joint force quarterly - summer 1993 · 2014-02-26 · alvin h. bernstein national defense...

Warfare today is a thing of swift movement—ofrapid concentrations. It requires the building up ofenormous fire power against successive objectiveswith breathtaking speed. It is not a game for theunimaginative plodder.

. . . the truly great leader overcomes all difficulties,and campaigns and battles are nothing but a longseries of difficulties to be overcome.

— General George C. MarshallFort Benning, GeorgiaSeptember 18, 1941

Inaugural Issue

JFQ

J F Q F O R U M

7 The Services and Joint Warfare: Four Views from the Top

8 Projecting Strategic Land Combat Powerby Gordon R. Sullivan

13 The Wave of the Futureby Frank B. Kelso II

17 Complementary Capabilities from the Sea by Carl E. Mundy, Jr.

22 Ideas Countby Merrill A. McPeak

C O N T E N T S

2 JFQ / Summer 1993

A B O U T T H E C O V E RThe cover shows USS Dwight D. Eisenhower,passing through the Suez Canal during Opera-tion Desert Shield, a U.S. Navy photo by FrankA. Marquart. Photo credits for insets, from topto bottom, are Schulzinger and Lombard (forLockheed), DOD, and the U.S. Army.

4 A Word from the Chairmanby Colin L. Powell

6 Introducing the Inaugural Issueby the Editor-in-Chief

25 What’s Ahead for the Armed Forces?by David E. Jeremiah

36 Service Redundancy: Waste or Hidden Capability?by Stephen Peter Rosen

40 Reforming Joint Doctrineby Robert A. Doughty

48 United Nations Peacekeeping: Ends versus Meansby William H. Lewis and John O.B. Sewall

JFQ

Reforming Joint Doctrine

Coalition Warfare

Joint Warfare—Views from the Top

United Nations Peacekeeping

The Limits of Jointness

The Gulf War Revisited

Joint Air Operations

Service Redundancy—Waste or Capability?

J O I N T F O R C E Q U A R T E R L Y

A P R O F E S S I O N A L M I L I T A R Y J O U R N A L

JFQ

93S u m m e r

Inaugural Issue

Inaugural Issue

58 Principles for Coalition Warfareby Robert W. RisCassi

S U M M E R 1 9 9 3 / N U M B E R 1

Summer 1993 / JFQ 3

O U T O F J O I N T

72 The Limits of Jointnessby Seth Cropsey

80 A New Mission for Atlantic Commandby Paul David Miller

88 Unity of Control: Joint Air Operations in the Gulfby James A. Winnefeld and Dana J. Johnson

100Operation Weserübung and the Origins of Joint Warfareby Richard D. Hooker, Jr., and

Christopher Coglianese

T H E J O I N T W O R L D

112 Professional Notes:Doctrine, Education, andDocumentation

O F F T H E S H E L F

118 Revisiting the Gulf War:A Review Essayby Harry G. Summers, Jr.

123 The Military Cost of Discrimination: A Review Essayby Alan L. Gropman

125 On the Other Side of the Interwar Years: A Book Reviewby Brian R. Sullivan

127 Books Noted

P O S T S C R I P T

128 A Note To Readers and Future Contributors

Joint Force QuarterlyA PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

Editor-in-Chief

Alvin H. Bernstein

Executive Editor

Patrick M. Cronin

Managing Editor

Robert A. Silano

Associate Editors

Martin J. Peters, Jr.

Calvin B. Kelley

Production Manager

George C. Maerz

Photo Editor

Chris H. Reynard

Editorial Assistant

Florence P. Williams

Joint Force Quarterly is published by theInstitute for National Strategic Studies,National Defense University, to promoteunderstanding of the integrated employ-ment of land, sea, air, space, and specialoperations forces. The journal focuses onjoint doctrine, coalition warfare, con-tingency planning, combat operationsconducted by the unified commands,and joint force development.

The editors invite articles and othercontributions on joint warfighting, in-terservice issues that support jointness,and topics of common interest to theArmed Forces. Please direct manuscripts,letters, and other communications to:

Managing EditorJoint Force QuarterlyATTN: NDU–NSS–JFQNational Defense UniversityWashington, D.C. 20319–6000

Commercial Telephone: (202) 475–1013Defense Switched Network: 335–1013FAX: (202) 475–1012 / DSN 335–1012

Opinions, conclusions, and recommen-dations expressed or implied within arethose of the contributors and do notnecessarily reflect the views of the De-partment of Defense or any otheragency of the Federal Government. Por-tions of this journal are protected bycopyright and may not be reproduced orextracted without the permission of thecopyright proprietors. An acknowledg-ment to Joint Force Quarterly should bemade whenever material is quoted fromor based on its contents.

This publication has been approved bythe Secretary of Defense.

ISSN 1070–0692

4 JFQ / Summer 1993

we train as a team, fight as a team, and win as a team

Portrait of the Chairman by SFC Peter G. Varisano, USA.

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Joint Force QuarterlyA PROFESS IONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

PublisherGEN Colin L. Powell, USA

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Chairman of the Advisory CommitteeLTG Paul G. Cerjan, USA

National Defense University

Members of the Advisory CommitteeMaj Gen John C. Fryer, Jr., USAF

National War CollegeBG Randolph W. House, USA

U.S. Army Command and General StaffCollege

Col Valentino L. Lendaro, USMCMarine Corps War College

VADM R.C. Macke, USNThe Joint Staff

Col Andrew Nichols Pratt, USMCMarine Corps Command and Staff College

Maj Gen Peter D. Robinson, USAFAir War College

Brig Gen Monroe S. Sams, Jr., USAFArmed Forces Staff College

RADM Jerome F. Smith, Jr., USNIndustrial College of the Armed Forces

MG William A. Stofft, USAU.S. Army War College

RADM Joseph C. Strasser, USNNaval War College

Col John A. Warden III, USAFAir Command and Staff College

BrigGen Michael J. Williams, USMCThe Joint Staff

Chairman of the Editorial BoardAlvin H. Bernstein

National Defense University

Members of the Editorial BoardRichard K. Betts

Columbia UniversityEliot A. Cohen

The Johns Hopkins UniversityCOL Robert A. Doughty, USA

U.S. Military AcademyLtCol Robert C. Figlock, USMC

Marine Corps War CollegeAaron L. Friedberg

Princeton UniversityCOL Robert A. Gimbert, USA

U.S. Army Command and General Staff College

Alan L. GropmanIndustrial College of the Armed Forces

COL Peter F. Herrly, USANational War College

Col Douglas N. Hime, USAFNaval War College

William T. HodsonInformation Resources Management College

COL Richard L. Irby, Jr., USAU.S. Army War College

Col George R. Jackson, USAFArmed Forces Staff College

Mark H. JacobsenMarine Corps Command and Staff College

Thomas L. McNaugherThe Brookings Institution

John J. MearsheimerUniversity of Chicago

Col Philip S. Meilinger, USAFAir Command and Staff College

LTG William E. Odom, USA (Ret.)Hudson Institute

Stephen Peter RosenHarvard University

James H. TonerAir War College

LtGen Bernard E. Trainor, USMC (Ret.)Harvard University

LTG C.A.H. Waller, USA (Ret.)RKK, Limited

Summer 1993 / JFQ 5

The world is a very different placetoday than it was when I assumedmy duties as Chairman of the JointChiefs of Staff in October 1989. Inthe intervening years, walls have

come down, empires have crumbled, newnations have been born, and more peoplehave sought freedom than at any other pe-riod in history. Many of them have found it,some are still reaching, and others have along way to go. But I believe the momentumthat freedom and democracy have gained isan unstoppable force.

Much of that momentum was generatedby the dedication and devotion to duty ofmillions of Americans—together with theirsteadfast allies—who refused to surrender tothe scourge of communism and so, finally,brought about its defeat, both strategicallyand morally. Foremost among those proudAmericans are the members of the U.S.Armed Forces. Their service has helped cre-ate the new era of hope and promise that weare now entering.

Their service also has made possible thekind of military that we have as a Nation.Today’s Armed Forces are the finest in theworld. Hard work, lessons learned from pastmistakes, matchless training, and first-classweapons and equipment enable us to takethe best and the brightest young Ameri-cans—volunteers all—and mold them intoan exquisite fighting force that can be de-ployed at any time or place in the world,with blinding speed and awesome power.

There is anothermajor factor that con-tributes to the high qual-ity of our Armed Force—less tangible than trainingor weaponry but nonethe-less crucial. We call it

jointness, a goal that we have been seekingsince America took up arms in December1941 at a time when warfare was clearly un-dergoing a dramatic change. Today we haveachieved that goal; today all men andwomen in uniform, each service, and everyone of our great civilian employees under-stand that we must fight as a team.

Our soldiers know that they are the beston the battlefield; our sailors know that theyare the best at sea; our airmen know thatthey are the finest in the skies; our Marinesknow that no one better ever hit the beach.But every one of these men and women alsoknows that they play on a team. They are ofthe team and for the team; “one for all andall for one,” as Alexandre Dumas put it inThe Three Musketeers. We train as a team,fight as a team, and win as a team.

JFQ: Joint Force Quarterly—or simplyJFQ—is the most recent addition to this ef-fort. Its purpose is to spread the word aboutour team, to provide for a free give-and-takeof ideas among a wide range of people fromevery corner of the military. We want thepages of JFQ to be filled with the latest wordon joint issues—from warfighting to educa-tion, from training to logistics. We want thediscussion of these joint issues to get a thor-ough airing, to stir debate and counter-argu-ment, to stimulate the thinking of Americanmen and women serving on land, at sea, andin the air. We want JFQ to be the voice of thejoint warfighter.

Don’t read the pages that follow if youare looking for the establishment point ofview or the conventional wisdom. Pick upJFQ for controversy, debate, new ideas, andfresh insights—for the cool yet lively inter-play among some of the finest minds com-mitted to the profession of arms.

Read JFQ. Study it. Mark it up—under-line and write in the margins. Get mad.Then contribute your own views. We wantto hear from you. We need to hear from you.For it is only you and your buddies who canmake JFQ one of the most thoroughly readand influential journals in our profession.

COLIN L. POWELLChairman

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

A Word from the Chairman

General Colin L. Powell, USA, is thetwelfth Chairman of the Joint Chiefs ofStaff. He was previously Commanderin Chief, Forces Command, and alsohas served as Assistant to thePresident for National Security Affairs.

6 JFQ / Summer 1993

In a society such as ours, overwhelmed with infor-mation but deeply dependent upon clear—I donot say simple—ideas, journals can play a criticalrole. The best of them synthesize facts in order to

formulate useful ideas. Joint Force Quarterly aims to doprecisely this. At the same time, its appearance marks amilestone in the history of the American military’sprogress from a force that first won a young nation itsindependence, then served as the successful defenderof its fundamental values, and finally became what it istoday—the most powerful protector of liberty that theworld has ever known, whether reckoned relatively orabsolutely.

This historic milestone not only marks an extraor-dinary political success. It bears witness to the devel-opment of an American military whose skills andequipment have arrived at a degree of excellence asunachievable as it was unimaginable just a decadeago. In the dozen years between Desert One andDesert Storm, our Armed Forces have reached a water-shed in their operational quality. JFQ aims to chartand analyze that course, so that the understandingthus gained will enable us to build upon this remark-able achievement and assure its continuation. Here,then, is a forum where wisdom from the past canserve us in the future.

The journal’s specific interest is in the ideas thatwill improve our ability to work together. Hence, it fo-cuses on three related areas: joint and combined oper-ations; interservice and multiservice interests that beardirectly on jointness; and unique service concernsthat influence the culture of the U.S. Armed Forces.The ultimate purpose is to ensure that our military re-mains able to deter or defeat any future enemy,should storm clouds again gather on the strategichorizon and hostile forces threaten our interests orthose of our allies.

In his introductory remarks, the Chairman writesthat such an enterprise demands a competition ofideas on the subjects where the interests of the ser-vices converge. General Powell reminds us that, just asthere is no substitute in combat for trial by fire, so thebest ideas can only emerge after they too have under-gone the appropriate trial by debate. In the world ofmilitary thought—which needs to precede action in

the field—this competition of ideas should make forlively reading. The success of this or any journal in-variably depends on such liveliness.

In the inaugural issue of JFQ, for example, AdmiralDavid Jeremiah, Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, ob-serves that “We desperately need to streamline our de-fense acquisition system.” So strong an assertion fromso senior and thoughtful an officer should be a startingpoint for debate on what kinds of changes need to bemade in our approach to building weapons in a periodof ambiguous threats and constrained budgets.

The articles by senior officers emphasize coopera-tion while retaining the distinctive skills of each ser-vice. But Seth Cropsey insists that such cooperationmust not silence the proper debate about the futureroles of the individual services, while Stephen Rosenuses historical examples to argue that structured com-petition between the services is vital to the health ofthe Armed Forces.

On the operational level, General Robert RisCassi,who commands U.N. and U.S. forces in Korea, writesthat reliance on coalition warfare will increase in thefuture, and offers an intriguing argument about theuniversality of military doctrine that is certain to senda legion of military historians to their referenceworks—and then to their word processors—to approveor dispute his arguments.

Putting ideas into action, Admiral Paul DavidMiller, the commander of the U.S. Atlantic Command,offers a working plan to preserve military power asU.S. forces decrease in size. Controversial his plansmay be; but as virtually every author in this issue rec-ognizes, the comfort of the old, familiar ways is gone.

These are but a few of the articles from JFQ’s firstissue. Readers will inevitably notice that a hefty num-ber of authors wear several stars on their shoulders.They have been gracious enough to lend their statureto the launching of Joint Force Quarterly. Future con-tributors should not be intimidated by the rank of thisdistinguished group. This journal is dedicated to pro-viding a forum for every officer—irrespective of rankor position—with interest in the issues raised by thejointness and unity of the services. Jointness is asmuch a bottom-up as it is a top-down enterprise. Asthe Chairman urged, I too hope that you will readJFQ, write letters in response to its contents, and con-tribute your own articles. Despite the high rank of theauthors in this inaugural issue, “Don’t let the stars getin your eyes.”

ALVIN H. BERNSTEINEditor-in-Chief

Introducing the Inaugural Issue

From Desert One to Desert Storm

Summer 1993 / JFQ 7

THE SERVICES ANDJOINT WARFARE:Four Views from the TopThe Goldwater-Nichols DOD Reorganization Actelevated the notion of jointness to new heights.Operation Desert Storm clearly demonstrated theability of the Armed Forces to operate together as acohesive joint team. But as the services reorganize andreorient to meet the demands of an uncertain future,they must continually examine their contributions tothe Nation’s defense and ensure they are prepared forthe challenges ahead. Future success in battle dependson maintaining a system of joint warfare that drawsupon the unique capabilities of each service whileeffectively integrating them in order to realize their fullcombat potential. How the Army, Navy, Marine Corps,and Air Force are working to achieve that goal is thetheme on which the service chiefs were asked to focusin this inaugural issue of Joint Force Quarterly.

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8 JFQ / Summer 1993

The relevance of those statistics—found in the last edition of SovietMilitary Power—has altered dra-matically. A wide variety of politi-

cal, military, social, and economic events il-lustrates the changes in the global strategicsituation over the last four years. The Armyunderstands the scope and depth of thesechanges and their implications for the futureof U.S. national security. It is taking advan-tage of, and responding to, internationaland domestic realities which condition thedevelopment and use of force. As an institu-tion, the Army is innovating—in concert

with the other services—to ensure that ourNation’s enduring interests remain securewell into the 21st century.

A Changing WorldSoviet military capabilities shaped the

Army’s perspective on joint warfare through-out the Cold War. From 1945 to 1990 wefaced a numerically superior, disciplined, of-fensively oriented political and military ad-versary. The tremendous quantity of Sovietequipment, coupled with Moscow’s drive toachieve technological parity with the West,threatened our interests around the globe,with the primary focus on Central Europe.Euphemistically characterized as a “target-rich environment,” massed-armor warfarepreoccupied American military thought andaction for much of the last forty-five years—two generations of military leaders. Infantry,tank, and artillery units along with battal-ions, brigades, and divisions rightly hadtheir minds and hands occupied with thejob of defeating superior numbers of similarequipment arrayed in a dense combat area.With the notable exception of tactical airsupport, thoroughly integrated on the WorldWar II pattern established by Pete Quesadaand George Patton,2 joint operations andconsiderations were, in the minds of manyArmy commanders, consigned to echelonsabove corps.

The demise of the Soviet Union has presented challenges that the Army is over-coming, and opportunities that it is seizing.

Projecting Strategic Land Combat PowerBy G O R D O N R. S U L L I V A N

Members of the 2d Armored Divisioninside an infantry fighting vehicle.

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Twenty-nine thousand tanks, thirty-nine thousand infantry fightingvehicles, over four thousand tactical aircraft, seven hundred bombers,six carriers and guided missile aviation cruisers, one hundred andfive principal surface combatants, one hundred and twenty ballisticand attack submarines, and thirteen hundred naval aircraft. 1

▼J F Q F O R U M

Summer 1993 / JFQ 9

International issues require a broader appre-ciation of the threat—from the unitary andrelatively predictable adversary we knew inthe Cold War, to the diverse, ambiguous,and dynamic threats that we confront today.Ethnic and religious conflict, weapons pro-liferation, thrusts for regional hegemony, ir-redentism, terrorism, and drug traffickingare the most prominent elements of thisdangerous new world. To successfully meetthe challenges which these trends indicate,we are retaining and developing capabilitiesto secure our national interests. We continueto base these capabilities on the sound foun-dation of the American people and leverag-ing U.S. technological advantages in train-ing, developing, deploying, and employingthe force.3

The Army also faces the challengesposed by a national agenda with a priorityon domestic rebuilding of the physical andintellectual assets of the country. While theArmy will shrink to its smallest end strengthsince just before World War II, and as theNation devotes resources to other programs,the Army budget will approach that of thepost-World War II service in percentage ofgross domestic product. The challenge is toseize opportunities to apply our limited re-sources in a manner that best serves thecountry. In the past some observers mayhave portrayed a “circle the wagons” picturein which the Army attempts to preserve itscapabilities at the expense of working withthe other services. Today, the world situationand expectations of the American peoplewill not tolerate such short-sightedness. TheArmy’s view of service to the Nation is broadand embraces the concept of joint opera-tions as a cardinal tenet of defending theUnited States now and in the 21st century.Our recent experience bears this out.

The Joint ExperienceThe last four years have taught us two

things. First, joint operations work and theywork more efficiently than single-service op-erations. There is unmatched power in thesynergistic capabilities of joint operations.

Second, future threats require that joint op-erations be the norm at every level of com-mand. Relegating the expertise and ability toconduct joint operations to only “higher”levels is a recipe for missed opportunities,longer and more difficult operations, riskieroutcomes, greater numbers of casualties, andincreased expenditures of resources.

Joint capabilities provide decisive over-match on every level of warfare from thestrategic, where national objectives are de-termined, priorities assigned, and resourcesallocated, through the operational level,where campaigns are constructed to achievenational objectives, to the tactical, where en-gagements and battles cumulate in victory.The U.S. Army demonstrates an ability todominate land combat. Working with theAir Force, Navy, andMarine Corps willensure victory andsuccess in any con-flict environment.

