Document created: 23 September 03
Air University Review,
March-April 1974
Lieutenant Colonel
David. R. Mets
I am far too much in doubt about the present, and far too perturbed about the future, to be otherwise than profoundly reverential about the past. -Augustine Birrell
Social scientists have long employed models in their analytical work, and this has been a source of bewilderment for the layman. Now there is a growing need to understand the nature, the utility, and the limitations of such models because their use and misuse have been spreading to other fields. Historians have been becoming more interested in the technique, a recent example being Robin Higham’s Air Power: A Concise History.1 Dr. Higham’s model presents a kind of cyclical theory of the development of air power. His pattern suggests that in the typical case a nation’s air power is developed in a cycle that reaches its peaks in the midst of recurring wars. The cycle starts with a period of “peacetime equilibrium,” is followed by a time of “rearmamental stability,” reaches a peak of “wartime equilibrium,” enters a phase of “demobilizational instability,” and finally returns to an era of “peacetime equilibrium.”
What is the use of a model like Dr. Higham’s? Certainly it cannot be used as
a reliable predictor of the future. Any model that is broadly defined to fit
all cases would necessarily be so general as to be of no use as a guide to the
future. Any that is narrowly defined would necessarily apply to so few cases as
to be of equally little utility. Perhaps models like these are of some use as
conceptual devices to help one organize his thoughts about his subject and its
future—whether that subject be history, social science, or the theory and
technology of air power. Dr. I. B. Holley was mainly thinking about the future
and technology in his Ideas and Weapons, its theme being that a nation
which neglects the proper and rapid development of weapons technology and an
accompanying doctrine for its application to the problems of war is seriously
jeopardizing its chances for surviva1.2 That is also one of the
themes of Air Power: A Concise History as well as of the work under
review: Monte Wright’s Most Probable Position.*
*Monte Duane Wright, Most Probable Position: A History of Aerial Navigation to 1941 (Lawrence/Manhattan/Wichita: University Press of Kansas, 1972, $13.50), xi and 280 pages.
How, then, are we to organize our thinking about theory and technology? Two possible models spring to mind: one might start with a theory of war and move toward the development of a technology that would implement that theory; in another, the weapon might first appear and the theorist would then conceive a scheme for its employment.
It is hard to think of instances when the theory came first and a technology was then created to suit it. One example might be the strategic bombing theory of the U.S. Army Air Corps in the 1930s. Mitchell handed down a long-range bombing theory to his successors, and they created a bomber, the B-17, which they thought suited the theory.
More frequently, the technology has first appeared, and only after a long delay has the theory for its employment in war been created. Gunpowder provides a fine example. It appeared in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and the military history of the next 400 years or so is largely a story of trying to find the proper mix of shot and pike. Captains like Gonsalvo de Cordoba and Gustavus Adolphus achieved great successes with mixes that temporarily gave them advantages, but it was not until the time of Marlborough in the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century that someone came up with the simple but brilliant idea of combining the two functions by fixing a bayonet to the firearm. Thus the methodology for employment of gunpowder was a long process of trial and error and ingenious effort.
The former of our two models describing the evolution of theory and technology might be termed the “theory first” type. Someone creates a theory, then it is necessary to develop the hardware for the application of that theory. The test of the scheme comes with its use in war or maneuvers, defects become apparent, adjustments are made, and a doctrine emerges that serves as a guide for the organization and employment of forces until changing conditions make it obsolete.
Another possible scheme might be named the “technology first” model, which starts when someone devises a new weapon. It is then necessary to conceive a theory for the application of that new weapon to the problems of warfare. When war comes, the theory is usually found defective through the occurrence of excessive casualties, and trial and error methods are employed to overcome the defects. If that is successful, a doctrine again emerges that temporarily guides the organization of armed forces and the development of their materiel.
Of course, it must be remembered that these models are necessarily oversimplifications. They separate theory and technology too neatly. In reality, it is practically impossible to put one ahead of the other, for they are interrelated and evolve more or less simultaneously.
