr 1941, pp. 3–12 (quotation), copy in Combined Arms 

Research Library, U.S. Army Command and General Staff College (CGSC), Fort 

Leavenworth, Kans. (hereinafter cited as Chaffee Statement); “The Armored 

Force Command and Center,” Army Ground Forces (AGF) Study No. 27, 1946, 

pp. 5–6, AGF Historical Section, copy in U.S. Army Center of Military History, 

Washington, D.C. 3 Bruce I. Gudmundsson, On Armor (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2004), pp. 

60–63, 83–96, 135–37; Richard M. Ogorkiewicz, Armor: A History of Mechanized 

Forces (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1960), pp. 59–60, 65–68, 73–77; Ian V. 

Hogg, Armor in Conflict (London: Jane’s Publishing, 1980), pp. 88–94; Chaffee 

Statement, pp. 3–12, CGSC.
ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION 53

and heavy tanks providing support in penetrating enemy strongpoints, the cavalry emphasized using light tanks and armored 

cars to conduct its traditional reconnaissance missions, pursuit of 

fleeing enemies, and exploitation of breakthroughs.

In addition to differing missions, the two branches instilled a 

different ethos in their armored leaders. The mechanized cavalry 

adhered to a “raise pistol and charge” philosophy; the infantrytank school embraced a more plodding “look before you leap” 

attitude. For a brief period in 1930–1931, the Army fielded a mechanized force that tested a combined arms approach to armored 

warfare. The organization’s commander came from the cavalry 

and its executive officer from the infantry. Army Chief of Staff 

General Douglas A. MacArthur ended the experiment, however, 

directing that each branch mechanize its operations in accordance with the requirements of its independent mission. The War 

Department lacked a means not only to integrate and reconcile the 

infantry and cavalry schools but also to evaluate and borrow from 

foreign innovations. In at least one respect, this oversight proved 

academic. The Army’s budget for armored forces averaged only 

about $167,000 per year between 1920 and 1932, an era in which 

one Mark VIII medium tank cost $85,000.4

Mobilization for the emergency occasioned by the war in 

Europe caused the U.S. Army to expand and focus its mechanized 

forces. The Third Army maneuvers in the spring of 1940 offered 

proponents of armored warfare the opportunity they had awaited 

for years. The 7th Cavalry Brigade (Mechanized), commanded 

by then-Brig. Gen. Chaffee, and the infantry’s Provisional Tank 

Brigade, commanded by Brig. Gen. Bruce Magruder, operated 

together for the first time as a makeshift division. At the debriefing at the end of the of the exercises Chaffee, Magruder, and other 

tank advocates, including Cols. Alvan C. Gillem and George S. 

Patton Jr., confronted the War Department’s Assistant Chief of 

Staff G–3 Maj. Gen. Frank M. Andrews.

Chaffee had first gotten involved with mechanized forces 

in May 1928 as a staff officer in the War Department’s G–3 section, thereafter serving in a succession of assignments pivotal 

4 Cameron, “Americanizing the Tank,” pp. 9–16, 26–28, 32, 56–61, 74–91, 

223–46; John B. Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower: The Evolution of Divisions and 

Separate Brigades (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 

1998), pp. 121–25; “The Armored Force Command and Center,” pp. 1–5, 13–14, 

16 (quoted words), 17. 
54 A History of Innovation

to armor developments. In between two mechanized command 

assignments at Fort Knox, Chaffee had served as head of the War 

Department’s Budget and Legislative Liaison Branch, where he 

played a direct role in ensuring that the fledgling mechanized 

and armored forces did not come up completely empty handed 

in the struggles to apportion the Army’s meager interwar funds. 

Although Patton had commanded a brigade in the American 

Expeditionary Forces’ Tank Corps in France, he reverted to cavalry service during the interwar period. Indeed, while serving in 

the Office of the Chief of Cavalry in 1930, he authored an article in 

Cavalry Journal that had challenged some of the more enthusiastic claims of armor advocates that mechanized units would soon 

replace the horse cavalry on the battlefield. But with the war in 

Europe having validated armored warfare, Patton proved once 

again a zealous promoter of armored forces. The arguments made 

by Chaffee, Patton, and others at the end of the maneuvers found a 

ready audience in Andrews. Having served as an aviator for over 

two decades and as the first commander of General Headquarters 

Air Force, Andrews understood the rationale that consolidation of 

effort and forces provided the best means to exploit the potential 

of weapons subject to rapidly developing technology.5

The consensus that emerged from this meeting in a schoolhouse in Louisiana was that the Army had to unify its existing 

tank and mechanized cavalry forces. The cavalry and infantry 

branches had followed too conservative a course, and both branch 

chiefs remained more interested in subordinating tank and mechanized units to their own mobilization plans than exploiting the 

full potential of such supporting weapons. The tank enthusiasts 

argued that the solution to the Army’s inertia was a new combined arms command with the authority to organize and train all 

armored units under one roof, thus breaking them free from the 

limitations of the traditional branches.6

Andrews took these recommendations back to Washington. 

Undaunted by the objections of both cavalry and infantry branch 

5 Cameron, “Americanizing the Tank,” pp. 45–47, 51–55, 82–83.

6 John B. Wilson, “Organizing the First Armored Divisions: The Meeting at a 

Schoolhouse in Louisiana in 1940 Dragged the Infantry and Cavalry Branches Into 

the Age of Combined Arms,” Armor 108 (July–August 1999): 41–43; Timothy K. 

Nenninger, “Organizational Milestones in the Development of American Armor, 

1920–40,” in George F. Hofmann and Donn A. Starry, eds., Camp Colt to Desert 

Storm: The History of U.S. Armored Forces (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 

1999), pp. 57–60; Cameron, “Americanizing the Tank,” pp. 684–93.
ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION 55

chiefs, he recommended establishment of permanent mechanized divisions. Andrews hosted a conference in June to discuss 

the organization of these new divisions, and divulged that they 

would fall under control of a command independent of the existing branches. On 10 July 1940 Army Chief of Staff General George 

C. Marshall Jr. established the Armored Force, selecting Chaffee 

as commanding general. Amalgamating the existing tank and 

mechanized cavalry units, the new organization assumed responsibility for developing doctrine and for training both units and 

individuals. It was a new branch in everything but name, though 

it combined elements of nearly all arms.7

The Armored Force quickly became immersed in trying to 

catch up with European armies as it organized, equipped, and 

trained the first U.S. armored units. The glue needed to meld these 

outfits into a cohesive team and ensure that they succeeded on the 

battlefield was an effective warfighting doctrine. One of Chaffee’s 

first decisions was that armored units should operate as a combined arms force designed for rapid offensive operations, especially against enemy flanks. Rather than support infantry units in 

breaching prepared positions, armored units would exploit such 

penetrations, moving decisively to crush units in the enemy rear 

areas through shock, mobility, and firepower.8

 From the Germans, 

the Army’s early armor leaders also adopted one key leadership 

tenet—“the necessity for allowing small unit commanders to proceed on their own initiative after orders outlining the battle plan 

had been issued by higher headquarters.”9

Although the Army initially established four armored corps, 

the tactical building block for armored forces was the division. The 

War Department approved the activation of the first two armored 

divisions in July 1940, issuing tables of organization for these units 

in November. The early divisions had 12,697 men organized in 

one armored brigade (two light armored regiments, one medium 

armored regiment, and one field artillery regiment), an infantry 

regiment, a separate field artillery battalion, and supporting units. 

The light and medium armored regiments differed in the size of 

7 “Armored Force Command and Center,” pp. 9–11; Chaffee Statement, pp. 

14–17, CGSG. The choice of the term armor to denote the force was apparently a 

compromise between the chief of infantry, who objected to the term mechanized, 

and the chief of cavalry, who similarly objected to the term tank in the title. 8 Chaffee Statement, p. 19, CGSG; “Armored Force Command and Center,” 

pp. 13–14, 16–17. 9 “Armored Force Command and Center,” pp. 18, 22–26, 27 (quotation), 28.
56 A History of Innovation

tank they possessed. Unlike European divisions that normally 

had truck-mounted infantry and towed artillery, all infantrymen 

in the U.S. armored division were mounted in half-tracks, and all 

artillery was self-propelled. This was the first important American 

innovation, making it possible for all elements of the armored 

force to maneuver and fight together with similar mobility and at 

least some measure of armor protection.

From the outset, the Armored Force identified training and 

development of leaders as a major issue. It sought to amalgamate officers that had served in mechanized cavalry and infantry 

units, developing a new armored concept of fighting in the process. Spurred by lessons learned and observer reports from Allied 

forces in the European theater, the Armored Force adjusted its 

training programs in conjunction with changes in tactics, techniques, and procedures. The training of armored soldiers, intense 

A unit mounted on half-tracks pauses near El Guettar, Tunisia, 

in March 1943. The decision to give armored infantrymen 

cross-country mobility and armor protection enabled them to 

fight alongside tanks. (National Archives)
ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION 57

and lengthy, increased from twenty-six to thirty-eight weeks in 

early 1943. The investment in combined arms training starting 

at the individual level fostered a team outlook that percolated 

throughout the force.10

American armored forces performed poorly in their first real 

battle against the enemy, at Kasserine Pass in February 1943. But 

the fault had nothing to do with the U.S. Army’s concept. The 1st 

Armored Division had sailed for Europe in May 1942 shortly after 

receiving “a massive infusion of recently inducted replacement 

troops.”11 During the five months before it landed in North Africa 

as part of Operation Torch, the division conducted mostly badly 

needed individual training and very few unit exercises. Compared 

to the German panzer forces at Kasserine, the Americans lacked 

combat experience, had less effective tanks and antitank guns, suffered from weak leadership at senior levels, and received almost 

no air support. Battle weeded out the incompetent and hardened the survivors, better weapons already were in the pipeline, 

and the Army Air Forces would cooperate more closely with the 

ground forces. Although the M4 Sherman tank would never be a 

match one-on-one with German panzers, the Armored Force did 

not need to rethink its basic approach and the overall effectiveness 

of America armored divisions would become apparent in subsequent rematches with the German army.

During the war two major reorganizations of the armored division occurred. The first, in March 1942, eliminated the armored 

brigade headquarters and created two new headquarters, Combat 

Commands A and B, each headed by a brigadier general with a 

small staff. The artillery regiment headquarters also disappeared, 

with all batteries in the division reshuffled into three separate battalions. Army Ground Forces commander Lt. Gen. Lesley J. McNair 

directed the second major redesign in September 1943, which 

eliminated the other regimental headquarters, pared the division’s 

strength to 10,937 men and 263 tanks, and organized the combat 

elements into nine separate battalions—three armored (each with 

one light and three medium tank companies), three armored infantry, and three armored field artillery. With the regimental structure 

10 Ibid., pp. 18–19, 53–54, 81–82; Cameron, “Americanizing the Tank,” p. 

885. 11 Martin Blumenson, “Kasserine Pass, 30 January–22 February 1943,” in 

America’s First Battles, 1776–1965, ed. Charles E. Heller and William A. Stofft 

(Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986), p. 235.
58 A History of Innovation

abolished, all supply and maintenance support resided at battalion 

and division level. (Two of the oldest armored divisions, however, 

retained a structure of two armored regiments and one armored 

infantry regiment for the rest of the war).12

Although a number of factors drove the 1943 reorganization, 

including span of control problems and a desire to reduce the road 

space occupied by a division on the move, the most significant 

outcome was a highly flexible tactical organization. The division 

commander assigned armored, armored infantry, armored field 

artillery, and supporting units to each combat command based on 

mission and other requirements.13 The result was a combined arms 

team below division that was task-organized and able to expand 

and contract with an ever-changing set of subordinate units in 

response to specific situations.

Moreover, the combat command headquarters was a strictly 

tactical headquarters, unlike the regiment which had retained 

administrative and support responsibilities. Consequently, the 

division commander could attach or detach maneuver or artillery battalions to a combat command without significant logistical planning or tailoring of supporting units; that responsibility 

remained at the battalion and division level. As important, the 

combat command headquarters were staffed and trained to fight 

a combined arms battle and focus solely on tactical issues. By 

contrast, when a German panzer division task-organized, a tank 

or infantry regiment headquarters had to become a combined 

arms tactical echelon while still retaining its administrative and 

logistical responsibilities as a single-branch command.14 The U.S. 

armored division structure thus proved more compatible with the 

requirements of combined arms warfare.

As the war progressed, some U.S. Army armored division 

commanders in Europe further task-organized their forces. By 

late 1944 a number of divisions had expanded the reserve command, Combat Command R, into a full tactical command. Other 

divisions also task organized armor and armored infantry battalions at the company level and below on a combined arms basis, 

especially during exploitation and pursuit operations, affording 

12 Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, pp. 147–52; “Armored Force Command 

and Center,” pp. 29–40; Wilson, “Organizing the First Armored Divisions,” pp. 

41–43. 13 Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, pp. 184–87. 14 “Armored Force Command and Center,” pp. 41–43; Cameron, “Americanizing 

the Tank,” pp. 765–70, 890.
ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION 59

maximum flexibility at the lowest level and decentralized decision 

making.15

Time and again, operations in Europe vindicated the flexibility of the armored division’s design. In the weeks immediately 

after the Allied invasion of Normandy, the U.S. First Army used 

elements of three armored divisions in limited infantry support 

roles. During the breakout from the Normandy beachhead in late 

July and August, however, armored units were able to conduct the 

kind of exploitation operations championed by early mechanized 

cavalry proponents. The combined power of tanks, armored infantry, armored artillery, and mechanized supporting units smoothed 

the advance, with each arm contributing its unique capability 

15 “Armored Force Command and Center,” pp. 34–36, 48–49.

An M8 75-mm. self-propelled howitzer lends support to an 

attack in France. With the creation of the combat command 

headquarters and the elimination of the regimental echelon, 

U.S. Army armored divisions had the most flexible and effective 

armored task organization employed by any nation in World 

War II. (National Archives)
60 A History of Innovation

when the situation required it. The 6th Armored Division commander, Maj. Gen. Robert W. Grow, initially had to convince the 

skeptical VIII Corps commander, Maj. Gen. Troy H. Middleton, of 

the advantages of unleashing his division for exploitation operations if the breakthrough in Operation Cobra in late July proved 

successful. The success of the 6th Armored Division’s initial drive 

to Avranches on the boundary between Normandy and Brittany 

apparently overcame opposition in VIII Corps and Middleton’s 

infantry bias. When VIII Corps fell under Third Army command 

at the beginning of August, Middleton responded to orders to 

capture the port of Brest as soon as possible by permitting Grow 

to bypass any major opposition on his way to Brest. Grow interpreted his orders to permit him to deviate from assigned routes 

as the tactical situation dictated. He thus directed his two combat commands to proceed on separate routes to Brest, arriving on 

8 August and bottling German forces inside the port until additional VIII Corps troops could arrive.16

Later operations demonstrated that the combat command structure was capable of even more independent self-sustaining operations. For example, the 4th Armored Division commander, Maj. 

Gen. John S. Wood, persuaded his corps commander to allow him 

to split his division, with each combat command supporting a different infantry division in crossing the Moselle River in September 

1944. The two combat commands conducted a double envelopment 

of the city of Nancy, linking up near the village of Arracourt on 16 

September and cutting off elements of two German divisions.17

General George S. Patton assessed the value of armored forces 

at the end of the war. In contrast to the infantry division, where 

“the purpose of the tanks is to get the infantry forward,” he pointed 

out that the armored division used its infantry “to break the tanks 

loose.” He went on to note: “The enemy’s rear is the happy hunting ground for armor.” Although he believed that there were 

clearly defined missions for tanks in each arm, Patton’s forces had 

exploited the flexibility of armored divisions on numerous occasions to accomplish both purposes.18

16 George F. Hofmann, The Super Sixth: History of the 6th Armored Division in 

World War II and Its Post-war Association (Louisville, Ky.: Sixth Armored Division 

Association, 1975), pp. 56–96. 17 Don M. Fox, Patton’s Vanguard: The United States Army Fourth Armored 

Division (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2003), pp. 101–23. 18 George S. Patton Jr., War as I Knew It (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1947), pp. 

356, 413.
ARMORED FORCE ORGANIZATION 61

The U.S. Army began World War II with a nearly nonexistent 

armored capability, but by astute observation and hard-won experience it eventually fielded a force that was better organized than 

that of its enemies or allies. By the end of the war armored forces 

had established a claim as a key arm in the Army’s future. Having 

grown out of the infantry and cavalry, armor replaced the cavalry 

as a branch shortly after the war. The armored division underwent 

postwar reorganizations, but retained its flexible combat command structure until the advent of the Reorganization Objective 

Army Division in the early 1960s, when force designers used the 

combat command as a model for a new type of brigade headquarters adopted by all Army divisions.
A panzer unit sweeps across the Russian steppe during Operation 

Barbarosa. The success of German armored forces early in World 

War II prompted a rapid search in the U.S. Army for a means to 

defeat this threat. (National Archives)
6

TANK DESTROYER FORCE

Christopher R. Gabel

The onset of World War II in Europe presented the U.S. Army with 

one of the starkest emergencies in its history. The armed forces 

of Germany, employing a new mode of warfare popularly called 

blitzkrieg, swept away one opponent after another. With the 

defeat of France in June 1940, it became increasingly likely that 

the United States would soon be engulfed in the war, very possibly without the assistance of allies. The U.S. Army, suffering from 

two decades of neglect, was not only grossly understrength but 

also badly out of date. Dramatic expansion and modernization 

would be needed before the United States could hope to confront 

the German menace.

The centerpiece of blitzkrieg, and the focus of concern for the 

U.S. Army, was the German panzer division, a highly mobile combined arms formation. A typical division at the time of the French 

campaign had 249 tanks, as well as motorized infantry, artillery, 

and supporting elements.1

 To confront this threat, the U.S. Army 

had only a rudimentary armored force and fielded only the weakest of antitank capabilities. The standard U.S. infantry division 

included just 24 obsolescent antitank guns.2

 Improvement was 

urgently needed.

Three individuals, starting with the Army chief of staff himself, dominated the process of innovation that produced the U.S. 

Army’s main answer—the tank destroyer force. In April 1941 

General George C. Marshall Jr. struck the first blow for innovation by assigning responsibility for antitank affairs not to one 

of the combat arms but to a special planning branch within the 

1 Karl-Heinz Freiser, The Blitzkrieg Legend: The 1940 Campaign in the West

(Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 2005), p. 120. 2 Kent Roberts Greenfield, Robert R. Palmer, and Bell I Wiley, The Organization 

of Ground Combat Troops, United States Army in World War II (Washington, D.C.: 

Historical Division, United States Army, 1947), pp. 274–75.
64 A History of Innovation

War Department General Staff’s G–3 division. This office evolved 

within a year into an autonomous Tank Destroyer Center. From 

there the tank destroyer force emerged, for all practical purposes, 

as a new combat arm within the Army’s ground forces, coequal 

with infantry, artillery, and armor. The center, which took up 

residence at newly established Camp Hood, Texas, in January 

1942, assumed responsibility for all individual and unit training, 

including its own officer candidate school. It also wrote doctrine 

and developed the requirements for distinctive weapons and 

equipment. It thus controlled all the elements needed to create an 

entirely new capability within the Army. By establishing the program as an independent combat arm, Marshall cut through a great 

deal of branch parochialism and bureaucratic inefficiency.3

The second key innovator was Lt. Gen. Lesley J. McNair, a 

senior assistant to General Marshall and later chief of Army Ground 

Forces, an organization established in March 1942 with responsibility for the doctrine and training of all the combat arms. “One of 

the most aggressive advocates of the movement to develop tank 

destroyers,” he championed mobile tactics and the pooling of tank 

destroyer elements at the corps and army echelons for assignment 

to divisions only when and where needed.4

 The latter decision was 

part of his overall policy aimed at keeping the division lean and 

light. It would also enable tank destroyers to mass in formations 

up to brigade size to meet massed panzer forces on equal terms, a 

key element of evolving antitank doctrine.

The third and most closely involved individual was Lt. Col. 

(later Maj. Gen.) Andrew D. Bruce, who commanded the Tank 

Destroyer Center during the formative period of the program. 

As the key innovator in the process, Bruce shaped antitank doctrine, directed the development of tables of organization, and 

prescribed the type of weaponry needed to fulfill the mission. He 

eagerly seized the authority and latitude granted by Marshall and 

McNair to take the Army in an entirely new direction in the field 

of antitank warfare.

Bruce’s tank destroyer doctrine emerged in 1942 as Field 

Manual (FM) 18–5, Tank Destroyer Field Manual: Organization and 

Tactics of Tank Destroyer Units. Encouraged by Marshall and McNair, 

3 For an account of the Tank Destroyer Center’s activities, see U.S. Army, 

“Tank Destroyer History” (Camp Hood, Tex., [c. 1945]), Library of Congress, 

Washington D.C. 4 Greenfield, Palmer, and Wiley, Organization, p. 74.
TANK DESTROYER FORCE 65

Bruce infused the doctrine with an aggressive, offensive spirit, as 

characterized by the term tank destroyer and by the motto “Seek, 

Strike, and Destroy.” The hallmarks of this doctrine were mobility 

and firepower. Assuming that the main threat would be masses 

of light tanks operating at top speed, FM 18–5 posited that tank 

destroyers would use superior mobility to hem in the marauding tanks, maneuver against their flanks, and employ superior 

firepower to destroy them.5

 In Bruce’s mind, tank destroyer operations assumed the character of the counterattack rather than passive defense.

To execute this ambitious doctrine, Bruce and the Tank 

Destroyer Center devised an equally novel organizational structure for the tank destroyer battalion, which became the building 

block for the entire concept. The initial version of the battalion 

contained a motorized reconnaissance company to find enemy 

armor, and three companies—each with 12 self-propelled antitank 

guns—to engage and destroy the opposing tanks. It also included 

18 self-propelled antiaircraft guns to protect the battalion from 

blitzkrieg’s aerial punch. A contingent of 108 security troops, also 

motorized, rounded out the force, for a grand total of 898 officers and men. The tank destroyer battalion could fight independently or mass into groups or even brigades when circumstances 

warranted.

When Bruce framed doctrine and organization in 1942, he knew 

the U.S. Army had no weapon that embodied the combat characteristics he had in mind. But he pushed ahead with his theoretical 

constructs, secure in the knowledge that he could shape procurement requirements to meet his needs. Bruce wanted a weapon 

system with dominant firepower and mobility, and he was willing 

to sacrifice armor protection to achieve that goal. Ultimately, he 

settled upon a design that became the M18 tank destroyer. It was 

a fully tracked fighting vehicle capable of 50 miles per hour on the 

road, with a high-velocity 76-mm. gun mounted in a fully-rotating 

open-topped turret. Owing to its light armor, the M18 weighed in 

at only 20 tons (as compared to 30 tons for the M4 Sherman tank).6

The M18 would not, however, begin full production until well into 

5 See U.S. War Department Field Manual no. 18–5, Tank Destroyer Field Manual: 

Organization and Tactics of Tank Destroyer Units (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government 

Printing Office, 1942). 6 Charles M. Baily, Faint Praise: American Tanks and Tank Destroyers During 

World War II (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1983), pp. 48–50, 67–68.
66 A History of Innovation

1943. In the meantime, the new tank destroyer battalions would 

train, and even enter combat, with an assortment of improvised 

weapons.

The accomplishments of the three innovators—Marshall, 

McNair, and Bruce—were remarkable when one considers the 

magnitude of the innovation and the relatively short time period 

involved. The size of the projected tank destroyer force itself was 

impressive. On 7 October 1941, before the first battalion had even 

been activated officially, Marshall approved a planning estimate 

calling for a ratio of four such battalions for every division in the 

Army.7

 Had that goal been realized, the U.S. Army in World War II 

would have fielded no fewer than 360 tank destroyer battalions!

Any innovation represents a gamble. The Army attempted to 

mitigate the risks of this radically new antitank concept by testing a 

number of its precepts, in embryonic form, while the program was 

7 Conference in the Office of the Chief of Staff, 7 October 1941, Item 4327, 

Microfilm Reel 287, George C. Marshall Library, Virginia Military Institute, 

Lexington, Va.

An M6 tank destroyer. Developed as a wartime expedient, this 

combination 37-mm. antitank gun and 3/4-ton truck proved 

ineffective against German armored forces in the North Africa 

campaign. (National Archives)
TANK DESTROYER FORCE 67

in its infancy. In September and November 1941 the Army pitted its 

new armored divisions against experimental antitank forces in the 

course of the army-versus-army maneuvers held in Louisiana and 

the Carolinas. To be valid, any such test must be honest, impartial, 

and empirical. However, two shortcomings clouded the results of 

these experiments. First, McNair, one of the founders of the tank 

destroyer establishment, was also the maneuver director, leading 

to legitimate questions of impartiality. In truth, the umpires who 

adjudicated the mock battles accorded a degree of effectiveness 

to antitank forces that exceeded current realities. Second, by testing two experimental forces against each other, it was difficult to 

interpret the results. For the most part, the armored forces fell 

short of their objectives, but whether that was due to the effectiveness of antitank forces or to flaws within the armored establishment was a subject of debate. McNair declared that the maneuvers 

validated the nascent tank destroyer concept, but Armored Force 

commander Maj. Gen. Jacob L. Devers disagreed. He publicly 

declared, “We were licked by a set of umpire rules.”8

 The next test 

of the theory would come in the heat of battle.