Operations JustCause and DesertShield/Desert Stormare clear examples ofthe benefits of jointoperations. Just Causeillustrated the im-mense power gener-ated by a simultaneous application of unique,complementary service capabilities. By land,sea, and air the Armed Forces assaulted andsecured 27 objectives between midnight andsunrise on the first day. That complex, syn-chronized application of combat power, pro-jected from the continental United States, itscoastal waters, and within the region, elimi-nated resistance by the Panamanian DefenseForce. We neutralized assets that could havebeen used to continue the struggle—commu-nications, ready forces, logistics, and reserves.Precise power projection and joint principlesapplied in a compressed timeframe illustratethe need for rapid response forces trained injoint operations. Forces participating in JustCause led the way in expanding the joint per-spective on warfare. Seven months later,America received another decisive return onits investment in forces that can operate to-gether in any environment and against anyadversary while elevating warfare to a levelunmatched in the world today. OperationsDesert Shield/Desert Storm required an imme-

General Gordon R. Sullivan is the thirty-second Chief ofStaff, U.S. Army. An armor officer, he has commanded at theplatoon through division levels, and was Vice Chief of Staffprior to assuming his current position.

the Army’s viewof service to theNation is broadand embracesthe concept ofjoint operationsas a cardinaltenet

10 JFQ / Summer 1993

diate defense and a show of force which ma-tured and evolved into a potent offensive ca-pability. Throughout the fall and winter of1990–91 the services conducted joint andcombined training at all levels. The heavyforce that defeated Iraq’s Republican Guardswas comprised of units that had stood watchin Central Europe for four decades, trainedand ready to meet an armored thrust thatnever came. Within days of taking up posi-tions in the desert these units were conduct-ing joint and combined operations at battal-

ion and brigade level. Thiscooperation, based on soundprinciples and doctrine, paidhuge dividends and gave us awindow into the future ofwarfare.

For example, during onephase of the VII Corps opera-tion, a SAM–2 site in the vi-cinity of Basra activated its

radar and began to paint coalition aircraft.Since the only asset in striking distance dueto the pace of operations was an artillerybrigade operating with the 1st Armored Divi-sion, VII Corps relied on an Air ForceEC–130H, Airborne Battle Command andControl Center, to relay the fire mission tothe artillery unit and clear the airspace.Within three hours of the SAM–2 site acti-vating its radar two Army tactical missilesfired from a multiple-launch rocket systemwere on the way to destroy the target.4 AirForce operations continued without threatof SAM interruption, and VII Corps bene-fited from continued air strikes against Iraqireserves and command and control targets.

Replicated across the battlefield, fromvaried service platforms operating on andabove the desert floor and positions at sea,such actions decimated the Iraqi military, re-solved the conflict on the ground in 100hours, and kept our casualties to a mini-mum. Conduct of joint warfare at that levelhas become the unique province of theArmed Forces, and one that we are strivingto maintain in order to overmatch any po-tential adversary.

The Future of Joint OperationsThe strategic landscape that the Nation

faces will require power projection forces

that are tailorable, more versatile, and moreprecise than even those that we employed inSouthwest Asia or Panama. The range of em-ployment scenarios has burgeoned recently,and we can see evidence of this trend injoint operations in Somalia, Bosnia-Herze-govina, Guantanamo, Southwest Asia, anddomestically in disaster relief and the coun-ternarcotics missions. Because such contin-gencies may not require application of forcein the same magnitude or manner as JustCause or Desert Storm, commanders of unitsof all types and sizes must work and succeedin the joint environment. The 212th MobileArmy Surgical Hospital in Zagreb and the10th Mountain Division in Florida, and sub-sequently in Somalia, are prime examples.

Additionally, our recent domestic disas-ter relief and overseas humanitarian opera-tions have reinforced the necessity to workwith civilian agencies. Even before Opera-tion Desert Storm was over, Army elementswere coordinating reconstruction effortswith the host government and U.S. agenciesin Kuwait. In Los Angeles, Florida, Louisiana,Hawaii, and Guam, Total Army units workedclosely with private relief organizations andstate and Federal agencies to restore orderand assist civil authorities in restoring ser-vices to devastated neighborhoods.5 Thatpattern of support to civil authority contin-ued in Somalia.

In the future the Army’s forward pres-ence and crisis response capabilities will beneeded and integrated into every phase ofoperations. The breadth and scope of single-service capabilities militate against making asolitary transition from forward presence,through crisis response, to conflict resolu-tion. The capabilities of the Army to domi-nate maneuver, conduct precision strikes,sustain land combat power, and protect theforce are essential and necessary for the pros-ecution of successful campaigns, but only acombination of multiservice capabilities willensure success.

The Army recognizes this need for forcestrained and ready to operate with other ser-vices and ad hoc coalitions, at all unit andcommand levels. We are on the right path,both conceptually and materially, to achieveour goals of integration, synergy, and over-whelming effectiveness.

The Army has revised its doctrine to re-flect changing circumstances that surround

disaster relief and overseas humanitarianoperations have reinforced the necessityto work with civilianagencies

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Summer 1993 / JFQ 11

ground combat. Our doctrinal capstone, FM100–5 (Operations), was published thisspring. The concepts and tenets in this man-ual are the result of serious study of lessonslearned and future possibilities, and the ex-change of a range of ideas among militaryprofessionals, scholars, and policy analysts.

It will guide our effortsto reshape the Army forthe world in which wewill be operating.6

We are workingclosely with the Navyand Air Force on imple-menting the recommen-dations of the MobilityRequirements Study.7 Thestudy requires the Army

to be able to close a three division force (twoheavy and one light) to a theater 7,500 milesaway in 30 days, and to close a five divisioncorps with its associated components andsupport within 75 days. This is true powerprojection, beginning on the first day of acrisis, and it is not possible to accomplishthese objectives without close cooperationfrom the other services.

Of course, getting to a crisis theater is notenough. We must be prepared to fight fromday one in conjunction with other services,and the Army is prepared to do that, througha rigorous training program that builds onour mature Combat Training Centers. Forcedentry and contingency operations combiningheavy deployments and airborne insertionsare the norm. Operations combining heavy,light, Air Force, and Marine units take placeat Fort Irwin in California.

The Joint Readiness Training Center atFort Chaffee, Arkansas, has a long record ofinnovation when integrating the services.Navy SEALs routinely operate in local rivers.The threat can be varied and includes refugeesand terrorists as well as a world-class opposingforce. Recently, joint operations demonstratedthe ability of the 24th Infantry Division’sready company team and the 82d AirborneDivision to deploy rapidly and engage incombat operations within hours. This effortwill continue when the Joint Readiness Train-ing Center is moved to Fort Polk, Louisiana.

Recently, the Combat Maneuver Train-ing Center at Hohenfels, Germany, trained aRoyal Dutch Marine unit that was enroute to

replace a sister battalion on U.N. peacekeep-ing duty in Cambodia. The scenario usedreal-time intelligence reports from satellitelinks with Cambodia to structure daily situa-tional training exercises. The technologicalcapabilities exist to link command postswith subordinates performing a wide rangeof simultaneous missions—search, combat,check point, surveillance, crowd control,etc.—through real-time intelligence filesdrawn from central and remote data banks.This ability to process and exploit informa-tion is the next step in producing a truly in-tegrated battlefield.

The thrust of Army exploitation of themicrochip is to improve battlefield aware-ness through horizontal integration and in-sertion of digital technology. We have begunto link individual weapons systems (bothfielded and future platforms) through auto-mated communications channels to provideinstantaneous updates on operational andlogistical status and enemy information.This will provide commanders and theirteams with the precise knowledge needed towage warfare at the decisive level on whichAmerica expects to fight. Map displays andoperational graphics can be updated to givesubordinate units complete knowledge ofthe enemy situation and the commander’sintent, allowing units to take advantage offleeting enemy weaknesses and to bring de-cisive combat power to bear. Other servicesare exploiting similar capabilities. The nextlogical step is to take the groundwork laid bysuch systems as J–STARS and work toward atruly integrated battlefield. The Army looksforward to exploiting this advantage withthe Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force.

Additionally, within the context of jointoperations, there is room for achievingeconomies of scale and consolidating func-tions. Some training and many logistics andsupport functions are already consolidated,and we are looking for ways to expand suchprograms. However, not all redundancy con-sists of unnecessary overlap. Centralizationof some functions into single service capabil-ities can provide economies and efficiencies,but carried to an extreme can unravel provenjointness. America does not need a militaryestablishment of eaches, wherein the services

General Sullivan in Somalia.

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become customer-oriented purveyors of narrowcapabilities rather than combat-oriented or-ganizations with a broad focus and an under-standing of all the facets of war.

The U.S. Army has aproud record of workingwith the other services injoint operations. Indeed,almost every conflict inAmerican military his-tory is replete with exam-ples of the services inte-grating their capabilitiesto defend our nationalinterests. From the Amer-ican Revolution, through

Scott’s march on Mexico City, the Vicksburgcampaign of Grant and Porter, the Spanish-American War, World Wars I and II, and thelong list of conflicts that punctuated theCold War and its aftermath, the services havehad much more in common than that whichseparates them. Americans should be confi-dent that the Army will be a full partner injoint operations in the future.

The next chapter in our history willrecord an even greater degree of integration,as we respond to a new range of threats withtailored, multiservice force packages bothoriented on and trained for crisis responseand power projection, and as we employ thepower that comes from simultaneous appli-cation of unique, complementary capabili-ties. We will seize those opportunities pro-vided by technology and the support of theAmerican people to protect the enduring,global security interests of the Nation. JFQ

N O T E S

1 U.S. Department of Defense, Soviet Military Power,9th edition (Washington: Government Printing Office,1990). Figures compiled from theater of military opera-tions (TVD) and major subordinate command weaponssystems totals.

2 Martin Blumenson, Breakout and Pursuit, in TheUnited States Army in World War II (Washington: Officeof the Chief of Military History, 1961), pp. 208, 231–40,333–34. Also, Headquarters, Department of the Army,FM 100–5, Operations, 1986, pp. 25, 47–53, 161–72.

3 Secretary of Defense Les Aspin, Confirmation Hear-ings, Committee on Armed Services, United States Sen-ate, Washington, January 7, 1993.

4 U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command, “Loui-siana Maneuvers: First Board of Directors Meeting,” Octo-ber 27, 1992 [“Jayhawk Thunder” sequence], videotapepresentation produced by the Training and DoctrineCommand, Fort Monroe, Virginia, 1992.

5 The Total Army response is described by the authorin “Hurricane Andrew: An After-Action Report” whichappeared in Army Magazine, vol. 43, no. 1 (January 1993).

6 For a discussion of the Army’s doctrinal base, andhow doctrine serves as the foundation for innovation inpersonnel recruitment and retention, training, leader-ship development, organizational design, and modern-ization requirements, see Paul H. Herbert, “DecidingWhat Has to be Done: General William E. DePuy andthe 1976 Edition of FM 100–5, Operations,” CombatStudies Institute, Leavenworth Papers no. 16 (Fort Leav-enworth, Kans.: U.S. Army Command and General StaffCollege, 1988). The joint approach to warfare in Armydoctrine flows directly from the Joint Staff doctrinefound in Joint Pubs 1 and 3.0.

7 Joint Chiefs of Staff, “Mobility Requirements Study,”vol. 1, Joint Staff Publication (1992). This study was man-dated by Congress to determine airlift and sealift assetsnecessary to support the national military strategy.

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The Cold War is over, but in its wakewe are left with an uncertainworld. Although the risk of globalwar is greatly reduced, the United

States and its allies still face threats. As wehave just begun to realize, these new threatsare often difficult to predict. In response tothis challenge, our national security policy isshifting from deterrence of global conflict to-ward regional, littoral contingencies and con-flicts, often in coalition with other nations.

With no credible, global naval threat,today’s strategic environment has a very dif-ferent meaning for our maritime forces. Theneed for separate, independent naval opera-tions at sea for indirect support of the landwar has been greatly reduced, and as a resultour maritime operational focus has now

shifted to littoral warfare and direct supportof ground operations.

Operation Desert Storm reemphasizedthe need for the Armed Forces to operate ef-fectively together and to acquire equipmentwhich is compatible. Because joint opera-tions involving all the services provide thegreatest range of capabilities for the smallestinvestment, the Navy and Marine Corpslaunched an extensive, year-long study offuture naval roles and capabilities, in termsof their relevance to the 21st century and ajoint warfare environment. The results ofthat study are known as “. . . From the Sea.”

The Navy’s new strategy represents afundamental shift away from emphasis onopen-ocean warfighting on the sea towardjoint operations conducted from the sea. Byexploiting naval access to littoral regions,military planners can realize the power pro-jection strength of naval forces while com-plementary capabilities of other servicespunctuate their impact and effectiveness.

The Wave of the FutureBy F R A N K B. K E L S O I I

Admiral Frank B. Kelso II is the twenty-fourth Chief ofNaval Operations. Previously he served as Supreme AlliedCommander Atlantic; much of his early career was spenton board nuclear-powered submarines.

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Naval operations in littoral regionstransform the classic AirLand battle into aunified sea-air-land-space engagement, butdominance over an enemy in the littoral en-vironment cannot be assumed. Likely adver-saries enjoy the advantage of concentratingand layering defenses. Mines, diesel sub-marines, high-speed tactical aircraft, fast pa-trol boats, sea-skimming missiles, and tacti-cal ballistic missiles launched from shorebatteries are typical littoral threats. Suchcomplex challenges demand specializedskills that only are provided by a completelyintegrated joint force.

Joint ForcesIn the brief time since “. . . From the

Sea” appeared efforts to implement this newstrategic direction have accelerated and ex-panded to all levels in the sea services withspecial emphasis on the issues of joint inte-gration and interoperability. The Navy andMarine Corps are aggressively redefiningnaval roles in joint exercises.

In 1992 U.S. Atlantic Command (LANT-COM) demonstrated improved integrationof joint forces and naval doctrinal changesin Exercise Ocean Venture. For the first time

the Navy de-ployed a flexi-ble and robustcommand andcontrol facilityashore permit-ting the navalforce comman-der to collocatewith the joint

force commander and other componentcommanders.

Last year in Exercise Ellipse Bravo, U.S.European Command (EUCOM) tested theability of the services to assemble a joint taskforce to conduct a rapid emergency evacua-tion operation. Established within 48 hours,a 22,000-strong Army, Navy, Marine Corps,and Air Force task force demonstrated effec-tive continuity of command as its headquar-ters was relocated from land to sea.

During Exercise Tandem Thrust,mounted by U.S. Pacific Command (PACOM)in 1992, a 15,000-man joint force consistingof land, sea, and air forces concluded itstraining with amphibious landings and Army

airborne assaults. The joint task force staffembarked in the Third Fleet flagship to main-tain overall control of the exercise as theJoint Force Air Component Commander(JFACC) coordinated all air operations re-motely from the continental United States.

Model for Joint InteroperabilityU.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) op-

erations have attained new levels of jointunderstanding, cooperation, efficiency, andcombat effectiveness. In the Persian Gulf anAir Force composite wing operates on a dailybasis with its Navy and Marine Corps coun-terparts to enforce no-fly zones. Army, Ma-rine Corps, and special operations forces ex-ercise together routinely. Navy ships enforceU.N.-imposed sanctions with the assistanceof maritime surveillance provided by AirForce Airborne Warning and Control System(AWACS) aircraft. The CENTCOM environ-ment is ideal for developing joint conceptsand conducting joint training. In a recentexercise also in the Persian Gulf, for exam-ple, an afloat JFACC successfully developed,planned, and executed a mini-air campaignincluding a simulated strike mission withover 70 Navy and Air Force aircraft.

In the Caribbean and Eastern Pacific,Navy-led counterdrug joint task forces offeranother example of joint operations. Theyexploit naval air and open-ocean surveil-lance capabilities as well as command, con-trol, communications and intelligence (C3I).Navy ships, maritime patrol aircraft, and air-borne radar aircraft operate with assets fromthe other services and Federal agencies. ACoast Guard squadron commander and staffembark aboard the Navy task group com-mander’s flagship to monitor and controlsurface activity. Coast Guard law enforce-ment detachments operate from Navy shipsto board, search, and if necessary seize ves-sels smuggling narcotics.

Joint CommunicationsDuring the past decade significant

progress has been made in standardizingprocedures and procurement of interopera-ble systems for joint communications.Nonetheless problems still occur, especiallyin highly specialized communications sys-tems. One example was the format andmedium used to send Air Tasking Orders(ATOs) during Operation Desert Storm. Theywere incompatible with naval communica-

the Navy’s new strategy representsa fundamental shift away from em-phasis on open-ocean warfightingon the sea toward joint operationsconducted from the sea

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tions systems and as a re-sult carrier-based aircraftwere dispatched daily topick up one-hundredpage documents fromRiyadh for delivery toships in the Persian Gulfand Red Sea. Convertingthe ATO into mission as-signments was very time-consuming.

Finding the permanent solution to thisproblem became a joint, post-war priorityproject that is now well in hand. In recentjoint exercises ships at sea have received andtransmitted Desert Storm-sized ATOs elec-tronically in less than five minutes. All de-ployed aircraft carriers have this capabilitywhile other carriers have been partially mod-ified to allow complete installation in lessthan 24 hours. Procurement plans have beenaltered to ensure that all amphibious assaultships and aircraft carriers are permanentlyequipped with this vital capability.

Navy Organizational ChangesSince Operation Desert Storm the Navy

has taken additional steps to improve itsability to work in the joint arena in opera-tions, planning, procurement, and admin-istration and to improve communicationsbetween the staff of the Chief of Naval Oper-ations (OPNAV) and the Joint Staff and be-tween the Navy Department and Depart-ment of Defense.

In July 1992, the OPNAV staff was reor-ganized to mirror the structure and functionsof the Joint Staff. As part of this change, thenew Deputy Chief of Naval Operations forResources, Warfare Requirements, and Assess-ments established six joint mission assess-ment areas: joint strike, joint littoral, jointsurveillance, joint space and electronic war-fare/intelligence, strategic sealift and its pro-tection, and strategic deterrence. Under thissystem, Navy procurement programs arescrutinized and evaluated against their spe-cific contributions to joint warfighting. Ifthey fail this test, they are not included inthe Navy budget.

In March 1993 the Naval Doctrine Com-mand was formally established. As the pri-

mary authority for developing both Navyand naval doctrine, it will provide a coordi-nated, integrated sea service voice in jointand combined doctrine. Priority will be givento doctrine development that addresses thenew geostrategic environment and its chang-ing threat, and to enhancing the integrationof naval forces in joint and combined opera-tions. This is fundamental to naval contribu-tions to joint warfighting in the future.

In a significant departure from tradi-tional single-service deployments, the Navyand Marine Corps are working closely withthe Joint Staff to improve ways to organize,train, and deploy joint forces. The goal is toprovide unified commanders with forcesspecifically tailored, trained, and deployedto satisfy regional operational requirements.

Interservice boards such as the Navy-AirForce-Marine Corps Board and the Army-Navy-Marine Corps Board have been estab-lished to encourage formal cooperation andincrease efficiency among forces across abroad range of areas. These boards have suc-ceeded in transforming several single-serviceair-to-ground weapons programs into onejoint program and expanding interservicecooperation in land-based refueling fornaval aircraft. Progress can also be noted inboth the Joint Tactical Information DisplaySystem and the Global Positioning Systemacquisition programs.

Redirecting SpendingFunding represents the ultimate organi-

zational indicator of priorities and a measur-able sign of change. The redirection ofspending has already been discussed,namely, in modifying systems and ships toaccommodate joint staffs and operationsand in expanding cooperation in joint ac-quisition programs. The Navy and MarineCorps have also instituted a deliberate orga-nizational process to redirect funding priori-ties to enhance naval contributions to jointwarfighting capabilities.

Furthermore, with the publication of“. . . From the Sea” in September 1992, theDepartment of the Navy dissected and ex-amined its budget line-by-line against theguiding principles of our new strategic direc-tion. This process examined how well theoverall budget supported that new direction.As a result some investment plans were

Admiral Kelso with thefleet.

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redirected to strengthen joint littoral warfareincluding the following changes:

▼ increasing procurement of precision-guidedmunitions to support the joint land campaign;

▼ accelerating enhancements in joint com-mand, control, and communications systems tosupport a JTF commander and his staff afloat; and

▼ renewing the commitment to satisfy theMarine Corps requirement for sufficient mediumlift capability to permit rapid movement ashorein support of an amphibious ground campaign.

Overall, the Navy and Marine Corpsredirected $1.2 billion within their budgetsto support the new naval strategy and jointwarfighting operations.