How does Most Probable Position relate to these models? Colonel Wright’s work is a case study that certainly seems to substantiate the validity of Robin Higham’s model. Colonel Wright, himself an Air Force navigator, has examined the development of the art of aerial navigation from the earliest times to the outset of World War II. Thus, he covers only one of the two cycles through which American air power has thus far traveled. In accord with Higham’s pattern, Wright’s work shows that the technology of navigation was making only sporadic progress during the period of “peacetime equilibrium” preceding World War I. The development of the techniques and instruments went on at a fever pitch during the eras of “rearmamental instability” and “wartime equilibrium,” and then the pace slackened drastically during the interwar period. One suspects that were a sequel to Most Probable Position to be written it would suggest that the Second World War experience would also confirm the Higham model, but the development of aerial navigation and American air power in general since 1945 would depart from the scheme.
Wright’s monograph might well be taken as a possible example of the “theory first” model. Insofar as long-range navigation is concerned, a theory postulating the possibility and effectiveness of jumping over the adversary’s surface forces and striking directly at the sources of his moral and material power came ahead of the technology. A corollary to this theory was that the aircraft could be efficiently guided to and from the target and that the bombs could be accurately directed at the target. In theory, this scheme should then have been tested and its faults identified. That, however, was one of Wright’s complaints. At that point, practice departed from our model, and the proper tests were not made. None of the long-range navigation missions of the interwar period was combined with realistic bombing training. Had the deficiencies been understood, the corrective measures then should have been devised, and the final product would have been a complete doctrine governing the organization and employment of the strategic bombing weapon system. But, according to Colonel Wright, it did not work that way because of faulty air leadership during the interwar period.
As Holley has pointed out, the thorough and rapid exploitation of all the possibilities of new weapon systems is essential to national security.3 The thing that prevented the proper exploitation of the air weapon in World War I was an inefficient organization. Holley further says that any organization designed to accomplish this must be composed of two parts: one for the acquisition of data and the other for making sound decisions based on the data. These decisions must be made in two areas: the creation of new technology and the formulation of coherent doctrine for the exploitation of that technology. He holds that in the post-World War I period the most serious fat was in the data-gathering part of the organization. I suppose Wright would agree with that view to some extent, but Most Probable Position argues that the most serious fault was the failure to solve the navigation and meteorology problems. Wright’s informative treatise shows how practically the whole technological foundation for the ultimate solution of the navigation and bombing problems existed long before the United States entered World War II.
It is amazing to this reviewer that most of the equipment and techniques which he had supposed had their origins in the Second World War were really conceived days of the Zeppelin raids on London—and even before. Efforts had been made prior to 1914 to develop a sextant with an artificial horizon not only for naval vessels but also for airships and balloons. Even before motive power was applied to lighter-than-air vehicles, airmen were experimenting with devices for determining ground speed by timing. Long before the Armistice, the Germans were working with acoustical devices that would have given the Zeppelins their absolute altitudes—devices that had much in common with the ultimate electronic solution to the problem. During World War I, RDF and DF were extensively used by both sides in their long-range aircraft. Wright’s thoroughgoing research of these and many other matters leaves little doubt that it was not the state of the art which prevented the U.S. Army Air Forces from finding its targets and hitting them in the early days of World War II.
According to Monte Wright, the real limiting factor in the development of the long-range bombing weapon system was the failure of the organization’s leadership to understand that the task was not complete when a fine airplane had been acquired and the requisite pilots had been trained. According to Wright, the leaders should have seen that a centralized navigation school was essential, as was also the establishment of a separate navigator rating. For too long, the pilot was expected to be a generalist who could handle every job on the aircraft. For too long, the U.S. Army Air Corps was dependent upon the smaller units for such navigation training as was done. For too long, the high leadership remained ignorant of the capabilities and limitations of the navigation part of the weapon system.
Although Colonel Wright is certainly correct when he states that our navigation system was not ready for war in 1941, perhaps he is a bit too ungenerous to the leaders of the thirties. In many other works, that same leadership has been faulted for failing to see the need for fighter development, especially the need for an effective long-range escort. The critics have often oversimplified saying that Mitchell proclaimed a need for the fighters and Chennault after him echoed those sentiments but that the big bomber men were so blind as to feel the B-17, by itself, was enough. Defenders of Arnold and the other bomber men have correctly pointed out that the airmen were never really hostile to the acquisition of good fighters. Rather, it is inherent in the responsibility of office that the leader must establish a system of priorities.