Seven tank destroyer battalions participated in the North 

African campaign that began on 8 November 1942. The results 

were not encouraging. It came as something of a shock when 

panzer divisions behaved differently than the enemy described 

in FM 18–5. Rather than masses of light tanks operating at top 

speed, the panzer divisions in Tunisia employed sophisticated 

combined arms teams, characterized by artillery and infantry 

operating in close support of the tanks, and deadly antitank fire 

coming from hidden overwatch positions. For the lightly armored 

tank destroyers, slugging it out with German tanks in the open 

was suicidal. It quickly emerged that the best way to meet attacking German tanks was from concealed dug-in positions—a far cry 

from Seek, Strike, and Destroy. This fact also doomed the idea of 

tank destroyers being held back in reserve, to race fire-brigade 

style to the scene of a German attack. If the antitank units were 

not on hand when the attack began, they would have to join the 

battle in progress and possibly have to fight exposed from a position of weakness. In any case, they were unlikely to arrive in time 

8 As quoted in “Second Battle of the Carolinas,” Time, December 8, 1941, p. 66. 

For an analysis of the Louisiana and Carolinas exercises, see Christopher R. Gabel, 

The U.S. Army GHQ Maneuvers of 1941 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of 

Military History, 1992).
68 A History of Innovation

to retrieve the situation given the tempo of combat embodied in 

blitzkrieg.

Equally important, tank destroyers in North Africa operated 

under a handicap in regard to their equipment. Expedient weapons intended solely for training ended up fighting real panzers. 

The M3 Gun Motor Carriage, a 75-mm. gun mounted on a halftrack, had neither superior mobility nor firepower when confronting Axis armor. The M6, an obsolete 37-mm. antitank gun mounted 

on a 3⁄4-ton truck, was hopeless. The best expedient was the M10, a 

3-inch gun mounted in a fully rotating open-topped turret on the 

chassis of an M4 Sherman tank.

Finally, the tank destroyers in North Africa discovered that 

the rest of the Army was largely ignorant of their doctrine, if not 

downright hostile to the concept they embodied. Senior commands 

scattered the tank destroyer battalions, attaching them out to other 

units in company and platoon strength and giving them missions 

that bore no relation to their desired methods. Opposition on the 

part of the Army at large was well founded, for on the rare occasions that tank destroyers did attempt to execute their primary 

task in accordance with theory, the results were usually costly, or 

disappointing, or both. A steady stream of negative reports soon 

flowed from North Africa to the War Department and to Camp 

Hood. All three men who commanded the II Corps in Tunisia—

Maj. Gens. Lloyd R. Fredendall, George S. Patton Jr., and Omar 

N. Bradley—went on record with their disapproval of the tank 

destroyer concept.

Given the bad reports from Tunisia, coupled with the growing realization that Germany was losing its ability to mount 

great offensives, the U.S. Army began to backpedal on the tank 

destroyer innovation even while the war was in progress. Only 106 

battalions were ever activated. Of these, 35 never left the United 

States, having been converted or broken up before deployment.9

Moreover, the War Department mandated a reduction in size for 

the tank destroyer battalion, eliminating the antiaircraft elements 

and combining other functions to reduce its strength from 898 to 

673 men. To address the tank destroyer doctrine’s lack of credibility, Bruce and the center prepared a new field manual, published 

in 1944, that eliminated the word offensive in reference to tank 

destroyer tactics, downplayed the fixation on mobility, empha9 Shelby L. Stanton, Order of Battle: U.S. Army, World War II (Novato, Calif.: 

Presidio Press, 1984), pp. 333–38.
TANK DESTROYER FORCE 69

sized stealth and deception, and accorded more attention to the 

need for combined arms cooperation with the other elements on 

the battlefield.10

In yet another blow to the Seek, Strike, and Destroy doctrine, 

McNair himself directed in 1943 that half of all tank destroyer battalions should be converted from self-propelled to towed guns. 

The latter were thought to be more easily concealed. This particular measure was later reversed when experience in Europe showed 

the towed guns to be less effective and more vulnerable than the 

self-propelled models, but by that time tank destroyer doctrine 

was largely dead.

10 See U.S. War Department Field Manual no. 18– 5, Tactical Employment Tank 

Destroyer Unit (Washington D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1944).

An M10 tank destroyer dug in and camouflaged beside a 

haystack in Italy. From the initial offensive concept, embodied 

in the motto “Seek, Strike, and Destroy,” the tank destroyer 

force devolved into a defensive organization emphasizing 

stealth and deception, with small units parceled out to support 

infantry battalions. (U.S. Army Center of Military History)
70 A History of Innovation

Starting in Tunisia and continuing through the end of the war, 

the tank destroyers made their greatest contributions not in the 

antitank role but in secondary missions, such as pillbox busting 

with direct fire and reinforcing field artillery with indirect fire. 

These missions generally entailed attaching the tank destroyers, by 

company, platoon, or section, to infantry or armor elements at the 

battalion level or lower, often on a semipermanent basis. On those 

increasingly rare occasions when German armor attacked in force, 

the tank destroyers usually fought them in small units and often 

from static positions. In short, little differentiated tank destroyers 

from the medium tanks that also served in the close-support role. 

At the conclusion of the war the U.S. Forces, European Theater, 

General Board concluded that the tank destroyer doctrine had 

rarely been attempted, and certainly had never been validated. 

The board noted that the tank destroyers were most useful in their 

assault gun role but that a separate tank destroyer establishment 

within the Army was unnecessary.11 Shortly after the war ended, 

the Tank Destroyer Center ceased operations and the battalions 

were deactivated. Without fanfare, the tank destroyer program 

came to an end.

What went wrong with this innovation? In retrospect, it would 

appear that one key mistake was making it an independent effort. 

When the Tank Destroyer Center became a world unto itself, it 

rarely exchanged ideas with other elements of the Army (most 

notably the Armored Force) and ended up creating its doctrine 

and training its forces in isolation. Moreover, separation prevented the tank destroyer establishment from gaining acceptance 

from and developing a habitual relationship with the rest of the 

Army. When the new units arrived on the battlefields of Tunisia, 

they came as strangers.

Independence helped perpetuate a second mistake—flawed 

assumptions about the nature of armored warfare. The tank 

destroyer innovators assumed that blitzkrieg meant masses of 

tanks operating independently of the other arms. To the extent that 

this was ever true at all, it was sadly erroneous by 1942. The tank 

destroyer battalion was virtually a pure antitank force designed to 

meet and defeat a pure tank force. When it encountered instead a 

11 U.S. Forces, European Theater, General Board, “Report on Study of 

Organization, Equipment, and Tactical Employment of Tank Destroyer Units” 

[1946?], pp.10, 25, 29, Combined Arms Research Library, Fort Leavenworth, 

Kans.
TANK DESTROYER FORCE 71

sophisticated, mechanized, combined arms threat, it was at a distinct disadvantage. Closer interaction with the other combat arms 

during doctrine writing and training might have exposed some of 

these flawed assumptions.

Pooling tank destroyers at higher headquarters and attaching 

them to divisions only when needed also carried negative repercussions, for it precluded development of the habitual relationships and the combined arms training that was so essential to 

battlefield success. Fortunately, pooling was rarely practiced in 

the field, and most tank destroyer elements stayed with the same 

outfits for prolonged periods.

A final problem arose from the lapse of time between the emergence of embryonic tank destroyer concepts (1941) and the first 

contact between tank destroyers and the enemy (1943). Two years 

is not much time to field a completely new combat arm, but in 

that interval the German and Soviet armies had engaged in a furious arms race that had reshaped the nature of armored warfare. 

Americans in both the tank and antitank fields were only imperfectly aware of the magnitude of these developments, and were 

not particularly effective at forecasting trends for the near future. 

Specifically, in the course of combat on the Eastern Front the tank 

evolved from a light, mobile, blitzkrieg weapon into a massive, 

heavily gunned, and thickly armored antitank weapon. The M18 

tank destroyer would have made mincemeat of the light Panzer 

IIs and IIIs that overran France in 1940, but it operated at a serious 

disadvantage against the German tanks that had evolved solely 

to kill other tanks—the Panzer V (Panther) and Panzer VI (Tiger). 

Only one tank destroyer model could hold its own against these 

opponents—the 90-mm. M36 that appeared in the last months of 

the war.

Conceived in haste, plagued by several bad assumptions, and 

handicapped by institutional isolation, the tank destroyer program fell far short of its intended goals and thus, when viewed as 

a case study in innovation, must be judged a failure. But through 

the initiative, ingenuity, and adaptive spirit of the soldiers at the 

front, the tank destroyers nonetheless made a significant contribution to victory in World War II, even if it was not in the manner 

planned by their creators.
A soldier fires a bazooka over a hedgerow in France. The man-portable 

rocket launcher gave infantrymen a fighting chance against enemy 

tanks. (National Archives) 
7

THE BAZOOKA

Mark J. Reardon

The successful employment of German panzer divisions during the 

Polish and French campaigns of 1939–1940 triggered a massive effort 

on the part of the U.S. Army to acquire modern antiarmor weapons. 

At the behest of the Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall, 

junior members of the War Department staff met in April 1941 in 

Washington D.C. to discuss the woefully inadequate American 

antitank arsenal. The group, chaired by Maj. Anthony C. McAuliffe 

from the Office of the Chief of Logistics, evaluated a broad array of 

weapons capable of defeating enemy armored vehicles. The agenda 

included identifying a man-portable antitank weapon that could be 

procured quickly and in large numbers. The officers considered 

the feasibility of employing antitank mines, flamethrowers, smoke 

candles, armor-piercing rounds for heavy machine guns, and rifle 

grenades, and for the most part discarded them as impractical or 

ineffective. The lack of viable options was apparent when discussion drifted toward issuing infantrymen Molotov cocktails—field 

expedient weapons consisting of a gasoline-filled glass bottle with 

a rag for a fuse—to throw on enemy vehicles.

Lt. Col. Leslie A. Skinner and 2d Lt. Edward G. Uhl were destined 

to provide a solution to the dilemma facing the U.S. Army. Skinner, 

born in 1900 as the only son of an Army surgeon, became mesmerized during his childhood by rockets. He perfected his design and 

construction skills in the shop of an ordnance sergeant at Fort Strong, 

Massachusetts, where his father was stationed. The teenager’s experiments, however, were abruptly terminated in 1915, when one of his 

creations set fire to the roof of the post hospital. He earned his commission from West Point in 1924 and entered the Army Air Corps, 

where he served as a balloon and airship pilot and air observer.1

1 Leslie A. Skinner obituary, Assembly, West Point Association of Graduates 

38 (September 1979): 133.
74 A History of Innovation

Transferring to the Ordnance Department in 1931, Skinner 

was initially assigned to automotive testing at Aberdeen Proving 

Grounds, Maryland. Inspired by a technical report on a rocket 

gun successfully demonstrated by Drs. Robert H. Goddard and 

Clarence N. Hickman on 10 November 1918, Skinner began to 

devote his off-duty time to developing a rocket that could be fired 

from an aircraft. The inquisitive officer conducted nine hundred 

test flights over a two-year period as he sought to translate the 

concept into reality.2

 Eventually his talents were used to create 

a one-man Army Rocket Office. He could now conduct experiments at his place of duty, but he was still limited by a very small 

budget.

In 1938 the Army transferred Skinner to Hawaii, but he returned 

two years later at the instigation of Dr. Hickman, now a member of 

the National Defense Research Committee. Hickman arranged for 

Skinner to report to the U.S. Navy Powder Factory at Indian Head, 

Maryland, where he was to establish an Army Special Projects 

Unit and continue his rocket work. Skinner soon gained an assistant, Lieutenant Uhl, a recent graduate of Lehigh University with 

a thorough grounding in physics and engineering.3

Despite Hickman’s high interest, the Army rocket program 

remained a relatively low priority with a miniscule budget. Uhl, 

for example, would first search the Powder Factory’s scrap heap 

whenever he needed some metal.4

 The nearby Potomac River 

served as a test firing range. Skinner frequently asked his Navy 

counterparts for assistance, repaying them by working on sister service projects that included rocket-guided bombs and jetassisted takeoff.

While Skinner devoted his attention to aircraft and artillerylaunched rockets, Uhl worked on an antitank design. An Ordnance 

Department civilian, Gregory J. Kessenich, tipped off the rocket 

section to the potential of a new type of explosives technology 

perfected by Swiss engineer Henri H. Mohaupt. In late 1940 

Mohaupt had offered the U.S. Army a shaped-charge projectile. 

The hollow cone molded into the front of the explosive charge 

focused much of the blast into a hot jet that could burn a hole 

2 David G. Harris, “Leslie Skinner . . .: A Horn in Search of a Tune,” Army 23 

(December 1973): 34. 3 Interv, author with Edward G. Uhl, 10 May 2006, Historians files, U.S. Army 

Center of Military History (CMH), Washington D.C. 4 Interv, author with Edward G. Uhl, 18 May 2006, Historians files, CMH.
THE BAZOOKA 75

through armor. Unlike existing antitank rounds, which depended 

on speed and mass to create the energy to penetrate, Mohaupt’s 

shaped charge would work even when it made contact with the 

target at a relatively slow speed. Thus the warhead could be fired 

from smaller less powerful weapons, making it perfect for use by 

foot soldiers.

The Ordnance Department had acquired and tested Mohaupt’s 

30-mm. shaped-charge rifle grenade and found it capable of penetrating 2 inches of hardened steel. Work frantically began on a 

60-mm. design after the Army received a report from the British 

that the Germans were increasing the thickness of the armor plate 

on their panzers to 4 inches.5

 Standardized as the M10 grenade, 

the 60-mm. version was up to the new challenge, but it had gained 

a major flaw. The charge required to launch this heavier projectile 

a sufficient distance produced a great deal more recoil. Because 

the butt of the M1 Garand rifle had to be placed on the ground to 

gain elevation and range, the wooden stock absorbed the shock 

and often broke in the process.

In a search for something capable of launching the M10, the 

Army turned to a concept dubbed the spigot mortar. This notional 

weapon was basically a solid rod with a trigger mechanism located 

at the base. The projectile consisted of the shaped-charge grenade 

attached to a length of hollow tube that fit down over the mortar’s 

rod. Pressing the trigger activated a firing pin located at the tip 

of the rod, which in turn ignited a propellant charge in the base 

of the grenade. The expanding gasses from the burning propellant thrust the projectile off the rod, with the tube imparting initial guidance. Similar to a traditional mortar, the recoil would be 

absorbed into the ground on which the weapon rested.

The advantages of the spigot mortar were several. It was 

small, light, easy to operate, simple to manufacture, and cheap. 

While the first three factors made it attractive to an infantryman, 

all of them were important to ordnance designers given that the 

Army wanted to field large numbers of the man-portable antitank 

system in a very short period of time. The only obvious drawback to the system was its relatively short range. The Ordnance 

Department asked several private firms to each develop a working spigot mortar capable of firing the 60-mm. shaped-charge grenade. The Army planned to test the prototypes in a competitive 

shoot off at Aberdeen in early summer 1942.

5 Ibid.
76 A History of Innovation

While others sought ways to effectively employ the 60-mm. 

grenade, Uhl focused on marrying the round to a rocket that 

would get it to the target. By February 1942 he had successfully 

assembled a prototype antitank rocket by adding propellant, a 

gas trap, an igniter, and stabilizing fins to an inert M10 grenade. 

Firing tests conducted at the end of the dock that projected into 

the Potomac revealed that the new design had the desired range 

and ballistic properties. The next step was to construct a portable 

launcher. The main component came from an unexpected source. 

While rummaging through the scrap pile behind his workshop, 

Uhl came upon a 5-foot length of metal pipe that proved just wide 

enough to accept a 60-mm. round. Upon inspecting Uhl’s discovery, Skinner remarked that he had a spare rifle stock at home that 

could be fitted to the underside of the tube. He also suggested 

Uhl add a pair of grips to make it even easier to handle. The pair 

decided to use a trigger-activated electric igniter that sent a charge 

through a wire to the base of the rocket.6

 Once these features were 

added to the design, all that remained was to conduct a live-fire 

test to see if everything worked.

Uhl received the mission to fire the first rocket. Wearing a 

welder’s mask and gloves, he walked to the end of the pier. A small 

group of observers, including Skinner and Hickman, watched from 

the shore. After ensuring no watercraft were nearby, Uhl pointed 

the tube toward the middle of the river and pressed the trigger. 

When it fired, he heard only a whooshing noise and felt absolutely 

no recoil. He discovered that the rocket did not generate enough 

exhaust to justify wearing any protective equipment.

Based on this success, Uhl assembled enough inert rockets to 

conduct more extensive testing. Skinner decided that the combination of rocket and launcher should be tested at Aberdeen 

during the spigot mortar shoot off in May. On the morning of 

the scheduled test, Uhl and Skinner arrived at the range before 

anyone else. Spotting a tank in the impact area, Uhl walked over 

to talk to the driver who confirmed that his vehicle was indeed 

the target for the pending competition. The soldier also explained 

that he was to navigate a specific course, which he pointed out 

to Uhl, and that he was to do so at a speed of twenty-five miles 

per hour. Uhl paced off the distance back to the firing line. After 

scribbling some figures down on a matchbook, he concluded he 

had to aim one tank length in front of the vehicle and slightly 

6 Ibid.
THE BAZOOKA 77

above the top of the turret to obtain a hit on a moving target at 

that range.7

The crews of the spigot mortars arrived and began assembling 

their weapons. Uhl and Skinner occupied a sixth firing point about 

fifty yards to one side. A group from Army Ground Forces headquarters, headed by a lieutenant general, appeared soon afterwards. 

The officers were accompanied by Brig. Gen. Gladeon M. Barnes, 

head of the Ordnance Department Research and Development 

Section.8

 The test began with a signal from Barnes to the tank crew. 

As the vehicle moved back and forth, the spigot mortars took turns 

firing dummy rounds at the target. It quickly became apparent 

that the high trajectory of the projectiles—required for maximizing 

7 Ibid.

8 Although no records could be found that specifically identify the spigot 

mortars, General Barnes’ weekly log indicates that the “special grenade” testing 

was conducted at the “trench mortar firing point.” See Weekly Log, 5 Jun 1942 

entry, box Activities 4/1/42 thru 6/30/42, R&D Activities: Gen Barnes, Entry 

646A,Record Group (RG) 156, National Archives Records Administration–College 

Park (NARA–CP), College Park, Md.

2d Lt. Edward G. Uhl demonstrates the first bazooka prototype. 

Cobbled together from a length of discarded pipe, a wooden 

rifle stock, and homemade hand grips, it outperformed the 

spigot mortars developed by munitions manufacturers. 

(National Archives)
78 A History of Innovation

range, given the low propellant charge—made the weapon highly 

inaccurate, especially against a moving target. Each mortar missed 

when its turn came, producing audible groans from onlookers.

Just before the competition began, Uhl and Skinner had realized their rocket launcher lacked a sighting mechanism. Uhl 

extracted a wire coat hangar and pliers from the trunk of his automobile. The young lieutenant constructed a front sight, featuring 

an upright blade, and a circular rear sight, in which the firer centered the front blade. Using a telephone pole as a reference point, 

Skinner looked down the length of the empty firing tube to ensure 

it remained centered on the pole as Uhl bent two sections of a coat 

hanger around the tube. This final modification to the launcher 

was completed before the spigot mortars had finished firing.

After the fifth prototype missed, Uhl took aim at the moving 

tank and pulled the trigger. A rocket whooshed downrange to 

score a direct hit. The officers sitting on the bleachers cheered and 

threw their hats in the air. The Army Ground Forces three-star 

approached Skinner to ask if he could test fire the launcher. Uhl 

relinquished it to the general, explaining the trigger mechanism 

and sighting procedures as the senior officer prepared to fire at 

the tank. The general scored a direct hit. Barnes now took a turn 

and was also successful.9

 Others test fired the weapon with only 

one rocket missing the target.

When all the projectiles were expended, Barnes stepped forward once more to closely examine the launch tube. He casually remarked to Skinner: “This sure looks just like Bob Burns’ 

bazooka.”10 Burns was a famous radio comedian whose publicity photos often depicted him playing a cobbled-together musical 

instrument he called “The Bazooka.”11 Although the Army would 

formally designate the weapon the 2.36-inch rocket launcher M1, 

the nickname coined by Barnes would stick.

Things began moving quickly as development of the bazooka 

continued. A week later General Marshall and members of the 

Soviet and British military delegations witnessed a second demonstration held at Camp Simms in Washington D.C.12 The Soviets 

9 Uhl Interv, 18 May 2006, Historians file, CMH.

10 Ibid.

11 Ibid.

12 Anne J. Gregg, comp., Small Arms Div, Industrial Svc, Ord Dept, [24 Feb 

1948], sub: Project Supporting Paper Relating to Rocket Launchers, World War I 

thru World War II (1917–August 1945), p. 9, box R&D: Ammunition Branch—Study 

of Commercial Type Ammunition, RG 156, NARA–CP.
THE BAZOOKA 79

were so impressed that they asked Marshall to supply them with 

bazookas immediately even though the weapon was still being 

improved. Marshall issued verbal orders that 5,000 of the rocket 

launchers, along with necessary quantities of rockets and practice 

ammunition, be produced for lend-lease purposes within a month. 

The General Electric plant in Bridgeport, Connecticut, learned on 

20 May that it had to build the weapons as soon as possible. The 

company completed the initial batch of bazookas by 24 June and 

shipped them to the Soviet Union shortly afterwards.13

The Army Supply Program of 10 July 1942 set a goal of building 75,000 rocket launchers by the end of the year. With the Soviet 

consignment out of the way, Skinner and Uhl concentrated on getting the new weapon into the hands of American troops. Ordnance 

specialists made only a few changes, improving the firing mechanism, shortening the overall length by 6 inches, and placing a fixed 

sight at the end of the tube. Difficulties in obtaining steel tubing 

and production delays created by design modifications combined 

to limit bazooka production that month to 241 units. Most of these 

problems, however, were overcome within a few weeks, and more 

than 37,000 rocket launchers were produced for the U.S. Army by 

the end of October.14

The M1 rocket launcher first saw action with U.S. troops in 

November 1942 in North Africa during Operation Torch. In the 

Tunisian campaign that followed, unreliable ammunition reduced 

the effectiveness of the bazooka. Both the rocket and the launcher 

had to undergo a number of improvements to make the combination 

a more potent weapon. In late 1943, the Army introduced the M9 

version of the bazooka with a more powerful rocket—the M6A3. 

The Germans, based on their battle experience against Soviet 

tanks, were already fielding thicker and better-designed armor on 

new panzer models. To further counter shaped-charge warheads, 

they also devised additional measures that could be added to old 

and new tanks alike, including armored skirts that prematurely 

detonated incoming rockets. As a result, bazooka teams were 

forced to target less well-protected—and more difficult to hit—

areas of enemy armored vehicles, such as tracks, suspension, or 

the rear engine compartment.

13 Ibid, p. 10, box R&D: Ammunition Branch—Study of Commercial Type 

Ammunition, RG 156, NARA–CP. 14 Ibid., app. A–2, box R&D: Ammunition Branch—Study of Commercial Type 

Ammunition, RG 156, NARA–CP.
80 A History of Innovation

The Germans, who had captured copies of the early model 

bazooka in Russia, borrowed from Uhl’s and Skinner’s original 

design to produce their own 8.8-cm. rocket launcher. The German 

Panzerfaust—with a larger, more powerful warhead—had significantly greater armor penetration. The Americans, in turn, captured copies of the enemy rocket launcher and began designing a 

larger version of the M9, later designated the M20 Super Bazooka, 

in late 1944. However, the M20 did not see active service before 

World War II ended.

The reciprocal race to improve tank defenses and armor-penetrating weapons has been a feature of armored warfare since its 

inception. The bazooka was an innovative solution that filled a 

critical niche in antitank capability, but its inventors and the U.S. 

Army failed to foresee how rapidly the enemy would adapt to 

threats on the battlefield. Thus the original bazooka and subsequent improvements during the war did not keep pace with 

Uhl holds an improved bazooka model, which was in mass 

production barely six weeks after the prototype demonstration. 

Its simplicity translated into rapid availability for troops in the 

field. (National Archives)
THE BAZOOKA 81

German efforts to upgrade their panzers. Nevertheless, a number of soldiers and marines remained favorably impressed with 

Uhl’s and Skinner’s creation. It was not a foolproof tank killer, 

but it was the only individual weapon that gave an infantryman 

a fighting chance against enemy armor. Capt. Murray S. Pulver, 

who destroyed three panzers in Normandy, later remarked, “I 

always swore by the bazooka and it never let me down.”15 Fifteen 

American soldiers and one marine received Medals of Honor in 

World War II for their courage in using a bazooka against the 

enemy.16

15 Interv, author with Murray S. Pulver, 12 Feb 1993, Historians files, CMH.

16 Medal of Honor citations, Historians files, CMH.
Tracked landing vehicles (LVT) in the foreground, filled with assault 

troops, are preceded during a South Pacific invasion by large landing 

craft configured as gunboats and a line of barely visible LVT(A)4 

vehicles mounting 75-mm. howitzers. The latter hit the beach 

first with their heavier firepower to pave the way for the infantry. 

(National Archives)
8

UPGUNNING THE AMPHIBIAN TANK

Mark J. Reardon

The invasion of Tarawa Atoll in the Central Pacific on 20 November 

1943 resulted in a savage 76-hour engagement. It marked the first 

division-size opposed amphibious assault by U.S. forces in the 

Pacific, as well as the debut of the amphibian tractor in the role 

of assault vehicle. Ringed by coral reefs that conventional landing craft could not traverse at low tide, Tarawa presented the 

Americans with a special challenge from the outset. As a result, 

Marine planners boldly decided to use amphibian tractors, 

designed and built for logistical duties, to transport the first wave 

of troops to the beach.

While the amphibians succeeded in crossing the coral reefs, 

they had minimal armor protection and mounted only machine 

guns. Courage proved an expensive substitute for adequate armor 

and firepower. At least one amphibian tractor crew died when they 

attempted to drive up to a Japanese coast defense gun emplacement with the intention of using grenades to destroy it. Over the 

course of the battle, enemy fire knocked out 90 of the 2d Marine 

Division’s 125 amphibians.1

Despite these high losses, employment of the amphibians reduced the human toll among the early assault echelons. 