Recognizing the value of well-equipped,highly mobile forces to meet various chal-lenges, unified commanders regard sealift asa critical ingredient of warfighting success.As we reduce manpower and material over-seas, strategic sealift will be more vital toproviding required heavy equipment andsustainment to forces in all parts of theworld. Consequently, we have raised the pri-ority of sealift in procurement planning,conveying to Congress its importance to ourNation’s defense capabilities.

In the past year Military Sealift Com-mand ships proved their value in jointpeacetime operations almost as dramaticallyas they did during the Gulf War. Navy shipscarried relief supplies to Florida, Guam, theBaltic nations, and Russia for distribution byU.S. units ashore. Marine PrepositioningSquadron ships were the first to arrive in So-malia, and by January 14, 1993, nearly thirtywere operating in direct support of Opera-tion Restore Hope.

Our operating forces are on the cuttingedge of joint warfighting. All naval staffsand shore support establishments are com-mitted to the concept of jointness. TheNaval Doctrine Command will ensure thatour focus remains on finding ways to im-prove the efficiency of joint warfare. TheNavy-Marine Corps team is committed tojoint operations and the pursuit of innova-tive means for employing our forces in sup-port of joint warfighting. JFQ

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The success of our Armed Forces inrecent years is well documented.In addition to dealing swiftly anddecisively with numerous crises

and major contingencies throughout theglobe, the services have demonstrated onvarious occasions their utility to the Nationin situations short of war. Our efforts havesignificantly contributed to the radical trans-formation of the world over the last fouryears, and to the improved strategic positionof the United States.

Without doubt each service has played aunique and invaluable role in the victoriesthat we have achieved. Moreover, there is nodoubt that developments in joint warfarehave been instrumental in our triumphs onthe battlefield and success in promoting U.S.interests in assorted ways and under a vari-ety of circumstances.

Since the enactment of the Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorganiza-tion Act of 1986 the services have takenjoint warfare to a new level. The brilliantperformance of U.S. forces during DesertStorm is a reflection of our ability to operatetogether as a cohesive joint team. But as wereorganize and reorient the Armed Forces tomeet the demands of an uncertain future,we cannot afford to rest on our laurels.Today we have the rare opportunity to adaptand apply ourselves to a new security envi-ronment. To capitalize on this opportunitythe services must continually examine theircontributions to the Nation’s defense andensure they are prepared to meet the chal-lenges that lie ahead. Future military successwill also depend on maintaining a system ofjoint warfare that draws upon the uniquestrengths of each service, while providingthe means for effectively integrating them toachieve the full combat potential of theArmed Forces.

Focusing on CapabilitiesEach service—consistent with its role

and assigned functions—contributes to whatGeneral Powell describes as a toolbox of ca-pabilities. The combatant commanders inchief (CINCs) draw from this toolbox tomeet requirements in their respective areasof responsibility. As we continue to makedrastic cuts in the size of the Armed Forces,it is extremely important to retain a balanceof carefully developed, complementary capa-bilities in that toolbox. While fiscal realitiesdemand that we reduce redundancies, his-tory warns us of the risks incurred when weallow gaps to exist in our capabilities. Suc-cessful joint warfare demands that we under-stand, maintain, and properly employ theunique capabilities of all the services.

Complementary Capabilitiesfrom the SeaBy C A R L E. M U N D Y , J R .

General Carl E. Mundy, Jr., is Commandant of the Marine Corps.His previous assignment was Commanding General of the FleetMarine Force Atlantic and II Marine Expeditionary Force.

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But achieving success in the face of fu-ture challenges will require more than just

maintaining comple-mentary capabilities.It also calls for inte-grating service capa-bilities and makingefforts to achievejoint synergy on thebattlefield. This de-mands continuing todevelop and refinejoint warfare to keeppace with changes indefense strategy, ad-

vances in technology, and other variables. Italso means that prospective joint force com-manders (JFCs) and their staffs must under-stand joint doctrine and have an apprecia-tion of the capabilities that each servicebrings to the joint family of capabilities.

Joint warfare does not mean that eachservice will be equally represented each timea CINC conducts an operation. In selectingthe right tools for the job the CINC consid-

ers the particulars ofthe mission and theconditions underwhich it must be ac-complished. It is theresponsibility of theservices to identifypackages of forces or

force modules from which the CINC can se-lect the right mix of capabilities to satisfy hisrequirements.

Some of the factors that influence theprocess of selecting the right tools for thejob can be illustrated by comparing two re-cent operations. In 1989 the requirementsand nature of Operation Just Cause inPanama made it predominantly an Army-AirForce show. It was a land-force operation inwhich the United States enjoyed ready ac-cess to airfield facilities and had a largenumber of Army forces in theater before theoutbreak of hostilities. Conversely, whenOperation Sea Angel was conducted inBangladesh in 1991, no permanently basedU.S. forces were situated nearby and thelocal infrastructure had been decimated.These conditions and other factors dictatedthat the operation be conducted by forces

that were self-sustained and primarily sea-based. Thus, it was largely a Navy-MarineCorps operation in which a Marine Air-Ground Task Force (MAGTF) formed the nu-cleus of the joint task force.

Joint warfare does mean that the capa-bilities of each service must be both interop-erable and complementary. This must be thecase on all levels of war: strategic, opera-tional, and tactical. In addition to a com-mon understanding of doctrinal matters,joint warfare requires that the services pos-sess compatible communications equipmentto exchange information and standardizedconsumables to facilitate service support. Inthe past decade, the Armed Forces havegreatly improved the ability to fight togetherby making strides in these and other areas.

One can gain an appreciation for howfar we have come by comparing the postmortem on Operation Urgent Fury with thatof Operation Desert Storm. Much has beenwritten about the poor coordination amongthe services in 1983 during Operation Ur-gent Fury in Grenada. After-action reportshighlighted numerous problems includingthe inability of the services to communicatewith each other, unclear command relation-ships, counterproductive interservice rival-ries, and significant deficiencies in planningand coordinating supporting arms. Whilethe mission was accomplished, it is generallyagreed that we failed miserably in achievingunity of effort and were not as effective aswe should have been.

In Desert Storm, which was conductedeight years after Urgent Fury, the overallstory was much different. Although somedeficiencies in jointness were identified, theservices understood joint warfare and foughtas a team. Command relationships wereclearly understood and the major shortfallsidentified during Urgent Fury were rectified.In the title V report to Congress, the Army,Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force were de-scribed as having “demonstrated a quantumadvance in joint interaction.”

Today, as Armed Forces adapt to a newstrategic landscape and severe budgetaryconstraints, it is important that we buildupon the success of Desert Storm and otherrecent operations. We must engage in a con-tinuous process of evaluation to identify andmaintain the capabilities we will need todeal with future challenges. As we do we

the Marine Corps has recentlyconducted a no-holds barred reassessment of its role in theNation’s defense

Col Charles Russell,USAF, DeployedBase Commander,explains air operations to theCommandant during a visit to Somalia.

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must continue to focus on improving ourability to fully integrate those capabilitieswhenever the formation of a joint task forceis required. This is the proper focus and thedriving force behind the development of thecapabilities which the Marine Corps cur-rently provides to the CINCs.

Supporting National Military StrategyAlthough the Nation is in the midst of

drastically reducing the number of forces per-manently based overseas, our national secu-rity strategy continues to demand that we re-main proactive in shaping an internationalsecurity environment that promotes U.S. in-terests and influence. Thus our national mili-tary strategy emphasizes the need for forwarddeployed forces to deter aggression, demon-strate commitment, foster regional stability,lend credibility to alliances, and when neces-sary enhance crisis response capabilities.

The Marine Corps, with the require-ments of the national military strategyclearly in focus, and in close cooperationwith the Navy, has recently conducted a no-holds barred reassessment of its role in theNation’s defense. This study validated thetraditional Marine Corps role as a naval expe-ditionary force in readiness, and confirmedthe continued relevance of the forward pres-ence and crisis response capabilities that theMarine Corps provides to the CINCs. As a re-sult of this internal audit and recent opera-tional experience, we have also undertaken anumber of initiatives to enhance our capabil-ities to support joint operations.

Forward PresenceThe Marine Corps, as a key component

of naval expeditionary forces, is unique in itsability to support the CINCs in fulfilling therequirements for forward presence in the lit-toral areas of the world. The characteristics offorward deployed Marines, embarked aboardnaval ships, make them an invaluable assetfor projecting influence. As a seabased forcethey are unrestricted by basing or overflightrequirements, self-sustained, and extremelymobile.

To meet the day-to-day requirements ofthe CINCs for forward presence in regionsvital to our national interests, the MarineCorps routinely deploys Marine Expedi-

tionary Units (MEUs). These 2,000 man Ma-rine Air-Ground Task Forces (MAGTFs), em-barked in amphibious ready groups of threeto five ships, are extremely flexible and overthe years have proven to be most useful. Thespecific size, organization, and equipment ofthese units have evolved over four decadesthrough continuous development and use ina forward presence role; in short, the MEU istailored to provide the CINC with the capa-bilities he is most likely to need.

While deployed, MEUs frequently con-duct port visits, military-to-military contacts,and combined exercises. These activitiescomplement diplomatic efforts throughoutthe globe, help to maintain our system ofcollective security, and often provide thefoundation of friendship and trust necessaryfor building coalitions in time of crisis.

Crisis ResponseA forward deployed MEU also provides

the CINC with a force that directly links hisforward presence and crisis response capabil-ities. As a combined arms force, the MEUprovides the CINC with credible combatpower which can be rapidly dispatched to anarea in which a crisis is developing. The abil-ity of these forces to linger on station in acrisis area for extended periods is a signifi-cant advantage for decisionmakers as theymonitor the situation and determine when,how, or whether to respond. Often, the verypresence of the MEU can prevent a crisisfrom escalating to a higher level of violence.If a situation calls for more than presence,MEUs can swiftly make the transition fromprojecting influence for deterrence to pro-jecting combat power to halt aggression.

MEUs are capable of acting indepen-dently in many instances, and conducting awide range of missions to include amphibi-ous raids, humanitarian assistance opera-tions, and the evacuation of noncombat-ants. In situations where a crisis cannot besuppressed and armed conflict erupts, theMEU provides the CINC with a force thatcan be employed to facilitate the introduc-tion of a larger MAGTF or joint force. Theflexibility of forward deployed MEUs wasclearly demonstrated during OperationSharp Edge in 1990. During that operation,elements of a MEU remained off the coast ofwar-torn Liberia for seven months as thesituation was monitored. When develop-


ments pointed to American lives being injeopardy, Marines were quickly deployed toprovide security for the U.S. Embassy and,subsequently, to assist in the evacuation ofover 2,000 noncombatants.

Operation Provide Comfort offers an-other example of how a forward deployedMEU can give CINCs the ability to quicklyrespond to crises in vital regions of theworld. On April 9, 1991, the 24th MEU (Spe-cial Operations Capable) was midwaythrough a scheduled six-month Mediter-ranean deployment when ordered to re-spond to a rapidly deteriorating situation inNorthern Iraq. Hundreds of Kurdish refugeesfleeing the forces of Saddam Hussein weredying of malnutrition, exposure, and diseaseeach day; thousands had fled to neighboringTurkey, creating a further threat to regionalstability. The 24th MEU, in the midst of aroutine training exercise in Italy, arrived onthe scene within four days. Because of itscommand and control capabilities, the MEU

served as the nucleusof a joint task forceformed to resolve thegrowing crisis. In thenext three months,the 24th MEU was akey component in amassive relief effort

for an estimated 500,000 beleagueredrefugees. The tasks assigned to the MEU in-cluded providing security, delivering tons ofsupplies, establishing resettlement camps,and providing water, dental, and medicalcare to refugees.

The Stabilizing/Enabling CapabilityTo respond to larger crises or contingen-

cies, the Nation requires a broad spectrum ofmilitary options. This requirement demandsthat the CINCs have the ability to rapidlyand flexibly sequence the deployment andemployment of a wide range of capabilities.The CINCs meet this requirement throughthe process of adaptive planning. Adaptiveplanning provides the CINCs with a menu ofpreplanned options with which to respondto a crisis or contingency. The Marine Corps,to support adaptive planning, has developedcrisis action modules (CAMs), which providethe CINCs with a menu of Marine Corps ca-pabilities to choose for a particular mission.

In addition to providing forward pres-ence and crisis response options with MEUs,the Marine Corps provides CINCs with otherflexible force options. They offer the CINCthe ability to quickly transition from rela-tively small forces within forward-presenceforces to heavier, more capable contingencyforces needed to respond to a large crisis ormajor regional conflict. The true value of theCAMs is their ability to give the CINC arapidly deployable, integrated, self-sustained,combined arms capability early in a crisis.

MAGTFs have great flexibility; they pro-vide CINCs with a force that has sufficientcombat power which can be used, as the sit-uation dictates, to resolve a conflict and re-store stability, or to enable the arrival of alarger joint force. If necessary, MAGTFs canconduct forcible entry from amphibiousships or be deployed together with maritimeprepositioning ships. Although Marineforces can deploy by a single means, CAMshave been developed so that MAGTFs canintegrate all mobility assets in both buildingand deploying forces. Thus a MAGTF can de-ploy by combining elements of strategic air-lift, amphibious ships, and maritime prepo-sitioning forces. This inherent deploymentand employment flexibility, combined withother characteristics of a MAGTF, provideCINCs with unique capabilities for rapidlybuilding up combat power in littoral crisesor conflicts.

Operation Desert Shield is a classic ex-ample of force sequencing and the roleMarines can play as an enabling force for fol-low-on joint forces. Five days after the Presi-dent gave the order to deploy, a Marine ex-peditionary force began to arrive at airfieldsin Saudi Arabia to link up with its equip-ment loaded aboard a maritime preposition-ing squadron. The force provided the com-mander in chief, U.S. Central Command,with his first significant mechanized forceswith which to defend Saudi Arabia. Therapid deployment of this credible Marine air-ground force, which arrived with 30 days ofsustainability, helped stabilize the situationand enabled the buildup of heavier forces.

The recent operation in Somalia, RestoreHope, is also illustrative of Marine Corps en-abling capabilities. The initial force commit-ted was a MEU; this unit was in the midst of ascheduled deployment and stood poised offthe Somali coast for weeks as the National

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Command Authorities weighed their options.When a decision was made to intervene, theforce was immediately available. Despite theextremely limited infrastructure of Somalia,Marines were able to land, establish secure airand port facilities, and begin engineeringwork to enable more troops and equipmentto join in the relief effort. Once again,Marines were able to do all this in a matter ofdays because they are sea-based, self-sus-tained, able to operate in an austere environ-ment, and positioned and prepared to re-spond instantaneously to a crisis.

Relevant Capabilities for the FutureThis is not to say that Marines are satis-

fied with the status quo. We recognize thattoday’s capabilities exist only because ourpredecessors were innovative and forwardthinking. No less an effort is needed to pre-pare for the future.

The conceptual underpinning for to-morrow is articulated in the Navy and theMarine Corps white paper entitled “. . . FromThe Sea.” This document states that the fu-ture direction of the Navy and Marines is tofocus on operating forward in the littoralareas of the world, and to provide naval ex-peditionary forces shaped for joint opera-tions and tailored for the Nation’s needs. Forthe Marine Corps, this entails building onthe capabilities we have traditionally pro-vided. We are aggressively working on anumber of internal initiatives and participat-ing in some multi-service ventures that willenhance our joint warfare capabilities andthus our usefulness to the CINCs:

▼ Appointment of a two-star Marine Corpsgeneral to the Navy staff to facilitate integrationof Navy and Marine Corps planning and pro-gramming, enhance joint interoperability, andbetter support the unified commanders in chiefand their naval component commanders.

▼ Implementation of a restructuring planwhich includes allocation of additional personnelto the Marine Expeditionary Force’s command el-ement to fulfill the requirements of joint taskforce operations. This plan also will increase thecommunications capability of the Fleet MarineForce headquarters to enhance connectivity asso-ciated with componency obligations.

▼ Establishment of the Naval Doctrine Com-mand to ensure the smooth integration of theNavy and the Marine Corps into joint operations.

▼ Active participation in DOD modelingand simulation initiatives designed to enhancejoint force training and exercises.

These and other steps will ensure thatMarine Expeditionary Forces retain theirunique capabilities in the years ahead andcontinue to complement the capabilities ofthe other services. Most importantly, Marineforces will continue to provide what theCINCs need to accomplish their missions.

Staying the CourseThe Armed Forces have significantly im-

proved their joint interoperability in the lastdecade. Combat effectiveness has greatly im-proved because of emphasis on initiativessuch as compatible communications equip-ment and logistics requirements. We havealso benefitted from the effort to make ser-vice doctrine consistent with joint doctrine.This has been accomplished without sacrific-ing the flexibility which joint force com-manders require in order to employ their as-signed forces in the manner best suited toaccomplishing the mission.

Recent successes in developing jointwarfare and, more critically, on the battle-field can be attributed to the ability to moveforward and make needed, beneficialchanges without losing focus on what ismost important—our capabilities. As we pro-ceed to make adjustments in joint warfare,the continued focus on maintaining theright balance of carefully developed, com-plementary capabilities will ensure our fu-ture success. JFQ


W elcome to Joint Force Quar-terly. I look forward to think-ing about the ideas that willappear in these pages.

Ideas count. Someone once said that theCold War was a contest of ideas, and in theend the idea of freedom won out. Armedconflicts are also often contests betweenideas, between concepts of what will andwill not work on the battlefield. The mostmemorable victories have featured the intro-duction, on one side or the other, of a new,better, winning idea.

Of course, we all understand that ideasalone are not enough. Early armored vehi-

cles offered both sides a potential war win-ner in World War I, but many of the bestminds in Europe gave their time not toimagining how the internal combustion en-gine could be combined with a gun andarmor plating, but to developing gas masksfor horses. So, ideas must be iterated, argued,discussed, debated, experimented with, andfinally put into practice.

We have sometimes been lucky in thisregard. In the 1930s George Marshall choseto spend precious Army dollars on profes-sional military education. Shortchangingother “must have” requirements, he kept theschools at Leavenworth and Maxwell aliveand so laid the intellectual foundations forvictory in World War II. It is in this spirit thatI invite all comers to sharpen their pencilsand their thoughts, and to use this journal to

Ideas CountBy M E R R I L L A. M C P E A K

General Merrill A. McPeak is Chief of Staff of the Air Force. A command pilot with over 5,800 hours, he previouslyserved as Commander in Chief, Pacific Air Forces.

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propose, develop, and debate military con-cepts, the inventory of ideas the Nation musthave to win in the next century.

As we do this, let me suggest some dis-cussion topics that seem to deserve specialattention. The first involves the concept of

divestiture. We allunderstand that weare going through aperiod in which wemust stop doingsome things. Weought to be askingourselves, what are

the core activities of the Armed Forces?What must we keep doing?

For instance, we might ask why we are insome businesses that more naturally seem tobe civilian enterprises. Some of our activitiesare vestiges of an earlier time when no com-petent civilian alternative existed. I amthinking here of things like the CONUS com-missary system or much of the domestic ac-tivity of the Corps of Engineers. Until re-cently, the Air Force ran a small contractcargo airline called LOGAIR. We started it in1952 as a way to move time-critical partsamong Air Force bases. It may have been agood idea at the time, but it lingered on longafter its economic justification disappeared.Last year, we did away with LOGAIR. Wenow use commercial air courier services to dothe same job. Performance has improved,costs are way down, and to those who worryabout our ability to surge when needed, Isuggest a look at how these same companiesperform during the Christmas season.

There are surely many activities we candivest and at the same time improve perfor-mance. Some of us are now involved in a di-alogue about how to drawdown the Nation’sexcess aviation depot repair capacity. Maybethe right question is whether we need gov-ernment operated aviation depots (or gov-ernment operated shipyards) at all. Andwhat about, say, military communicationssystems? In other words, I would like to seea lot more discussion about whether andwhere we could rely on the civilian sector toa much greater extent to perform supportfunctions now done in-house. One advan-tage of such an approach would be to free usto concentrate on the more strictly militaryaspects of our profession. That’s our niche.Perhaps like many of the (mostly failed) in-

dustrial conglomerates, we need to shed theparts of our enterprise that have taken usaway from our core business—warfighting.We need, like successful businesses, to “stickto our knitting.”