The B-17 first flew in the year 1935. That was the year of the Nye Committee “merchants of death” hearings and a time when the interwar isolationist sentiment had reached a peak—an environment hardly conducive to the acquisition of all the desirable aircraft types listed by Mitchell. Quite possibly Arnold and the others felt that they were lucky to get any new airplanes. Their problem was to choose the most—rather than all—desirable types of aircraft.
The same idea might well be extended to the area of Wright’s monograph: perhaps Arnold was fully aware of the importance of navigation—he had led the famous B-10 expedition to Alaska and back—but he knew that he could not have everything. While Wright is certainly correct in his view that there is little hope of completing the long-range bombing mission if the proper navigation equipment and personnel are not at hand, Arnold might reply that the mission would not even get started if the airplane and its “driver” were not available.
On the whole, Wright’s Most Probable Position is a splendid work. Even when he is working a bit out of his area, in the chapter on maritime navigation, the substance of his study is of a very high technical order—though sailors will doubtless wince at his one technical slip: he refers to the bow of a ship as its “nose.” Wright’s many years at the Air Force Academy and his Ph.D. studies at Duke are apparent in the fine workmanship he has used in both the research and writing of the book. In short, it is a book which will be found fascinating by all who are interested in the history of science and technology, and one which probably should become a part of the personal professional library of all Air Force navigators.
Colonel Wright’s addition to the history of air power is a significant contribution to a larger literature that pleads the need for a continuing effort to fully develop the technology and doctrine of military power—especially in peacetime when the threat seems remote. The utility of the models cited is, of course, quite limited. Though they are not good predictors of the future, they may be employed as conceptual devices that will help us organize our thinking about air power and the future. The pattern we find most often starts with the development of a new weapon, goes on to the creation of a theory for its employment, the testing of that theory in combat, and its perfection through technology or tactical improvements, and ends with the articulation of an approved doctrine.
The Wright brothers developed a new weapon and proved it on the sands of North Carolina. The ideas for its employment were created by many men in the heat of the First World War and the debates of the twenties. Its defects were exposed in the Battle of Britain and over Schweinfurt. Those defects were made good by the development of the long-range escort fighter and some changes in tactics. And the doctrine which emerged was quite different from the theory which had been preached by Douhet. He had insisted that the bomber would always get through and that it would win the war. The doctrine which emerged held that the bomber would usually get through if properly escorted and that it would be one of the decisive factors in the winning of a worldwide but nonnuclear war.
Where does Most Probable Position fit into this story? Monte Wright describes another of the defects of the theory—or, more accurately, one of its oversights. He shows how the theory of the interwar period incorrectly assumed that long-range navigation would be no particular problem and that the dropping of bombs on target in a neat, geometrical pattern would be a simple matter. Now that he has outlined the defects of the theory, it is to be hoped that he will soon apply his considerable talents to writing a sequel which will explain how the faults were overcome in the Second World War and how, during the postwar years, a complete doctrine for the organization and employment of the long-range bombing weapon system emerged.
United States Military Academy
Notes
1. Robin Higham, Air Power: A Concise History (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1972), p. 4.
2. I. B. Holley, Ideas and Weapons (Hamden, Connecticut: Archon Books, 1953, 1971), pp. 175-77.
3. Ibid., pp. 176-77.
Lieutenant Colonel David. R. Mets (Ph.D., University of Denver) is Assistant Professor of History, U.S. Military Academy. He entered the Air Force in 1953 after seven years in the Navy and has served as instructor navigator, instructor pilot, and aircraft commander, as assistant professor at Air Force Academy, and C-130 aircraft commander in Vietnam. Colonel Met’s articles have appeared in Aerospace Historian and Military Review.
Disclaimer
The conclusions and opinions expressed in this
document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression,
academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official
position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air
Force or the Air University.
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