Follow-on waves, carried aboard conventional landing craft, had 

to disembark at the reef line hundreds of yards from the beach and 

wade slowly ashore under heavy fire. One unit, the 1st Battalion, 

8th Marines, suffered 230 killed and wounded among its 850 officers and men.2

The marines at Tarawa were also dependent on fire support 

from Navy destroyers offshore. While the latter performed admirably in most cases, the proximity of friendly troops sometimes 

1 Joseph H. Alexander, Utmost Savagery: The Three Days of Tarawa (Annapolis, 

Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1995), p. 232. 2 Ibid., p. 164.
84 A History of Innovation

prevented the ships from engaging targets. Responsiveness also 

suffered because of troubles in ship-to-shore communications. 

While the few medium tanks available to the marines proved 

useful, several hours elapsed before the armored vehicles made 

it ashore. If the Americans wished to avoid heavy casualties at 

the waterline during future landings, they would have to employ 

more heavily armed and armored amphibians to suppress enemy 

defenses before the first troop carriers touched down.

The amphibians that fought at Tarawa originated from a rescue vehicle designed by Donald Roebling following a disastrous 

Florida hurricane in 1928. Featured in the October 1937 issue of 

Life magazine, the prototype amphibian came to the attention of 

Marine Corps Commandant Maj. Gen. Thomas A. Holcomb. The 

marines contacted Roebling, who agreed to provide them with a 

test model for acceptance trials. After years of experimentation, 

the Navy Bureau of Ships awarded a contract for 200 vehicles in 

February 1941, with the first amphibian tractor—or amtrac as it 

was more popularly known—rolling off the production line in 

late August.

Holcomb had asked the Bureau of Ships as early as 27 June 

1941 to examine the feasibility of fielding a variant of Roebling’s 

amphibian tractor equipped with a.50-caliber machine gun or a 

37-mm. cannon, three .30-caliber machine guns, and sufficient 

armor to resist .30-caliber bullets, citing as the rationale for his 

proposal that “it would be useful for supporting infantry in the 

early hours of a landing.”3

 Given the added capability, he specified 

that a design weighing up to 40,000 pounds would be acceptable.

On 9 August 1941 the Navy turned the request over to Roebling, 

who had recently formed a manufacturing partnership with the 

Food Machinery Corporation.4

 He felt that a 20-ton amphibian 

would not be very seaworthy and responded with a counterproposal for a 10-ton design armed with a .50- caliber and two .30-caliber machine guns.5

 Balking at the inventor’s crude arrangement 

of the main armament, the marines suggested he go back to the 

3 Victor J. Croizant, Across the Reef: The Amphibious Tractor Vehicle at War

(London: Arms and Armour Press, 1989), p. 63. 4 By 1941 Food Machinery Corporation had established East and West 

Coast production sites respectively located in Lakeland, Florida, and Riverside, 

California. 5 Richard W. Roan, Roebling’s Amphibian: The Origin of the Assault Amphibian

(Quantico, Va.: U.S. Marine Corps Development and Education Command, 1987), 

p. 35.
UPGUNNING THE AMPHIBIAN TANK 85

drawing board. In January 1942 Roebling offered up a second prototype using the turret of the Marmon Harrington ultralight tank, 

but he quickly scrapped it once he discovered that these vehicles 

were no longer being built. He then turned to a design featuring 

the turret of the T9E1 (later standardized as the M22) Locust airborne tank, which carried a 37-mm. gun. However, with the Locust 

scheduled for only limited production, he finally decided to graft 

a turret from the M5 Stuart light tank onto a standard amphibian 

tractor. The marines accepted this version.

Responding to a Joint Chiefs of Staff planning directive dated 

10 June 1943, the Army also began organizing amphibian tractor 

units.6

 Even before the lessons of Tarawa were disseminated, the 

Army decided to procure armed and troop-carrying versions in 

approximately equal numbers. The lengthy search for a suitable 

turret, combined with a decision by the Navy to concentrate on 

producing only cargo/troop-carrying versions, delayed the combat debut of armed amphibians. Although vehicles with M5 turrets, designated as the LVT(A)1, finally began rolling off assembly 

lines in mid-1943, Marine and Army units did not receive any 

prior to Tarawa.

The first Army amphibian units were created using separate tank and armored infantry battalions already in existence. 

The 18th Armored Group, made up of the 2d Armored Group’s 

Headquarters and Headquarters Company, the 708th and 773d 

Amphibian Tank Battalions, and the 534th and 715th Amphibian 

Tractor Battalions, formed at Fort Ord, California, on 27 October 

1943. Fortunately for the pioneering Army amphibians, their commander was Col. William S. Triplet, an officer with a background 

well suited to commanding first-of-a-kind organizations.7

An enlisted combat veteran of World War I, Triplet graduated 

from West Point in 1924. He received a commission in the Infantry, 

6 In May 1943 the Joint Chiefs of Staff ordered the I Marine Amphibious Corps 

to conduct “an exhaustive test of a loaded LVT crossing coral reef[s] under heavy 

surf conditions.” One month later the Pacific War Plans Section, Joint Planning 

Staff, issued Joint Planning Directive no. 205, 10 June 1943, citing “tests in the 

South Pacific in which amtracs ‘negotiated fringing reefs in all conditions up to a 

10-foot surf.’” See Alexander, Utmost Savagery, pp. 84–85. 7 The 773d was later reorganized as an amphibian tractor battalion. See GO 

no. 13, Headquarters, XVIII Corps, Presidio of Monterey, 27 Oct 1943, and GO 

no. 25, Headquarters, Fourth Army, Presidio of Monterey, 26 Nov 1943, box 

AR [Armored] GP 18-0.1 to ARGP 18-1.13, Entry 427, Record Group (RG) 407, 

Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 1917–, National Archives and Records 

Group–College Park (NARA–CP), College Park, Md.
86 A History of Innovation

but spent much of his career working with armored vehicles. His 

tours included attendance at the Tank School (1929–1930), command of a company in the 2d Tank Regiment (1930–1932), and 

duty as a maintenance and test officer with Company F, 67th 

Infantry (Tanks), where he was in charge of 13 experimental vehicles (1934–1936).8

 Beginning in 1940, then Major Triplet served as 

a member of the Infantry Board and was involved in the development of the Jeep, the Chrysler amphibious half-ton truck, and 

formal evaluation of the British Bren Gun carrier.

Triplet was not afraid to explore emerging and unconventional 

ideas. During the late 1930s he authored (under a pseudonym) 

a series of popular articles in the Infantry Journal that chronicled 

the experiences of two American soldiers in a future war between 

the United States and the barely fictional enemy known as Munga 

8 William S. Triplet, A Colonel in the Armored Divisions: A Memoir, 1941–1945, 

ed. by Robert H. Ferrell (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2001), p. 17.

Col. William S. Triplet, wearing a helmet, commanded the 

Army’s first amphibian unit—the 18th Armored Group. His idea 

to replace the 37-mm. gun and turret on the LVT(A)1 with 

the M8 assault gun and turret resulted in a much-improved 

weapon that could be fielded rapidly. (National Archives)
UPGUNNING THE AMPHIBIAN TANK 87

(Military Union of Germany and Asia). In these articles Triplet 

discussed the latest trends in doctrine and equipment by linking 

new military developments with the dramatic exploits of his two 

main protagonists—Sgts. Terry Bull (Infantry) and Horatio Bull 

(Tanker).9

While Marine counterparts fought at Tarawa, the Army’s first 

amphibian tankers immersed themselves in the details involved 

in creating a new type of unit from scratch. Triplet recalled of this 

period: “My waking, dozing, and sleeping hours were taken up 

with mental arithmetic, theories of organization, training problems, and tactical uses of amphibians in combat.”10

In early January 1944 the 18th Armored Group’s subordinate 

battalions departed for Hawaii, while the headquarters remained 

behind at Fort Ord. Later that month the training cycle began anew 

with the arrival of the 776th Amphibian Tank Battalion and the 

727th, 728th, and 536th Amphibian Tractor Battalions.11 With reports 

from Tarawa available, Triplet was soon convinced that the 37-mm. 

gun of the LVT(A)1 would prove inadequate against Japanese bunkers and modern antitank guns. He prophesied, “My boys would 

be playing David versus Goliath . . . accurately throwing their shot 

and shell which had the explosive power of a hand grenade, until a 

75-mm. shell with eight times the power tore their turret off.”12

Triplet sent a memorandum to Army Ground Forces headquarters in Washington D.C., theorizing that if the 37-mm. Stuart turret 

had proven to be a successful mate to the earlier version of the LVT, 

then the open-topped 75-mm. howitzer turret of the M8 assault gun 

would work just as well. An upgunned amphibian, he argued, would 

not only complement “the supporting fire of destroyers, cruisers and 

battleships . . . [but also, once] the land tanks would be available to 

take over their normal role of infantry support, the amphibian tanks 

would [switch to providing] supporting artillery fire, using the howitzers for high-angle fire for which they were designed.”13 He concluded with a request that an “M-8 turret and howitzer be installed 

on an LVT(A)1 and turned over to me for a test of seaworthiness.”14

9 Idem [Terry Bull, pseud.], Sergeant Terry Bull: His Ideas on War and Fighting in 

General, Fighting Forces Series (Washington, D.C.: Infantry Journal Press, 1944). 10 Idem, Colonel in Armored Divisions, p. 48. 11 Shelby L. Stanton, World War II Order of Battle (New York: Galahad Books, 

1991), pp. 294–95. 12 Triplet, Colonel in Armored Divisions, p. 78. 13 Ibid., p. 79.

14 Ibid.
88 A History of Innovation

Triplet received a reply directing him to fasten 3,000 additional 

pounds—the weight difference of the heavier 75-mm. howitzer—

onto an LVT(A)1; to test it in the water; and to report the results 

without delay. As it turned out, the heavier vehicle operated better 

at sea than its lighter counterpart. Triplet also received authorization to visit the Food Machinery Corporation facility at Riverside, 

California, to arrange for the production of a working prototype.

Three weeks later, an amtrac boasting a 75-mm. howitzer 

mounted in an M8 turret arrived at Triplet’s headquarters. 

Borrowing a gunner and driver from the 776th, Triplet took the 

vehicle out to the group’s offshore firing range. He chose not to 

bring a loader along because “three of us trying to fight clear in 

case of a [vehicle] capsize would be more than enough.”15 Once 

the amphibian was well out to sea, Triplet told the driver to turn 

off the engine and let the craft drift. He then directed the gunner 

to load the howitzer with a shell and full charge. After elevating 

the tube 10 degrees over the centerline of the hull, the first round 

went downrange. Although the muzzle blast was extremely loud, 

the discharge of the heavier weapon had minimal effect on the 

amphibian. It was now time to traverse the turret over the left side 

of the vehicle and fire another full-charge shell.

The colonel rehearsed procedures for abandoning the amphibian before instructing his gunner to “put another shell where 

you landed the last one.”16 The blast caused the vehicle to roll 15 

degrees to the starboard (right) side before settling back down. 

Cranking the howitzer 180 degrees to the opposite direction, 

Triplet gave the command to fire just as a swell struck broadside 

against the amphibian. The combined action of the recoil and the 

wave resulted in a 25-degree roll, but the vehicle quickly settled 

back down.

In his report to Army Ground Forces, Triplet recommended 

that two-thirds of the 37-mm. vehicles in each amphibian tank company be replaced by 75-mm. variants.17 Word of the firing tests also 

reached the U.S. Navy, prompting a visit from the Bureau of Ships. 

The naval officers were sufficiently impressed by an impromptu 

demonstration to order 75-mm. amphibians for the U.S. Marines.

15 Ibid., p. 83.

16 Ibid., p. 84.

17 Amphibian tank companies now consisted of eleven 75-mm. howitzer and 

seven 37-mm. variants rather than eighteen of the latter. See Rpt, Co D, 776th 

Amphibian Tank Bn, n.d., sub: Opn Stalemate II (Anguar Island, Pelaus), box 

AR [Armor] BN-776-Co(D)-0.3, Entry 427, RG 407, NARA–CP.
UPGUNNING THE AMPHIBIAN TANK 89

The first 75-mm. LVT(A)4 amphibians arrived in the Pacific just 

prior to the Marshall Islands campaign of March–April 1944. The 

708th Amphibian Tank Battalion received 16, and the Marine 2d 

Armored Amphibian Battalion was almost entirely re-equipped. 

While the heavier firepower was certainly welcome, it seemed to 

the marines as if the new vehicle had been fielded with little thought 

given to the personal nature of island combat. Japanese foot soldiers, lacking advanced antiarmor weapons, such as the bazooka, 

frequently assaulted armored vehicles from different directions 

using magnetic mines or satchel charges. Multiple machine guns 

on every frontline armored vehicle had proven to be the only sure 

antidote to these close-range tactics. Amphibian tankers modified 

their new vehicles by replacing the .50-caliber machine gun on the 

open turret of howitzer-equipped models with two pintle-mounted 

Soldiers rest in front of an LVT(A)4 during a lull in the fighting 

on Saipan in 1944. To provide additional protection against 

Japanese infantry, U.S. units modified these vehicles in the 

field with a ball-mounted machine gun visible just below the 

turret. (National Archives)
90 A History of Innovation

.30-caliber machine guns fitted with gun shields. They also added 

a locally fabricated ball-mounted machine gun to the front hull of 

each amtrac using tank bow gun components.18

The experiences of Capt. John A. Dean’s Company A, 776th 

Amphibian Tank Battalion, in early December 1944 during the 

campaign to liberate the Philippines demonstrate the versatility 

and usefulness of upgunned amphibians. After being launched 

from a tank landing ship in Ormoc Bay, the armed amtrac company escorted troop-carrying amphibians to the beach without 

loss. Once ashore, one armed amtrac platoon provided on-call 

artillery support to the 305th Infantry while the other two platoons 

augmented the fires of the 902d Field Artillery Battalion.

On 9 December Company A, less one platoon that remained 

with the artillery, was ordered to clear a narrow strip of land 

between the coast road and beach in support of the 305th Infantry’s 

advance. Dean formed his 3d Platoon into a tight wedge to spearhead the assault. Slowly grinding forward, the amtracs flattened 

every tree, stand of bamboo, and clump of shrubbery in their path. 

Despite enemy artillery fire, they moved to their objective just outside the town, outflanking and destroying several Japanese positions in the process.19 The following morning Company A entered 

Ormoc ahead of its supporting infantry. The howitzer-equipped 

vehicles roamed the streets, firing smoke and high-explosive 

shells into any building suspected of harboring Japanese troops. 

Foot soldiers mopped up in their wake.

The next day the amtrac company relocated to the village of 

Lanao, where it went under control of the 77th Infantry Division’s 

artillery and prepared for indirect fire. At 0100 on 12 December 

a Japanese landing ship beached nearby in an attempt to land 

reinforcements. Two platoons of amtracs immediately opened 

fire, setting the vessel ablaze and killing every enemy soldier who 

attempted to disembark.20 The company remained in defensive 

positions near Ormoc until called upon to support another land18 Rpt, 1st Information and Historical Service, n.d. sub: Army Amphibian 

and Tractor Training in the Pacific, 708th Amphibian Tank Bn; 534th, 715th, and 

773d Amphibian Tractor Bns, Oct 43 to Dec 44, pp. 7–8, box ARBN-708-0.1 to 

ARBN-708-1.13, Entry 427, RG 407, NARA–CP. 19 Unit History, 776th Amphibian Tank Bn, 1944, pp. 57–58, copy in U.S. Army 

Center of Military History (CMH), Washington D.C. 20 Vincent P. O’Hara, The U.S. Navy Against the Axis: Surface Combat, 1941–1945 

(Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 2007), pp. 286–87. The destroyer USS

Coghlan also engaged the Japanese vessel.
UPGUNNING THE AMPHIBIAN TANK 91

ing on 24 December.21 Amphibian tank units conducted similar 

missions time and again throughout the Pacific theater.

Triplet’s brainchild, enhanced by field modifications, performed exceptionally well in combat, regardless of whether the 

vehicles were operated by marines or soldiers. From the moment 

they were first employed in the Marshall Islands, amphibian tanks 

mounting the 75-mm. howitzer played a useful role in the Pacific 

War. Without them, the island hopping campaigns that ultimately 

led to victory would have taken longer and cost more.

Triplet’s contribution touched several levels of the innovation 

process. He looked ahead to see a shortcoming even before the 

existing equipment saw its first test in combat. Having postulated 

the requirement for a heavier gunned amtrac, he did not merely 

suggest that the Ordnance Corps develop one but came up with 

his own solution and convincingly argued his case. Equally important, his idea could be implemented quickly by melding existing 

items rather than going through the long process of designing and 

building a new vehicle from scratch. Finally, in his position with 

a training command, he was able to test the idea and prove that it 

worked. The Ordnance Corps generally moved slowly to upgrade 

weapons, preferring to gather and evaluate battlefield experience 

before making changes to equipment designs, production contracts, and logistical arrangements. In this case, the simplicity and 

effectiveness of Triplet’s solution overcame the normal tendency 

of the bureaucracy and placed a good weapon in the hands of soldiers in a timely manner.

21 Rpt, 776th Amphibian Tank Bn, n.d., sub: Opn King II (Leyte Island), 20 

Oct 44–20 Feb 45, box ARBN-776-0.3, RG 407, NARA–CP.
Tanks maneuver through hedgerow country in Normandy. Until 

American forces developed effective tactics and equipment, this 

terrain confined armored movement to narrow roads that German 

troops could easily defend. (National Archives)
9

CONQUERING THE HEDGEROWS

Mark J. Reardon

In the wake of the D-Day assault on Normandy in June 1944, 

American forces encountered a unique type of terrain that significantly degraded their ability to maneuver. The First Army had been 

aware of this obstacle for months, but had focused its planning 

and preparation on the amphibious landing and initial lodgment, 

not subsequent operations farther inland. As a result, in the midst 

of combat, American units had to devise new tactics, techniques, 

and procedures to allow them to overcome both the ground and 

the enemy. Known locally as the bocage, but commonly referred 

to by Americans as hedgerow country, this terrain consisted of a 

patchwork quilt of centuries-old interconnected hedges built up 

by farmers to mark the boundaries of their property, to keep in 

herds, and to reduce topsoil erosion by offshore winds. A typical 

hedgerow was three- to fifteen-feet high and consisted of earth 

berms crowned by a dense weave of vines, trees, and bushes. This 

labyrinth of narrow country lanes and natural fences extended 

across the width of the entire American zone of operations and 

inland to a depth of approximately thirty miles.

The hedgerows not only impeded tactical maneuver by 

American forces but also assisted the Germans, who could easily 

turn every pasture into a formidable fortified position. The luxuriant undergrowth also screened enemy troops from easy detection 

by American reconnaissance units and artillery observers. Even 

when U.S. soldiers could see their opponents, they experienced 

great difficulty identifying their own position in the confusing 

maze, let alone pinpointing where their targets were located. The 

result was a slogging yard-by-yard advance and heavy casualties.

When First Army commander Lt. Gen. Omar N. Bradley 

received initial reports of the difficulties encountered by his units, 

he gruffly commented: “Isn’t this the damnedest country you ever 

saw? [Maj. Gen. J. Lawton] Collins says it is as bad as some of 

the stuff he hit on Guadal[canal]. Heavy underbrush with thick 
94 A History of Innovation

hedges. The German [takes] position under the hedges and it is 

necessary to root him out when he persists in sticking as he frequently does.”1

 Rumors about the difficulties of hedgerow combat 

became so pervasive that Bradley soon asked his deputy commander, Lt. Gen. Courtney H. Hodges, to address the leaders of 

newly arrived units.2

 The army commander felt that a senior officer’s frank discussion of the problem was the best way to educate 

new arrivals and to instill in them confidence in their abilities to 

overcome a tenacious enemy taking full advantage of the terrain.

Throughout the First Army, leaders at all echelons searched for 

ways to conquer the hedgerows. Rather than dictate a one-size-fitsall solution, Bradley left it to subordinate commanders to determine the best way to overcome the challenge. In turn, they settled 

upon a range of responses that included new tactics, improved 

combined arms cooperation, technological changes, modified 

equipment tables, or a combination of these approaches.

Maj. Henry G. Spencer, commanding the 1st Battalion, 23d 

Infantry, followed the path of organizational improvisation. A former enlisted marine and graduate of the Reserve Officer Training 

Corps at Louisiana State University, he had served with the 23d 

Infantry since being called to active duty. In the wake of a bloody 

engagement on 8 June against German paratroopers, Spencer 

called together his surviving officers to discuss what had taken 

place. One of their chief complaints centered on the relatively low 

number of automatic weapons in the infantry platoon. Whenever 

an American fired his M1 rifle, enemy paratroopers replied with a 

withering barrage from automatic weapons. In open terrain U.S. 

soldiers would have had a distinct advantage with their longerranged rifles, but the hedgerows frequently permitted German 

paratroopers armed with short-range automatic weapons to 

approach within yards of an American position without being 

detected.

After pondering the situation, Spencer asked the regiment’s 

logistics officer, Maj. William R. Hinsch, to procure Thompson 

.45-caliber submachine guns from antiaircraft units protecting 

Omaha beach. By the morning of 17 June the battalion’s soldiers 

had eighty-seven additional automatic weapons. Spencer observed 

1 Diary, Chester B. Hansen, 19 Jun 1944, Chester B. Hansen Papers, U.S. Army 

Military History Institute (MHI), Carlisle Barracks, Pa. 2 Diary, William C. Sylvan, 17 Jul 1944, William Sylvan Papers, MHI. Major 

Sylvan was the senior aide-de-camp for General Hodges.
CONQUERING THE HEDGEROWS 95

that “no longer would our scouts have to go out with M1s or carbines to protect themselves . . . with these additional automatic 

weapons; we would [now] give even the German parachutists a 

run for their money.”3

The 134th Infantry of the 35th Infantry Division was more 

fortunate than most American units in Normandy because it had 

a brief interval to prepare for hedgerow fighting before entering 

combat. The regimental commander, Col. Butler B. Miltonberger, 

was an experienced Nebraska National Guardsman. Enlisting in 

1916, he saw action during World War I in the Meuse-Argonne 

campaign and returned to the United States as a first sergeant. 

He steadily rose in rank to assume command of the 134th in 1940. 

In addition to directing each of his battalions to experiment with 

the best way to attack a hedgerow, Miltonberger dispatched a 

number of officers to observe the attacks on 11 July by the 134th’s 

sister regiments. The next day parties from both the regimental 

headquarters and each rifle battalion visited elements of the combat-experienced 29th and 30th Infantry Divisions to glean all the 

knowledge they could.

Capt. Donald C. Rubottom, commanding Company D, 1st 

Battalion, 134th Infantry, noted: “In the assembly area every 

thought was directed toward the problems which might be 

encountered in the fighting that lay ahead. Much had been heard 

about the difficulties of fighting in the maze of hedgerows.”4

 For 

two days his battalion used the similar terrain around its assembly area to invent and refine special tactics. During the maneuvers 

Rubottom observed that his heavy machine gunners were totally 

exposed to return fire when they emplaced their tripod-mounted 

weapons on top of a hedgerow. He approached the battalion’s 

logistics officer, 1st Lt. Robert L. Gordon, who quickly arrived at a 

solution. Armorers attached bipods taken from captured weapons 

to the water jackets of the heavy M1917 machine guns and the barrels of the lighter M1919 models. With the flexibility to use either 

mount, gunners were able to fire from behind cover and provide 

more responsive support.5

3 Henry G. Spencer, Nineteen Days in June 1944 (Kansas City, Mo.: Lowell 

Press, 1984), p. 179. 4 Donald C. Rubottom, “The Operations of the 1st Battalion, 134th Infantry, 

in the Attack on Hill 122, North of St. Lô, France, 15–17 July 1944” (Fort Benning, 

Ga.: Advanced Infantry Officers Course No. 2, 1949–1950), p. 10, copy in Historians 

files, U.S. Army Center of Military History (CMH), Washington D.C. 5 Ibid, p. 11, Historians files, CMH.
96 A History of Innovation

In the 29th Division Maj. Gen. Charles H. Gerhardt had been 

learning on the job about hedgerow combat ever since splashing 

ashore late in the evening on 6 June 1944. A graduate of the West 

Point class of 1917, Gerhardt had served in France during World 

War I and now commanded the division. After several costly 

setbacks, Gerhardt instructed his assistant division commander, 

Brig. Gen. Norman D. Cota, to develop better tactics. Also a 1917 

graduate of West Point, the 51-year-old Cota was well liked, quiet, 

experienced, and thoughtful. He first saw combat in World War II 

during the invasion of North Africa as the 1st Infantry Division’s 

chief of staff. A natural leader who had closely supervised smallunit training prior to the invasion, Cota already had received a 

Distinguished Service Cross for his actions on Omaha beach during the D-Day landings.

After some initial experimentation, Cota determined that units 

should be broken down into small, specialized, combined arms 

teams consisting of an engineer squad, one tank, and a squad of 

infantry reinforced by a light mortar and a machine gun. The tank 

initiated the assault from behind its own hedgerow, firing white 

phosphorous rounds to destroy machine-gun positions located 

in the enemy-held hedgerow. Once this process was completed, 

the tank began suppressing other positions along the front line 

while the 60-mm. mortar saturated the area behind the German 

position with high explosives. Under the cover of this supporting 

fire, infantrymen moved forward to within ten to fifteen yards of 

their objective and began tossing grenades. This was the signal 

for the tank to reverse out of position to allow the engineers to 

place explosive charges at the base of the friendly hedgerow. As 

soon as the charges detonated, the tank passed through the gap 

and moved on line with the infantry for the final assault against 

the enemy position. Given the emphasis on cross-attaching at the 

squad level, Cota’s tactics were a significant departure from existing doctrine.6

Armored units initially were equally stymied by the bocage. 

Antitank guns and mines could easily dominate the narrow roads. 

If the tanks tried to move cross-country, they could force their way 

over some hedgerows but ran a significant risk when doing so 

because their lightly armored bellies would be exposed as they 

climbed over the berms. Even when tank crews were prepared to 

6 Michael D. Doubler, Closing with the Enemy: How GIs fought the War in Europe, 

1944–1945 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1994), pp. 54–56.
CONQUERING THE HEDGEROWS 97

accept that risk, they discovered some hedges were so entangled 

with foliage and small trees that entire platoons of vehicles were 

immobilized while trying to bull their way through.