A second fruitful area for discussion isthe division of labor within DOD, betweenthe services and other elements of the de-partment. In this regard, a recent trend hasbeen to centralize common support activi-ties under defense agencies. These agenciesand associated field activities have becomeone of our very few growth sectors. Theyemploy close to 200,000 people; togetherthey are bigger than the Marine Corps. Inprospect, the centralized approach alwayspromises economies of scale. In retrospect,the economies almost always evaporate andwe pay a high price when people lose a senseof mission identification.

In the Air Force, one of our quality thrustshas been in the exact opposite direction. Wehave been working hard to decentralize, topush power down, to give our people a stakein the outcome. This has worked well for usand I suggest it is time to review the biddingon the growth of defense agencies.

However, the system we now use to ac-quire new weapons may need more ratherthan less centralization. Some adjustmentseems to be needed; no one I know arguesthat the system is working well now. For me,an important question is what acquisitionfunctions must the services control and whatfunctions might they give up. For what it is

we ought to be asking our-selves, what are the core activities of the Armed Forces?what must we keep doing?

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worth, my view is that the services shouldown both the beginning and the end of the ac-quisition process. At the beginning the ser-

vices must define military require-ments, and at the end they mustcontrol the operational test andevaluation process that determineswhether requirements have beenmet. But much of what goes on inbetween could be managed differ-ently than it is today, with the ser-vices giving up much of the cloutthey now enjoy. Anyone resistingchange in the acquisition processmust explain why we often spendlots of money and lots of time on

programs that do not field operationally sig-nificant amounts of usable hardware.

Finally, I would welcome more discus-sion of the division of roles and functionsamong the services. The Chairman recentlycompleted a review of this sensitive subject,but I’m convinced that smaller defense bud-gets will soon force us back to the table foranother look at the question of unnecessaryduplication of capa-bilities. I am not re-ferring here to thepossession by the ser-vices of complemen-tary capabilities, butto true overlap or il-logical arrangementof air and space re-

lated combat capabilities. I believe, for ex-ample, that the Air Force should consolidateall U.S. military operations in space. It is alsomy view that the Air Force should own andoperate integrated theater air and ballisticmissile defenses. These are tough questions,about which honest people can disagree, butit is clear to me that what once appeared tobe laudable redundancy will be seen moreand more to be needless duplication as thebudget heads south.

Some say that the roles and missions de-bate comes down to an issue of trust. I donot believe that is entirely, or even mostly,true. In the Goldwater-Nichols era the uni-fied CINCs exercise the full range of com-mand prerogatives—what we call “combat-ant command.” So the system used for forceemployment need not rely on trust alone.Still, there is something in the concernabout trust, a nagging element of doubt (“IfI don’t control it myself, will the other guybe there when I need him?”) that applies asmuch to theater missile defense or spacesupport as it does to search and rescue orclose air support. Thorough and rigorous de-bate in the pages of this journal can go along way toward getting our thinkingstraight—and building the spirit of trust wewill need for the future.

These are the kinds of questions I wouldask.

Ideas do count. I welcome the arrival ofthis journal as a way to share ideas that willproduce a better understanding of ourselves,our profession, and our path to future victory.

JFQ

anyone resistingchange in the acqui-sition process mustexplain why we donot field opera-tionally significantamounts of usablehardware

General McPeak visiting the field.

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▼J F Q F O R U M

?of the tabloid mavens, and probablyfor good reason. Foretelling the fu-ture can be a dicey enterprise.

This does not mean that the futureis entirely opaque. While it may notbe possible to predict specific eventsor outcomes, one can draw usefulconclusions and take prudent actionsbased on major trends and alternativescenarios.


The security architecture of the Cold War and the doctrine of containment are fading away. But without aformal mechanism to redraw disputed international boundaries, we seem to be in for a prolonged period ofregional conflict. Challenges will proliferate as the world population grows, ethnic and religious antagonismsare unleashed by the end of communism, and political and military institutions undergo change. Who willbe our adversaries and how can the Armed Forces prepare for the warfare of the future? Moreover, how canwe plan sensibly in the face of declining budgets and technological developments? What should be scrapped,what must be procured, and how can rivers of information be reduced to usable products and directed towhere they are needed? Looking ahead like the great military visionaries of the past, and with the benefit ofsound analysis, we can begin to discern trends that have import for our national interests and the joint capabilities which the services will need to defend them.

Summary

What’s Ahead for the Armed ForcesBy D A V I D E. J E R E M I A H

L ate each December the su-permarket tabloids runNew Year’s predictions offamous astrologers andpsychics. These forecast ce-

lebrity marriages, divorces, and dal-liances, alien encounters, disasters-to-be, and the latest message from Elvis.To my knowledge, no one ever goesback a year later to tally the accuracy


Since becoming Vice Chairman of theJoint Chiefs of Staff, I’ve been deeply inter-ested in the tremendous change our world isundergoing. The national security paradigmof the past half-century, an architecture builton containment of communism and compe-tition with the Soviet Union, has given way.

What will take its place? What are theimplications for the Armed Forces? Andwhat should we be doing now to prepare forfuture demands? Following are somethoughts on how our world is changing andwhat those changes portend for the future ofthe American military and our overall na-tional security posture.

Elements of ChangeGreat wars leave turbulence in their

wake. World War I left a civil war in Russia, asullen Germany wracked by internal strife,and flotsam adrift in what had once been

Austria-Hungary and the OttomanEmpire. Similarly, the defeat of theAxis powers in World War II un-leashed forces that changed theface of Europe, Asia, and Africa.The passing of the Cold War nowhas map-makers scrambling forpens and fresh ink, while territorialsquabbles, civil wars, and humani-tarian tragedies are popping up likepoisonous mushrooms.

After earlier wars, nations com-monly held grand conclaves to re-

store order. Delegates to the Versailles PeaceConference after World War I tinkered withinternational boundaries and devised newstates, mandates, and protectorates. As WorldWar II drew to a close, Allied leaders solemnlybrokered territorial adjustments and other-wise laid the framework for a changed post-war world. They also agreed to create theUnited Nations, hoping its lofty councilswould find peaceful, rational ways to resolve(or at least referee) international problems.

But when the Cold War finally shud-dered to a halt, no epoch-making summit

gathered to pore overmaps, pencil in newboundaries, or for-mally induct new,odd-sounding statesinto the fraternity ofnations. Would-benew members have

been left to establish an independent politi-cal identity by their own devices. Some,such as united Germany, Slovakia, and manynew republics of the former Soviet Union,have done this through a more or lesssmooth political transition. Other aspirantssuch as Bosnia, Armenia, and Georgia foundthe path to statehood slippery with blood.

Many Americans hope that the quarrelsand feuds around the world are merely aCold War hangover. They assure themselvesthat things will “quiet down” once lingeringCold War toxins are finally metabolized.Sadly, that seems highly unlikely. The prob-lems simmering in so many parts of theworld show no signs of abating. On the con-trary, we may be in for a prolonged period ofconflict and crisis in the international arena.And the Armed Forces are in for some verydangerous years as they stand ready to pro-tect our Nation’s interests through thesevolatile times.

As it faces the future, our military isbeing buffeted by winds of change fromthree different compass points: changes inthe international community, changes inthe way our forces are organized and em-ployed, and changes in the realm of technol-ogy. Each of these is gusting with such forcethat any one alone would make our futureextremely demanding.

New World DisorderThe world is going through an incredi-

ble metamorphosis. Some changes are di-rectly related to the end of the Cold War;others have no connection with the lateEast-West conflict. The sum total of thesechanges, whatever their source, is a worldteeming with nascent crises. A new adminis-tration took office earlier this year deter-mined to make domestic issues its first prior-ity, but vexing international problemsdemand its attention with the persistence ofa salesman with his foot in the door. Whatdoes this portend?

The end of the Cold War invalidated allthe old strategic postulates of the past fourdecades. The most obvious changes rippledalong the old East-West fault lines, whereformer antagonists have become friends andpartners. The ease with which we negotiatedthe START II treaty with the Russians is a

W H A T ’ S A H E A D

Admiral David E. Jeremiah, USN, is thesecond Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He has been Commander in Chief,U.S. Pacific Fleet, and served on destroyersearlier in his naval career.

A soldier standingguard outside the village of Belet Uen,Somalia, during Oper-ation Restore Hope.

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measure of thatchange: both nationsrecognize that, in achanged world, we havemuch more to gain from reducingstockpiles than from clinging to theoverlarge nuclear arsenals that were once thetokens of superpower manhood.

The spectacular collapse of the SovietUnion and its empire raises hopes that thelast Communist holdouts—namely, China,

North Korea, and Cuba—willsuccumb as well. Looking atthe likes of Fidel Castro andKim Il Sung, one can scarcelyavoid the conclusion thatcommunism is increasinglyan ideology of embittered

old men and that it may very well die outwhen they do. But the turmoil attending thedismantling of communism in the formerSoviet Union warns us of the difficulty ofgoing from a police-state dictatorship todemocracy and from a state-run to a marketeconomy. While the demise of communismin its few remaining strongholds would be ajoyous triumph (especially for the people liv-ing in those benighted lands), it is not at allcertain that this will happen without strifeand bloodshed.

The end of the Cold War has broughtchange in less obvious ways as well. Itcaused the bottom to fall out of the marketfor strategic real estate and leverage in theThird World. Nonaligned states can nolonger panhandle the United States or theSoviet Union for aid, arms, and political pa-tronage by playing one superpower againstthe other. On the other hand, the UnitedNations has finally been released from therack that once painfully stretched it betweenWashington and Moscow. Still pale, trem-bling, and rubbing its wrists, it has begun tograpple with the substantive role first envi-sioned for it nearly fifty years ago—and tosuffer new agonies from the real work of in-ternational problem solving.

The focus of our multilateral and bilat-eral security treaties is also shifting. Origi-nally intended to contain Communist ex-pansion, their value has outlasted the SovietUnion and the Warsaw Pact. In Europe, the

we must know, decide,and act faster than ourenemy at every turn

A computer screen in theNavy Space CommandOperations Center dis-playing satellite tracksand coverage areas.

U.S. Navy photo by Chuck Mussi


Middle East, Asia, and the Pacific, our secu-rity ties and forward presence are the corner-stones of regional stability. As we saw in thePersian Gulf, existing security arrangementsform the hard nucleus around which widerpartnerships can quickly coalesce duringmajor crises. And in the future, regional al-liances such as NATO may yet become execu-

tive agents for the United Na-tions, deputized to act onbehalf of the entire interna-tional community to resolveneighborhood disputes.

For the United States it-self, the end of the East-Westconflict profoundly changedour entire strategic outlook. Afew years ago we threw away

the old strategy focused on the Soviet threatand replaced it with a new one. We calcu-lated that regional crises were the mostlikely threats, so instead of a global capabilityfor global war we now have a strategy aimedat a global capability for regional crises.

This new strategy recognizes that we nolonger have a single great adversary. It ac-knowledges new realities in international af-fairs. It recognizes the practical limits to ourown resources and relies on a smaller forcestructure. But it also recognizes that theUnited States still needs strong, capable mili-tary forces to defend its interests. And it rec-ognizes that, even with the end of the ColdWar, the world is still unstable and danger-ous. This perception is extremely importantbecause, independent of the changes arisingfrom the end of the Cold War, there is ahigh probability we will see a general wors-ening of international conditions over thenext twenty or thirty years.

A few years ago I commissioned a studythat looks ahead to the year 2025. Thatstudy, Project 2025, found some very dis-turbing trends. Perhaps the most powerfultrend is demography: the world populationwill balloon to nearly ten billion people overthe next few decades, with most of that in-crease coming in lesser developed countries.For them, population growth is like a giantmillstone crushing their hopes for eco-nomic, social, and political progress. With-out an international effort to get populationgrowth under control, perhaps one-quarterof the Earth’s population will be hungryevery day in 2025. Many governments will

be chronically unable to meet their people’smost basic needs. We may have already seenthis future in Somalia. Even among fairlywell-to-do nations, we can expect fiercecompetition for natural resources, includingenergy, unpolluted water, and perhaps evenfresh air.

There is great potential for huge migra-tions as people flee conflict or search for bet-ter economic conditions. In many areas,these new pressures will rub salt in festeringethnic, religious, or political wounds. Rightnow Europe has more refugees and displacedpersons than at any time since the end ofWorld War II, with more than three milliongenerated by the fighting in the Balkansalone. Germany’s problems with refugeesand foreign residents—plus the chillingly fa-miliar antagonisms they have aroused—con-stitute the most explosive domestic issuethere since the end of the Third Reich. Stirinto this soup the proliferation of modernarmaments, including ballistic missiles andweapons of mass destruction, and the resultis a real witch’s brew.

All this adds up to a strong likelihoodof international crisis and conflict. But re-cent events remind us that, in a world vil-lage increasingly linked by modern commu-nications, even intra-national problems cansometimes rouse the international commu-nity to collective action, either in anger orin sympathy.

More collective action is likely in the fu-ture. Traditionally, no matter how outra-geous or despicable their conduct, tyrantsfrom Idi Amin and Pol Pot to Saddam Hus-sein had little to fear so long as they con-fined their cruelty to their own territory.Their immunity sprang from the idea thatnational sovereignty supersedes any com-plaint about a nation’s internal behavior, anaxiom particularly dear to thugs anddespots. Out of respect for this rule, the fam-ily of nations has repeatedly averted its eyesfrom even the most monstrous atrocities.

This inertia is disappearing as the inter-national community slowly recognizes amoral imperative to step in to halt genocidalcrimes even when they are committed underthe claim of national sovereignty. But gettingfrom the theoretical acceptance of this idea to


A GDU–27 prototypelaser guided bombbeing dropped from anA–117 stealth fighterduring weapons separation testing.

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the practical how’s, why’s, and wherefore’s isanother matter. So far, the United Nations hasnot found a formula that would allow last-re-sort intervention while at the same time safe-

guarding against abuse ofthis power. (And abuse isnot an unrealistic worry.The U.N. General Assem-bly is not that far removedfrom the days when itgleefully endorsed almost

any anti-Western or anti-Israeli screed, themore venomous the better.)

In times to come, the internationalcommunity may close the loophole thattoday allows tyrants to abuse their own peo-

ple as they please. Ido not advocate adiminution of na-tional sovereignty,nor would I want toincite internationallynch mobs. Butgenocidal crimessuch as those com-mitted by the KhmerRouge in Cambodia,by Saddam Husseinagainst Iraq’s Kurdsand Shi’as, and byBosnian Serbs—whohave made “ethniccleansing” a syn-onym for wholesalerape and massacre—should not be toler-ated. The right to na-tional sovereigntyought not to be abso-lute in cases of geno-cide any more thanchild abuse carried

out in a private home should be beyond thereach of criminal law. Perhaps the commu-nity of nations will find a way to addressthis need. If so, this will become anothernew element in the international securityenvironment.

Amid these changes, there is one impor-tant constant that remains true in spite of theend of the Cold War, and in spite of all thefretful problems on the horizon: the uniqueleadership role of the United States in worldaffairs. We are not just the world’s only super-power; we are also a leader in promoting

human rights, democracy, free enterprise, andthe rule of law in international affairs. Othernations trust and respect us not just becausewe are powerful, but because we represent hu-manity’s moral conscience. We do not alwaysdo this perfectly, but on the whole we do itwell enough and often enough that we have aunique stature in the international commu-nity. General Sir Peter de la Billière, who com-manded British forces during the Persian GulfWar, expressed this very clearly when he saidrecently that “the one stabilizing influence inthe world today is the power and the com-mon sense of America.”

Consider Somalia. When I was there lastfall, Somalia looked like hell’s waiting room.But despite a lot of media exposure and inter-national hand wringing, nothing much hap-pened to help the relief agencies until theUnited States stepped forward. Then othernations followed our lead, and today Somaliahas been saved from starvation and banditryby a remarkable international effort. For bet-ter or worse, no other country, not even theUnited Nations, can mobilize internationalenergies the way the United States can. Wecannot abdicate that responsibility now justbecause we have other things on our plate.

We cannot be the world’s policeman—but we are obliged to be its most civic-mindedcitizen. To carry out this role we will needwell-trained, well-armed, and highly mobileforces. But these forces may be configured dif-ferently than in years past and find them-selves performing tasks other than the tradi-tional missions of “deter and defend.”

The Future of American ForcesA few years ago we designed a new

structure for the Armed Forces. Our principalconcern in doing this was to tailor them tothe demands of a post-Cold War world of re-gional crises rather than global conflict. Thishas already meant large cuts in forces andprograms, especially those (strategic and tac-tical nuclear weapons, forward-deployedforces in Europe, attack submarines, and soforth) that were geared chiefly toward ashowdown with the Soviet Union. Today De-fense Secretary Les Aspin is overseeing a“bottom-up” review to identify where morestreamlining or restructuring can be done.The final result will be smaller, lighter, more

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A unit of the 10th

Mountain Division coordinating withCanadian forces in Somalia.

instead of a global capa-bility for global war wehave a global capability forregional crises

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flexible, and more lethal forces than ever.More of these forces will be based in theUnited States. We are making large invest-ments in strategic mobility—the C–17 air-craft and fast sealift—that will strengthen ourability to hurry forces and their supportinglogistics to distant trouble spots.

An important part of this downsizingand realignment is a stronger-than-evercommitment to joint operations. No matterwhere we fight in the future, and no matterwhat the circumstances, we will fight as ajoint team. The Armed Forces of the UnitedStates will never again poke as individualfingers; rather they will always strike as aclosed fist. As we learned in Vietnam, whenyou go into combat, you go after a clearlydefined objective and you go to win. We willgang up with every joint resource at our dis-posal whenever summoned to battle.

The transition to a smaller force tailoredfor regional crises isgoing very well, butit could still be luredonto the rocks unlesswe are careful. Sirenvoices are alreadycalling for faster cuts,for narrowing currentbroad-based capabili-ties, or for sacrificingday-to-day readinessto retain structure orprograms.

We are already cutting our forces asquickly as we can without compromisingreadiness. The importance of caution wasburned into our memory after World War II,when our demobilization looked like a massjail break. Just five months after Japan’s sur-render, Admiral Chester Nimitz complainedthat the United States itself had “done whatno enemy could do, and that is reduce itsNavy almost to impotency. . . . [Today] yourNavy has not the strength in ships and per-sonnel to carry on a major military opera-tion.” The Army suffered a similar fate. Atwar’s end, it had six million men under arms;by March 1948, that number had shriveledto barely 530,000, most of whom were newconscripts. General Omar Bradley wrote thatas a result the Army “could not fight its wayout of a paper bag.” He was very nearly right,as the opening of the Korean war sadly

demonstrated. We need to resist attempts tospeed up our cuts lest we wind up once againwith hollow forces unready for combat.

Our forces were meat-axed after WorldWar II because our government naivelythought atomic weapons and strategic bomb-ing made other elements of military powerobsolete. Secretary of Defense James Forrestaleventually complained to Congress that pos-session of the atomic bomb had “engendered[a] . . . mistaken sense of security and compla-cency” in the country. It took the debacle ofTask Force Smith in the first days of the Ko-rean War to shake us out of this complacencyand to remind us of the need for broad-based, balanced forces. Every military situa-tion is different, and each requires a forcespecially tailored to its unique conditions.The forces we sent to Somalia, for example,are unlike those that fought their way intoKuwait and Iraq. America’s future is bestserved by a force mix that does not place toomany eggs in any one basket, but which in-stead draws on the synergy of balanced, flexi-ble joint forces.