Surmounting the physical obstacle presented by the hedgerows rapidly became the top priority for American armored units. 

Sherman tanks mounting bulldozer blades proved to be a satisfactory answer, but they were such a recent development that only 

a few armored units were fortunate enough to possess any. The 

747th Tank Battalion, which lacked any dozer-equipped tanks, 

developed another means to break through the barriers. Crews 

welded two pipes, each a few feet long and several inches in 

diameter, so they stuck out horizontally from the lower front of 

the vehicle. A tank drove the prongs into the hedgerow and then 

pulled back while engineers stuffed explosive charges into the 

holes. The resulting blast created a gap large enough for the tank 

to pass through.7

 The battalion soon discovered some drawbacks 

to this method, as the explosion alerted the defenders to the location of the attack, and it proved to be a slow process when trying 

to maneuver a large force of tanks through the never-ending succession of berms.

On 9 July 1944 V Corps commander Maj. Gen. Leonard 

T. Gerow asked Maj. Arthur C. Person of the 102d Cavalry 

Reconnaissance Squadron for ideas. In turn, the squadron’s light 

tank company commander, Capt. James G. Depew, convened 

a meeting of his officers and sergeants to brainstorm possible 

solutions. One section leader, Sgt. Curtis G. Culin III, suggested 

that if metal teeth were mounted on the light tanks, the vehicles 

would be able to chew their way through the hedgerows. Depew 

took Culin to the squadron maintenance officer, Capt. Stephen 

M. Litton, to discuss the concept in greater detail. Convinced 

their idea had merit, Litton dispatched a team to Omaha beach 

to salvage German anti-invasion obstacles. Returning with a 

load of scrap angle iron, three of Litton’s mechanics—T/5 John 

Jessen, T/5 Ernest Hardcastle, and T/4 Wesley A. Hewitt—

worked into the night cutting and welding.8

 Two days later 

Depew informed his squadron executive officer, Maj. George S. 

7 AAR, 747th Tank Bn, Jul 1944, box AR [Armor] BN-747-0.1 to ARBN-747-0.3, 

Entry 427, Record Group (RG) 407, Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 

1917–, National Archives and Records Administration–College Park (NARA–CP), 

College Park, Md. 8 Combat History, 10 Jun 1944 to 8 May 1945, 102d Cav Recon Sqdn, Mech, 

p. 3, box AV-102-0.1, Entry 427, RG 407, NARA–CP.
98 A History of Innovation

Saunders, that he had a working prototype.9

The cavalrymen tried the 

device and the prongs fulfilled 

their promise, slicing into the 

lower portion of the berm and 

loosening the packed dirt so that 

the tank could push through. At 

least one other unit was pursuing a similar solution. Company 

H, 66th Armor, 2d Armored 

Division, installed rudimentary 

cutters on two tanks in each platoon in late June.10 Subsequent 

testing of Culin’s version 

showed that Sherman tanks 

so equipped could now easily 

smash through all obstacles in 

the bocage, while the smaller M5 

Stuart light tanks were able to 

break a hole in most but not all 

hedgerows. As Culin remarked 

in a postwar interview, “You’ll 

just have to call it a field expediency. . . . The Germans had 

constructed road blocks of halfinch angle iron and it seemed 

to me something could be done 

about using the stuff to prod 

into the hedgerows. We tried 

using them in various ways. 

Finally, we took four pieces, each about three feet long, had them 

welded to a plate and bolted the contrivance to the front shackles 

of a tank.”11

Culin’s invention quickly attracted the attention of General 

Bradley, who attended a demonstration in mid-July. Recognizing 

9 W. L. White, “Sergeant Culin Licks the Hedgerows,” Readers Digest, February 

1950, p. 83. 10 Gordon A. Blaker, Iron Knights: The United States 66th Armored Regiment

(Shippensburg, Pa.: Burd Street Press, 1999), p. 228. 11 St. Louis Post Dispatch, 2 Jul 1945.

Sgt. Curtis G. Culin III 

d e v e l o p e d o n e f i e l d 

expedient solution to the 

hedgerow problem. His 

idea of creating teethlike 

cutters using steel salvaged 

f r om G e rm a n b e a c h 

obstacles proved effective 

in permitting tanks to break 

through the earthen berms. 

(National Archives)
CONQUERING THE HEDGEROWS 99

the potentially significant tactical benefits offered by the contrivance, Bradley ordered the First Army’s Ordnance Section to 

assemble as many of the devices as possible.12 Using metal taken 

from German beach obstacles, soldiers constructed more than 

500 devices in eleven days, with priority going to armored units 

slated for the VII Corps assault codenamed Operation Cobra. The 

2d Armored Division asked for and received over 250 hedgerow 

cutters; the 3d Armored Division obtained only 57 modified versions, known as Douglas Cutters; and the separate armored battalions supporting the 1st, 4th, and 30th Infantry Divisions got the 

remainder, which proved sufficient to equip virtually every tank 

in those units.

The 2d Armored Division, the more experienced of the two 

armored divisions designated to take part in the Cobra offensive, did not confine its preparations to acquiring hedgerow cutters. Between 19 and 25 July its Combat Command A conducted 

a series of exercises aimed at improving tank-infantry cooperation with the attached 22d Infantry. The foot soldiers spent several 

days learning how to execute the new tactics with the modified 

medium tanks.13

Culin, who survived Normandy but lost his left leg to a land 

mine in Germany in November 1944, eventually received a Legion 

of Merit for his invention. After the war, General of the Army 

Dwight D. Eisenhower said Culin’s forklike device “saved 10,000 

American lives.“14 In fact, the cutters did not always work out as 

envisioned, in part because the situation changed. The steel prongs 

protruding several feet in front of the tank actually impeded 

vehicular movement in terrain heavily cratered by pre-Cobra saturation bombing. Fortunately, the aerial bombardment had also 

severely disorganized the German panzer division sitting astride 

the planned VII Corps axis of advance, permitting the Americans 

in many cases to advance quickly, sometimes by lightly defended 

roads, rather than fight their way through the hedgerows one field 

at a time. But a V Corps supporting attack conducted by the 2d 

Infantry Division on 26 July demonstrated that the Culin device 

worked as anticipated. The division’s 9th Infantry, aided by tanks 

12 J. Lawton Collins, Lightning Joe: An Autobiography (Novato, Calif.: Presidio 

Press, 1994), p. 236. 13 George F. Wilson, If You Survive: From Normandy to the Battle of the Bulge to 

the End of World War II—One American Officer’s Riveting True Story (New York: Ivy 

Books, 1987), pp. 13–14. 14 St. Louis Post Dispatch, 2 Jul 1945.
100 A History of Innovation

fitted with hedgerow cutters, advanced almost five miles against 

obstinate resistance over a two-day period.15

The ad hoc process by which American units arrived at solutions to the challenges presented by the hedgerows reveals both 

strengths and weaknesses. With VII Corps perhaps the sole exception, systematic dissemination of newly developed tactics and 

technology lagged significantly or did not occur at all. Success 

depended largely upon the initiative and competence of individuals at all levels of command. If a unit’s leadership failed to find 

an effective alternative, it suffered heavy losses with little or no 

gain. The 749th Tank Battalion, operating in support of the 79th 

Infantry Division, reported in late July that it continued to receive 

15Combat History of the Second Infantry Division in World War II, n.d., pp. 36–37, 

copy in CMH.

A Sherman tank plows through a hedgerow. The cutters are 

visible underneath the dirt heaped on them at the front of the 

tank. (National Archives)
CONQUERING THE HEDGEROWS 101

“extremely poor cooperation by supporting infantry.”16 That contrasts sharply with the sophisticated combined arms tactics developed by the 2d Armored Division and 29th Infantry Division.

One benefit to the diffuse improvisation effort was the wide 

range of minds working on the issue and developing a menu of 

solutions. Ultimately, the mix of hedgerow-busting tactics, technology, and teamwork adopted by individual units allowed the 

First Army to conduct sustained offensive operations prior to 

launching a decisive breakout attempt in late July. But the failure of higher headquarters to proactively examine the problems 

of fighting in the bocage meant that junior officers and soldiers 

had to learn the hard way in the midst of battle and suffer heavy 

losses in men and material in the process. Had they not exhibited 

tremendous ingenuity and personal initiative during this period, 

the American experience in Normandy might have turned out far 

differently.

16 AAR, Co A, 749th Tank Bn, Jul 1944, box ARBN-749-0.1 to ARBN-749-3.2, 

Entry 427, RG 407, NARA–CP.
Soldiers of the 7th Infantry Division in their forward trench line. A 

combination of manpower problems and the static nature of the 

Korean War beginning in mid-1951 made it difficult for the Army 

to develop infantrymen skilled in patrolling. (National Archives)
10

SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS

William M. Donnelly

The U.S. Army has a long history of creating ad hoc elite formations, usually when commanders faced difficult situations that 

they believed were beyond the ability of the average infantryman. These conditions arose from the nature of the conflict, such 

as unconventional combat in the Indian Wars or the Philippine 

Insurrection; the nature of the battlefield, in the form of formidable terrain or enemy defenses, an example being the World War 

II campaign in Italy; or the limitations of available manpower due 

to personnel turnover, insufficient training, or similar issues. The 

senior leaders formed these elite units by placing some of their 

best soldiers—men possessing a high degree of skill in field craft 

and weapons, along with a high level of initiative and desire for 

action—in special groups under carefully selected leaders to conduct operations whose successful execution required uncommon 

talents.1

 During the Korean War’s last two years, many commanders faced similar problems and often turned to ad hoc elites as a 

solution.

The nature of the conflict and the battlefield in Korea changed 

as negotiations began in July 1951, and the Eighth Army shifted 

from a war of movement to a linear defense of the United Nations 

front centered on the main line of resistance. This extensive system 

of field fortifications tracing steep hills and ridges was mirrored 

along the enemy’s front lines. To control the area in between, U.N. 

forces over the winter of 1951–1952 developed the outpost line 

of resistance, a system of squad to company-size fortified points 

on key terrain. Many of the most intense combat actions during 

1952–1953 involved the defense of outposts against Communist 

attacks.

1 Andrew J. Birtle, U.S. Army Counterinsurgency and Contingency Operations 

Doctrine, 1860–1941 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 

1998), pp. 43–47, 74–76, 116, 165–66, 225.
104 A History of Innovation

Although the overall campaign was static in nature, American 

units patrolled extensively, day and night, in groups from a few 

men to a reinforced rifle company. These small-unit operations 

provided security and early warning for both outposts and the 

main front line, gained intelligence and denied it to the enemy, 

raided Communist positions to capture prisoners and destroy fortifications, and promoted an aggressive spirit among infantrymen. 

This last objective was the most important for some commanders, 

as they feared that the skill and discipline of infantry units would 

erode if they remained fixed in trenches and bunkers.2

Senior officers also sought to “retain the sharpness of our 

willingness to keep fighting” by stressing the importance of 

capturing prisoners.3 Eighth Army’s stated reason was the need 

to gather intelligence, but, as contemporary critics of this policy 

pointed out, other sources often provided more timely information at a lesser cost. The pressure to capture prisoners could 

become quite intense. Eighth Army’s June 1952 directive that divisions would capture one prisoner every three days led British 1st 

Commonwealth Division commander Maj. Gen. A. J. H. Cassels to 

protest. He noted that meeting that objective in I Corps had “given 

the enemy eight times as many PW [prisoners of war] as we have 

got from him.”4

Although the nature of the war made patrolling a primary 

tactic, standard units found it difficult to perform this mission 

2 Discussion of the Eighth Army’s active defense is based on Walter G. 

Hermes, Truce Tent and Fighting Front, United States Army in the Korean War 

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the 

Army, 1966); Norman W. Hicks, “U.S. Marine Operations in Korea, 1952–1953, 

with Special Emphasis on Outpost Warfare” (M.A. thesis, University of Maryland, 

1962); contemporary articles in Infantry School Quarterly and Combat Forces Journal; 

monthly command reports of infantry regiments in Korea from July 1951 to July 

1953, in Command Reports (Cmd Rpts), 1949–1954, Entry NM3 429, Record Group 

(RG) 407, Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, National Archives and Records 

Administration–College Park (NARA–CP), College Park, Md.; and Maj Gen Lionel 

C. McGarr, “Personal Observations on Korean Operations,” 10 May 1954, box 100, 

Entry A1 2, RG 550, Records of the United States Army, Pacific, NARA–CP. 3 Ltr of Instruction no. 11 (quoted words), 23d Inf, 22 Dec 1951, copy in Cmd 

Rpt, Dec 1951, 23d Inf, box 2703, RG 407, NARA–CP. 4 Cmd Rpt, Jan 1952, 9th Inf, box 2829; Cmd Rpt, Jun 1952, 14th Inf, box 3934; 

and Cmd Rpt, Jan 1953, 31st Inf, box 3390. All in RG 407, NARA–CP. See also Ltr 

(quoted words), Maj Gen A. J. H. Cassels, Cdr, 1st Commonwealth Div, to Gen 

James A. Van Fleet, 8 Jul 1952, file 7, box 68, James A. Van Fleet Papers, George 

C. Marshall Library, Lexington, Va.; McGarr, “Personal Observations on Korean 

Operations,” 10 May 1954, box 100, RG 550, NARA–CP.
SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS 105

effectively for a number of reasons. Political decisions to limit war 

aims and national mobilization caused many American infantrymen to question the need to risk their lives in Korea. Policies 

limiting the length of service of draftees and reservists also created extensive personnel turbulence, placed a heavy burden on 

the training system, and prevented units from building a cadre of 

experienced specialists and leaders. Implementation of a rotation 

policy for individuals in Korea in early 1951 exacerbated these 

problems, because a typical infantryman would serve for only 

nine to ten months at most. The Army’s inability to provide units 

with sufficient replacements led to an expansion of the Korean 

Augmentation to the U.S. Army (KATUSA) program. Most rifle 

squads, authorized nine men, had two or three Koreans by late 

1952. The resulting language and cultural barriers further reduced 

unit effectiveness.5

In this environment commanders went to great lengths to 

raise the quality of infantry in Korea. When battalions were not 

on the front line, they engaged in training programs that stressed 

patrolling, night operations, and squad and platoon tactics. 

Divisions and regiments established replacement training programs, designed to introduce new men to combat conditions in 

Korea, as well as schools in such subjects as leadership, patrolling, 

and calling for indirect fire. These efforts helped, but they were 

insufficient to overcome systemic difficulties and raise the overall 

quality of infantry units to a high level.6

During World War II a number of Army divisions and regiments had pooled some of their best infantrymen into temporary 

outfits dedicated to patrolling. This adaptation received attention 

in observer reports and professional journals, but postwar doctrine did not endorse it. Indeed, the Army shelved the idea of elite 

infantry completely when it did away with ranger battalions and 

5

 William M. Donnelly, “‘The Best Army That Can Be Put in the Field in the 

Circumstances’: The U.S. Army, July 1951–July 1953,” Journal of Military History

71 (July 2007): 809–47. 6

 See regimental Cmd Rpts, RG 407, NARA–CP; Army Field Forces Observer 

Team Rpts no. 6 (Feb–Mar 52), no. 7 (Oct–Nov 52), and no. 8 (Apr–May 53), 

box 88, Entry NM 51, RG 337, Records of Headquarters, Army Ground Forces, 

NARA–CP; Comments, Lt Gen Reuben E. Jenkins, 6 Oct 1953, sub: Operations 

in Korea, box 292, Entry A-1 548, RG 338, Records of U.S. Army Operational, 

Tactical, and Support Organizations (World War II and Thereafter), NARA–CP; 

McGarr, “Personal Observations on Korean Operations,” 10 May 1954, box 100, 

RG 550, NARA–CP.
106 A History of Innovation

their training programs. For a brief time ranger companies reappeared in Korea, but that experiment ended in July 1951 due to 

confusion over their proper role, the traditional institutional Army 

distaste for elite units, and the belief of many senior officers that 

such organizations skimmed off the best men from line infantry 

units. The ranger training program at Fort Benning, Georgia, survived as a means to create a cadre of noncommissioned officers 

(NCO) that would infuse such skill and aggressiveness into regular units, but the program never worked because too few NCOs 

volunteered.7

At the same time the ranger companies disappeared in Korea, 

some American commanders concluded that average infantrymen were not likely to attain the skills and inclination needed to 

wage a war of patrols and raids. One such leader was Maj. Gen. 

John W. O’Daniel, who took command of the I Corps in July 1951. 

His analysis of the situation led him back to the same solution he 

had used seven years earlier as a division commander at Anzio—a 

battle patrol composed of selected volunteers who would receive 

special training. While this outfit would not relieve line units of 

all patrolling responsibilities, it would provide an elite body to 

take on the most difficult missions, particularly capturing enemy 

prisoners.8

The corps commander began with his former World War II unit, 

the 3d Infantry Division. On 23 July its regiments received orders 

to improve their patrolling performance, primarily by establishing a battle patrol “comprised of volunteers only, designed particularly for capturing prisoners. This unit should be trained just 

as hard and as thoroughly as any Ranger company is trained.”9

The directive did not set a fixed structure. The 15th Infantry established its battle patrol by 1 August. The unit consisted of a fiveman headquarters and four squads of six men each. To be selected 

7 David W. Hogan, Raiders or Elite Infantry? The Changing Role of the U.S. 

Army Rangers from Dieppe to Grenada (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1992), 

pp.105–42; Memo, Office of Chief, Army Field Forces (CofAFF) for Asst Chief of 

Staff, G–3, DA, 13 Feb 1953, sub: Ranger Training for Leader’s Course Graduates, 

box 26, Entry NM5 55D, RG 337, NARA–CP; “From the Schools,” Combat Forces 

Journal 3 (May 1953): 40. 8 Training (Tng) Memo no. 5, I Corps, 23 Jul 1951, and Ltr of Instruction, I 

Corps, 22 Jul 1951, copies in G–3 Jnl, Cmd Rpt, Jul 1951, I Corps, box 1549; Combat 

Bull no. 11, I Corps, 21 Aug 1951, copy in G–3 Jrl, Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, I Corps, 

box 1555. Both in RG 407, NARA–CP. 9 Min, 3d Inf Div, 23 Jul 1951, sub: Commanders’ Meeting, copy in Cmd Rpt, 

Jul 1951, 3d Inf Div, box 2906, RG 407, NARA–CP.
SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS 107

for the unit, individuals had to be “adept at scouting and patrolling and possessing an inherent desire to close with and destroy or 

capture the enemy.” The unit would operate under the control of 

the regiment’s operations officer, but training was the responsibility of the battle patrol leader. Its members would be excused from 

all normal fatigue duties.10

Most of the other U.S. Army regiments in I Corps soon established their own special patrol groups. These provisional outfits 

10 Tng Memo no. 12, 3d Inf Div, 1 Aug 51, copy in G–3 files, Cmd Rpt, Aug 

1951, 3d Inf Div, box 2914; Memo (quoted words), 15th Inf, 28 Jul 1951, sub: 15th 

Infantry Regiment Battle Patrol, copy in Cmd Rpt, 15th Inf, Jul 1951, box 2956, 

RG 407, NARA–CP.

Men of the 3d Ranger Infantry Company adjust their gear 

before undertaking a dawn patrol across the Imjin River in 

April 1951. Ranger units disappeared from the Army soon 

after, and commands in Korea began developing alternatives 

to re-create that capability. (National Archives)
108 A History of Innovation

shared the same characteristics of the 3d Infantry Division’s 

battle patrols—volunteers led by specially selected officers and 

NCOs, armed mainly with automatic weapons, given privileges 

and intensive training, and reserved for more difficult missions. 

Organizational details varied. The 27th and 35th Infantry regiments both formed a special patrol platoon, while the 24th Infantry 

and 7th Cavalry regiments ordained one such platoon for each of 

their battalions. The 27th’s Wolfhound Raiders had three sevenman squads and a two-man headquarters, while the 35th’s Cacti 

Raiders had four seven-man squads and a six-man headquarters. 

The 24th’s battalion special patrols consisted of one officer and 

a minimum of thirty enlisted men, and the 7th’s battalion raider 

elements were squad size. Control over the special units varied; 

some regiments placed them under the operations officer and others under the intelligence officer. During the remainder of 1951 

the practice of establishing a special patrol group did not spread 

much beyond I Corps, with only the 24th Infantry Division’s 21st 

Infantry following suit.11

Each group received somewhat different training, relying primarily on the combat experience and imagination of members, as 

no official doctrine existed for this type of unit. Often the outfits 

emulated ranger training, which was not surprising given the 

similarity of missions and the presence in some groups of former 

rangers. Preparation focused on physical conditioning, individual 

and unit movement techniques, battle drills, planning for raids 

and ambushes, hand-to-hand combat, weapons use and maintenance, land navigation, first aid, communications equipment and 

procedures, adjusting indirect fire, enemy weapons and tactics, 

handling prisoners, and reporting information. Because most missions were to take place under cover of darkness, night operations 

received emphasis.12

11 Memo, 27th Inf, 14 Aug 51, copy in Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 27th Inf, box 3855; 

Tng Memo, 24th Inf, 19 Aug 1951, in Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 24th Inf, box 3846; 

Memo, 35th Inf, 15 Aug 51, in Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 35th Inf, box 3866; Cmd Rpt, 

Aug 1951, 7th Cav, box 4511; Cmd Rpt, Dec 1951, 21st Inf, box 3675. All in RG 407, 

NARA–CP. See also Lt. William C. Kimball, “We Need Intelligence and Raider

Platoons,” Infantry School Quarterly 42 (January 1953): 42–50. 12 David H. Hackworth and Julie Sherman, About Face: The Odyssey of an 

American Warrior (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989), pp. 144–52; Kimball, “We 

Need Intelligence and Raider Platoons, pp. 42–50. See also Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 

24th Inf, box 3846; Cmd Rpt, Dec 1951, 21st Inf, box 3675; Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 35th 

Inf, box 3866; and Memo, 15th Inf, 28 Jul 1951, sub:15th Infantry Regiment Battle 

Patrol, copy in Cmd Rpt, Jul 1951, box 2956. All in RG 407, NARA–CP.
SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS 109

Generally, the special units conducted a mission every three to 

seven days, using the time between to recover, train, and plan the 

next operation. The size of the element used on missions varied 

from teams of four or five men to the entire patrol group, depending on the task and the tactical inclination of the group’s leader. 

Inevitably the outfits also came to be used as a handy pocket 

reserve force handling more-routine missions. In September and 

October 1951, for instance, the 15th Infantry’s battle patrol spent 

much of its time providing security for the regiment’s heavy mortar company, which had displaced forward of the front line to support a patrol base.13

Of the thirty-seven special patrol group actions identified in 

the period August–December 1951, twenty-two resulted in some 

type of contact with the enemy. The Americans initiated seventeen 

of the contacts. Total casualties among the ad hoc elite were nine 

dead, forty-five wounded, and one missing. Most of these casualties came from one action. In November the 27th Infantry’s unit 

was surprised during a raid on Hill 400 when the Chinese quickly 

reinforced their outpost. The Americans drove off the counterattack, but at the cost of seven dead and thirty-one wounded. 

Communist casualties during the various actions were undetermined, though in several cases it is clear that American firepower 

inflicted significant losses. The special patrol groups, however, 

were not as successful at one of the primary missions: They took 

only one prisoner who lived to be interrogated.14 

During 1951 only a few units recorded an evaluation of special patrol group performance. The 2d Battalion, 24th Infantry’s 

Spearhead Raiders had not taken any prisoners, but they had 

brought back “some valuable information.” The 21st Infantry’s 

Gimlet Grenadiers “performed their assigned missions in an 

excellent manner. Their training in night operations and closely 

coordinated platoon operations enabled them to strike swiftly, 

inflict heavy casualties on the enemy, and return with a minimum 

number of casualties within the platoon.”15

13 Cmd Rpts, Sep–Dec 1051, 15th Inf, boxes 2957–59; Cmd Rpts, Sep–Oct 51, 

35th Inf, boxes 3867–68. All in RG 407, NARA–CP. 14 See Cmd Rpts, Aug–Dec 51, 7th, 15th, 21st, 27th, and 35th Inf, RG 407, 

NARA–CP. See also Kimball, “We Need Intelligence and Raider Platoons,” pp. 

42–50; Hackworth and Sherman, About Face, pp. 178–89. 15 S–2 Rpt (quoted words), Aug 51, 2d Bn, 24th Inf, in Cmd Rpt, Aug 1951, 

24th Inf, box 3846; Annex A to Cmd Rpt (quotation), Dec 1951, 21st Inf, box 3675. 

Both in RG 407, NARA–CP.
110 A History of Innovation

The 35th Infantry evidently found its Cacti Rangers to be 

unnecessary, and it disbanded the platoon in early November. 

Other special patrol groups survived into 1952, but not for long. 

Most disappeared without any explanation in the records. Battle 

patrols in the 3d Infantry Division lasted until spring 1952, when 

each regiment disbanded them during a lengthy period in reserve. 

One reason may have been that they were too expensive to maintain, given the continual shortage of high-quality leaders and the 

extensive personnel turbulence created by rotation. In February 

1952 the 7th Infantry’s commander complained that provisional 

units took too many men away from the line companies at a time 

when the regiment also had to operate a training center because of 

deficiencies in the replacements being received.16

While special patrol groups in I Corps did not last long into 

1952, other units turned to similar ad hoc elites that same year in 

an attempt to deal with the same difficulties. This second wave 

of provisional outfits came not in response to a higher directive, 

however, but in the form of independent initiative by lower-level 

commanders.

Failure to meet quotas for enemy prisoners led to the first 

appearance of special patrol groups in the 2d Infantry Division. 