Another proposal suggests we replace ac-tive forces with cheaper Reserve componentones. To fulfill our new strategy, we needstrong, tough, capable forces that can goquickly—within days or even hours—to thescene of a smoldering crisis. For this to bedone by Reserve units, they would have tomaintain a level of day-to-day readinessidentical to that of active forces. Such a highstandard of readiness costs about the samewhether in the Reserve, the Guard, or activeforces. Reserve combat forces with the readi-ness necessary for tomorrow’s problemswould have to be active units in all butname. A better choice is for us to maintainactive fire brigades backed up by appropriateelements of the Reserve components, espe-cially in the areas of combat support andcombat service support.

This will require a downsizing andreshuffling of our Reserve components com-parable to that taking place in the activeforces. We greatly expanded our Reserve andNational Guard forces in the 1980s to coun-terbalance the Warsaw Pact’s huge numeri-cal superiority in ground troops. Today itmakes no sense to keep that enlarged ColdWar-era force. Consequently, we have laidout cuts that will align our Reserve compo-nents to new strategic needs—cuts that will


U.S. and Spanish air-craft used in supportof Operation RestoreHope in Somalia linethe runway at MoronAir Base in Spain.

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still leave them larger than before their ex-pansion in the last decade. But most impor-tantly, this will leave the Armed Forces over-all in a stronger, more robust, more capableposture than could be achieved by schemesthat would skew us away from a balancedstructure.

The third temptation is to create falsesavings by plundering our operations andmaintenance accounts. The superb forces wehave today—qualitatively our best ever—would be betrayed by such a policy. Combatreadiness is more than the sum of ships,planes, and divisions. It demands soldiers,sailors, marines, and airmen who are welltrained and well led. Readiness cannot beachieved or sustained on the cheap. But sincereadiness is hard to quantify, sometimes ouroperations and maintenance accounts areviewed as piggy banks we can break into forspare change. The absolute importance ofgood training and sound maintenance showsup only on battlefield ledgers, where the redink entries are written in blood.

In addition to the challenges posed bydownsizing and restructuring, our forces willalso have to adapt to changing missions. Wehave already seen a substantial expansion oftheir roles in just the past few years, every-thing from counterdrug operations to reliefefforts in Iraq, Russia, Somalia, and elsewhere.

There is nothing inherently wrong withsuch departures from traditional roles pro-vided we remember that the first purpose ofmilitary forces is to fight, not sniff outdrugs or deliver food baskets. The reasonwe are good at other things is because, rela-tive to other law enforcement or reliefagencies, we are big, have ample trainedmanpower and capable leaders, and can callon marvelous resources—including a logis-tical system that surpasses the wildestdreams of any civilian agency. But all theseadvantages are, in one way or another,byproducts of combat readiness.

The future may widen the gap betweenthe role of military force in the old sense andthe modern utility of military forces. Thoseof us in uniform have been trained to seethe two as being almost inextricably inter-twined, as Clausewitz and Mahan contend.But today and in the future our forces maybe assigned missions that have little or noth-ing to do with coercive military force in the

traditional sense—like Operation RestoreHope in Somalia.

This does not mean the old roles aregoing away. We reminded Saddam Husseinof that two years ago. We used overt militarypower to force his withdrawal from Kuwait,and later we successfully used the threat ofmilitary force to create a safe haven forKurds in northern Iraq.

But there are also situations in whichmilitary force alone can do very little. Yugo-slavia is a good example. We all wish the car-nage would stop; but injecting U.S. groundforces into Bosnia without a workable peaceagreement among all parties would be nomore successful than in Beirut ten years ago.The killing would go on, the horror wouldcontinue, and Americans would be amongthe dead. A noble desire to “do something” isnot an adequate basis for risking our servicemen and women. There are limits to what

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A computer-guidedTomahawk Cruisemissile is launchedfrom a Navy ship toward an Iraqi targetduring OperationDesert Storm.

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force can do, and we need to remember thatour military power is not the only—or ofteneven the best—way to promote peace andstability abroad.

By themselves these two big trends—continuing changes in the internationalcommunity and restructuring our forces toaddress those changes—would be amplychallenging. But they are not the onlyagents of change on the horizon. Right nowwe are surfing just below the crest of a fabu-lous revolution in technology, and that crestis about to crash down on us.

The Challenges of New TechnologySuperior weaponry has been a character-

istic of the U.S. Armed Forces for a long timeand will remain so. But to fully exploit daz-zling new opportunities, we need to stream-line our procurement system. We also needto pay attention to how we adapt new tech-nologies to military use, and to how we willcommand and control our future forces.

Like the tabloid astrologers, we cannotpredict for certain which new technologieswill prove most useful. But we can make outsome ways they will reshape our forces, andbecause of this R&D is already shifting. Weare moving away from systems that cannotbe easily adapted to exploit new technolo-gies that do not have a high degree of strate-gic or tactical mobility, or that are so highly

specialized they can onlybe used against a narrowthreat or in a unique en-vironment. We do notwant systems that lacklow-observable or stealthtechnologies. We intendto get away from systems

that need large, vulnerable logistical tails.And we may very well move away from ex-pensive, highly sophisticated platforms infavor of cheaper trucks or barges based oncommercial vehicles but crammed withstate-of-the-art long-range weapons, sensors,and communications gear.

This does not mean we are about tosound the death knell for the major capitalsystems of our services—the main battletank, the manned aircraft, and the large sur-face combatant. These will have their placein the Armed Forces of the future, al-though—and this is important—that place

may not be the central position they haveheld for the past half century or more. It isnot yet time to kill all the sacred cows, butthey should be put into a very selectivebreeding program.

We cannot be too beholden to any out-dated or obsolete system because technologi-cal change makes our day-to-day grip on techno-logical superiority all the more fragile. Ourposition is similar to that of the Royal Navy acentury ago when the British introduced anew class of large, fast, heavily armed war-ship. Overnight, the dreadnought (essentiallythe first modern battleship) made everyother type of surface combatant obsolete.The irony for the British was that this madethe rest of the Royal Navy, the strongest navyin the world, obsolete as well. The Britishhad to start over like everybody else, and thismeant competitors could take a short cut.Nations like Germany, which had neverdreamed of challenging the Royal Navy be-fore, could become formidable sea powerssimply by building fleets of dreadnoughts.

Today we are in an analogous position.Although we are by far the strongest militarypower in the world, our superiority nolonger depends on outproducing our ene-mies as we did when we were “The Arsenalof Democracy” in World War II, nor even onsuperior design in aircraft, ships, and tankslike we had during the Cold War. Increas-ingly, our superiority depends on having thelatest microchip, the latest superminiaturesensor, or the most advanced information-processing software. But right now, we havean acquisition system that is not designed toassure our superiority in those areas.

Our current acquisition system is aproduct of the Cold War. It was designed togive us large numbers of advanced systemsas rapidly as possible. This was costly, but itserved us well when we faced great nationaldanger. Over time, however, that acquisitionsystem also become risk-averse. We got soconcerned about scandals that we loaded itdown with checks and audits. These helpedus avoid procurement scandals but at theprice of driving up costs and impeding rapidtechnological progress. As a result, we havelost our technological agility.


no matter where we fight,no matter what the circumstances, we will fightas a joint team


We desperately need to streamline ourdefense acquisition system. We need a broadfront R&D strategy so we will not be surprisedby breakthroughs in areas where our technol-ogy lags behind. We also need to compressthe time from concept to final product so theacquisition cycle can keep up with state-of-the-art technology. And we need to do allthis within the constraints of future defensespending. To get there from here, we need tostrip away some of the legislative and regula-tory barnacles that encrust the acquisition

cycle. We need to exploit shortcuts such ashardware-in-the-loop testing and computer-aided design, manufacturing, and logisticalsupport. We may need to reverse the histori-cal relationship between defense and com-mercial technologies. In the past, commercialapplications were often the spin-off byprod-ucts of defense R&D; in the future, we willprobably rely more on adapting the latestcommercial technologies for military use—achange that promises to yield new militaryapplications faster, cheaper, and better thanthe old Cold War process.

We also need to open our minds to newideas about how we can separate technologi-cal progress from costly full-scale deploy-ment. Our new regional-crisis strategy frees usfrom the need to keep large, homogeneouslyequipped forces. Instead, we can now toleratemore unique units as a way to quickly inte-grate new technology and keep a warm in-

dustrial base while holding down overall ac-quisition costs. Instead of insisting on a uni-form force structure made up, say, of a singletype of air superiority aircraft, we may se-quence new acquisitions through the force.While overall this would produce a heteroge-neous force, we could draw from it the rightmixture of sophistication and mass appropri-ate to any particular crisis. The result may bemore programs like the F–117 rather than theF–16, with our most highly advanced systemsdeployed in only a few selected units.

Technological superiorityis not just a measure of hard-ware; it is also a measure of or-ganizational adaptability. Oneaspect of this might be calledlearning curve dominance. Itrefers to the ability to developthe tactics, organizations, train-ing programs, and warfightingdoctrines to exploit new tech-nology effectively. A good ex-ample is the Germans at thebeginning of World War II.They had fewer tanks than theBritish or French, and the tanksthey had were technically infe-rior. But because they had newtactics and organizationswhich allowed them to usetheir technology more effec-tively, the German Blitzkriegcrushed the French and British

armies in a matter of weeks. We should heedsuch lessons and aggressively seek the newapplications that get the most out of our newsystems.

With longer range, greater precision, andhorizontal integration of real-time intelli-gence and targeting, future weapons will beable to strike enemy forces at great distances.In mid- or high-intensity combat, it may notalways be necessary to physically occupy keyterrain on the ground, vital airspace, or criti-cal chokepoints at sea in order to controlthem. While wars will still be won onlywhen soldiers occupy the enemy’s territory, itmay not be necessary in every case to “closewith” the enemy in order to destroy him. Wemay even reach a point at which fire andmaneuver become essentially the same thingunder some circumstances. Such elements as

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traditional unit organization, tactics, andmodes of thinking may not be appropriate tosuch a future. We need to find out what isappropriate and acquire it before our adver-saries do. Otherwise, it will be like hitching aCorvette behind a draft horse: we will not beusing our new hardware in a way that trulyexploits its capabilities.

The future also demands superior com-mand, control, communications, computersand intelligence (C4I). Good weapons, ad-vanced tactics, and flexible, efficient organi-zations will give us a superb military instru-ment. But we need to know where to point

that instrument and how to control it. Thisis where C4I comes in.

The end of the Cold War presents uswith a whole new set of C 4I problems.When the Soviets were our primary worry,we needed expensive systems to meet spe-cialized needs. We bought whole networksof hardened, redundant, focused systems togive us strategic warning or to enable us tofight a global war against a nuclear adver-sary. These assets have not become irrele-vant; but in shifting from a global strategyfor global war to a global strategy for re-gional crises, we now have a new menu ofC4I requirements.

Strategic warning now takes on newmeaning. The theater, the adversary, eventhe nature of the problem—whether it is amilitary conflict or a humanitarian crisis—can change rapidly and may be muchtougher to sort out than in the days of theold East-West rivalry. Many of our currentsystems are not designed for that kind ofwork. For example, satellites cannot tellwhether a crowd is going to a soccer matchor a civil war—admittedly sometimes thesame thing in many parts of the world.

To act quickly and effectively in futureregional crises (and especially with oursmaller force structure, more of which willbe based in the United States), we need aglobal C4I capability that can alert us veryearly to a potential problem, focus on atrouble spot as events develop, surge in ca-pacity when needed, and respond to the pe-culiar operational needs of the joint or com-bined task force commander.

No one else does this as well as we can.Our experiences in Grenada, Panama, andthe Persian Gulf taught us a lot, and the ad-vances we have made in just the past twoyears are eyewatering. But technology isspawning a new problem: an informationexplosion that threatens to choke our C4Isystems with more data than we can ana-lyze. We need to make sure that our futureefforts give us not only more, but also better,more usable information when and wherewe most need it.

We also must understand that such sys-tems fundamentally change the way we com-mand and control forces. Our traditionalmethods have emphasized the flow of infor-


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mation along verticalpaths: information up,orders and instructionsdown. But increasinglywe have architectures inwhich information flowslaterally as well. As a re-sult, knowledge is morepervasive and controlfunctions more decen-tralized. We have not yet come to grips withwhat that means organizationally, but weneed to soon.

We also need to work on end-to-end in-tegration of our C4I systems. We must be ableto know, decide, and act faster than ourenemy at every turn. The data our reconnais-sance systems gather must be transmitted inreal time to command centers, where target-ing decisions can be made in a matter of mo-ments. Then we need to send targeting in-structions to loitering cruise missiles or otherweapons that hit their targets with speciallytailored munitions packages—possibly withterminal guidance from overhead systems.And all this must happen rapidly, since fu-ture combat may resemble a game of elec-tronic cat and mouse between the enemy’shiders and our finders. (Project 2025 gives asobering assessment of so-called pop up war-fare and its implications for U.S. security.)

We need to harness this exciting newtechnology to our emerging requirements.Superior military power in the future will de-pend on superior C4I. Since our adversariesmay have access to some of the same sophis-ticated weapons technologies we do, our ulti-mate trump card will be our ability to know,decide, and act more quickly than they can.

Some Final ThoughtsIt will not be easy for us to tackle these

challenges in the years ahead. Many see ourdeclining defense budgets as just another ob-stacle, one that makes the others insur-mountable. I disagree with this view. In fact,I think the next few decades will be some ofthe most exciting and successful our ArmedForces have ever experienced.

Historically, many of our most impor-tant transformations have come during peri-ods of constrained defense spending. In the

1930s we developed a modern, capable car-rier force that later turned the tide againstthe Japanese in the Pacific. In 1945, GeneralHap Arnold made a controversial decision topush research and development of guidedmissiles when many in the Air Force howledthat this would make manned aircraft obso-lete. Despite this resistance and the slim bud-gets of the late ’40s and ’50s, Arnold’s visioneventually became reality in our ICBM forces.After Vietnam left the Nation with a foultaste for military investments, GeneralCreighton Abrams started the Army on aspiritual and doctrinal renewal that paid offspectacularly in the deserts of Iraq andKuwait. In every case, the keys to successhave been a vision of the future and the de-termination to make it become reality.

In this respect the U.S. Armed Forceshave always been lucky, not just becausethey produced visionaries like Hap Arnold,Creighton Abrams, George Marshall, and Ar-leigh Burke, but because so many servicemen and women at every level joined themin making their visions come to life. Times ofchange have a way of placing a premium noton narrow, specialized knowledge, but onbreadth of understanding and clear thinking.For this, our military education system is thebest in the world. We produce officers who,while well trained in their technical special-ties, can also calmly gaze into the eye of thetiger when it comes to problems of interna-tional politics, grand strategy, force modern-ization and restructuring, or the complexconsequences of future technology.

I place my faith in them. They are in forsome exciting times. JFQ

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REDUNDANCY:REDUNDANCY:


Efforts underway to restructure theArmed Forces should provide forhealthy competition among the ser-vices to stimulate technological in-

novation in an era when the Nation nolonger faces a foreign threat that is its mili-tary equal. Interservice rivalry is frequentlythought of as costly and wasteful, as an irra-tional duplication of functions resultingfrom the services attempting to protect orexpand bureaucratic turf at the expense ofefficiency. Yet interservice competition hasits creative aspects. Every organization tendsto stagnate when it becomes the only gamein town or when competition is rigged, fromthe big three auto makers to IBM and thePostal Service. Without competitive pressure,the need to respond quickly to changing cir-cumstances or opportunities is reduced.

Properly structured service competitiondoes not waste money and actually promoteshigher levels of efficiency and innovation.

Creative competition can exist if a commonstrategic mission is clearly established, com-mon criteria for success are identified andunderstood, and no one service is allowed torig the game by establishing a little empirewithin which it is autonomous and invulner-able and thus able to achieve parochial goals(otherwise known as service log-rolling).

“The Last Thing Needed Is InterserviceRivalry”

As the defense budget declined abso-lutely in response to decreases in majorthreats to the territory of the United States,the first, least divisive, and most obvious re-sponse was to reduce the services in aroughly proportional manner. Balancing theforce structure with lower end strengths pro-vided the Nation with the full range of capa-bilities that had contained the global Sovietthreat and regional military aggression. This

SERVICEREDUNDANCY:WASTE OR HIDDEN CAPABILITY?By S T E P H E N P E T E R R O S E N

With the Cold War now history the Armed Forces could face the kind of stagnation major corporations havesuffered in an uncompetitive marketplace. Although redundant roles and missions, and the interservice rivalry they encourage, may seem wasteful to taxpayers and Congress in search of their peace dividend, com-petition among the services has often improved our military capabilities. When the Army and the Navy had asimilar strategic mission, the Army built a long-range fighter for continental air defense while the Navy de-veloped carrier air. When the Army and the Marine Corps had analogous infantry roles, the Marines perfectedamphibious warfare. The defense establishment should not turn a blind eye to the warp in which creativecompetition among the services can encourage the development of new capabilities in even a period of fiscalconstraint. Consideration should also be given to creating a few competing, theater-oriented commandswhich may offer a variety of joint capabilities to choose from in the future.

Summary


process of proportional downsizing yieldedthe base force.

At the same time, Congress mandatedthe creation of a joint culture in place of in-dividual service cultures by emphasizing amore centralized Joint Staff, training, acquisi-tion, and so forth. Pressures to reduce de-fense spending below the levels that can sus-tain the base force have already producedrecommendations to eliminate overlappingfunctions and redundancies to find themoney to keep the base force intact. The gen-uine need to promote jointness and to copewith declining budgets may combine to pro-duce a military where there is one, and onlyone, capability for each identifiable function:intelligence, tactical aviation, ground com-bat, power projection, and so on.

As the Congress daily hammers on theservices to economize and rationalize, it willbecome easy to lose sight of the fact that re-dundancy—which has a decidedly negativering in the ears of most Americans—can alsobe thought of as competition, which strikesa far more positive note.

An analogy from the business worldmay be useful. A company that faces hardtimes can argue there is production overca-pacity or redundancy in its sector and try tosolve the problem by eliminating the over-capacity: getting rid of its competitors bytariff protection, quotas, or mergers. Unfor-tunately, once companies have a market sec-tor to themselves, they often revert to sloth-ful ways. Companies that respond to hardtimes by squarely facing up to their competi-tion do much better, provided they can sur-vive in the short run.

“What’s True for Business Isn’t True forthe Military”

In the marketplace, where many firmsdo the same thing, we can buy from the sup-plier we like best and let the weaker ones gobroke. The Nation, however, cannot affordmultiple defense establishments, and we cer-tainly do not want to see the military equiv-alent of going broke—that is, losing a war.Besides, the services must work together inwartime, not compete. The Japanese navy

and air forceeach had morethan fifty kindsof radios and

several types of fighter aircraft in World WarII, and both forces suffered from squanderedresources and inability to communicateamong the services. Which leads us to ask:what point is there in service competitionanyway?

A brief look at American military historyshows that interservice rivalry spurred inno-vation in several important cases by forcinga service to do something better or faster, orby leading to the creation of a critical mili-tary capability.

In the 1920s many members of Con-gress wanted to take aviation away from theArmy and Navy and put all aircraft into asingle air arm. Why should two services

compete in developing fighters andbombers? The main mission facing theArmed Forces at that time was protecting thecontinental United States from attack. Whynot give the job to one service and avoidwaste? This did not occur for various rea-sons, and as a result each service was spurredto improve its aviation branch, fully awarethat the other service was eager to take overaviation for continental defense. Both theArmy and Navy had the same strategic mis-sion, but they developed alternative ways ofpursuing it. The Army developed the P–38long-range fighter for continental air defenseand B–17 bomber to attack enemy invasionfleets and foreign air bases within range ofthe United States. The Navy developed car-rier aviation to defend against threats to theUnited States and the Panama Canal. Eachof these redundant air forces had its charac-teristics, and each was extremely useful in

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Stephen Peter Rosen is the associate director ofthe John M. Olin Institute for Strategic Studies atHarvard University and author of Winning the

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World War II. If aviation had been rational-ized in the interwar years of the 1920s and1930s, one or the other of these essential in-

gredients for victorywould have been lost.