In January each battalion of the 23d Infantry organized squad-size 

special raiding patrols comprised of one officer and nine enlisted 

men, all handpicked volunteers. These groups had five days of 

training in the rear area before beginning operations. During the 

month, however, the special patrols took no prisoners. When the 

regiment entered a two-month period in reserve in the spring, 

the special units disappeared. Extensive personnel turnover may 

have been the cause. In April–June 1952 the regiment received 

1,460 replacements, which undoubtedly involved a loss of many 

experienced leaders and likewise required a focus on basic squadlevel training.17

In the 9th Infantry special patrol groups first appeared in 

February in the 3d Battalion, a month after Lt. Col. Robert W. 

Garrett took command. Garrett, who had commanded the 6th 

Ranger Battalion during World War II, organized a ranger platoon 

16 Cmd Rpt, Nov 1951, 35th Inf, box 3869, RG 407, NARA–CP; Hackworth and 

Sherman, About Face, pp. 196–98. 17 Cmd Rpts, Jan–Jun 1952, 23d Inf, boxes 2835–38, RG 407, NARA–CP; Tng 

Memo no. 3, CofAFF, 18 Feb 1952, sub: Ranger Training, file 353, box 527, Entry 

A1 132, RG 338, NARA–CP
SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS 111

in his new unit. The platoon ran its first patrol on 29 February, 

and in March did nine of the nineteen patrols conducted by the 

battalion. The regiment’s 2d Battalion soon followed this lead. 

The 9th Infantry spent May and June in reserve and received 

1,537 enlisted replacements. The commanders of both 2d and 3d 

Battalions also transferred to other billets. As in the 23d Infantry, 

the 9th Infantry special patrol groups did not survive this period 

off the front line.18

Two regiments of the 45th Infantry Division turned to special patrol groups. Both outfits formed their units from rangertrained personnel, though each took a different approach. The 

179th Infantry organized one patrol group in each battalion, with 

the specific structure left to the battalion commander. The 279th 

18 Cmd Rpts, Jan–Jun 1952, 9th Inf, boxes 2829–2831, RG 407, NARA–CP.

Soldiers of the 35th Infantry study a map before heading out 

on patrol in Korea. While many regiments established ad hoc 

organizations dedicated to patrolling, none of these special 

units proved effective enough to remain in existence for long. 

(National Archives)
112 A History of Innovation

Infantry organized a 32-man regimental raider platoon under a 

lieutenant who had served in the 10th Ranger Company.19 The 

179th and 279th raiders performed well in March and April, but 

were disbanded in May. The division commander, Maj. Gen. James 

C. Styron, was never a champion of ad hoc elites, writing in early 

April: “[I]t is now believed that all line infantry units should be 

proficient in patrolling, and the formation of special units for this 

purpose is unnecessary.” The 279th Infantry’s commander, Col. P. 

J. C. Murphy agreed, writing also in early April that while “the 

Raider Platoon is considered valuable for special missions, it is 

now felt that normal infantry platoons with proper help from the 

Battalion and Regimental Staff can be equally effective.”20

Over the course of the next several months, special patrol 

groups appeared in six other infantry regiments—the 9th, 15th, 

23d, 31st, 32d, and 38th. They often were dubbed raiders or rangers 

and sometimes bore the name of the battalion or regimental commander who established them. They had mixed results, in some 

cases conducting a high proportion of the parent outfit’s patrols or 

making the most contacts and occasionally suffering high casualties that generally were not justified by the results obtained. In all 

cases they disappeared when their patron departed or when the 

regiment spent a lengthy period in reserve.21

Little use appears to have been made of special patrol groups 

during 1953. One reason may have been the challenge of finding 

enough of the raw material needed for such units—experienced, 

proficient, and aggressive infantrymen. As the South Korean 

Army expanded, it took over more of the front line, thus limiting 

19 William M. Donnelly, “Under Army Orders: The U.S. Army National Guard 

During the Korean War” (Ph.D. diss., Ohio State University, 1998), ch. 5; William 

Berebitsky, A Very Long Weekend: The Army National Guard in Korea, 1950–1953

(Shippensburg, Pa.: White Mane Publishing, 1996), pp. 166–67. See also Cmd Rpt, 

Feb 1952, 179th Inf, box 4339; Cmd Rpt, Feb 1952, 279th Inf, box 4347; Cmd Rpt, 

Mar 1952, 179th Inf, box 4339; and Cmd Rpt, Mar 1952, 279th Inf, box 4348. All 

in RG 407, NARA–CP. 20 Cmd Rpts, Apr–May 1952, 179th Inf, box 4341; ibid., Apr–May 1952, 279th 

Inf, boxes 4348–49; Ltr (first quotation), Maj Gen James C. Styron, Apr 1952, End 

to Cmd Rpt (second quotation), Mar 1952, box 4348. All in RG 407, NARA–CP. 21 See Cmd Rpts, Aug–Dec 1952, 9th Inf, boxes 2832–34; Cmd Rpt, Mar 1952, 

15th Inf, box 3036; Cmd Rpts, Sep–Dec 1952, 23d Inf, boxes 2839–41; Cmd Rpts, 

Jun–Aug 52, 31st Inf, boxes 3340–43; Cmd Rpts, Sep–Dec 1952, 38th Inf, boxes 

2851–55. All in RG 407, NARA–CP. See also ibid., Jul and Aug 1952, 32d Inf, box 

313, RG 338, NARA–CP; Joseph R. May, The Second United States Infantry Division 

in Korea, 1951–1952 (Tokyo: Toppan Printing Co., 1953), pp. 61–62.
SPECIAL PATROL GROUPS 113

the opportunities for American soldiers to gain combat experience. Inadequate preparation of soldiers in the United States persisted, with Army Field Forces noting in April that reports from 

Korea “continue to indicate training deficiencies in patrolling and 

night operations.” Finally, Eighth Army—reflecting the concern 

over casualties back in the United States—discouraged aggressive action by American units and directed commanders “to make 

every effort to reduce combat losses to an absolute minimum.”22

Special patrol groups established in Korea during the war’s 

last two years proved to be sometimes powerful yet brittle instruments for battalion and regimental commanders. With properly 

selected soldiers and leaders, these ad hoc elites became highly 

skilled units able and willing to conduct high-risk missions 

beyond the capability of average infantry units. Under the commander’s direct control, the special formations could be used to 

shape his portion of the battlefield by gathering intelligence, disrupting enemy patrolling, and meeting the demand for prisoners. 

Their small size and select nature, however, made them vulnerable to the pressures of personnel rotation and a single engagement resulting in mass casualties. Also, their elite status did 

little or nothing to fulfill one of the stated rationales behind the 

patrolling campaign—to maintain or enhance the fighting spirit 

and combat edge of infantry units defending fixed positions. The 

fate of these ad hoc elites suggests that their greatest weakness 

was their dependence on the commanders who created them. The 

special patrol groups existed outside of formal tables of organization, and thus the loss of the respective patron’s confidence and/

or his departure from the parent command usually meant quick 

dissolution.

That these formations appeared and reappeared says much 

about the frustrations during this period of the war for senior 

Army infantry commanders. Constrained by the nation’s war aims 

and strategy, they searched for methods with which they could 

aggressively engage the enemy in accordance with their training, 

experience, and inclination. Left to their own devices to solve problems arising from issues beyond their control, frontline leaders 

mostly came up with slight variations on the same theme of small 

22 Memo, CofAFF, 28 Apr 1953, sub: Emphasis in Training, box 721, Entry 

NM5 56, RG 337; Memo, Eighth US Army in Korea, 12 Dec 1952, sub: Conduct 

of Operations, file 370, box 833, Entry A1 133, RG 338; Cmd Rpts, Mar and May 

1953, 27th Inf, boxes 3977–78, RG 407. All in NARA–CP.
114 A History of Innovation

elite units. That most groups lasted only a few months and none 

remained at the armistice indicates that this widespread attempt 

at innovation ultimately did not achieve the desired result.

The special patrol groups likely never fulfilled their purpose 

in large measure because the logic behind them was flawed. If the 

main rationales for patrolling were to maintain the aggressiveness 

of the army and make up for insufficiently trained and experienced manpower, reliance on an elite proved to be a veneer that 

did nothing to fix the underlying shortcomings throughout the 

force. In fact, it exacerbated both difficulties because regular units 

gave up many of their best infantrymen and turned over most 

patrolling missions to the special groups. Frontline innovation in 

this case proved ineffective, although the effort failed precisely 

because the problems were due to high-level policies that simply 

could not be overcome by any local initiative.

Helicopters of the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) deliver a second 

wave of troops to a landing zone during Operation Pershing in 1967. 

Developed for a nuclear conflict, the airmobile concept proved 

valuable during the war in Vietnam. (U.S. Army Center of Military 

History)
11

AIRMOBILITY

Mark D. Sherry

One of the most significant operational innovations during the 

last half of the twentieth century was the harnessing of the helicopter to offer a quantum leap in the tactical mobility and combat 

power of ground forces. Although the U.S. Army was not the only 

military institution to exploit the helicopter’s vertical lift, range, 

and speed on the battlefield, it undertook the most comprehensive 

effort to develop an integrated airmobile force. The main catalyst 

for this innovation was the desire to provide greater mobility to 

ground units on both conventional and nuclear battlefields, but 

airmobility came to have even wider utility.1

The first significant tactical use of the helicopter by American 

forces came during the Korean War. The Marine Corps initially 

employed light helicopters for observation, casualty evacuation, 

and similar support missions beginning in August 1950. The Army 

followed suit later that year. The marines also conducted the inaugural tactical lift of troops in October 1951. The Army deployed 

two H–19 transport helicopter companies to Korea in the last few 

months of the conflict, executing its first troop lift in May 1953.2

1 The terms airmobile, air assault, and air cavalry have been used variously 

to describe the same capability, heliborne infantry forces. For simplicity, I have 

used the term airmobile, the one first employed by the Army, throughout the text. 

John B. Wilson has defined airmobility as “the capability of a unit to deploy and 

receive support from aircraft under the control of a ground commander.” See 

John B. Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower: The Evolution of Divisions and Separate 

Brigades, Army Lineage Series (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, 1998), p. 314. 2 John R. Galvin, Air Assault: The Development of Airmobile Warfare (New York: 

Hawthorne Books, 1969), pp. 261–64; Christopher C. S. Cheng, Air Mobility: The 

Development of a Doctrine (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1994), pp. 32–46; Gary W. 

Parker, A History of Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 161 (Washington, D.C.: 

History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1978), pp. 

4–12.
118 A History of Innovation

While the Korean War validated the helicopter’s role on the 

conventional battlefield, subsequent Department of Defense and 

Department of the Army studies sought to explore how best to 

harness this new technology to tactical nuclear warfare. Army 

leaders soon reached the conclusion that ground units would 

have to be highly dispersed to survive a nuclear attack while 

simultaneously retaining the ability to mass quickly to exploit 

an atomic strike on opposing forces. Helicopters would provide 

the mobility that friendly ground troops needed to capitalize on 

the ensuing shock and disruption of the enemy, without relying 

on roads and bridges that probably would be damaged in the 

exchange.3

The reorganization of tactical forces became a common theme 

in various efforts to adapt to the nuclear battlefield. Following the 

short-lived pentomic division of the late 1950s, the Army began 

switching to a new organization in 1961. The latter process sought 

to incorporate reconnaissance aircraft and transport helicopters 

into all the combat divisions. At the same time, Army leaders had 

begun a push for specialized airmobile units. In early 1960 the 

Army Aircraft Requirements Review Board, headed by Lt. Gen. 

Gordon B. Rogers and thus known as the Rogers Board, evaluated 

all Army aviation plans for the next decade and solicited ideas 

from industry. Among its recommendations, the board called for 

a formal study on the feasibility of what it labeled “air fighting 

units.”4

One member of the Rogers Board, Maj. Gen. Hamilton H. 

Howze, had been a driving force for Army aviation programs 

for half a decade. Commissioned in the cavalry in 1930, Howze 

had joined the 1st Armored Division in 1942 and fought with it 

in North Africa and Italy through the end of the war in Europe. 

As a brigadier general, he had earned his wings in a special flight 

course for senior officers and then had become the first director 

of Army aviation on the Army Staff, serving from February 1955 

through December 1957. His office was responsible for preparing 

budget requests for the development and procurement of Army 

aircraft. That experience and his background in armored warfare 

3 James M. Gavin, War and Peace in the Space Age (New York: Harper, 1958), 

pp. 132–37, 157–60, 193–96; Chang, Air Mobility, pp. 59–60. 4 Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, pp. 263–90; Chang, Air Mobility, pp. 61–64; 

John J. Tolson, Airmobility, 1961–1971, Vietnam Studies (Washington, D.C.: 

Department of the Army, 1973), pp. 8, 9 (quoted words), 10, 16–24.
AIRMOBILITY 119

made him an early advocate of using both fixed-wing aircraft and 

helicopters to enhance tactical mobility of ground units.5

5 Hamilton H. Howze, A Cavalryman’s Story: Memoirs of a Twentieth-Century Army 

General (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996), pp. 179–95.

Maj. Gen. Hamilton H. Howze inspects a helicopter prototype. 

With the help of Col. Robert R. Williams, Howze focused Army 

thinking on the role of the helicopter in warfare. (National 

Archives)
120 A History of Innovation

In 1957 Howze had prepared a briefing, making a case for what 

he termed air cavalry units. The presentation revolved around a tactical scenario, set in Bavaria, between a reinforced air cavalry brigade and an attacking Soviet armored force. Because the American 

unit needed neither bridges nor roads, friendly engineers and artillery demolished these avenues of approach. Rather than conduct a 

conventional linear defense, the brigade used observation aircraft 

to identify targets for Air Force tactical aircraft, employ transport 

helicopters to land artillery observers behind enemy lines, attack 

armored columns with helicopter-launched antitank missiles, and 

engage the foe in depth with helicopter-borne infantry tank-killer 

teams.6

The Rogers Board paved the way for a more comprehensive 

study and built momentum for airmobile ground forces, but it 

would have a direct impact on policy via a more subtle route. 

The board’s secretary, Col. Robert R. Williams, had been on loan 

from the Army’s Office of the Chief of Research and Development, 

where he headed the Airmobility Division. Commissioned in the 

field artillery in 1940, he was one of the first officers involved in 

the fielding of liaison aircraft for air observation, and he ran the 

flight training program for these pilots at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, from 

1942 through July 1944. After the war, he preceded Howze as the 

Army Staff’s aviation proponent in the early 1950s. Following the 

Rogers Board, Williams served a year in the Office of the Director 

of Defense Research and Engineering, where he continued to promote Army aviation programs in the Office of the Secretary of 

Defense.7

Williams’ efforts found a receptive ear. Secretary of Defense 

Robert S. McNamara had an interest in ground mobility issues 

in general and Army aviation in particular. According to Howze, 

Williams’ advocacy resulted in McNamara directing the secretary 

of the Army on 19 April 1962 to take a comprehensive look at how 

the Army employed aviation in ground warfare. McNamara’s 

memorandum characterized the Army’s aviation programs as 

too conservative and directed a bold reassessment of aircraft programs, how they integrated with other tactical mobility systems, 

and what kind of doctrinal innovation was essential to move 

beyond existing operational and tactical approaches. All existing 

and projected Army programs were subject to review, with the 

6 Howze, Cavalryman’s Story, pp. 233–36; Cheng, Air Mobility, pp. 93–94. 7 Tolson, Airmobility, p. 8. 
AIRMOBILITY 121

assumption that the Defense Department would expand Army 

aviation, if justified. After further prodding from the secretary of 

defense, the Army’s leadership appointed now Lt. Gen. Howze 

to head the U.S. Army Tactical Mobility Requirements Board 

(known as the Howze Board). Army aviation advocates, working 

through a sympathetic secretary of defense, had achieved their 

goal of forcing the Army’s senior leadership to place airmobility 

on the fast track.8

Starting work in late April at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, the 

Howze Board had until 1 September 1962 to conduct a program 

of studies, field exercises, experiments, simulations, and operations research, and report back to the secretary of defense. The 

Continental Army Command extended support to the Howze 

Board from not only the 82d Airborne Division at Fort Bragg but 

also other aviation and ground units, including those readying for 

deployment overseas. Over three intense months the board examined a wide range of organizational and operational concepts for 

use in both conventional and unconventional warfare, including 

armed helicopters. Among the conclusions in its report to the secretary of defense, the Howze Board recommended establishment 

of an airmobile division with 459 aircraft capable of transporting 

a complete infantry brigade in one lift. Because of the emphasis 

on helicopters, the division’s ground vehicle inventory would 

decline from 3,452 to 1,100. Other recommendations included 

establishment of an air cavalry combat brigade with 316 aircraft 

(including 144 attack helicopters) that would both attack enemy 

forces and perform traditional cavalry missions of screening and 

delaying. The Howze Board’s ultimate recommendation—that 

the Army adopt airmobility as a tactical doctrine and organizational principle—was simple and unequivocal, albeit not without 

controversy.9

The Air Force objected immediately. The National Security Act 

of 1947 and the Defense Reorganization Act of 1958 had left aircraft roles and missions of the two services ill defined. Accelerating 

technological innovation and changes in organization and doctrine further clouded the situation. During the Korean War, both 

the Army and Air Force had fielded helicopter units for transporting ground forces. The Army had gained control of the helicopter 

8 Ibid., pp. 16–20; Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, pp. 314–18; Howze, 

Cavalryman’s Story, pp. 236–37; Cheng, Air Mobility, pp. 177–79. 9 Howze, Cavalryman’s Story, pp. 238–57; Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 20–24.
122 A History of Innovation

transport mission by 1956 in exchange for a limitation on the size 

of Army fixed-wing observation and airlift aircraft. At least two 

Howze Board recommendations threatened to unravel that agreement—arming the OV–1 Mohawk to conduct what appeared to be 

close air support missions and procuring the C–7 Caribou fixedwing transport aircraft. The Air Force questioned many Howze 

Board proposals and suggested instead a closer joint Army/Air 

Force effort improve support of conventional infantry divisions 

with tactical jet aircraft and fixed-wing airlift. McNamara directed 

a series of joint experiments to explore these options.10

Even as the Air Force lodged objections, the Army went 

ahead with plans to field the first of a recommended five airmobile divisions. McNamara approved the establishment of the 

new organization on 7 January 1963. The Army quickly activated 

two test units, the 11th Air Assault Division and the 10th Air 

Transport Brigade, at Fort Benning, Georgia. Their mission was 

to refine the Howze Board recommendations regarding the table 

of organization and equipment required for an airmobile division. During the next two years the Continental Army Command 

oversaw this effort and also tested aircraft, other materiel, and 

weapons, using resources from both the understrength 11th Air 

Assault Division and the 2d Infantry Division, also stationed at 

Fort Benning.

While the changing operational and tactical environment 

drove the Army to seek airmobile units, rapidly developing technology spurred force developments. By the early 1960s manufacturers were offering a new generation of helicopters powered by 

turbine engines that offered major improvements in lift, range, 

reliability, and ease of maintenance. The Army’s hopes rested with 

the UH–1 Iroquois (known as the Huey), a small transport helicopter designed to carry a squad into battle. The Huey became the 

workhorse of airmobile units. Equally important, modified Hueys 

were the first helicopter gunships, filling that role while the Army 

developed what would become the AH–1 Cobra, a platform dedicated to escorting transport helicopters and providing fire support. Although the Huey gunship proved underpowered for some 

of its tasks, it demonstrated the range of missions that the gunship 

could undertake in support of ground units.

10 Cheng, Air Mobility, pp. 41–43, 75–77, 106–11, 179–86; Howze, Cavalryman’s 

Story, pp. 238–39, 241, 245–47, 254–57; Galvin, Air Assault, pp. 278–79; Wilson, 

Maneuver and Firepower, p. 316; Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 57–61.
AIRMOBILITY 123

The wide-ranging tests at Fort Benning convinced all but the 

most obdurate critics that airmobile units had a place in the Army. 

This type of force had grown indirectly out of the pentomic division’s concept of dispersed and nonlinear operations, but proponents saw it as having a wider range of capabilities and strengths. 

Unlike airborne units, which could attack a deep objective only to 

have to remain in place awaiting reinforcement and relief by ground 

forces, the airmobile division could move infantry and artillery as 

needed. Airmobile formations could mass against an objective from 

multiple staging areas without providing the same clustered target on a nuclear battlefield as forces operating along conventional 

lines and without giving an obvious warning to an alert enemy 

that an attack was forthcoming against a certain sector. They also 

could jump over heavily defended zones to strike at the enemy’s 

weakest and most vulnerable points. The division’s aerial element 

could more quickly locate enemy units and facilitate engaging them 

with infantry, armed helicopters, and artillery, all without extensive 

Troops deploy after Sikorsky H–34 helicopters lift off from a 

landing zone. These early tests at Fort Benning validated the 

airmobile concept. (U.S. Army Center of Military History)
124 A History of Innovation

external coordination. In a similar vein, integrated infantry and 

helicopter units would develop standard operating procedures for 

assaults and establish familiarity with each other, thus minimizing coordination problems and permitting rapid responses to fluid 

tactical situations. Although initially envisioned as operating on 

conventional and nuclear battlefields in high-intensity theaters of 

operation, airmobile units offered the promise of being a valuable 

capability in the unconventional war in Vietnam.11

While the Marine Corps had led the way in employing helicopters, it remained focused at this time primarily on vertical lift 

as a means to transport forces more rapidly to a place where they 

would fight on the ground. The airmobile concept went a step 

beyond this approach, developing an integrated air-ground unit 

that would do as much of its fighting from the sky as it did on 

land. For instance, the new division had an air cavalry squadron 

dedicated to reconnaissance, as well as helicopter gunships armed 

with 2.75-inch rockets—dubbed aerial artillery—to provide fire 

support for ground troops. Moreover, the capability was entirely 

organic to the air cavalry division, whereas a Marine division had 

to obtain aerial assistance from a supporting Marine aircraft wing. 

The Army’s new organization and tactical doctrine, not simply the 

adoption of the helicopter, made airmobility a true innovation.

In June 1965, despite tests of Air Force support to ground units, 

the Army persuaded Secretary McNamara to approve the first 

permanent airmobile division. The Army then cannibalized the 

skeleton 11th Air Assault Division, 2d Infantry Division, and the 

10th Air Transport Brigade to establish the 1st Cavalry Division 

(Airmobile) on 1 July. The division differed in significant aspects 

from the Howze Board recommendations, having eight infantry 

battalions (three airborne qualified), an aerial artillery battalion (in 

lieu of a general-support field artillery battalion), 425 helicopters, 

and 6 OV–1 Mohawks (for observation and surveillance missions 

only). Cobbled together with little time for higher-unit collective 

training, the 1st Cavalry Division concentrated on attaining full 

manning and equipment prior to commencing deployment to 

Vietnam in August.12

The test of airmobile units in combat came quickly. The 1st 

Cavalry Division arrived in September 1965 and was ready for 

11 Galvin, Air Assault, pp. 277–78, 286; Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 55–57. 12 Galvin, Air Assault, pp. 280–88; Wilson, Maneuver and Firepower, pp. 316–18; 

Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 51–57, 59–62; Cheng, Air Mobility, pp. 187–88.
AIRMOBILITY 125

operations by the end of the month. It underwent its baptism of 

fire in late October and November in the Ia Drang Valley, where all 

three maneuver brigades engaged and repulsed elements of three 

North Vietnamese Army regiments. The month-long battle began 

when enemy units encircled the Plei Me Special Forces camp on 

19 October, attempting to lure a South Vietnamese relief column 

from the town of Pleiku, twenty-five miles away. This was the first 

phase in a Communist attempt to capture the Central Highlands. 

With extensive U.S. air and artillery support, the South Vietnamese 

were able to hold Plei Me and defeat the ambush, forcing the North 

Vietnamese to break the siege on 25 October.

At this point the 1st Cavalry Division joined the search for 

the withdrawing enemy in the rough country between the camp 

and the Cambodian border to the west. The division’s aerial 

reconnaissance element, the 1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry, drew first 

blood on 1 November, capturing a field hospital. Operations continued during the next two weeks with the air cavalry units trying to locate and fix elusive enemy forces that were preparing to 

resume their attack on Plei Me. The climactic action began on 14 

November, when men of the 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry, assaulted 

into Landing Zone X-ray, unaware that the North Vietnamese 

were nearby. Over the next two days, supported by artillery, 

fixed-wing aircraft, and helicopter gunships, the battalion was 

able to hold its ground against repeated North Vietnamese 

assaults. Helicopter transports continued to fly into the beleaguered landing zone, completing the battalion’s insertion, making supply runs, and reinforcing the effort with an additional rifle 

company on the afternoon of the first day. The operation continued through 26 November. During the series of engagements that 

finally led to the North Vietnamese fleeing into Cambodia, the 

helicopter proved vital in pursuing the enemy, massing infantry 

forces to engage him, providing responsive firepower, and supplying units in contact.13

13 Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 73–83; George C. Herring, “The 1st Cavalry and 

the Ia Drang Valley, 18 October–24 November 1965,” in America’s First Battles, 

1776–1965, ed. Charles E. Heller and William A. Stofft (Lawrence: University Press 

of Kansas, 1986), pp. 313–19, 325–26; Harold G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway, 

We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young: Ia Drang—The Battle That Changed the War in 

Vietnam (New York: HarperCollins, 1993), pp. 49–236; John M. Carland, Combat 

Operations: Stemming the Tide, May 1965 to October 1966, United States Army in 

Vietnam (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2000), pp. 