Marines were em-ployed as regular in-fantry during World WarI in exactly the sameways as Army infantry-men. In the 1920s theMarine Corps had suchunglamorous, strategi-cally peripheral jobs asproviding military guards

and fighting rebels overseas. This redundantforce, however, identified a capability thatwas needed but that the Army made little ef-fort to develop: amphibious assault. By 1936the Marine Corps had developed a “Tenta-tive Manual for Amphibious Warfare” thatwas not only the basis for operations in thePacific during World War II, but also becamethe Army manual for amphibious landingsin Europe. Had the Marines been absorbedinto the Army, the invention of amphibiousassault would not have come about untilWorld War II broke out—inevitably at con-siderable strategic and human cost.

Immediately after World War II, thechief scientist in charge of the developmentof military technology, Vannevar Bush, re-viewed all guided missile programs then un-derway. He discovered what he thought wasincredible waste and redundancy of pro-grams and tried to cut them back. He wasunsuccessful. Ten years later, the AssistantSecretary of Defense for Research and Devel-opment attempted to do the same thing byplacing all missile programs under the AirForce. Again, it was not done. Every historyof the development of intermediate rangeballistic missiles (IRBMs) and intercontinen-tal ballistic missiles (ICBMs) notes the ex-tremely rapid and successful development ofthose systems was related to the existence ofcompetition. The Air Force knew that if itfailed in the Atlas or Minuteman programs,the Army would happily take the money forits IRBM programs. The Navy knew that if itdid not do its best with the Polaris program,it would lose any role in the primary strate-gic mission of that generation to the Air

Force. Partly as a result of this competition,the first generation of strategic ballistic mis-siles was fielded in a fraction of the timethat it now takes for the introduction of rad-ically new military technology.

“Now Everything Is More Expensive andComplex”

Is the notion of creative competitionvalid in today’s economic climate? Weaponssystems have increased in cost and complex-ity faster than the U.S. GNP, and we buy anduse fewer arms than fifty or sixty years ago.Redundancy of systems and capabilities istherefore more expensive. Yet it is also help-ful to recall that we afforded redundant AirForces and a redundant Marine Corps duringthe 1930s when defense spending as a wholewas, at most, 1.5 percent of GNP, or onlyhalf the figure of even the more Draconianfive-year projectionstoday. If the utility ofcreative competitionis understood, wemay well opt for itwithin the fiscal con-straints that areemerging. In addi-tion, the idea of re-dundant force struc-tures is consistentwith the prototypicalresearch and devel-opment strategy ad-vocated by the Department of Defense inthe past as well as by the new Secretary ofDefense. The point is that today the UnitedStates needs fewer forces in being and awider menu of potential military capabilitiesfrom which to choose, precisely because wedo not know what the threat will be or howit will fight.

“How Do You Get CreativeCompetition?”

An examination of the historical exam-ples of good and bad interservice rivalry re-veals that Japan’s experience was bad be-cause the army’s strategic mission beforePearl Harbor—defeating China and the So-viet Union—was entirely different from thatof the navy—defeating the British and Amer-ican fleets. Not until June 1941 did the armyand navy agree that the United States wasthe principal enemy. It was a wonder theycould work together at all. In the case of

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Technological innova-tion: the F–117 cockpitfeatures a video moni-tor with infrared im-agery from onboardsensors, full colormoving-maps, and a 4–D flight controlsystem.

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competition in the U.S. military over avia-tion capabilities, there was at least someagreement about the main task; so thatwhile there was competition, it was notabout what to do but rather how to do it.

This agreement on a strategic missionwas even clearer in the 1950s when the ob-jective was understood by all to be puttingmegatons on Soviet targets. Agreement onthe strategic mission is essential because itensures that all the services will work in thesame direction, and that each will develop acapability that should help achieve what theNation needs in wartime. It also makes it dif-

ficult for a service to identify its own mili-tary niche and say, “What the other servicesdo is fine but it isn’t relevant to us—let themdo what they want, but let us do what wewant.” Agreement on mission makes it pos-sible for both the Commander in Chief orthe Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, to super-vise by saying to the services in effect, “Youare each trying to do X, and one of youseems to be doing it much better—show mewhy I am wrong.”

Establishing criteria for success in ac-complishing a mission enables the JointStaff to track service progress on a routinebasis. Creative competition among the ser-vices in peacetime can’t be tracked the wayit would be in war, by seeing who wins thebattles most easily. Competition in peace-time must be structured and appropriatestandards set for the services to meet. Andcompetition cannot be completely open-ended, exist for its own sake, and be fundedindefinitely. Establishing hard, quantitativebottom lines is an extremely useful way forkeeping competition honest and focused.

“Can We Foster Creative CompetitionToday?”

One notional idea is to identify a strate-gic mission that each of the services agrees

upon: for example, projecting a strategicallysignificant amount of power from the conti-nental United States to the periphery ofAsia. Instead of the present arrangement oftheater-oriented commands, two or three“Strategic Expeditionary Corps” or SECscould be created. Each would be a joint com-mand and have one-half or one-third of theArmy and Marine Corps divisions and AirForce wings that Congress decides to fund, ajoint training center, and its own operationsand maintenance budget. Each SEC wouldbe told how much strategic airlift and sealiftit could call upon and given the same plan-

ning scenarios. Each wouldthen be told to come up withthe concept of operations itthought best, to be measuredalong dimensions identified bythe Chairman, Joint Chiefs ofStaff. Each could identify pre-ferred research and develop-ment and procurement priori-ties for the short- and

long-term. The Chairman could then judgethe concept of operations, war plans, train-ing activities, and exercises developed byeach SEC and see what different technologi-cal opportunities they identified for funding.

This differs from the current system ofunified commands where each command isthe only supplier of military services in itsfunctional or regional domain. Not only docommands not face competition, they arerestricted to their own turf until such time,for instance, that Atlantic forces are neededin the Pacific, or the other way around.SECs, in contrast, would not only competeamong themselves but they would be geo-graphically fungible.

The notional approach of Strategic Ex-peditionary Corps satisfies the need for com-petition while also pursuing jointness atforce levels below that envisaged in the baseforce. There are certainly better ways to ac-complish this same goal, and professionalofficers will be more apt to come up withthem than an academic. But we shouldnever lose sight of the fact that a little com-petition never hurt anyone. After all, it wasthe principle that won the Cold War. JFQ

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REFORMINGJoint DoctrineBy R O B E R T A. D O U G H T Y

This article is reprinted from Parameters, vol. 22,no. 3 (Autumn 1992).

Professional Military Educationat both intermediate and seniorlevels now places greater em-phasis on joint and combinedwarfare, especially since the es-tablishment of the National De-fense University and enactmentof the Goldwater-Nichols DODReorganization Act. Yet it iscommand authority and doc-trine—not just education—thatenable the services to operatetogether effectively. This is whythe appearance of Joint Warfareof the U.S. Armed Forces was awatershed. A Center for JointExcellence to promote doctrinaldevelopment as well as a JointAdvanced Warfare School tofurther education would signifi-cantly contribute to the cre-ation of a joint culture. Theseand other efforts should be ac-companied by actively encour-aging more military historiansto study and write about jointoperations. Nevertheless, whilejointness must permeate thecurricula of the intermediateand senior service colleges, itshould not do so at the expenseof ignoring instruction onindividual service perspectiveswhich will remain fundamentalto understanding joint warfare.

Summary


The publication of the newmanual on joint doctrine, JointPub 1, Joint Warfare of the U.S.Armed Forces,1 dated November1991, signals the opening of a

new era in American military history.Though other manuals have been publishedin “test” form, this is the first fully approvedmanual that deals with joint warfare fromsuch an authoritative position and is the firstin what is sure to be a long line of joint doc-trinal documents. As the new era begins, theissue is not whether joint doctrine is impor-tant; the issue is determining what institu-tions and procedures for formulating effec-tive joint doctrine are required and whenthey will be established. The purpose of thisarticle is to suggest steps to speed the formu-lation of joint doctrine in the future and en-sure its effectiveness.

In many ways the situation today is sim-ilar to the situation at the end of the 19th

century when the U.S. Army began writingofficial field manuals.2 Until the publishingof official manuals began, the Army de-pended on individuals to complete method-ological treatises about different aspects ofmilitary operations. For example, BrigadierGeneral Silas Casey’s Infantry Tactics 3 wasadopted in 1863 by the Union Army for useby regulars, volunteers, and militia.4 It waswith the publication of the 1891 InfantryDrill Regulations,5 however, that a more sys-tematic approach to writing field manualsand formulating doctrine began. Over thenext decade the Army’s interest in doctrineincreased, and in 1905 it followed mostother major armies in the Western world bypublishing its first Field Service Regulations.6

This ancestor of the current FM 100–5, Oper-ations, signaled the Army’s newly found faithin centrally formulated doctrine and played akey role in what has been called “the Army’sRenaissance” 7 before World War I. As thedecades of the 20th century passed, theArmy’s emphasis on doctrine and its institu-tions charged with developing doctrine ex-panded considerably, leading eventually tothe establishment of the Training and Doc-trine Command in July 1973.

Though the past does not always providea blueprint for the future, the development ofjoint doctrine will probably accelerate in theyears to come, much as the development ofArmy doctrine increased in the 20th century.The possibility of a great expansion in therole and importance of joint doctrine may besurprising to some, for during most of the lasthalf century the U.S. Armed Forces haveplaced relatively little emphasis on joint doc-trine. Instead, they have focused their effortson developing a system of joint schooling toimprove the ability of the services to work to-gether. These efforts began with the establish-ment of the Army-Navy Staff College onJune 1, 1943 and the National War Collegeon July 1, 1946.8 Among the missions of theNational War College was preparing “selectedpersonnel of the Armed Forces and the De-partment of State for the exercise of jointhigh-level policy, command and staff func-tions, and for the performance of strategicplanning duties in their respective depart-ments.” 9 The creation of other schools, suchas the Armed Forces Staff College on August13, 1946 at Norfolk, Virginia,10 provided newopportunities for education in joint matters.And the establishment of the National De-fense University on January 16, 1976 as anumbrella headquarters over the joint schoolsprovided new means for maintaining “excel-lence in military education.” 11

Despite significant changes in the jointschooling system in recent decades, it has be-come apparent that more than education isrequired to guarantee that the services worktogether effectively. Command authority anddoctrine, not merely education, cause mili-tary forces to function together. Education issimply the mechanism for ensuring the ideasare understood and implemented. To thisend, the passage of the landmark Goldwater-Nichols legislation in October 1986 en-hanced the power of the Chairman at the ex-pense of the corporate Joint Chiefs of Staffand thereby altered many relationships inthe joint arena that had existed for morethan three decades. The legislation imposedupon the Chairman responsibility for estab-lishing policies for joint doctrine, training,and education and gave him sufficient au-thority over the services to ensure his policieswould be followed.12

One of the earliest changes emergingfrom the new authority of the Chairman of

D o u g h t y

Colonel Robert A. Doughty, USA, is head of the History De-partment at the U.S. Military Academy. His most recent bookis The Breaking Point: Sedan and the Fall of France, 1940.


the Joint Chiefs was the establishment of acomprehensive process to discover and ad-dress in a systematic way voids in joint doctrine and training. This analysis suggested

that something other thanJCS Pub 1, Dictionary of Mili-tary and Associated Terms,13

and JCS Pub 2, Unified ActionArmed Forces,14 was requiredto furnish the U.S. ArmedForces adequate joint doc-trine. As a consequence, theJoint Staff and the servicesbegan writing more than 75new joint publications.Among these was Joint Pub 1,

Joint Warfare of the U.S. Armed Forces, whichwas intended to articulate an overall philoso-phy for the other publications.

Joint Pub 1 provides a comprehensivediscussion of doctrine, defining the term asfollows:

Military doctrine presents fundamental princi-ples that guide the employment of forces. Doctrine isauthoritative but not directive. It provides the distilledinsights and wisdom gained from our collective expe-rience with warfare. However, doctrine cannot replaceclear thinking or alter a commander’s obligation todetermine the proper course of action under the cir-cumstances prevailing at the time of decision.15

The absence of information about pro-cesses and techniques has caused some crit-ics to deride Joint Pub 1 as being little morethan pabulum. Nonetheless, if one reflectson the experience of the Army and improve-ments in the doctrinal arena since the publi-cation of the landmark 1891 Infantry DrillRegulations, the potential for change be-comes obvious. That is, by guiding the em-ployment of the U.S. Armed Forces, jointdoctrine will play a large role in ProfessionalMilitary Education and in the developmentof new organizations and equipment, and itmay soon affect the entire American defenseestablishment in a fundamental way. Inother words, the great value of Joint Pub 1 isnot in what it says but in what it signalsabout developments in the future.

The current system to formulate doc-trine within the joint community differssubstantially from that used by the Army,particularly since the establishment of theTraining and Doctrine Command. In theflurry of activity after 1986 that accompa-

nied the writing of about 75 new joint doc-trinal documents, the Joint Staff “subcon-tracted” the writing of documents amongthe services, the Joint Staff, and the unifiedand specified commands. Except for the es-tablishment of a Joint Doctrine Branchwithin the Operational Plans and Interoper-ability Directorate (J–7) on the Joint Staffand the creation of the Joint Doctrine Cen-ter at Norfolk, the requirement to write jointdoctrine was superimposed over existing in-stitutions that previously had placed littleemphasis on joint doctrine. Though thequality of the joint doctrinal publications isyet to be determined, the variety of authors,the press of deadlines, and the complexitiesof coordination suggest that revisions in theproduction process may be necessary.

As steps are taken to improve the formu-lation of joint doctrine, a more coherent andcomplete system must be established.Within this system, a major componentshould be a “Center of Excellence” for jointdoctrine. Though such a Center may eventu-ally evolve into something resembling theArmy’s Training and Doctrine Command,the first step is the marshalling of responsi-bility and the clarifying of procedures andrelationships. Instead of responsibility beingshared or fragmented, the Center shouldhave responsibility for evaluating and writ-ing doctrine; researching and writing histori-cal studies on doctrine; conducting simula-tions to test doctrinal concepts; andconducting exercises to ensure common un-derstanding and application of doctrine. Inan ideal world the Center would be locatedat Norfolk, where it could take advantage ofexisting institutions in the Joint DoctrineCenter and the Armed Forces Staff Collegeand could establish day-to-day links withservice doctrinal offices of the Army at FortMonroe, the Air Force at Langley Air ForceBase, the Navy in Norfolk and VirginiaBeach, and the Marine Corps at Norfolk andQuantico. Existing service activities in theselocations—such as the Army’s Training andDoctrine Command at Fort Monroe—wouldgreatly facilitate and simplify the coordina-tion that is essential in the development ofjoint doctrine.

R E F O R M I N G J O I N T D O C T R I N E

the requirement to write joint doctrine wassuperimposed over existing institutions thatpreviously had placed little emphasis on jointdoctrine


As the process for formulating doctrineevolves, some documents can continue to besubcontracted to the services, but a signifi-cant portion of the joint publications, par-ticularly the capstone ones, must be writtenwithin the Joint Staff or the Center of Excel-lence. This will ensure their adherence tocommon themes and will minimize the ef-fects of a fragmented system. In the Army’sexperience, for example, FM 100–5 shouldnot be written by the branches at Fort Ben-ning, Fort Knox, or Fort Sill; the CombinedArms Center at Fort Leavenworth and theTraining and Doctrine Command at FortMonroe have demonstrated a better capacityfor rising above parochial concerns and writ-ing doctrine that applies to broader seg-ments of the Army.

The Joint Doctrine Center at the NorfolkNaval Air Station may ultimately be the bestplace for writing joint doctrine, but it clearlydoes not have that capacity today. Created inApril 1987, the Joint Doctrine Center cur-rently focuses on evaluating rather than writ-ing joint doctrine. It analyzes documents

that are written by the services and jointcommands and ensures that they adhere tocommon formats and are distributed prop-erly. An important step in improving the for-mulation of doctrine is enlarging the focusand resources of the Joint Doctrine Centerand slowly expanding its mission to evaluat-ing, revising, and writing new doctrine. Sucha change will make the Joint Doctrine Centera vital component of the Center of Excel-lence at Norfolk.

Simulations and exercises should also beimportant components within the Center ofExcellence. The Wargaming and SimulationCenter, which was established in May 1982under the National Defense University,16

could make significant contributions to thedevelopment of doctrine if it were linkedmore directly to a Center of Excellence atNorfolk. The Army has long recognized theimportance of simulations to the doctrinalprocess, with Arthur Wagner, Eben Swift, andothers playing key roles in their expanded useat the end of the 19th century.17 With the

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Armed Forces StaffCollege studentsplaying a theater-levelwar game.


completion of the Army War College’swargaming facility at Carlisle Barracks (theCenter for Strategic Leadership), the jointcommunity will have the opportunity to useinteractive war games among the Center ofExcellence at Norfolk, the Army War College,the Naval War College, and the Air War Col-lege to gain important insights and informa-tion for those who write joint doctrine—aswell as for those who “test” strategic con-cepts. Additionally, the linking of the JointWarfare Center in Florida to the Center of Ex-cellence would facilitate the development ofuseful doctrine. The Joint Warfare Center cur-rently supports exercises conducted by thecombatant commands, and its assuming a

larger role in the exercising of doctrinal pro-cedures should be nothing more than an ex-pansion of its current activities. Just as exer-cises within NATO enable extremely diverseunits to speak the same operational languageand meet common standards, exercises couldbecome an important instrument within thejoint community to ensure common under-standing and application of doctrine.

As the development of joint doctrine ma-tures, the role of Joint Professional MilitaryEducation must be acknowledged and em-phasized. In particular, its study must remainembedded in all service colleges without de-tracting from preparing officers for duties intheir own service. One of the important in-sights furnished by the 1987 Dougherty


Marshall Hall—the joint academic centerof the National Defense

University at Fort Lesley J. McNair.NDU is comprised of two senior-level, Professional Military Educa-tion institutions—the IndustrialCollege of the Armed Forces andNational War College—and theArmed Forces Staff College, whichoffers both Phase I and II of theProgram for Joint ProfessionalMilitary Education.


Board on Senior Military Education was thatthe success of joint operations depends on of-ficers in joint commands having solid exper-tise in the methods and organizations of theirown service. The program that was estab-lished to prepare individuals as Joint Spe-cialty Officers (in accord with the Goldwater-Nichols legislation and the Chairman’s“Military Education Policy Document” 18) re-quires officers to receive Phase I of their Pro-fessional Military Education from an accred-ited service school and Phase II from theArmed Forces Staff College in Norfolk. At theend of Phase I, individuals are expected toknow basic information about joint organiza-tions, command relationships, etc., and then

in Phase II are expected to apply the under-standing they acquired in Phase I. This logi-cal and relatively efficient system enables theservices to educate their officers in their basicservice-specific skills and responsibilities be-fore they enter Phases I and II of the JointSpecialty Officer program. It also guaranteesthat all intermediate service schools aredeeply involved in the study and teaching ofjoint issues and that the application phase isclearly under the control of the joint commu-nity. There are many useful aspects of thenew Phase I and Phase II program, but two ofthe most valuable outcomes are ensuring thatno intermediate service school can ignore therequirement to teach Joint Professional Mili-tary Education (JPME) and that no officersare shortchanged in the development of ex-pertise in their own service.

Despite the significant improvementsthat have already been made, steps can betaken to improve the quality of JPME. Oneof the most important would be the estab-lishment of a joint school similar to the U.S.Army’s School for Advanced Military Studies(SAMS).19 Such a school could be called the“Joint Advanced Warfare School” (JAWS),could become part of the Armed Forces StaffCollege at Norfolk, and could furnish manyof the benefits to all the services that SAMSprovides for the Army. Most especially, fac-ulty and students in the school could de-velop special expertise in the theory andpractice of joint operations, and studentscould be prepared and slated for positions aswar planners in joint commands. The estab-lishment of JAWS would provide the jointcommunity greater expertise than the ser-vices in the theory and practice of joint op-erations. And its focus on warfighting andits level of sophistication would make it adramatically different course than the oneoffered at the Armed Forces Staff College be-fore the Goldwater-Nichols legislation.

Officers who attend JAWS should be in-dividuals studying to be Joint Specialty Offi-cers. A portion of those officers who havefinished Phase I at an intermediate serviceschool and who are scheduled to attendPhase II—perhaps 25 to 50 a year—could beselected for the more rigorous course ofstudy at JAWS. Because of its small size andpurpose, JAWS would not replace Phase Iand Phase II instruction for the great major-ity of Joint Specialty Officers. With a length

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of about six months, the course at JAWScould include Phase II in a modified format,intensive historical studies, analyses of theoperational level of war, and extensive prac-tical exercises. The course could also includean introduction to national policy and strat-egy as they affect joint operations. As withthe Army’s SAMS, the faculty could be acombination of individuals permanently as-signed to the Armed Forces Staff College anda handful of exceptionally outstanding offi-cers from all services who would serve as fel-

lows at JAWS in lieu of at-tending the National WarCollege. Assuming that JAWSattains the success of theArmy’s SAMS, some of thosewho attend or teach at JAWScould develop joint warfight-ing skills to their highest lev-els and could become the pre-

mier war planners in joint commands.Another improvement in the formula-

tion of joint doctrine could come from asso-ciating the Joint Doctrine Center moreclosely with the Armed Forces Staff College.Such an arrangement would make the latestthoughts on doctrinal issues available to of-ficer students and facilitate the developmentof joint doctrine through a more compre-hensive and demanding system than cur-rently exists. One of the key lessons of theArmy’s experience is that the writing of doc-trine cannot be completely separated fromthe teaching of doctrine; a symbiotic rela-tionship must exist between the two.20

Tightening the links between the Joint Doc-trine Center and the Armed Forces Staff Col-lege—particularly if JAWS were also estab-lished—would give Norfolk unrivaledexpertise in joint operations and make it thefocal point for understanding and teachingjoint doctrine.

Another component of the doctrinal pro-cess that is often overlooked pertains to theavailability of historical literature on joint op-erations. Ironically, one of the few areas ne-glected by the 1986 Goldwater-Nichols legis-lation was the history community. Incomparison to the wealth of material nowavailable about military operations by the ser-vices, very little information is available onthe history of joint operations. Worse, littleeffort is currently being expended to increasethe amount of available literature. The histor-

ical literature that has been written by histori-ans on the Joint Staff pertains to the func-tioning of the Joint Staff, not to joint opera-tions or campaigns. Histories about theconduct of campaigns and operations haveremained the province of the services. Thus,little is available to provide the “distilled in-sights and wisdom” that are extolled in JointPub 1’s definition of doctrine.

If shortcomings in available literatureare to be overcome, significant steps must betaken to create a more extensive communityof joint historians. The first step is the ex-pansion of the Joint Staff Historical Office.The present office has only five people andshould be increased significantly. This en-larged joint history office could complete aseries of “purple” histories of joint and com-bined operations, as well as special studies ofimportant joint historical issues. The nextstep would be the modest expansion of thehistory offices in the unified and specifiedcommands. Individuals in these officesshould collect and preserve documents, con-duct interviews, and write command histo-ries. Steps also could be taken to have histor-ical detachments accompany joint taskforces on contingency missions such as Ur-gent Fury, Sea Angel, or Provide Comfort.These detachments could be tailored accord-ing to the JTF’s mission, and, though com-posed of representatives from all the ser-vices, could parallel the organization of theArmy’s Military History Detachments. Thedetachments should collect documents, con-duct interviews, and write reports thatwould contribute significantly to the com-pletion of joint histories.

As part of the expansion of the joint his-tory community, a center must be createdand given responsibility for conducting his-torical research on joint campaigns and op-erations. One possible name for such an in-stitute could be the “Joint Campaign StudiesInstitute.” As stated in Joint Pub 1, Joint War-fare of the U.S. Armed Forces, “Campaigns ofthe U.S. Armed Forces are joint; they serve asthe unifying focus for our conduct ofwarfare.” 21 In a similar sense, historical stud-ies of joint campaigns could provide muchuseful information for the formulation ofjoint doctrine. If a Joint Campaign StudiesInstitute were established, it should be part


one of the few areasneglected by the 1986Goldwater-Nicholslegislation was the history community


of the Armed Forces Staff College and shouldbe modeled after the Army’s Combat StudiesInstitute at Fort Leavenworth. Steps wouldhave to be taken, however, to ensure that itremains focused on the publication of his-torical literature and does not become com-pletely absorbed by the demands of dailyclassroom presentations.

In sum, the development of appropriatejoint doctrine in the future could becomemore efficient and effective with the estab-lishment of a system with a Center of Excel-lence at Norfolk as its head. Without a co-herent system with precise responsibilitiesand relationships, the efforts of those whodevelop joint doctrine will never be as suc-cessful as they should be. As the emphasison joint doctrine increases and a more co-herent system emerges, the Center of Excel-lence at Norfolk should initially have linksto the Joint Doctrine Center, the ArmedForces Staff College (including the Joint Ad-vanced Warfighting School), the Joint War-fighting Center, the Wargaming and Simula-tion Center, and the Joint Campaign StudiesInstitute. Over time, the Center of Excel-lence should evolve from its status as moni-tor and coordinator of joint doctrinal formu-lation to having paramount responsibility.Ultimately, the Center should become aJoint Command, probably on the analogy ofthe National Defense University.

Although much work remains to bedone to establish a proper system for formu-lating excellent joint doctrine, the appear-ance of Joint Pub 1, Joint Warfare of the U.S.Armed Forces, clearly signals an accelerationin its development. As with the publicationof the Army’s 1891 Infantry Drill Regulations,the appearance of Joint Pub 1 does not guar-antee the importance of joint doctrine willincrease dramatically in the near future.Nonetheless, the first step has been taken,and the direction, number, and pace of thenext steps must be determined. The pathmay be long, but the goal is clear. Thosewho formulate joint doctrine must workwith the best possible chance of success. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Warfare of the U.S. ArmedForces, Joint Pub 1 (Washington: National Defense Uni-versity Press, 1991).

2 For a history of the field manual, see Virgil Ney,Evolution of the United States Army Field Manual, ValleyForge to Vietnam (Fort Belvoir, Va.: Combat OperationsResearch Group, 1966).

3 Silas Casey, Infantry Tactics for the Instruction of theSoldier, A Company Line of Skirmishers, Battalion, Brigadeor Corps d’Armé (New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1862).

4 William A. Ganoe, The History of the United StatesArmy (New York: D. Appleton-Century Company, 1942),p. 285.

5 U.S. War Department, Infantry Drill Regulations,United States Army (Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1891).

6 U.S. War Department, Field Service Regulations,United States Army (Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1905).

7 Ganoe, The History of the United States Army, p. 448;Maurice Matloff, ed., American Military History (Wash-ington: Government Printing Office, 1969), pp. 348,351.

8 Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Secretariat, Historical Di-vision, Special Historical Study, “The Joint Chiefs ofStaff and the Joint Education System, 1943–1986”(Washington: typescript, 1988), p. 2.

9 Ibid., p. 8.10 Ibid., p. 11.11 Ibid., pp. 42–43.12 Ibid., p. 56.13 Joint Chiefs of Staff, Dictionary of Military and Asso-

ciated Terms, JCS Pub 1 (Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1987).

14 Joint Chiefs of Staff, Unified Action Armed Forces(UNAAF), JCS Pub 2 (Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1986).

15 Joint Pub 1, p. 5.16 Joint Chiefs of Staff, “The Joint Chiefs of Staff and

the Joint Education System,” p. 48.17 Boyd L. Dastrup, The U.S. Army Command and Gen-

eral Staff College: A Centennial History (Manhattan, Kans.:Sunflower University Press, 1982), p. 35.

18 Office of the Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, CM344–90, “Military Education Policy Document,” May 1,1990 (Washington: typescript, 1990), passim.

19 See Ike Skelton, “JPME: Are We There Yet?”, Mil-itary Review, vol. 72, no. 5 (May 1992), pp. 2–9.

20 For a more complete discussion of the relationshipbetween education and doctrine, see Robert A. Doughty,“The Command and General Staff College in Transition,1946–1976,” Special Study Project, Department of Strat-egy, U.S. Army Command and General Staff College,May 1976, pp. 109–23.

21 Joint Pub 1, p. 45.

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The end of the Cold War has seen the United Nations assume a more active role in resolving regional con-flicts. In the last four years alone U.N. forces have mounted over a dozen military operations, more than inthe previous four decades. Many of today’s operations are greater in scope and complexity than in the past,and their nature is changing from peacekeeping to peace-enforcing. As a result the Secretary-General recom-mends expanding U.N. military capabilities. While Washington officially pledged support for a stronger andmore forceful United Nations, the resources to achieve that objective are not available. The most immediaterequirement is for a command and control structure for properly employing multinational forces. Moreover,there is a view that divergent U.N. and U.S. military cultures could inhibit American participation in futurepeacekeeping missions under U.N. control. Even if our military contributions to future combined operationsare small, such missions will continue to pose a significant challenge to the way the U.S. Armed Forces cur-rently plan and train for coalition warfare.

Summary

United Nations

Peacekeeping: Ends versus MeansBy W I L L I A M H. L E W I S and J O H N O. B. S E W A L L

A liaison officer coor-dinating air supportfor U.S. and Canadiantroops in Somalia.

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The United Nations has become asignificant factor for the UnitedStates in developing a coherentstrategic focus to guide its foreign

policy during the balance of the 1990s. Thecollapse of the Soviet Union and the WarsawTreaty Organization has been succeeded by awidening array of conflict situations andcrises which are beyond the ability of anysingle nation to resolve. Thus the United Na-tions is now the primary vehicle for conflictresolution, with the Security Council—underits senior executive agent, the Secretary-Gen-eral—searching for allies to share the burdenof promoting peace. The United States haspledged support for “a more robust, moremuscular” United Nations.1 The issue as yetunresolved is the nature and the extent ofthe American support that is required and,perhaps crucially, whether divergent U.S.and U.N. military cultures will be impedi-ments to developing common doctrine andcommand and control arrangements formounting joint and combined operations inthe future as part of a multinational force.

BackgroundThe inability of the U.N. Security Coun-

cil to play an effective role in maintainingpeace and security after the start of the ColdWar led the United Nations to turn to peace-keeping in default. This was a “golden age”for the organization during which it avoidedsuperpower rivalry and influence by relyingmainly on smaller nations for military con-tributions to peacekeeping operations. Theconduct of such missions evolved over fourdecades although the word peacekeeping doesnot appear in the U.N. Charter. In the initialphase international observer missions wereestablished to monitor cease-fires (1948–56).This was followed by the introduction of thefirst modern peacekeeping force, the U.N.Emergency Force in Egypt (1956), to separatethe military forces of Egypt and Israel. Then,in 1960, a multinational force was sent tothe former Belgian Congo to perform an in-ternal pacification role. The unsettled stateof East-West relations inhibited institutingpeacekeeping initiatives between 1967 and

1973. The 1973Arab-Israeli warresulted in thedeployment ofa peacekeeping

or buffer force to the Sinai and an observergroup to the Golan Heights. Later, in 1978,another U.N. buffer force was established insouthern Lebanon.

The general mission of U.N. field opera-tions was clearly defined: to supervise demar-cation lines or cease-fire agreements, separatemilitary forces upon agreement of the war-ring parties, and (in limited cases) foster anenvironment in which the population couldreturn to normal pursuits. Missions were or-ganized only with the consent of the con-tending parties (including agreement on thenational origin of participating militaryunits). For their part U.N. units were ex-pected to avoid the appearance of partiality,carry light (nonthreatening) weaponry, andrestrict the use of force to the maximum ex-tent possible. In brief, these military units-were expected to serve as an instrument ofU.N. diplomacy, be militarily nonprovocative,and withdraw if the host nation so indicated.

The end of the Cold War produced aneven more challenging international securityenvironment characterized by the unleash-ing of divisive forces once held in check bysuperpower rivalry and by the transforma-tion of international politics from bipolar tomultilateral relations. This led to a dramaticincrease in pressure for international organi-zations to engage in preventive diplomacy toresolve conflicts at an incipient stage or toforcibly intervene when conflict threatenspeace and security. Complicating this ex-panded mandate is the eruption of intrastateconflicts that, in turn, displace populationsand create humanitarian concerns. Such con-flicts also may cause breakdowns in govern-mental authority or, in extremis, lead to harshrepression of restive ethnic minorities, in-cluding refusal to permit the distribution ofemergency foodstuffs and medical supplies.

The impact of these developments onU.N. operations is immense. In terms of de-mand the organization launched 13 peace-keeping operations since 1988–89, roughlyequal to all the missions conducted in theprevious four decades. The scale and scopeof current operations have necessitated de-ploying over 54,000 military personnel—more than half the strength of the forcesthat make up the U.N. membership’s exist-ing military establishments—at an estimated$3 billion for 1992. Second, these operations

L e w i s a n d S e w a l l

Both William H. Lewis and John O.B. Sewall are senior fellows in the Institute for National Strategic Studies, National Defense University,where they analyze regional security issues.

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exceed the traditional bounds of peacekeep-ing and include:

▼ supporting victims of war, including pro-vision of safe havens;

▼ supervising transfers of power and estab-lishing effective institutions of government;

▼ organizing and monitoring elections;▼ creating secure environments to ensure

the safe delivery of relief supplies.

Peacekeeping and humanitarian assis-tance have become inextricably linked—asseen in Somalia—and now require the inte-gration of military and humanitarian plan-ning to meet contingencies.2

An added burden not yet fully addressedby the U.N. membership relates to responsi-bility for reestablishing security and order infailed states, particularly when human rightsviolations are blatant and regional stability

is threatened. Thedemise of viablegoverning institu-tions in Liberia,Somalia, and Haitiprovide strikingexamples. ManyThird World gov-ernments—mostnotably the mem-bers of the Groupof 77 which todaynumbers over 120countries—resentwhat they believeare threats to theirnational sover-

eignty. China, one of the five permanentmembers of the Security Council, has ex-pressed reservations about Western interven-tion under U.N. auspices in situations wherehumanitarian considerations dictate actionwithout the approval of the host govern-ments. Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali fa-vors the humanitarian position. In his June1992 report to the Security Council, AnAgenda for Peace, the Secretary-General ob-served that “the time of absolute and exclu-sive sovereignty . . . has passed; its theorywas never matched by reality” and thenurged “a balance between the needs of goodinternal governance and the requirements ofan ever more interdependent world.” 3

Defining Roles and MissionsRising demands for the United Nations

to play the part of global crisis manager havegenerated a plethora of proposals to enhancethe organization’s military capabilities. Thisdevelopment was foreshadowed in a post-Desert Storm observation by then Secretary-General Perez de Cuellar that the war, while“made legitimate by the Security Council,was not a U.N. victory” because victorycould be claimed only if hostilities were“controlled and directed” from the UnitedNations. Boutros-Ghali pursued this issue byrecommending that:

▼ the Security Council assume more peace-keeping burdens rather than authorizing mem-ber states to take action on its behalf;

▼ agreements be made as foreseen in article43 of the Charter for member states to make mili-tary forces, assistance, and facilities available tothe Security Council;

▼ the Security Council guarantee the per-manent availability of such peacekeeping forces(and negotiate with member states—assisted bythe hitherto moribund Military Staff Commit-tee—to create such forces);

▼ peace-enforcement forces be on-call andmore heavily armed than peacekeeping units, bemade up of volunteers, and be extensively trainedwithin their national commands;

▼ peacekeeping and peace-enforcementforces be placed under the command of the Secre-tary-General.4

The distinction between peacekeepingand peace-enforcement reposes in chaptersVI and VII of the Charter whose framers sawthe United Nations as an organization re-quired to offer assurances of comprehensivecollective security. To meet that need twofunctions were regarded as imperative: theprocedures for the “pacific settlement of dis-putes” found in chapter VI (peacekeeping)and the ability to counter “threats to thepeace, breaches of the peace, and acts of ag-gression” in chapter VII (peace-enforcement).In the so-called golden age of the United Na-tions most disputes and conflict situationswere dealt with through chapter VI proce-dures. Chapter VII was invoked to redressthe Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990, andthe Korean “police action” is generally con-sidered to be an example of a chapter VII en-forcement action. The challenge to the U.N.leadership today is bridging the gap militar-ily when addressing threats to internationalorder and stability that fall between the

U N I T E D N A T I O N S P E A C E K E E P I N G

Norwegian U.N. peace-keeping forces breakdown pallets of Ameri-can rations (MREs)being unloaded from aU.S. Air Force C–141 in Zagreb, Croatia.

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chapters (sometimes called chapter VI and1/2 requirements). The accompanying tableseeks to avoid semantical confusion overthese terms by providing generally accept-

able definitions.The recommendations

found in An Agenda for Peacepresent the U.S. military withmajor questions regardingroles and missions in futuremultilateral peacekeeping ac-tions. For example, in whatkind of situations should theUnited States become involvedin peacekeeping? In the eventof a decision to participate inpeacekeeping operations, whatdoctrine exists to instruct andinform forces? Under what cir-cumstances should membersof the Armed Forces be directlycommanded by officers out-side our national chain ofcommand? Should peacekeep-ing be integrated as a subset oftraditional missions and capa-bilities? Where should thebudgetary authority for peace-

keeping be lodged: in defense appropriationsor the Foreign Assistance Act? Should theUnited States support strengthening U.N.planning and operational capabilities?Should the United States seek to energize theU.N. Military Staff Committee? If so, withwhat mandate and whose participation?

While not fully endorsing Boutros-Ghali’s proposals, President Bush, in an ad-dress to the U.N. General Assembly onSeptember 21, 1992, recommended that theSecurity Council consider them on an ur-gent basis. In outlining his position the Pres-ident indicated the United States will:

▼ support efforts to strengthen the abilityof the United Nations to prevent, contain, and re-solve conflict;

▼ support the North Atlantic Treaty Organi-zation (NATO), the Conference on Security andCooperation in Europe (CSCE), the Western Euro-pean Union (WEU), the Commonwealth of Inde-pendent States (CIS), and other competent re-gional organizations to develop peacekeepingcapabilities—enhanced U.N. capabilities being a“necessary complement to these regional efforts”;

▼ member states, however, must retain thefinal decision on the use of troops they makeavailable for peacekeeping operations;

▼ train its forces for “the full range ofpeacekeeping and humanitarian relief” whichwill be coordinated with the United Nations;

▼ inform the United Nations on the avail-ability of its unique military resource capabilitiesand encourage other nations to provide informa-tion on logistics, equipment, and training whichcan be made available to enhance readiness andinteroperability;

▼ “promote multilateral peacekeeping . . .training exercises, simulations, and leadershipdevelopment,” and make facilities available forsuch purposes.

President Clinton associated himselfwith the Bush position during his inauguraladdress by stating: “When our vital interestsare challenged or the will or conscience ofthe international community are defied, wewill act—with peaceful diplomacy whereverpossible, with force when necessary.” 5 Leftunanswered are questions about the meansof establishing a body of knowledge onjoint and combined peacekeeping withinthe U.N. Security Council and its principalexecutive agent, the Secretary-General andhis Secretariat.