113–34, 361–62.
126 A History of Innovation

The division remained in high demand over the next six years 

in South Vietnam, operating in three of the four military regions 

before its withdrawal in 1971. Conversion of the 101st Airborne 

Division to an airmobile configuration during its time in Vietnam 

was further testament to the value of the concept. Although the 

Army never followed through on its original goal of fielding 

five such divisions, it expanded organic helicopter battalions in 

conventional infantry divisions and established the 1st Aviation 

Brigade, which provided general support aviation to Army, otherservice, and allied units throughout South Vietnam. The airmobile 

concept had filtered into all Army units in Vietnam.14

The establishment of the Army’s first airmobile division in 

1965 was a significant milestone in enhancing the mobility and 

combat capability of U.S. ground forces. The close integration of 

infantry, artillery, transport helicopters, observation aircraft, and 

gunships within one command yielded a superb degree of tactical flexibility, allowing units to locate the enemy and engage him 

simultaneously with air and ground combat power. But the value 

of this innovation had not been obvious to all. While a small group 

of senior Army aviators had the foresight to see the possibilities 

and develop the concept, the Army’s top-level leadership moved 

slowly to adopt parts of it and the Air Force opposed it. Stymied 

by institutional inertia, the visionaries successfully sought aid 

outside the service to drive implementation at a critical time. The 

tension between innovators and a chain of command averse to 

change is a recurring challenge that often requires as much creativity and initiative to solve as did the development of the original concept.

14 Galvin, Air Assault, pp. 289–97; Tolson, Airmobility, pp. 195–98, 201–04.

The operator’s station in a U–6 Beaver utility plane modified to 

conduct airborne radio direction finding. Real-time information on 

the location of enemy units provided a tactical edge to U.S. forces 

in Vietnam. (U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command)
12

AIRBORNE RADIO DIRECTION FINDING

James L. Gilbert

On 9 May 1961 President John F. Kennedy approved the deployment of the U.S. Army’s first unit—the 3d Radio Research Unit 

(RRU)—to South Vietnam. Its unusual designation was a cover 

to disguise the presence of an element of the U.S. Army Security 

Agency (ASA), which had the mission of collecting signals intelligence so U.S. advisers assisting the South Vietnamese Army could 

help locate an elusive enemy in the jungle and mountains that 

covered much of the country. Because the South Vietnamese had 

reported great success in their own signals intelligence efforts, the 

Army Security Agency anticipated no problems. However, the 

Americans soon discovered that their allies had exaggerated their 

claims and that it would take major effort and a new type of intelligence collection asset to provide useful information.1

The difficult signals environment in Vietnam would dictate 

how the Army Security Agency eventually fought the war in the 

ether. Because much of the terrain was hilly or mountainous or 

covered by dense, tall foliage, the Communist guerrillas, or Viet 

Cong, could not normally use radio frequencies that depended 

upon a favorable line of sight. Direct or ground waves would only 

travel five to fifteen miles at most. The enemy at lower echelons 

(regiment and battalion) also generally had to rely on the simple 

resources at his disposal—often small homemade transmitters 

powered by hand-cranked or pedaled generators. Under these circumstances, the best way to communicate was to employ signals 

in the high frequency range using antennas made from horizontal wires. This system projected skywave signals up to the ionosphere where an electrically charged layer bounced them back 

1 This chapter is based on James L. Gilbert, The Most Secret War: Army Signals 

Intelligence in Vietnam (Fort Belvoir, Va.: U.S. Army Intelligence and Security 

Command, 2003). While the book is unclassified, many of the primary sources 

underlying it have not yet been declassified.
130 A History of Innovation

down to receiving stations, bypassing the obstacles of vegetation 

and terrain.

Using well-honed normally reliable methods, the 3d RRU 

planned to pinpoint the origin of these high frequency signals and 

thus the location of enemy units. The American outfit established 

a handful of semipermanent direction-finding sites throughout 

South Vietnam and then linked them together to form a net. Upon 

being alerted that a certain enemy station was broadcasting, the 

sites took a bearing on the signal to determine the direction from 

which it was emanating. They could not ascertain how far away 

the enemy station was but could plot the bearings from their 

respective locations, theoretically generating a point where three 

or more lines crossed—known as a fix.

In this case the direction-finding net simply did not work. 

Because the ionosphere is not a perfectly smooth reflecting surface, signals bounced from a transmitter closer than a few hundred 

miles from a direction-finding station often appear to come from 

an entirely wrong direction. In addition, the direction-finding systems produced large errors when receiving anything other than 

vertically polarized signals; the enemy skywaves were mostly horizontally polarized. At best, instead of intersecting at a point, the 

bearings outlined an area, supplying fixes with diameters ranging 

upward from five miles to more than thirty. Often the results were 

completely useless. Launching any combat operation without 

more precise coordinates would waste valuable resources, for the 

troops would have to scour many square miles.

The 3d RRU first tried to solve this difficulty by slightly altering tactics. Having acquired a general location from the net of 

direction-finding stations, mobile teams went out to obtain more 

accurate fixes. When the enemy station transmitted again (often 

on the same frequency and same schedule), hopefully the mobile 

elements would be near enough to pick up ground waves that 

would allow them to pinpoint the location. However, because the 

Viet Cong were using antennas that projected most of the signal 

upwards, the direction finders had to be very close to receive sufficient ground wave signal. That same proximity to the enemy made 

the teams vulnerable to attack, and it did not take long before the 

Viet Cong targeted them. In December 1961 guerrillas ambushed 

a combined South Vietnamese/American direction-finding team, 

killing ten members. The final blow to the original concept of 

operations was the response of the South Vietnamese Army. 

Given the failure of their own direction-finding efforts, the South 
AIRBORNE RADIO DIRECTION FINDING 131

Vietnamese were reluctant to commit troops based on such intelligence, and they did not have the transportation assets to react in 

a timely manner even when they decided to do something.

The Army Security Agency had to find a new method of quickly 

and accurately locating the enemy in this challenging environment. Up to this point, most research and development had been 

focused on detecting Soviet very high frequency transmissions in 

Europe and was not applicable to the situation in South Vietnam. 

The headquarters staff at Arlington Hall Station, Virginia, studied 

several possible solutions, including upgrading current directionfinding systems, creating a new semipermanent net spread out 

over a wider area, and developing a backpack model for use in the 

field. The staff also considered airborne radio direction finding, 

but initially thought of it only as a last resort. Technical experience 

told them that the metal skin of an aircraft would degrade the ability of a high frequency direction finder to perform accurately, having to deal with both direct signals transmitted from the ground 

and the skywaves bounced back from the ionosphere.

ASA research and development engineer Herbert S. Hovey 

Jr. teamed up with two counterparts at the U.S. Army Electronics 

Command, Harold M. Jaffe and John Woodworth, to find a solution. The three men had collaborated in the past on other projects. Hovey had earned an electronics engineering degree from 

the University of Florida, served two years of active duty in the 

late 1950s as a lieutenant at the Army Security Agency, and was 

still in the Army Reserves. A “technical genius,” he also had the 

ability to inspire his subordinates to excel.2

 Jaffe was a self-trained 

engineer who had never been to college. He had gotten his start in 

the Army Signal Corps in World War II, rising to the rank of staff 

sergeant. For his part in establishing a communications system for 

the Belgian resistance, Belgium awarded him the Croix de Guerre. 

What he lacked in formal education he made up in intelligence, 

resourcefulness, and tenacity. He also had a facility for breaking 

down problems and ideas into clear and simple terms.3

2 E-mails, Thomas N. Hauser to Jon Hoffman, 23 May 2007, and Tom Hurt 

to Jon Hoffman, 30 Mar 2009 (quoted words), Historians files, U.S. Army Center 

of Military History (CMH), Washington D.C.; The Florida Engineer, Fall/Winter 

2006, p. 28. 3 Service Record, Harold M. Jaffe, National Personnel Records Center, St. 

Louis, Mo. See also Memo, Clyde D. Harkin, Director, Electronics Warfare Lab, for 

Friends of Harold Jaffe, 16 May 1978, sub: Retirement; Ltr, Michele Janka, Embassy 

of Belgium, to Jon Hoffman, 18 Oct 2007, sub: Croix de Guerre with Palm—Mr. 
132 A History of Innovation

The engineers’ first priority was to travel to South Vietnam in 

November 1961 to gain an appreciation of the signals conditions 

and evaluate alternative methods. They determined that designing and fielding a new type of ground system would take too 

much time. Establishing a wider net of direction-finding stations 

would be comparatively easy, but not necessarily better given the 

problems inherent in dealing with horizontally polarized signals. 

They concluded that an airborne direction-finding system offered 

more flexibility and more accuracy.

Once they returned to the United States, the engineers took 

a first stab at the problem by installing a direction finder in a 

UH–19 Chickasaw helicopter, but vibration caused them to reject 

Harold Jaffe; Ltr, David Noyes to Jon Hoffman, 14 May 2007, sub: Harold Jaffe; 

and Harold M. Jaffe obituary, undated. All in Historians files, CMH.

At a Saigon airfield Herbert S. Hovey Jr. (second from left)

and other engineers stand in front of a U–6 equipped with the 

first operational radio direction-finding set. The vertical dipole 

antenna is visible on the near wing. (Harold Jaffe / U.S. Army 

Intelligence and Security Command)
AIRBORNE RADIO DIRECTION FINDING 133

the platform. They next tried a U–6A, a small fixed-wing aircraft 

nicknamed the Beaver and traditionally used for artillery spotting 

or transporting senior officers; numerous U–6s were in Vietnam, 

which meant that maintenance support was readily available. 

The planes could carry an air crew of two, plus a small amount of 

direction-finding equipment and an operator.

The engineers soon settled upon a simple but ingenious answer 

to the main shortcoming of an aerial platform—the interference 

from its metal skin. When they vertically mounted a dipole antenna 

(a single rod several feet in length) on the leading edge of each of 

the U–6’s wings, they found that the problem with interference 

largely disappeared. A feed cable from each dipole brought the 

antenna output into the cabin, where the two were combined in a 

process that fed the difference between them into an R–390 high 

frequency receiver. When the two antenna outputs were identical, 

they canceled each other and the receiver audio fell to zero (called 

a null). A null occurred whenever the aircraft was flying either 

directly toward or directly away from the target radio.

When the operator began receiving a signal of interest, he 

notified the pilot, who was also listening to the receiver audio. 

The pilot then flew the plane into a flat turn (as the wings had 

to remain parallel to the ground to obtain a usable bearing) and, 

upon hearing a null, reversed course into an opposite flat turn to 

reacquire the null. He kept up the process as the operator listened 

and read the azimuth from the aircraft’s gyrocompass. When the 

operator was certain he had a bearing to the target radio, he then 

immediately notified the copilot, whose job it was to determine 

the location of the aircraft at that moment. The copilot, who had 

to rely solely upon matching what he saw on the ground below to 

a map (a difficult process in areas without prominent terrain features to serve as reference points), plotted that point on the map 

and drew the bearing from it based on the azimuth provided by 

the operator. The crew then flew to different locations and repeated 

the process, producing additional bearings on the map until they 

developed a fix. It took a lot of skill and teamwork to generate 

good results, not to mention steady stomachs to handle the rapid 

flat turns that veered quickly from one side to the other.4

In March 1962, after testing the concept with great success in 

the United States, the engineers carried the equipment in their 

suitcases on a return trip to South Vietnam, where aircraft and 

4 E-mail, David Noyes to Jon Hoffman, 16 May 2007, Historians files, CMH.
134 A History of Innovation

pilots had been assembled. They immediately ran into problems. 

An initial challenge was simply keeping the antennas on the 

wings in flight. More surprising, the engineers discovered that the 

early trials in Vietnam did not yield the same outstanding results. 

Further investigation revealed that two out of every three U–6s 

had undergone some structural repair or modification, and these 

changes to the airframes were hindering their use as directionfinding platforms. In some cases the problem was as basic as differences in the amount of paint on the two wings, which made 

the current distribution uneven. Switching to U–6s still in their 

original configuration soon got the development program back on 

track.5

 The engineers later pondered what might have happened if, 

during the initial testing in the United States, they had employed 

an aircraft that had undergone some alteration. Given less than 

5 Dennis Buley, “The Beginning of ARDF,” copy in Historians files, CMH.

Harold M. Jaffe accompanies a planeload of radio direction-finding 

equipment destined to outfit aircraft in Vietnam. The 

deployment of the civilian engineers to the war zone solved 

problems that might have killed the program in its infancy. 

(Joan Hand/U.S. Army Center of Military History)
AIRBORNE RADIO DIRECTION FINDING 135

impressive returns, they might have altogether abandoned the 

airborne radio direction-finding project.

From the initial operational flight in Vietnam in April 1962, the 

3d RRU’s airborne radio direction-finding efforts provided dramatic results. For the first time, the Army had a signals intelligence 

system that could find enemy units in a timely fashion and with 

enough accuracy to guide tactical operations. The commander of 

the U.S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, Lt. Gen. Paul 

D. Harkins, summed up the contribution being made by the new 

method: “One of the biggest disadvantages to any counter-insurgency program has been the inability to locate guerrilla concentrations. The direction-finding activities of the 3d Radio Research 

Unit have provided this headquarters with a vital intelligence 

advantage previously unavailable to any U.S. or friendly tactical 

force.”6

 Successful combat actions based on airborne signals intelligence resulted in the Army awarding the first Meritorious Unit 

Commendation of the war to the 3d RRU.

The men who put together this success were not about to rest on 

their laurels. Because the early systems could be created in-house 

without significant funding, the airborne program grew as rapidly as engineers could hand-carry the equipment to Vietnam and 

install it there. As important, they soon adopted the twin-engine 

U–8 Seminole aircraft as the workhorse of the direction-finding 

effort. It could operate in a wider range of weather; fly higher and 

thus provide better coverage in the mountainous regions; and 

had the additional load capacity to carry navigational gear, which 

eliminated the need to rely on visual landmarks when plotting 

bearings.

The year 1965 was a defining one for airborne direction-finding. 

The Air Force began to deploy platforms, and together the two services contributed over 130 aircraft to the signals intelligence effort. 

To coordinate the use of airborne intercept and to order missions, 

the Military Assistance Command established an Airborne Radio 

Direction Finding Center in Saigon. The introduction of American 

combat forces with much greater mobility provided a capability 

to react more rapidly to the intelligence acquired. The year also 

witnessed the first use of Army aircraft in direct support of a combat operation while it was still in progress. The U.S. Marines were 

engaging a Viet Cong regiment in Operation Starlite. Alerted by 

ASA units on the ground, direction-finding aircraft targeted the 

6 Gilbert, Most Secret War, p.16.
136 A History of Innovation

enemy’s transmitters and proceeded to track his movements. The 

commander of the III Marine Amphibious Force later lauded the 

“accuracy and timeliness of the intelligence produced.”7

Over the next seven years, the Army fielded seven different direction-finding systems in a variety of aircraft. A unique 

approach, consisting of newer electronics equipment installed in 

a UH–1D Huey helicopter, not only overcame the early problems 

with vibration but also produced even more accurate fixes than 

fixed-wing platforms. It was a collaboration between the signals 

intelligence units, which contributed the operators and electronics systems, and the supported combat divisions, which furnished 

the aircraft and crew. The Hueys flew in direct support of their 

respective divisions, thus providing the most responsive asset to 

ground commanders. As soon as an operator called in a fix, an 

observation chopper searched the area for evidence of movement, 

trail use, or bunkers. If the enemy were spotted, troops could be 

inserted almost immediately.

Throughout the war, the Army airborne radio direction-finding program continued to embrace new technological advances to 

identify enemy locations. But perhaps the most important steps 

were taken in the arena of friendly communications. In the beginning, airplanes had to land to pass on intelligence to waiting tactical commanders; the direction-finding crews did not use radios 

because the enemy might listen in and learn of his vulnerability to 

direction finding. This slow process for transferring information 

obviously delayed action. Next, crews used one-time pads to pass 

encrypted messages back and forth to ground units by radio. This 

simple system, consisting of different code keys printed on each 

page, prevented the enemy from understanding what was being 

transmitted. Once used, the page would be destroyed. However, 

it was a slow and cumbersome method for passing along significant amounts of information. In 1967 the Army Security Agency 

installed voice encryption equipment in the planes; it then took 

just six minutes from the moment a fix was determined until it 

was in the hands of a tactical commander.

At the height of the war, Army airborne radio direction-finding 

platforms were contributing some four thousand fixes a month. 

Many of these could not be tied to an identifiable unit, but they 

could still be used in pattern analysis where accumulation of dots 

on a map over time suggested activity and movement. Based on 

7 Ibid., p. 35.
AIRBORNE RADIO DIRECTION FINDING 137

analysis of this type of information, U.S. troops went on partial 

alert on the eve of the 1968 Tet Offensive.

Surveys of U.S. commanders indicated that signals intelligence (which included not only airborne radio direction finding 

but also other methods as well) accounted for as much as 90 percent of the timely usable intelligence. Captured documents and 

interrogated prisoners were also important sources, but often 

by-products of a successful direction-finding mission. Airborne 

radio direction finding was not foolproof; the enemy employed a 

number of methods to minimize the risk of being pinpointed or 

to throw off the hunters with false leads. As in most cases of innovation, it was a process marked by ongoing interplay between the 

two sides as each reacted and adapted to the other. Even so, the 

new capability created by Hovey, Jaffe, and Woodworth proved 

to be a valuable asset throughout the war. Army Vice Chief of 

Staff General Bruce Palmer Jr. summed up the impact of these 

programs: “Field commanders in Vietnam continue to say that 

this is the backbone of their intelligence effort. They can’t live or 

fight without it. I want to stress to everyone in this room just how 

important this effort is. . . . I can’t think of anything more important because they are just blind over there without this effort.”8

8 Memo, Gen Bruce Palmer Jr. for Maj D.L. Parsons, undated [1975], sub: 

Army Airborne Radio Direction Finding During Vietnam War, Historical Research 

Collection, U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command, Fort Belvoir, Va.
M114 155-mm. howitzers deployed at Firebase Megan in Vietnam 

in 1969. The requirement to fire on short notice in all directions 

posed a challenge for the big guns. (National Archives)
13

ARTILLERY SPEED SHIFTER

Terry L. Beckenbaugh

One of the tactical mainstays of the Vietnam war was the firebase. 

Sometimes permanent and sometimes carved out of jungle, rice 

paddies, or rough terrain in a matter of hours just for a particular 

operation, these relatively small outposts were dedicated to providing artillery support to infantry units anywhere within range. 

And therein lay the challenge, for in the absence of the front lines 

common in a more typical conflict, the tubes in this unconventional war had to be able to fire in any direction at a moment’s 

notice. The standard 105-mm. howitzer was reasonably well 

suited to this role, but its heavier towed 155-mm. cousin was not. 

If a mission were outside the latter’s existing fan of fire (limited 

to 800 mils or 45 degrees), the crew had to lower the piece from 

its firing jack, lift the trails, swing it into the new position, and 

get it set again to fire. Even with a full complement of eight soldiers and optimal conditions, this cumbersome procedure could 

take several minutes—precious time when American and allied 

infantrymen were engaged with the enemy. But a complete crew 

was seldom on hand, and more often rain and mud created an 

unstable ground surface that made the howitzer extremely difficult to move.

A solution would come from 1st Lt. Nathaniel W. Foster Jr., 

a champion cross-country runner and Reserve Officer Training 

Corps graduate of Central State University in Wilberforce, Ohio.1

In 1966 Foster was serving in Vietnam as the executive officer 

of Battery B, 8th Battalion, 6th Artillery—a 155-mm. towed outfit of the 1st Infantry Division—and was certain there had to be 

a quicker more efficient way to shift the howitzer to respond to 

the fast-moving requirements of combat. He was aware that U.S. 

1 Telecon, Mark J. Reardon with Keith A. Perkins, Central State University, 29 Jul 

2009, Historians files, U.S. Army Center of Military History (CMH), Washington, 

D.C.
140 A History of Innovation

Army Weapons Command was looking at some form of pedestal 

to bear the weight of the piece so it could spin more easily and 

rapidly, but he took it upon himself to find an immediate answer 

in the field rather than waiting for the bureaucracy at home to 

develop the perfect solution. He attacked the problem methodically, determining that the first order of business was to find the 

point of balance of the howitzer. He and his soldiers started with 

the tube of the test weapon at an elevation of 300 mils, the standard setting when initially aiming it. They simply kept moving 

the firing jack until their experiments revealed that the point of 

balance of the howitzer was two feet seven inches to the rear of the 

standard location for the jack.

With that knowledge in hand, the officers and men of the battery began work on a prototype speed-shifting device. Because 

they did not have the proper tools, they had to take a howitzer 

during downtime to a maintenance shop, where Pfc. Charles 

Harkness of the battery’s fire direction center did the welding.2

The initial attempt was very simple, a metal collar fixed under 

the howitzer at its point of balance and a pedestal consisting of a 

torsion bar welded to the base of a firing jack. When the soldiers 

lowered the piece from the regular firing jack onto the tip of the 

torsion bar, they found that they could shift the howitzer with a 

minimum of physical effort using handspikes in the appropriate 

sockets of the trails. Two could move the 155-mm. through an 

entire 360-degree circle in just nineteen seconds. Even adding 

in the time to raise and lower the firing jack before and after the 

shift, the job could be completed faster than other tasks required 

to execute a firing mission, such as computation of the firing 

data.

The inventors had first considered the possibility of simply 

placing the firing jack at the point of balance, but soon realized 

that option provided an unstable platform. The firing jack needed 

to be in its designed spot to force the weight of the piece back on 

the trails during firing, thus solidly anchoring it for recoil. During 

shifting the howitzer maintained a tenuous balance on the torsion 

bar and could easily tip, but the wheels and the partly retracted 

firing jack prevented it from going too far in any direction. The 

battery also considered mounting the entire speed shifter, instead 

of just the collar, to the underside of the carriage, but reasoned 

2 E-mails, Frank P. Long Jr. to Terry Beckenbaugh and Jon Hoffman, Aug–Sep 

2005, Historians files, CMH.
ARTILLERY SPEED SHIFTER 141

that such a projection would be a hindrance in any off-road setting 

with rough terrain or dense undergrowth.

Not satisfied with this initial success, the battery kept testing 

and evaluating its procedures as well as the device itself. The soldiers discovered that the process worked most smoothly when they 

unlocked the wheels and raised the firing jack up just enough to 

let the trail spades rise about a foot off the ground during shifting. 

This minimized the time spent raising and lowering the firing jack 

and reduced the likelihood of tipping. Based on experience, Foster 

also decided that an adjustable pedestal for the speed shifter was 

necessary. If a previous fire mission had forced the trail spades too 

deeply into the ground, there sometimes was not enough clearance to get a fixed pedestal back under the carriage.

An artilleryman raises the firing jack (front) to lower the gun 

onto the speed jack (rear). The latter device was simple, and 

artillery batteries fabricated them in Vietnam as the concept 

spread throughout the war zone. (National Archives) 
142 A History of Innovation

Foster and his men thus built an entirely new device, using a 

road wheel from an armored personnel carrier as the base and an 

8-ton hydraulic jack in place of the torsion bar. When the upper 

piston of the extendable two-piece jack proved susceptible to 

snapping off, they fabricated a single piston of the same overall length to replace it. Taken together, the procedures and new 

device reduced the shifting time even further. Still, they found the 

jack lacked enough weight-bearing capacity, resulting in hydraulic fluid leaking from the seals.

The next version used a 25-ton screw-and-ratchet jack. The 

soldiers built a large base for it and used a lathe to create a rotating surface for the jack head, thus improving the swivel capability of the howitzer. The strength and nonhydraulic nature of the 

new jack allowed the battery to leave its howitzers resting on the 

speed-shifter between fire missions without concern for deterioration of the device. With the firing jack raised a few inches above 

the ground and handspikes already attached to the trails, even a 

very short-handed crew could shift a weapon in this condition in 

a matter of seconds to any direction. Once the howitzer was in the 

proper position, or if the fire mission required no shift, one soldier 

simply lowered the shifting jack while another raised the firing 

jack until it bore the weight of the weapon. The men of Battery B 

were so confident in the utility of their device that they believed 

they could shift faster than their smaller 105-mm. brethren and 

even rival the speed of self-propelled howitzers using powered 

turrets.

The invention immediately demonstrated its effectiveness in 

combat. Shortly after Operation Birmingham ended in May 1966, 

Foster summarized the success of his battery in action in War Zone 

C along the Cambodian border:

One gun by actual count shifted a total of 33 times in 16 hours to 

fire for advancing infantry of the 1st Division. They [the speed 

shifters] were used under fire to swing around and bring direct fire 

upon attacking VC [Viet Cong] in a matter of seconds. This battery, 

with the use of these jacks and adjustable pedestals, has on this 

operation expended over 7,200 rounds and shifted day and night 

for 19 days with an average crew of 6 men including the chief of 

section. This shifting was done in rice fields that caused the trucks 

and howitzers to become stuck countless times.

The branch magazine Artillery Trends seconded this high 

praise, noting that the “radically new concept” was verified by 
ARTILLERY SPEED SHIFTER 143

“the most valid test,” having “proven its worth . . . under actual 

combat conditions.”3

By the summer of 1966 the entire 8th Battalion was using the 

speed shifter to improve the delivery of fire support. As word of 

its usefulness spread, the device (or locally fabricated variants of 

it) came into common use in 155-mm. units throughout Vietnam. 

While its impact on the overall course of the war was not measurable, the speed shifter enhanced the effectiveness of the firebase 

concept. After the war Lt. Gen. John H. Hay Jr., who had commanded the 1st Infantry Division in Vietnam, lauded the 155-mm. 

speed shifter as a prime “example of the ingenuity of artillery 

innovations.”4

3 Nathaniel W. Foster, “Speed Shifting the 155-mm. Howitzer, Towed: The 

Evolution of an Idea,” Artillery Trends, January 1967, p. 17. 4 John H. Hay Jr., Tactical and Materiel Innovations, Vietnam Studies 

(Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1974), pp. iv, 53 (quoted words).

Two soldiers easily maneuver their six-ton howitzer into firing 

position. The speed jack saved precious seconds in providing 

fire support to troops in contact. (National Archives)
144 A History of Innovation

Changes in procedures also enhanced the responsiveness of 

the howitzers. The organization responsible for doctrine promulgated one such adaptation. The Gunnery Department of the Army 

Artillery and Missile School at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, established 

a standard method for fire direction centers to plot targets and 

develop firing solutions in all directions. Units in the field came up 

with other innovations on their own. A common one among light 

and medium batteries was to lay their six guns in pairs spaced 

about 2100 mils (or 120 degrees) apart. When a mission came in, 

the two pieces pointed closest to the required direction would fire 

the adjusting rounds. By the time they were on target, the rest of 

the battery would have used the speed shifters to reposition and 

be ready to fire for effect.5

I Field Force Artillery commander Brig. Gen. Willis D. 

Crittenberger Jr. aptly described Vietnam as “largely a battery 

commander’s war.” Crittenberger believed that “the junior officer 

must really be on his toes, thinking ahead,” because support from 

higher echelons was always a long way off. He felt certain that this 

conflict thus served as “a great training ground for the leaders of 

the future.”6

 In 1966 Foster was definitely “on his toes” and not 

waiting for direction from above or support from the rear. He and 

his men recognized a need and manufactured their own solution, 

thus saving the lives of countless fellow soldiers and undoubtedly 

affecting the outcome of numerous engagements. The inventors 

of the speed shifter amply demonstrated the capability of junior 

leaders and soldiers to identify problems or shortcomings, to 

come up with their own solutions, and to make a positive impact 

far beyond their own unit.

5 E-mail, John Moltz to Jon Hoffman, 24 Jul 2007, Historians files, CMH.

6 Hay, Innovations, pp. 53–54; David Ewing Ott, Field Artillery, 1954–1973, 

Vietnam Studies (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1975), p. 70.

An M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicle leads a column of M1 

Abrams tanks across the desert at the National Training Center, 

Fort Irwin, California. After Vietnam the Army not only acquired 

much better equipment but also revolutionized training. (National 

Training Center)
14

NATIONAL TRAINING CENTER

Anne W. Chapman

Throughout much of the U.S. Army’s history it had entered wars 

in a state of unreadiness, often for reasons beyond its control. One 

recurring factor was the need to vastly expand a small peacetime 

force, using part-time soldiers and raw recruits. This requirement drove the design of the Army’s training system throughout much of the twentieth century, but the challenge of combat 

nearly always exceeded the level of preparation. Following the 

end of the Vietnam war a few senior leaders in the Army, particularly General William E. DePuy and Maj. Gen. Paul F. Gorman, 

vowed to revolutionize doctrine and training to enhance preparation for the next conflict. The capstone achievement of their effort 

was establishment of the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, 

California, in 1980.1

A number of factors spurred DePuy and Gorman to action. 

They believed the Army would have to fight outnumbered against 

its next likely opponent, the Warsaw Pact, so each U.S. soldier 

would have to be better than his adversary. They were certain 

that the Israeli victory in the 1973 Yom Kippur War validated the 

importance of individual and small-unit skill in a battle against a 

more numerous enemy. The generals knew that the existing Army 

Training Program, which required that subjects be taught for a set 

number of hours in a building-block approach starting at the individual level, was outmoded. Future conflict would not provide 

a long period for mobilization and unit training prior to combat, 

while wartime individual rotation policies required soldiers to be 

ready to fight as part of a team when they joined their outfits. 

DePuy, commander of the newly established U.S. Army Training 

and Doctrine Command, also was pushing development of new 

1 This chapter is drawn from Anne W. Chapman, The Origins and Development 

of the National Training Center, 1976–1984 (Fort Monroe, Va.: U.S. Army Training 

and Doctrine Command, 1992).
148 A History of Innovation

doctrine (published in 1976 as Field Manual 100–5, Operations) 

that emphasized the importance of combined arms operations 

in the increasingly lethal and more fluid environment of modern 

war. Performing more complex duties in more challenging situations dictated that soldiers be much better prepared than their 

predecessors. Gorman, DePuy’s deputy chief of staff for training, 

addressed one aspect of this training requirement with creation 

of the Army Training and Evaluation Program. A performanceoriented system, it required soldiers and units to execute tasks 

to an acceptable standard, not just undergo a fixed amount of 

instruction.

New doctrine and a new training system were only part of the 

solution, however. The evaluation of unit performance required a 

pool of observers; a means for them to gather and evaluate data; 

and, ideally, a numerically superior opposing force—imitating 

enemy tactics and capabilities—to add realism. The increasing 

range of modern weapons and the resulting dispersion of forces 

on the battlefield also demanded large spaces for maneuver and 

live fire. Such resources were simply not available at local Army 

commands. Establishing the ability to conduct realistic training 

would not only solve these issues but also provide a means for 

evaluating and incorporating the many new weapons the Army 

would begin to acquire in the late 1970s.

The commander of the U.S. Army Forces Command, General 

Bernard W. Rogers, supplied the seed of a solution. Addressing 

the space issue, Rogers suggested that the Army not attempt to 

acquire expensive land around most existing bases but designate 

a central training facility at a post already large enough to support 

unfettered fire and maneuver. Units would go there on a rotating 

basis. Gorman developed and expanded this idea in a November 

1976 paper calling for a combined arms training center. The concept borrowed in part from Navy and Air Force programs (the 

Naval Fighter Weapons School, nicknamed Top Gun, and the 

Air Force Tactical Fighter Weapons Center’s Red Flag exercises) 

that used instrumented ranges and dedicated opposing forces to 

improve the skills of air crews. The Army’s version would bring 

elements of a brigade, with a full slice of supporting forces, to 

a national training center, to conduct a force-on-force exercise 

against a unit operating with Soviet doctrine and Soviet-type 

equipment. Experienced observers and modern simulation technology would add realism and ensure superior feedback. While a 

few other nations had large centralized ground-training facilities, 
NATIONAL TRAINING CENTER 149

none would approach the sophistication and quality of the Army’s 

proposed training center.

The concept won quick approval from the Army vice chief of 

staff on 11 April 1977. The desired site was Fort Irwin, an installation of a thousand square miles in the high desert of California 

that was bigger than the state of Rhode Island. Its location near 

Nellis Air Force Base (home of the Red Flag exercises) would 

facilitate the integration of fixed-wing air support into the Army 

program. Training and Doctrine Command and Army Forces 

Command shared responsibility for developing and implementing a plan to create the training center. The Defense Advanced 

Research Projects Agency, the Air Force Tactical Air Command, 

and the Army’s Materiel Development and Readiness Command 

(later, Army Materiel Command) contributed to the effort.

As with most innovative ideas, the concept had to clear a 

number of hurdles before it became reality. Organizationally, the 

division of responsibility between two major commands brought 

about disagreements and disjointed action. It took the establishment in May 1980 of a general officer steering committee, jointly 

chaired by the deputy commanders of the two organizations, to 

make the process work effectively. California officials initially 

opposed the site for environmental reasons, while an attempt to 

annex 300,000 adjacent acres of the Mojave Desert ran afoul of 

private groups concerned about an endangered tortoise. Some 

members of Congress feared the program might result in the loss 

of bases and jobs in their districts. Cost overruns only added to 

this difficult political atmosphere. While Fort Irwin was ideal as 

a training area, it had been in a caretaker status for many years 

and lacked any modern infrastructure to support permanent personnel. The price of making the base habitable thus ballooned 

far beyond initial estimates. Reliance on relatively new technology for instrumentation of ranges also resulted in unforeseen cost 

increases and delays. Air Force participation proved difficult to 

arrange due to problems of incorporating aircraft into the instrumentation system and disagreements about the provision of close 

air support. Creating a new base and command also put stress on 

the manpower system.

On the positive side, the program proved visionary. In 1979 

events in Afghanistan and Iran focused the United States on the 

task of renewing its military power for potential combat against the 

Soviets or Middle Eastern states. Additional money and manpower 

became available for Fort Irwin as resources flowed into national 
150 A History of Innovation

defense in the early 1980s, just in time to establish a premier training 

program when the Army and the nation felt it was most needed.

The first U.S. Army maneuver battalions conducted exercises 

at the National Training Center in the latter half of 1981. Initially 

each training cycle, known as a rotation, featured two heavy battalion task forces (one armor and one mechanized infantry) supported by field artillery, attack helicopters, and Air Force planes. 

The parent brigade headquarters participated by controlling the 

battalions in a command post exercise. Over time rotations began 

to feature light infantry, cavalry, and motorized units.

To accomplish the mission of training soldiers in a setting as close 

as possible to the reality of combat, the National Training Center based 

its program on three pillars—a dedicated opposing force, a group of 

experienced officers and soldiers serving as exercise observer/controllers, and a sophisticated instrumentation system to gather data 

and provide the raw material for assessing unit performance.

The opposing force consisted of two Army heavy battalions 

(one infantry and one armor) permanently stationed at Fort Irwin. 

They were originally configured for battle as the Soviet 32d Guards 

Motorized Rifle Regiment and considerably outnumbered the rotating outfit, known as the Blue Force. For the most part, the vehicles 

were U.S. equipment visually modified to resemble Soviet tanks, 

personnel carriers, air defense systems, light reconnaissance vehicles, and helicopters. The outfit modeled its battle doctrine and tactics on the Warsaw Pact forces (until some later scenarios reflected 

lessons learned in Operation Desert Storm). The pseudo-enemy 

soldiers were no straw men that would roll over and play dead; 

in fact, they almost always defeated the Blue Force. While part of 

that outcome was simply the home-field advantage from knowing 

the terrain and the scenario, one center commander pointed out 

the value of having a strong opposing force:

He must be good enough so that BLUEFOR can’t make major mistakes 

and win. Otherwise, you can’t take the lessons from NTC and apply 

them with any confidence in war. If you win because the OPFOR can’t 

cross the line of departure, if you win because the OPFOR can’t use 

artillery, if you win because the OPFOR maneuvers poorly or loses 

command and control, you don’t know whether your victory is meaningful. In war we would be happy to take victories like that.2

2 Interv, Capt Ferdinand Irizarry, Opns Off, Observation Div, National Training 

Center (NTC), with Brig Gen Wesley K. Clark, Cdr, NTC, Sep 1992, History Office, 

U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC), Fort Monroe, Va.
NATIONAL TRAINING CENTER 151

The observer/controllers were U.S. Army officers and noncommissioned officers on regular assignment to the National Training 

Center. A team accompanied each battalion task force throughout 

its rotation at Fort Irwin. The observer/controllers refereed the 

free-play battles, assessed results, and conducted an after action 

review at the conclusion of each engagement. Other personnel 

acted as training analysts in the central operations center.

To achieve realism and collect data from engagements, the 

National Training Center relied upon a complex system of computers, laser-engagement devices, and communications networks. 

The Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System simulated fire, 

A Sheridan tank rigged to look like a BMP armored vehicle 

moves into position at the National Training Center. A wellprepared opposing force, equipped with visually modified 

weaponry to simulate a Soviet unit, added realism to the 

training. (National Training Center)
152 A History of Innovation

registered hits and near misses, and provided a degree of realism 

in casualty assessment eclipsed only by actual combat. The communications network automatically gathered laser-engagement 

data and other information, feeding it directly into computer terminals at the operations center. Analysts there could observe the 

battle and communicate with controllers in the field as the action 

unfolded. The observer/controllers also made good use of the 

data in preparing after action reviews. The sophisticated instrumentation system helped both the evaluators and the Blue Force 

determine what happened, why it happened, and how to correct 

deficiencies before the next battle.

The after action review was probably the single major influence on the revolution in training that took place in the Army in 

the twenty years following the Vietnam War. The National Training 

Center firmly established it as a formal and valuable method and 

helped propagate the review process as an evaluation tool throughout the Army by the mid-1990s. The center’s observer/controllers 

conducted reviews at platoon, company, and battalion levels, as 

well as for supporting elements. The reviews drew on both computer-generated information and subjective field observations to 

determine the causes for failure on the simulated battlefield. More 

than one battalion commander found the reviews to be “brutally 

honest.”3

 Reporters characterized the process as “a military group 

therapy session” and “a warfare class for the MTV generation.”4

Another correspondent came closest to capturing the contribution 

the after action reviews made to improved training:

“Sir,” the young lieutenant begins, “I don’t really think the com- mander made clear exactly what his intent was.” After a moment’s 

uncomfortable silence, Gen Barry McCaffrey, then commander of 

the 24th Infantry Division, speaks up. “That’s a good point,” he 

acknowledges. “Getting our purpose across is key.” Suffice it to say 

that 10 years ago, a young Army officer was just as likely to commit 

hara-kiri as to openly criticize his commanding officer.5

The National Training Center also featured one of the Army’s 

most sophisticated live-fire ranges. Located in the northern portion 

of Fort Irwin, the site gave rotating units the opportunity to attack 

3 J. R. Wilson, “National Training Center,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 23 Feb 1991, 

p. 261. 4 Ibid. (first quoted words); Notes (second quoted words), MTV (Music 

Television) program, Historians files, History Office, TRADOC. 5 Wilson, “National Training Center,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 23 Feb 1991, p. 261.
NATIONAL TRAINING CENTER 153

a position or defend it against a simulated advancing force. Troops 

could employ the full spectrum of small arms, tank, and artillery 

fire against approximately 1,500 computerized, radio-controlled, 

pop-up targets that simulated the appearance, thermal signature, 

and firepower of a Soviet-style motorized rifle regiment. Some of 

the targets had the ability to shoot back with simulated tank fire 

and antitank missiles.

In the summer of 1984 Army Chief of Staff General John A. 

Wickham declared the innovative training center a success. No 

single training development since World War II had had so profound an impact on the readiness of the U.S. Army’s fighting battalions. By introducing Army units to an unprecedented combat 

realism under rigorous Spartan field conditions, coupled with a 

thoroughgoing evaluation system, the center provided a degree 

of insight into unit performance never previously available. This 

unique training and evaluation system also stood as a tribute to 

Observer/controllers at the end of a mission conduct an after 

action review with members of a tank platoon at the National 

Training Center. The frank critique of the training reinforced 

the experience gained. (National Training Center)
154 A History of Innovation

the systems-based hands-on approach that had dominated Army 

training since General DePuy’s tenure at the Training and Doctrine 

Command in the mid-1970s. 

The success of the National Training Center had a ripple effect. 

In 1987 the Army established a similar facility for light forces. 

The Joint Readiness Training Center, originally at Fort Chaffee, 

Arkansas, and later at Fort Polk, Louisiana, also featured an opposing force. A year later the Army started planning for the Combat 

Maneuver Training Center at Hohenfels, Germany, to provide 

troops in Europe the same realistic training exercises as Fort Irwin. 

Meanwhile, the Army began developing the Battle Command 

Training Program, a simulation-driven command post exercise to 

train corps commanders. The four programs soon came under a 

single umbrella, the Combat Training Centers, which provided the 

Army with the capability to train heavy, light, and special operations forces across the spectrum of conflict.6

 In 1985, to determine 

relevant lessons from the performance of units at the National 

Training Center and to disseminate that knowledge to other commands, the Army launched the Center for Army Lessons Learned 

at the Combined Arms Center at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

The outstanding record of the Army in Operations Desert 

Storm and Iraqi Freedom was built on experience at the National 

Training Center and at the other Combat Training Centers it 

spawned. More recently Fort Irwin has hosted advanced warfighting experiments, served as a test-bed for the Army’s new Stryker 

wheeled vehicle, and provided a realistic preparatory experience 

for troops deploying to the war in Iraq. The most costly sustained 

Army training project in the peacetime history of the United States 

has had a proven impact on the Army’s ability to fight and win. It 

also demonstrates that innovation in a process, such as training, 

can have an affect every bit as significant as advances in weapons, 

tactics, or organizational structure.

6 Chapman, Origins and Development, pp.14–23; TRADOC Annual Command 

History, CY 1991, p.156, Office of the Command Historian, TRADOC, Fort Monroe, 

Va.
CONCLUSION

Jon T. Hoffman

Both business and military thinkers have developed theories 

of innovation that attempt to explain past success and serve as 

a model for future effort. This survey of U.S. Army innovation, 

however, highlights the difficulty of determining lessons that can 

be applied in a concrete fashion to guide behavior. As the examples illustrate, the development of a new capability comes in many 

forms and via many paths, with one experience often contradicting another.

The twin histories of the tank destroyer and tank warfare, for 

example, offer evidence pointing in opposite directions. Historians 

seem to agree that the establishment of the independent Armored 

Force in July 1940 was a key element in breaking the conservative 

stranglehold of the infantry and cavalry branches that had stifled 

progress. Giving the Armored Force the power to develop doctrine 

and organization and control its own training allowed American 

capability in the field to catch up with and, in some areas, eventually surpass foreign rivals. Less than two years later, the Army followed a similar model in establishing the Tank Destroyer Center, 

yet this effort produced failure.

Perhaps the difference in the two cases is simple. Whereas the 

Armored Force built upon the demonstrated success of blitzkrieg, 

making improvements at the margin in such areas as task organization and greater mechanization, the Tank Destroyer Center 

struck out on an entirely novel and untried path, taking a gamble 

that carried greater risk of error. The antitank concept ultimately 

failed because it proved to be a bad idea.

A similar contrast in process arises from the experiences of the 

Armored Force and the air observation post. In the case of the 

tank, the infantry and cavalry branches both proved incapable of 

adapting to a new weapon that fell outside their traditional areas 

of expertise. The field artillery, on the other hand, not only saw the 
156 A History of Innovation

value of aircraft in improving the timeliness and accuracy of fire 

support but also aggressively pursued this new capability in the 

face of strident opposition from the aviation community.

These examples further reveal no particular pattern to the 

source of innovation, even with regard to scale. Armored warfare 

had no single father, but benefited from a number of champions, 

most of whom had long-standing connections with mechanized 

forces and were senior in rank. Interestingly enough, the primary 

bureaucratic facilitator was General Andrews, an aviator with 

little or no experience in this field. Nevertheless, it was practitioners in the operating forces, not planners in the service headquarters, who pushed the new concept. Airmobility, on the other hand, 

sprang largely from officers who were closely associated with 

the Army Staff’s Aviation Directorate. General Howze, the prime 

proponent, was a cavalry and armor officer new to the aviation 

field, while Colonel Williams had begun his career as an artilleryman. The tank destroyer concept seemed to arise from the highest echelons of all, with Generals Marshall and McNair pushing 

a new idea that had no real constituency anywhere in the Army. 

The only common ground in these examples of big innovation is 

the obvious factor that they required support from senior leaders 

to become reality. But the ideas and the initiative also came from 

the same higher echelons rather than from younger officers who, 

as many theorists believe, are more attuned to emerging methods 

of warfare.

The source of smaller innovations spans the entire spectrum—

from individuals to large groups, from the front lines to research 

agencies in the rear. Each innovation seems to have developed in 

an almost unique way. The air observation post makes one of the 

most intriguing cases. Although the idea had high-level support, 

lower-ranking officers played major roles in developing the concept and making it a reality.

While the Ordnance Department came up with the first widely 

fielded semiautomatic rifle (as one would expect it should), the 

entire effort centered on one man who not only invented the 

weapon itself but also the machine tools needed to reliably manufacture it. The Ordnance Department likewise was searching for 

a lightweight antitank weapon when it got the bazooka, but the 

latter resulted from individual initiative and was in competition 

with the official focus on a spigot mortar. Nevertheless, the establishment played a major role, developing the shaped-charge projectile and informing the rocket group about the new round. That 
CONCLUSION 157

accomplishment made the bazooka possible, because a launcher 

and rocket without the right warhead would have been useless.

In retrospect, the bazooka seemed like a long overdue weapon. 

Its component technologies had been well known for some time, 

and armies had been evaluating means to fight tanks for a generation. But for most of the two decades after World War I, the 

standard weapons of the day were sufficient to penetrate the thin 

armor then in use. And no one had yet proven in battle that the 

tank would dominate. Thus one would have needed considerable foresight to begin looking for a solution to a novel problem 

that would only crop up in the future. Even the German army, the 

interwar leader in armored warfare, would end up using an antiaircraft gun as its primary antitank weapon during World War II 

because it had not thought to develop a better defensive system to 

deal with the offensive capability it was creating.

The marriage of two or more existing weapons or pieces of 

equipment to produce a new or enhanced capability is another 

frequent thread. The Ordnance Department almost certainly 

would have fielded an upgunned amphibian at some point once 

battle experience demonstrated the limitations of the 37-mm. version. Colonel Triplet’s achievement lay in seeing the need for such 

a capability even before the lighter-armed vehicle was in combat 

and then coming up with a solution that could be procured immediately. To its credit, the Army moved rapidly to turn that idea into 

reality. Likewise the airborne radio direction finding setup consisted entirely of existing electronic components married to an airframe. The result was a radical new capability that cost very little 

time and money to develop. The field artillery actually took a step 

backwards in terms of technical capability when it adopted light 

civilian aircraft, but coupling them with the latest radios proved 

effective. The National Training Center adapted a fairly small system for training a handful of pilots into a much more elaborate 

scheme that could prepare thousands of soldiers at a time for the 

reality of war. It also joined together different solutions to disparate problems (inadequate training methods and training areas, 

lack of training realism) to create a system that both solved the 

individual issues and produced benefits greater than the sum of 

its parts.

While the focus of innovation is often on technology, advances 

also arise from a mix of new equipment, new doctrine or procedures, and new organizational structure. The increase in field artillery capability came not just from the acquisition of light planes 
158 A History of Innovation

and modern radios but equally as much from their incorporation 

within the artillery battalions and the adoption of improved fire 

direction techniques. The significance of the organizational aspect 

is highlighted by the British experience, which did not produce 

similarly impressive results. The U.S. Army succeeded in World 

War II with a mediocre tank in part because it ultimately developed better unit structure and doctrine than its allies and enemies. 

The airmobile concept may have been built around the helicopter, 

but the innovative aspects were all organizational and doctrinal. 

The Benning revolution and the National Training Center demonstrate that even the methods used to prepare soldiers and their 

leaders for war are subject to innovation and can have a major 

impact on battlefield success.

Sometimes the choice of how to proceed in developing or 

implementing a new capability played a significant role. For the 

bazooka, Colonel Skinner’s initiative in joining the spigot mortar 

shoot-off made a big difference. He short-circuited the bureaucracy 

and proved the weapon’s effectiveness in front of senior leaders, 

resulting in an immediate procurement decision. With airborne 

radio direction finding, engineers from two agencies teamed up 

to find the solution, eventually focusing on the method initially 

deemed least likely to succeed from a technical standpoint. Most 

important, having built a practical system, the engineers deployed 

with it to the field and oversaw its installation and initial employment. That enabled them to correct the problems that arose in 

combat.

The airborne radio direction finder demonstrated another 

important factor—the effect of response to failure during the ultimate test of war. The diligence of the engineers in seeking out the 

cause of problems during initial field trials in Vietnam prevented 

the system from being written off. Likewise the poor performance 

of air observation posts in North Africa might have doomed the 

concept, but officers and men in the midst of combat adapted their 

theories and methods to fit reality and made the system work. 

While the tank destroyer program never approached the capability its proponents expected, it still produced a worthwhile contribution to the combined arms team in the form of an effective 

assault gun (something the German army specifically developed 

as a valued asset).

While some innovations ultimately fail the test of war, many 

others face an even more grueling road simply getting beyond 

the inspiration stage. Early innovation theorist Alfred North 
CONCLUSION 159

Whitehead observed that turning an idea into a practical capability is often “a process of disciplined attack upon one difficulty after 

another.”1

 Garand spent twenty years perfecting his rifle before it 

was ready for field use. Lest anyone think that was a simple or 

inevitable process, many others—civilian and military—around 

the world were attempting to achieve the same objective but did 

not get there before him. The scientific principles behind radar 

were relatively easy to work out once physicists and engineers 

began focusing on the concept, but it took years of painstaking 

trial and error to develop a useful device. In Vietnam, the men 

of Battery B, 8th Battalion, 6th Artillery, made numerous changes 

until they had a speed shifter that met all their requirements, benefiting from the ability to test each new iteration in actual operations and identify shortcomings.

A final recurring theme is the element of chance in determining the outcome of the development process. Luck struck the radar 

program several times. The basic idea for the capability came from 

an unexpected result of a Navy experiment for an unrelated purpose. A ground soldier, trying to outdo his aviation counterparts, 

made radar look more effective than it actually was in front of 

senior leadership, and that helped bring more money to the program and speed up development. No one thought of radar as an 

aid to navigation until a target aircraft went astray, but that event 

gave rise to an entirely new use for the system. Recognizing the 

role of luck, of course, is not particularly helpful because one cannot institutionalize it or plan for it in the innovation process. But 

it is important to realize that factors that cannot be controlled are 

often decisive.

As the examples in this volume bear out, innovation arises 

from a wide range of sources and processes. Each brings certain 

strengths and weaknesses, though these characteristics are not 

universal and determinative even in apparently similar situations. 

If anything, history indicates that there is no single or reliable path 

to success. For every prospective rule, there is usually an exception. It is thus difficult, if not impossible, to develop a useful grand 

theory of innovation or a list of prescriptions for fostering positive change. The only constant seems to be that a resourceful and 

adaptive military is likely to fare better than competitors who take 

1 As quoted in David C. Mowery and Nathan Rosenberg, Paths of Innovation: 

Technological Change in 20th-Century America (New York: Cambridge University 

Press, 1998), p. 1.
160 A History of Innovation

a more conservative approach—though the tank destroyer force is 

a reminder that not all innovation will prove successful.

Henry Ford, famous for turning the assembly line into a staple 

of manufacturing, perhaps captured the one irrefutable principle 

of innovation: “It could almost be written down as a formula that 

when a man begins to think that he has at last found his method, 

he had better begin a most searching examination of himself to see 

whether some part of his brain has not gone to sleep.”2

2 As quoted in Richard N. Foster, Innovation: The Attacker’s Advantage (New 

York: Summit Books, 1986), p. 22.
SUGGESTED READINGS

M1 Garand Rifle

Green, Constance McLaughlin, Harry C. Thomson, and Peter C. 

Roots. The Ordnance Department: Planning Munitions for War. 

United States Army in World War II. Washington D.C.: Office 

of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 

1955.

Hatcher, Julian S. The Book of The Garand. Washington, D.C.: 

Infantry Journal Press, 1948.

McCarten, John. “The Man Behind the Gun,” New Yorker, 6 

February 1943, pp. 22–28.

Radar

Brown, Louis. A Radar History of World War II: Technical and Military 

Imperatives. London: Taylor and Francis, 1999.

Zahl, Harold A. Electrons Away or Tales of a Government Scientist. 

New York: Vantage Press, 1968.

The Benning Revolution

Bland, Larry I. “George C. Marshall and the Education of Army 

Leaders.” Military Review 68 (October 1988): 27–37.

Pogue, Forrest C., George C. Marshall: Education of a General, 1880–

1939. New York: Viking Press, 1963.

Air Observation Posts

Dastrup, Boyd L. King of Battle: A Branch History of the U.S. Army’s 

Field Artillery. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, 1993.

Raines Jr., Edgar F. Eyes of Artillery: The Origins of Modern U.S. Army 

Aviation in World War II. Army Historical Series. Washington, 

D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2000.
162 A History of Innovation

Wakefield, Ken. The Fighting Grasshoppers: U.S. Liaison Aircraft 

Operations in Europe, 1942–1945. Stillwater, Minn.: Specialty 

Press, 1990.

Armored Force Organization

Gillie, Mildred H. Forging the Thunderbolt: History of the U.S. Army’s 

Armored Forces, 1917–1945. Mechanicsburg, Pa.: Stackpole 

Books, 2006.

Hofmann, George F. Through Mobility We Conquer: The Mechanization 

of U.S. Cavalry. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2006.

Hofmann, George F., and Donn A. Starry, eds. Camp Colt to Desert 

Storm: The History of U.S. Armored Forces. Lexington: University 

Press of Kentucky, 1999.

Johnson, David E. Fast Tanks and Heavy Bombers: Innovation in the 

U.S. Army, 1917–1945. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 

2003.

Tank Destroyer Force

Baily, Charles M. Faint Praise: American Tanks and Tank Destroyers 

During World War II. Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1983.

Gabel, Christopher R. Seek, Strike, and Destroy: U.S. Army Tank 

Destroyer Doctrine in World War II. Fort Leavenworth, Kans.: 

U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1985.

The Bazooka

Green, Constance McLaughlin, Harry C. Thomson, and Peter C. 

Roots, The Ordnance Department: Planning Munitions For War. 

United States Army in World War II. Washington, D.C.: Office 

of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 

1955.

Rottman, Gordon L. World War II Infantry Anti-Tank Tactics (Elite). 

Oxford, U.K.: Osprey Publishing, 2005.

Upgunning the Amphibian Tank

Croizat, Victor J. Across the Reef: The Amphibious Tracked Vehicle at 

War. Quantico, Va.: Marine Corps Association, 1992.

Triplet, William S. A Colonel in the Armored Divisions: A Memoir, 

1941–1945. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2001.
SUGGESTED READINGS 163

Conquering the Hedgerows

Blumenson, Martin. Breakout and Pursuit. United States Army in 

World War II. Washington, D.C.: Office of the Chief of Military 

History, 1961.

Carafano, James J. GI Ingenuity: Improvisation, Technology, and 

Winning World War II. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2006.

Doubler, Michael D. Closing with the Enemy: How GIs Fought the War 

in Europe, 1944–1945. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 

1994.

Special Patrol Groups

Donnelly, William M. “’The Best Army That Can Be Put in the 

Field in the Circumstances:’ The U.S. Army, July 1951–July 

1953.”Journal of Military History 71 (July 2007): 809–47.

Hackworth, David H., and Julie Sherman, About Face: The Odyssey 

of an American Warrior. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1989.

Hogan, David W. Raiders or Elite Infantry? The Changing Role of the 

U.S. Army Rangers from Dieppe to Grenada (Westport, Conn.: 

Greenwood Press, 1992)

Airmobility

Cheng, Christopher C. S. Air Mobility: The Development of a Doctrine. 

Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1994.

Galvin, John R. Air Assault: The Development of Airmobile Warfare. 

New York: Hawthorne Books, 1969.

Howze, Hamilton H. A Cavalryman’s Story: Memoirs of a TwentiethCentury Army General. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian 

Institution Press, 1996.

Moore, Harold G., and Joseph L. Galloway, We Were Soldiers Once 

. . . and Young: Ia Drang—The Battle That Changed the War in 

Vietnam. New York: Random House, 1992.

Airborne Radio Direction Finding

Gilbert, James L. The Most Secret War: Army Signals Intelligence in 

Vietnam. Fort Belvoir, Va.: U.S. Army Intelligence and Security 

Command, 2003.

Hanyok, Robert J. Spartans in Darkness: American SIGNIT and 

the Indochina War, 1945–1975. [Fort Meade, Md.:] Center for 

Cryptologic History, National Security Agency, 2002.
164 A History of Innovation

Artillery Speed Shifter

Foster, Nathaniel W. “Speed Shifting the 155-mm. Howitzer, 

Towed: The Evolution of an Idea.” Artillery Trends, January 

1967, p. 17.

Hay Jr., John H. Tactical and Materiel Innovations. Vietnam Studies. 

Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1974.

Ott, David E. Field Artillery, 1954–1973. Washington, D.C.: 

Department of the Army, 1975.

National Training Center

Chapman, Anne W. The National Training Center Matures, 1985–

1993. Fort Monroe, Va.: U.S. Army Training and Doctrine 

Command, 1997.

–––––––. The Origins and Development of the National Training Center. 

Fort Monroe, Va.: U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command, 

1992.

Conclusion

Murray, Williamson, and Allan R. Millett, eds. Military Innovation 

in the Interwar Period. New York: Cambridge University Press, 

1996.

Posen, Barry R. The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain, 

and Germany Between the World Wars. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell 

University Press, 1984.

Rosen, Stephen P. Winning the Next War: Innovation and the Modern 

Military. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1991.

Winton, Harold R., and David R. Mets. The Challenge of Change: 

Military Institutions and New Realities, 1918–1941. Lincoln: 

University of Nebraska Press, 2000.
INDEX

I Corps, 106–08, 110

I Field Force Artillery, 144

1st Armored Division, 57, 118

1st Aviation Brigade, 126

1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry, 125

1st Battalion, 8th Marines, 83

1st Battalion, 23d Infantry, 94

1st Battalion, 134th Infantry, 95

1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile), 

124–26

1st Commonwealth Division, British, 

104

1st Infantry, 3

1st Infantry Division, 96, 99, 143

1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry, 125

II Corps, 47, 48, 68

2d Armored Amphibian Battalion, 

89–90

2d Armored Division, 98, 99, 101

2d Armored Group

Headquarters and Headquarters 

Company, 85

2d Battalion, 9th Infantry, 111

2d Battalion, 24th Infantry 

Spearhead Raiders, 109

2d Infantry Division, 99–100, 110, 

122, 124

2d Marine Division, 83

2d Tank Regiment, 86

III Marine Amphibious Force, 135–36

3d Battalion, 9th Infantry, 110–11

3d Infantry Division, 106, 108, 110

3d Radio Research Unit, 129–31, 135

4th Armored Division, 60

4th Infantry Division, 99

V Corps, 97, 99–100

6th Armored Division, 60

VII Corps, 99, 100

7th Cavalry, 108 

7th Cavalry Brigade (Mechanized), 53

VIII Corps, 60

8th Battalion, 6th Artillery

Battery B, 3, 139–44, 159

9th Infantry, 99–100, 110–11, 112

10th Air Transport Brigade, 122, 124

11th Air Assault Division, 122, 124

15th Infantry, 106–07, 109, 112

18th Armored Group, 85, 87

21st Infantry, 108

Gimlet Grenadiers, 109

22d Infantry, 99

23d Infantry, 110, 111, 112

24th Infantry, 108

27th Infantry, 108

Wolfhound Raiders, 108, 109

29th Infantry Division, 95, 96, 101

30th Infantry Division, 95, 99

31st Infantry, 112

32d Guards Motorized Rifle Regiment, 

Soviet, 150, 153

32d Infantry, 112

35th Infantry, 108 

Cacti Raiders, 110

38th Infantry, 112

66th Armor

Company H, 98

67th Infantry (Tanks)

Company F, 86

77th Infantry Division, 90

79th Infantry Division, 100–101

82d Airborne Division, 121

101st Airborne Division, 126

102d Cavalry Reconnaissance 

Squadron, 97

134th Infantry, 95

164th Infantry, 11

179th Infantry, 111–12

279th Infantry, 111–12

305th Infantry, 90

534th Amphibian Tractor Battalion, 85
166 A History of Innovation

536th Amphibian Tractor Battalion, 87

708th Amphibian Tank Battalion, 85, 89

715th Amphibian Tractor Battalion, 85

727th Amphibian Tractor Battalion, 87

728th Amphibian Tractor Battalion, 87

747th Tank Battalion, 97

749th Tank Battalion, 100–101

773d Amphibian Tank Battalion, 85

776th Amphibian Tank Battalion, 87, 88

Company A, 90

902d Field Artillery Battalion, 90

Aberdeen Proving Grounds, 

Maryland, 74, 75–78

Afghanistan, 149

After-action reviews, 152

Airborne Radio Direction Finding 

Center, 135

Aircraft, fixed-wing

C–7 Caribou, 122

J–3 Cub, 41, 43, 47

L–4, 41, 43, 47

O–49, 41, 43

OV–1 Mohawk, 122, 124

Storch, 40–41

U–6A Beaver, 133–35

U–8 Seminole, 135

Air Force Tactical Fighter Weapons 

Center, Red Flag exercises, 148, 

149

Airmobility Division, Office of 

the Chief of Research and 

Development, 120

Air Service, 18

American Expeditionary Force, 54

American Society of Mechanical 

Engineers, 13

Andrews, Maj. Gen. Frank M., 53, 

54–55, 156

Antitank gun

self-propelled, 69

towed, 69

See also Tank destroyers.

Anzio campaign, 48, 106

Arlington Hall Station, Virginia, 131

Armies

First, 59, 93–94, 99, 101

Third, 43, 53, 60

Eighth, 103, 113

Armored Force, 51–61, 67, 155

Army Air Corps, 21, 22, 25, 39–43, 

44, 73

Army Air Forces, 43, 46, 47

Army Aircraft Requirements Review 

Board, 118–20

Army Artillery and Missile School, 

144

Army Chief of Staff. See MacArthur, 

General Douglas A.; Marshall 

Jr., General George C.; 

Wickham, General John A.

Army Field Forces, 113

Army Forces Command, 148, 149

Army Ground Forces, 46, 57, 64, 77, 

87, 88

Army Materiel Command. See Army 

Materiel Development and 

Readiness Command.

Army Materiel Development and 

Readiness Command, 149

Army Ordnance Association, 13

Army Rocket Office, 74

Army Security Agency, 129, 131, 135, 

136

Army Signal Corps, 131

Army Special Projects Unit, 74

Army Supply Program, 79

Army Training and Evaluation 

Program, 148

Army Training Program, 147

Army Weapons Command, 140

Arnold, Maj. Gen. Henry H., 39–40, 

41–42, 43–44

Artillery Trends, 142

Assistant Secretary of War. See Lovett, 

Robert A.; McCloy, John J.

Aviation Directorate, Army Staff, 156

Avranches, France, 60

Awards

Alexander L. Holley Medal 

(Garand), 13

Brig. Gen. John H. Rice Gold 

Medal (Garand), 13

Croix de Guerre (Jaffe), 131

Distinguished Service Cross 

(Cota), 96

Legion of Merit (Culin), 99

Medal of Honor, 81

Medal of Merit (Garand), 13

Meritorious Unit Commendation 

(3d Radio Research Unit), 135
INDEX 167

Barnes, Brig. Gen. Gladeon M., 77–78

Battle Command Training Program, 

154

Baumhardt, Richard E., 12

Beat detection, 19–20

Blair, Col. William R., 18–19, 20, 22–23

Blitzkrieg, 1, 51, 63, 67–68, 70, 71

Blue Force, 150

Bradley, General Omar N., 28, 68, 

93–94, 98–99

Brest, France, 60

Brewer, Maj. Carlos, 38

Bristol, 1st Lt. Delbert L., 47–48

British Army, 25, 48, 52, 78–79. 

See also 1st Commonwealth 

Division, British.

Bruce, Maj. Gen. Andrew D., 64–65, 

66, 68–69

Bull, Sgt. Horatio, 87

Bull, Sgt. Terry, 87

Cambodia, 125, 142

Camp Hood, Texas, 64, 68

Camp Simms, Washington, D.C., 

78–79

Cannon, 37-mm., 84, 85, 87

Carrier, Bren Gun, 86

Cassels, Maj. Gen. A. J. H., 104

Cassidy, 1st Lt. Robert W., 46

Cavalry Journal, 54

Center for Army Lessons Learned, 

154

Chaffee, Maj. Gen. Adna R., 51, 53–54

Chandler, Maj. Rex W., 44–45

Chief of Army Ground Forces. See

McNair, Lt. Gen. Lesley J.

Chief of the Air Corps. See Arnold, 

Maj. Gen. Henry H.

Chinese Army, 109

Clark, Brig. Gen. Mark W., 46

Cleveland Air Races, 40–41

Coast Artillery, 17, 18, 22

Collins, Maj. Gen. J. Lawton, 93

Combat Commands

A, 57, 99

B, 57

headquarters, 58

R, 58–59

Combat Maneuver Training Center, 

154

Combat Training Centers, 154

Combined Arms Center, 154

Combined arms concept, 39, 53, 55, 

57–58, 148

Communist forces, 103, 104, 109, 125, 

129–30, 135–36

Continental Army Command, 121, 

122

Corps of Engineers, 17, 20

Cota, Brig. Gen. Norman D., 96

Crittenberger Jr., Brig. Gen. Willis D., 

144

Crouch, Arnold L., 12

Culin III, Sgt. Curtis G., 3, 97–100

Danford, Maj. Gen. Robert M., 38, 

40–43, 44

D-Day campaign. See Normandy, 

France.

Dean, Capt. John A., 90

Defense Advanced Research Projects 

Agency, 149

Defense Reorganization Act of 1958, 

121

Depew, Capt. James G., 97–98

DePuy, General William E., 147–48, 

154

Devers, Maj. Gen. Jacob L., 67

Eisenhower, Maj. Dwight D., 43

Field Artillery Journal, 44

Field Artillery School, Fort Sill, 

Oklahoma, 38, 41, 45

Field Manual 100–5, Operations,

147–48

Field Manual 18–5, Tank Destroyer 

Field Manual: Organization and 

Tactics of Tank Destroyer Units, 

64–65, 67

Firebase concept, 139

Food Machinery Corporation, 84, 88

Ford, Henry, 160

Ford, Lt. Col. William W., 44, 47

Forts

Benning, Georgia, 27–35, 106, 122, 

123, 158

Bragg, North Carolina, 121
168 A History of Innovation

Forts—Continued

Chaffee, Arkansas, 154

Irwin, California, 147–54

Leavenworth, Kansas, 154

Monmouth, New Jersey, 19

Monroe, Virginia, 23

Ord, California, 85

Polk, Louisiana, 154

Sill, Oklahoma, 38, 41, 45, 47, 120, 

144

Strong, Massachusetts, 73

Foster Jr., 1st Lt. Nathaniel W., 139–44

France, 51, 54, 59–60, 63, 73

Fredenall, Maj. Gen. Lloyd R., 68

French Army, 52

Garand, John C., 6–14, 159

Garrett, Lt. Col. Robert W., 110–11

General Electric Company, 79

Gerhardt, Maj. Gen. Charles H., 96

German Army, 51–52, 58, 68, 80, 

93–101, 157

German panzers, 57, 58, 63, 67–68, 71, 

73, 75, 79, 81, 99

Germany, 1, 25, 51–52

Gerow, Maj. Gen. Leonard T., 97

Gillem, Col. Alvan C., 53

Goddard, Dr. Robert H., 74

Gordon, 1st Lt. Robert L., 95

Gorman, Maj. Gen. Paul F., 147–48

Grenades

30-mm. shaped-charge rifle, 75

M10 60-mm. shaped-charge rifle, 

75

Grow, Maj. Gen. Robert W., 60

Gunnery Department, Army Artillery 

and Missile School, 144

Hardcastle, T/5 Ernest, 97

Harkins, Lt. Gen. Paul D., 135

Harkness, Pfc. Charles, 140

Hart, Col. Charles E., 47–48

Hay Jr., Lt. Gen. John H., 143

Helicopters

AH–1 Cobra, 122

H–19, 117

UH–1 Iroquois (Huey), 122

UH–1D Huey, 136

UH–19 Chickasaw, 132–33

Hewitt, T/4 Wesley A., 97

Hickman, Dr. Clarence N., 74

Hill 400, Korea, 109

Hinsch, Maj. William R., 94

Hodges, Lt. Gen. Courtney H., 94

Hohenfels, Germany, 154

Holcomb, Maj. Gen. Thomas A., 84

Hovey Jr., Herbert S., 131–35, 137

Howitzers

75-mm., 88, 89, 91

105-mm., 139, 142

155-mm., 139–44

M8 turret mounting, 87, 88

Howze, Maj. Gen. Hamilton H., 

118–20, 124, 156

Howze Board, 121, 124

Ia Drang Valley, Vietnam, 125

Improvised explosive devices, 2–3

Infantry Board, 86

Infantry Journal, 86–87

Infantry School, 2, 27–35

Advanced Course, 27, 30

Company Officer Course, 27, 30

Integrated air-ground units, 124–26

Iran, 149

Israel, 147

Italian campaign, 48, 106, 118

Jaffe, Harold M., 131–35, 137

Japanese Army, 83, 89, 90–91

Jeep, 86

Jessen, T/5 John, 97

Johnson Jr., Capt. Melvin M., 10

Joint Chiefs of Staff, 85

Joint Readiness Training Center, 154

Kasserine Pass, 57

Kennedy, John F., 129

Kessenich, Gregory J., 74

Korean Augmentation to the U.S. 

Army, 105

Korean War, 14, 103–14, 117–18, 121–22

Krueger, Lt. Gen. Walter, 43, 46

Landing Zone X-ray, 125

Lear, Lt. Gen. Ben, 10
INDEX 169

Litton, Capt. Stephen M., 97

Lovett, Robert A., 43

Luftwaffe, 44

MacArthur, General Douglas A., 8, 11

Machine guns

.30-caliber, 84, 89–90

.50-caliber, 84, 89

ball-mounted, 90

Browning, 8

M1917, 95

M1919, 95

Magruder, Brig. Gen. Bruce, 53

Marine Corps commandant. See

Holcomb, Maj. Gen. Thomas A.

Marshall Jr., General George C., 2, 

27–35, 55, 63–64, 66, 73, 78–79, 

156

Marshall Islands campaign, 89, 91

McAuliffe, Maj. Anthony C., 73

McCloy, John J., 44, 47

McNair, Lt. Gen. Lesley J., 46, 47, 57, 

64, 66, 69, 156

McNamara, Robert S., 120–21, 122, 124

Meuse-Argonne campaign, 95

Middle East, 149

Middleton, Maj. Gen. Troy H., 60

Midway Island, 25

Miltonberger, Col. Butler B., 95

Mohaupt, Henri H., 74–75

Mojave Desert, 149

Molotov cocktails, 73

Mortars

60-mm., 96

spigot, 75–78

Multiple Integrated Laser 

Engagement System, 151–52

Munich Crisis of 1938, 41

Murphy, Audie L., 13

Murphy, Col. P. J. C., 112

Nancy, France, 60

National Defense Act of 1920, 51

National Defense Research 

Committee, 74

National Security Act of 1947, 121

National Training Center, 147–54, 157

Naval Fighter Weapons School (Top 

Gun), 148

Naval Research Laboratory, 20–21

Navy Bureau of Ships, 84, 88

Nellis Air Force Base, California, 

149

Normandy, France, 59–60, 93–101

North African campaign, 47, 48, 51, 

57, 67, 68, 96, 118, 158

North Vietnamese Army, 125

Observer/controllers, 150, 151, 152

O’Daniel, Maj. Gen. John W., 106

Office of the Chief of Research and 

Development, 120

Office of the Secretary of Defense, 

120

Officer training, 2, 27–35, 64

Omaha beach, 94, 95, 96, 97

Open warfare training, 30–31

Operations

Birmingham, 142

Cobra, 60, 99

Desert Storm, 150, 154

Iraqi Freedom, 154

Starlite, 135–36

Torch, 57, 79

Opposing force, 150

Ordnance Corps, 17, 18, 20, 91

Ordnance Department, 6, 8, 74, 75, 

156–57

Ordnance Section, First Army, 99

Palmer Jr., General Bruce, 137

Patton Jr., Maj. Gen. George S., 13, 43, 

53, 54, 60, 68

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, 25

Pederson, John D., 8

Pentomic division, 118

Pershing, General John J., 27, 30

Person, Maj. Arthur C., 97

Philippines campaign, 90

Piper, William T., 43

Piper Aircraft Corporation, 41, 43

Pleiku, Vietnam, 125

Plei Me Special Forces Camp, 

Vietnam, 125

Poland, 73

Provisional Tank Brigade, 53

Pulse detection, 20–22

Pulver, Capt. Murray S., 81
170 A History of Innovation

Radar, 17–25, 159

SCR–268, 23–24

SCR–270, 25

SCR–271, 25

Ranger companies, 105–06

Reorganization Objective Army 

Division, 61

Rifles

Browning automatic, 8

M1 Garand, 6–14, 75, 94, 95, 158

Springfield Model 1903, 5–6, 10

Roberts, Lt. Gen. Gordon B., 118–20

Rocket launchers

German Panzerfaust, 80

M1, 75–79

M9, 79

M20 Super Bazooka, 80

Rockets

2.75-inch, 124

M6A3, 79

Roebling, Donald, 84–85

Rogers, General Bernard W., 148

Rogers, Lt. Gen. Gordon B., 118–20

Rogers Board, 118–20

Rotation policy, 104, 105, 113

Rubottom, Capt. Donald C., 95

Saunders, Maj. George S., 97–98

Secretary of Defense. See McNamara, 

Robert S.

Secretary of War. See Stimson, Henry L.

Seek, Strike, and Destroy doctrine, 

65, 67, 69

Sibert, 1st Lt. Edwin, 38

Signal Corps, 17, 18–19, 20, 21–22, 23, 

24, 25

Signal Corps Laboratories, 19, 21, 

22–24, 25

Skinner, Lt. Col. Leslie A., 73–81, 158

South Korean Army, 112–13

South Vietnam, 130, 132, 133–34

South Vietnamese Army, 125, 129, 

130–31

Soviet Union, 78–79, 131, 148, 149

Spencer, Maj. Henry G., 94–95

Stimson, Henry L., 44

Stryker wheeled vehicle, 154

Styron, Maj. Gen. James C., 112

Submachine gun, Thompson, 

.45-caliber, 94

Tactical warfare training, 29–30

Tank Corps, 51, 54

Tank Destroyer Center, 64, 65, 70, 155

Tank destroyers, 63–71, 155 

M3 Gun Motor Carriage, 68

M6, 68

M10, 68

M18, 65–66, 71

M36, 71

Tanks 

amphibian, upgunned, 83–91, 157

M4 Sherman, 57, 68, 97–100

M5 Stuart, light, 85

Mark VII medium tank, 53

Marmon Harrington ultralight, 85

T9E1 Locust airborne, 85

See also German panzers.

Tank School, 86

Tarawa Atoll campaign, 83, 85, 87

Tet Offensive, 137

Tractors, amphibian, 83–85, 87

LVT(A)1, 85, 87

LVT(A)4, 89

Training cycles, 150

Training programs and techniques, 

2, 27–35, 45, 56–57, 64, 105–06, 

108–09, 112–13, 114, 147–54, 157

Trench warfare, 30–31

Triplet, Col. William S., 85–88, 91

Troop transport. See Helicopters.

Truck, Chrysler amphibious half-ton, 

86

Tunisia, 47, 48, 67, 68, 70

Uhl, 2d Lt. Edward G., 73–81

U.N. forces, 103

U.S. Air Force, 120, 121–22, 124, 126, 

135, 149

U.S. Army Electronics Command, 

131

U.S. Army Game Plan for Fiscal Year 

2005, 1

U.S. Army Tactical Mobility 

Requirements Board, 121

U.S. Army Training and Doctrine 

Command, 147, 149, 154

U.S. Department of Defense, 118, 121

U.S. Department of the Army, 118

U.S. Forces, European Theater, 

General Board, 70
INDEX 171

U.S. Marine Corps, 11–12, 24, 83, 

84–85, 85, 87, 88, 117, 124, 

135–36. See also 1st Battalion, 

8th Marines; 2d Armored 

Amphibian Battalion; 2d 

Marine Division; III Marine 

Amphibious Force.

U.S. Military Assistance Command, 

Vietnam, 135

U.S. Navy, 17, 19–21, 25, 84, 85, 88, 

159

U.S. Navy Powder Factory, 74

Viet Cong. See Communist forces.

Vietnam War, 3, 124–26, 129–37, 

139–44, 157, 158, 159

Voice encryption equipment, 136

Ward, Maj. Orlando, 38

War Department, 20, 22, 38, 41, 43, 46, 

53, 55, 68, 73

Warsaw Pact, 147, 150

War Zone C, Vietnam, 142

Watson Jr., 1st Lt. Joseph M., 43

Whitehead, Alfred North, 158–59

Wickham, General John A., 153

Wiens, Harry, 11–12

Williams, Col. Robert R., 120–21, 

156

Winchester Repeating Arms 

Company, 10

Wolf, Maj. Gordon J., 44

Wood, Maj. Gen. John S., 60

Woodworth, John, 131–35, 137

World War I, 5, 30–31, 38, 39, 51, 52

World War II, 1–2, 6, 10, 11–12, 17, 

24, 34, 35, 47–49, 51–52, 53–61, 

63–71, 73–81, 93–101, 105–06, 

118, 157, 158. See also specific 

campaigns.

Yom Kippur War, 147

Zahl, Harold A., 21–22