Basic Points of DivergenceThe United Nations is the world’s pri-

mary legitimizing agent in matters of peace-keeping. Resolutions by the Security Councilprovide the framework for diplomatic initia-tives (or preventive diplomacy), humanitar-ian intervention, and military action withinthe framework of chapter VII. Clearly U.S.and U.N. interests in maintaining interna-tional peace and security appear inextricablylinked, but theirrespective histo-ries, bureaucraticculture, and deci-sionmaking pro-cedures suggestotherwise. In-deed, unless theobstacles are satis-factorily negotiated in the near future, theyseem to be on a collision course due to mis-understanding. As Ambassador James Goodbyhas observed: “Collective security military op-erations require constant exchanges of viewsamong the governments trying to deal withcomplex situations.” 6 Moreover, the effective-ness of collective security operations will be


U.N. Terminology

peacemaking—generally means usingmediation, conciliation, arbitration, ordiplomatic initiatives to peacefully resolvea conflict

peacekeeping—traditionally involves usingmilitary personnel as monitors/observersunder restricted rules of engagementonce a cease-fire has been negotiated

peace-enforcing—using military force tocomplete a cessation of hostilities or toterminate acts of aggression by a memberstate

peace-building—rebuilding institutionsand infrastructure within a country to cre-ate conditions conducive to peace, asused by Secretary-General Boutros-Ghaliin his An Agenda for Peace

protective engagement—using militarymeasures, essentially defensive, to pro-vide safe havens or a secure environmentfor humanitarian operations (such actionstend to fall between chapters VI and VII ofthe U.N. Charter

the United Nationsis the world’s pri-mary legitimizingagent in matters ofpeacekeeping


On-Going Peacekeeping Missions

Established before 1988Fielded since 1988


Note: The term troops in the lexicon ofU.N. peacekeeping refers to infantry, logistics, engineering, aviation, medical,movement control, naval, and staff personnel. A total of 448 Americans—341troops and 107 observers—were serving in 5 of the 13 on-going United Nations peacekeeping operations listed here onMarch 31, 1993.

Source: Strength figures courtesy of the Office of the Military Advisor, Department of Peacekeeping Operations,U.N. Headquarters.

ONUSAL 1991–United Nations ObserverMission in El Salvador—established in 1991 tosupervise a cease-firebetween the Salvadorangovernment and the FMLNguerrillas, monitor humanrights, and establish a policeforce (strength: 286 civilianpolice, 7 troops, and 94 military observers).

MINURSO 1991–United Nations Mission forthe Referendum inWestern Sahara—established in 1991 tosupervise a cease-fire and areferendum to determine inde-pendence or integration intoMorocco (strength: 110 troopsand 224 military observers,including 30 Americanobservers).

UNIPROFOR 1992–United Nations ProtectionForce—established in 1992to foster security in three pro-tected areas of Croatia in orderto facilitate a peace settlement(strength: 621 civilian police,22,534 troops, and 394military observers, including339 American troops).

Unloading a Navycargo ship under thewatchful eyes of U.N. troops.

Marines in Mogadishucounter warring fac-tions during OperationRestore Hope.

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U.N. personnel in So-malia have been usingadvanced communica-tions equipment.

United Nations Secu-rity Council meeting.

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UNAVEM II 1991–United Nations AngolaVerification Mission II—established in 1991 to verify acease-fire between theAngolan government andUNITA and monitor theAngolan police (strength: 75 military observers and 30 civilian police).

UNDOF 1974–United Nations Disen-gagement ObserverForce—established in 1974to supervise a cease-firebetween Israel and Syria(strength: 1,121 troops).

UNTSO 1948–United Nations TruceSupervision Organ-ization—established in 1948to help mediate and observethe truce in Palestine; todaysupports UNDOF and UNIFIL,and supervises observerteams which are located inBeruit, southern Lebanon,Sinai, Jordan, Israel, and Syria(strength: 239 militaryobservers, including 17 Americans).

UNUMOZ 1992–United Nations Operationin Mozambique—established in 1992 to monitora cease-fire and protectdelivery of relief aid (strength:1,082 troops and 153 militaryobservers).

UNOSOM 1992–United Nations Operationin Somalia—established in1992 to monitor a cease-fireand protect the delivery of foodand humanitarian aid(strength: 893 troops).

UNFICYP 1964–United Nations Peace-keeping Force in Cyprus—established in 1964 tosupervise a cease-fire andadminister a buffer zonebetween opposing forces(strength: 39 civilian police and 1,492 troops).

UNIFIL 1978–United Nations InterimForce in Lebanon—established in 1978 to confirmthe withdrawal of Israeli forcesand assist the Lebanon inrestoring security (strength:5,216 troops).

UNIKOM 1991–United Nations Iraq-Kuwait ObservationMission—established in1991 after the recapture ofKuwait to deter Iraqi borderviolations and observepotentially hostile action(strength: 71 troops and 247military observers, including14 American observers).

UNMOGIP 1949–United Nations MilitaryObserver Group in Indiaand Pakistan—establishedin 1949 to supervise a cease-fire in Jammu and Kashmir(strength: 38 militaryobservers).

UNTAC 1992–United Nations Transi-tional Authority in Cam-bodia—established in 1992to assist in the areas of humanrights, elections, public admin-istration, law enforcement, ref-ugees, health and welfare, anddemobilization and disarma-ment with a U.N. force that includes observers from theUnited States and 21 other na-tions (strength: 3,578 civilianpolice; 15,023 troops; and 488 military observers; includ-ing 2 troops and 46 observersfrom the United States).



determined by the mandate of the Charter,political will, available resources, and per-ceived legitimacy. Recent U.S.–U.N. interac-tion reveals that neither a commonality ofviews nor coordinated action exists across thefull range of peacekeeping operations. In con-sequence we are also far removed from estab-lishing a joint perspective on the essentialsfor a full-bore collective security systemunder the auspices of the United Nations.

The approach of U.N. Headquarters tothe challenges of the post-Cold War era ap-pears to be coherent and reasonably wellbalanced. Indeed, few member states couldobject to the general precepts and guidelinesset forth in An Agenda for Peace, the report ofthe Secretary-General. It is sensible on thewhole, but the devil is in the details. In par-ticular Boutros-Ghali and the Secretariathave yet to come fully to terms with severalvexing problems which, if not resolved,would inhibit U.S. military support forpeacekeeping (in the broadest sense) opera-tions. Salient among them are issues involv-ing organization, doctrine, command andcontrol, logistics, and rules of engagement.

Shape and Functions of the Military Secre-tariat. The U.N. Headquarters system is stillnot up to expanded peacekeeping require-ments of increased complexity and scope.Hitherto the Secretariat has met emergingrequirements with ad hoc approaches, notinfrequently failing to meet challenges on atimely, cost-effective basis. The pattern hasbeen jerrybuilt and does not meet the needfor clearly defined mandates covering fieldpersonnel, concepts of operations, logisticalplans, and multi-year resource requirementplanning. The U.N. leadership must estab-lish a single chain of command linking thepolitical (crisis-prevention) side of its opera-tions with the management and logistical-support side. Concomitantly, the Secre-tariat’s military staff should be enlargedsubstantially, with special components es-tablished for crisis early warning, plans andoperations, logistics and communications—none of which exist at present.

Fashioning a Doctrinal Foundation. Tradi-tionally peacekeeping worked well, and ca-sualties were kept down because peacekeep-ers were accepted as neutrals whose statedpurpose was to assist in muting conflictsand mediating between the conflicted par-ties. Chapter VI 1/2 and peace enforcement

Pakistani troops in“blue helmets” deploying to Somaliain 1992.

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A U.S. Air Force crewplacing the emblem ofthe U.N. High Commis-sioner for Refugees ontheir cargo plane.

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operations require more heavily armedforces and different operational doctrine.Within the framework of traditional peace-keeping operations successes came in theform of ceasefires and negotiated settle-ments of disputes, whereas the circum-stances in both Bosnia and Somalia aremore ambiguous. The danger in the lattercases arises from breakdowns in SecurityCouncil consensus, disagreements amonglead countries providing troops and theHeadquarters Secretariat, and muddled ormismatched aims among the major actorsinvolved in organizing field operations.

Divided Responsibilities in the Field. A sep-arate civilian chain of command is the baneof all military field commanders. Under tra-ditional U.N. practice the field unit’s com-mander is subordinate to a Special Represen-tative who reports directly to Headquartersand has a predilection to emphasize nonmil-itary subjects. A separate chain also includesthe Chief Administrative Officer of the mis-sion who reports directly to the field Depart-ment of Administration and Management atU.N. Headquarters. He has the potential toinfluence military operations adversely sincehe has decisionmaking authority over bud-getary and logistical matters. Tension be-tween military field commanders and theircivilian counterparts will inevitably crystal-lize since the decisions taken at Headquar-ters in New York are not predicated exclu-sively on political-military considerations.Consensus in New York involves decision bycommittee, diplomatic negotiations, anddesiderata not necessarily relevant to the ac-tual state of affairs in the field. These factorsfrequently override the practical require-ments of military field commanders.

Logistical Mixes and Matches. The stan-dard guidelines for national units assignedto peacekeeping emphasize that troopsshould arrive fully equipped and prepared toconduct field operations over severalmonths without requiring U.N. resupply.Several nations—notably the Nordics, Cana-dians, and Irish—who have a lengthy his-tory of training and preparation for such op-erations are readily prepared to meet thisimperative. However, some Third World con-tributors, anxious to participate, must lookto the United Nations for matériel supportprior to unit arrival. The result has been amix of equipment, poor interoperability, and

escalating funding requirements (given lim-ited U.S. pre-stockage). These problems arecompounded by civilian requirements thattend to piggyback on those of the military.Although standardization is beyond the ca-pability of the existing U.N. system, themajor powers might wish to consider creat-ing set-aside stocks (in areas such as commu-nications, transportation, and engineering)in excess of their national needs that can beplaced at the disposal of the United Nations.The objective would be to ensure interoper-ability of equipment under conditions wheresevere security threats confront U.N. forces.

Realistic Rules of Engagement. Communalconflict has altered the nature of peacekeep-ing assignments conducted under U.N. aus-pices. Operations conducted today involvepolice support, civil administration, civic ac-tion, and humanitarian relief, all of whichnecessitate military support. In intrastatewarfare traditional rules of engagement maynot suffice. In certain situations U.N. forcesdeployed to protect the distribution of reliefsupplies could well become hostages or vic-tims resulting in heavy casualties. As wit-nessed in Somalia, the initial U.N. contin-gent inserted at Mogadishu airport inmid-1992 became hostage to the clan chief-tains and local thugs—yet U.N. Headquartersrefused to alter the rules of engagement. TheU.N. forces in Bosnia operate under similarconstraints, occasionally with tragic conse-quences. Flexibility for field commanderswould be desirable, but the bureaucratic cul-ture in New York constrains greater delega-tion or freedom of action to field comman-ders regardless of how perilous the situation.

Given these constraints some observersconclude that U.S. forces are ill-suited to con-duct general peacekeeping operations—shortof Korea-like chapter VII threats to thepeace—for several reasons. The nature ofU.N. coalition roles and missions are at vari-ance with American military character, doc-trine, traditions, and the concepts of bothdecisive force and victory. For example, a re-cent U.S. statement on “Joint OperationalConcepts” establishes doctrine which is anti-thetical to U.N. Headquarters concepts andguidelines.7 Issued under the signature ofGeneral Colin Powell, the Chairman of theJoint Chiefs of Staff, it sets forth clear guide-lines for joint operations of the U.S. Armed




Forces, including the need to “shock, disrupt,and defeat opponents.” The emphasis isplaced on integrating and synchronizing op-erations to ensure total and complete appli-cation of military force. And, to ensure suc-cess, commanders are admonished that“there are few distinct boundaries betweenthe levels of war.” They must “set the termsfor battle” so that “the threat is not able toresurrect itself.” 8 To establish control overthe adversary’s “center of gravity,” they are enjoined to emphasize lethality, tempo,decisiveness, and operational depth in plan-

ning to shock, demoral-ize, and disrupt oppo-nents and thereby gaindecisive advantage early.Such thinking is far re-moved from the doctrine,rules of engagement, and

operating procedures currently imbued inthe bureaucracy of U.N. Headquarters.

The Command and Control DilemmaFor over forty years the United States has

taken the lead in applying chapter VII mili-tary sanctions under U.N. authorization. Op-erations Desert Shield/Desert Storm in1990–91 constituted only the second suchAmerican initiative, one which provided aU.N. license for the use of force without re-stricting the manner in which the U.S.-ledcoalition was to “secure Iraq’s immediate andunconditional withdrawal of its forces fromKuwait.” While required to provide periodicreports to U.N. Headquarters, the coalitionwas allowed unfettered planning and opera-tional freedom to use “all necessary means”essential for success. The coalition fully metits mandate although at some cost. As Ambas-sador Pickering has observed: “Broadly licens-ing a few countries to use force in the Coun-cil’s name enables detractors to argue that theaction is the project of a few governmentsunrepresentative of the world community.” 9

Within the precincts of the United Nations, anumber of member states want assurancesthat in future peacekeeping and peace-en-forcement operations complete commandand control will repose with U.N. Headquar-ters rather than with a designated lead coun-try. Clearly, Boutros-Ghali’s June 1992 reportwas intended to satisfy this desire.

The primary dilemma for members thatwant centrality of U.N. control over futureundertakings is the lack of a Headquartersorganization to operate beyond existing adhoc arrangements. Indeed, the ad hoc ap-proach is resulting in system overload sinceadditional military expertise is not availablefor peacekeeping management. To date, ef-forts to increase the professionalism andstrengthen the Headquarters staff have beento no avail, and U.N. members themselvesdisagree on the size and use of military advi-sory staff.

Recently, several member nations haverecommended that the Military Staff Com-mittee be revived to provide military exper-tise to the Security Council and Secretary-General. Both the U.S. and several WestEuropean governments have greeted thisproposal with reserve. Moreover, the tradi-tional troop-contributing countries have notfavored the proposal for fear they will be ex-cluded from decisionmaking processes if theMilitary Staff Committee remains domi-nated by the Security Council “permanentfive” as it is at present.

Whatever the final decision taken bythe membership, it would be prudent to as-sume that the Security Council will beloathe in the future to accord full delegationof command and control to the UnitedStates as in Operations Desert Shield/DesertStorm. Full consideration will have to begiven in due course to the role of the Mili-tary Staff Committee. Article 46 of the Char-ter calls for the Security Council to developplans for applying force with the assistanceof the Military Staff Committee; article 47details the Committee’s terms of referenceincluding advice to the Council on readi-ness, planning and general matters of com-mand, and strategic direction of forces.There are some significant traps to be ad-dressed in this context as Ambassador Pick-ering has noted:

No state whose troops are engaged in hostilitiesis likely to allow their direction by a group to which itdoes not belong or whose members have necessarilyalso contributed troops. [There] . . . is also the need toensure that committed troops are not subject to life-threatening surprises by change in the political pa-rameters governing their use, or by a breach in secu-rity or by other factors arising from activities whichmight be implied by the words “strategic direction.”Thirdly, unless the reference to strategic command is

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U.N. forces deployed to protect relief suppliescould well become hostagesor victims



interpreted in some static sense, the technology ofmodern warfare probably makes it obsolete: it requiresflexible, decentralized decisionmaking and instanta-neous communication—neither is well suited to deci-sion by U.N. committee.10

In cases of chapter VII peace-enforce-ment where the United States is the coalitionleader with full operational control, the re-gional unified commander will either be theoverall commander or establish a Joint TaskForce. Such operations, however, have beenand will remain exceptions. More frequently,individual U.S. observers or small-sized unitswill be integrated into U.N. peacekeepingcommands (with U.N. logistical support) andthe role of the U.S. unified commander maybe more circumscribed. In the past theUnited States has assigned military observersto a number of peacekeeping missions butnot large military units.11 The experience ofOperation Desert Storm in terms of chapterVII operations is that until multinationalforces are deployed to one place and com-mand and control is established, they willlack cohesion and effectiveness. On the otherhand, when a substantial force is deployedwith international agreement, U.S. commandand control may be neither required nor war-ranted depending on the size of the forcecontributed. Experience in the NATO inte-grated military command and the Multina-tional Force and Observers (MFO) in theSinai after the conclusion of the 1979 Egyp-tian-Israeli Peace Treaty should have estab-lished the fact that American troops can op-erate under a multinational commandunencumbered by military or political con-straints. Although the MFO is only one stepaway from a U.N. command, there is an ap-parent reluctance to place U.S. forces underforeign command.

Today, military planners have a mostchallenging assignment. Not only must theyidentify future adversaries but also surmisewho will be our friends and coalition part-ners. If we confront a capable adversary—with or without direct U.N. involvement—any arrangement will require unity ofcommand and control. Either a fragmentedor multiple chain of command, predicatedon loose coordination among national units,would be self-defeating because operationaldecisions must not be cobbled together bycommittees once conflict breaks out. Hence,the basic challenge for U.S. strategic plan-

ners involves interoperability in ad hoccoalitions that comprise forces with little orno history of operating together. Such ar-rangements are likely to resemble interna-tional versions of a sheriff’s posse. But opera-tional effectiveness can be directly enhancedand in-theater preconflict training mini-mized by periodic command-post exercises(CPXs) for potential coalition leaders andusing the concept of lead-nation responsibil-ity for certain equipment and functionalsupport areas such as command, control,communications, and intelligence (C3I). Thisconcept, suggested by President Bush in hisspeech to the General Assembly, will un-doubtedly contribute to shaping the debatein the coming months. JFQ

N O T E S

1 “In Somalia, Now It’s the U.N.’s Turn,” The NewYork Times, February 1, 1993, p. 18.

2 Ambassador Chan Heng Chee, “The U.N.: FromPeacekeeping to Peacemaking?” Adelphi Paper no. 265(London: The International Institute for Strategic Stud-ies, 1991), pp. 30–40.

3 Gerald B. Helman and Steven R. Ratner, “SavingFailed States,” Foreign Policy, no. 89 (Winter 1992/1993),pp. 3–20.

4 Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace, a reportto the United Nations Security Council (New York:United Nations, June 17, 1992).

5 David Newson, “Use of Force to Settle Global Dis-putes Has Its Limits,” The Christian Science Monitor, Jan-uary 27, 1993, p. 19.

6 James E. Goodby (with Daniel O’Connor), “Collec-tive Security after the Cold War” (Washington: UnitedStates Institute for Peace, March 1993).

7 U.S. Department of Defense, Joint Chiefs of Staff,“A Doctrinal Statement of Joint Operational Concepts,”November 23, 1992.

8 Ibid., p. 1.9 Thomas R. Pickering, “The U.N. Contribution to

Future International Security” in The Security Roles of theUnited Nations, edited by William H. Lewis (Washing-ton: National Defense University Press, 1993).

10 Ibid., p. 11.11 U.S. military units participating in peacekeeping

operations are under the operational control of thepeacekeeping commander. However, the U.S. comman-der retains operational command over his subordinatesand all attached units.




Since the beginning of this century,there has been a strong commonthread in the involvement of Ameri-can forces in combat. Almost every

time military forces have deployed from theUnited States it has been as a member of—most often to lead—coalition operations.Rarely have we committed, nor do we intendto commit forces unilaterally. Our remainingforward positioned forces are routinely en-gaged in coalition operations during peaceand are committed to do so in war. The

global interests and responsibilities of ourNation inevitably dictate that far more oftenthan not our forces will be engaged in al-liance and coalition activities. This article ad-dresses fundamental tenets that underpinour efforts to create a doctrine for joint oper-ations in a combined environment.

When we say we no longer intend to bethe world’s policeman, it does not mean weare going to disengage. It means we wantmore policemen to share in the responsibili-ties, risks, and costs of settling the world’smost vexing problems—intrinsically, we arearticulating a condition for wider and moreactive participation in coalition operations.Even though we consider this a responsibleproposition on its merits alone, the redistri-bution of global wealth and economic powermakes it also essential. In 1945, the American

PRINCIPLES FOR COALITIONWARFAREBy R O B E R T W . R I S C A S S I

Past experience and military potentialities destine the United States to lead a disproportionate share of futuremultilateral coalitions, a challenge that is compounded by the need for doctrine to conduct joint operationsin a combined environment. Four tenets go far toward achieving success in a coalition war: agility which callsfor maintaining balance and force in shifting situations while striking in fleeting windows of opportunity,initiative which means dominating the terms of battle and thus depriving the enemy of that same option,depth which considers every dimension of war and envelops the entire spectrum of events across time andspace, and synchronization which applies combat power both at the optimum moment and in the right placewhile controlling a myriad of simultaneous actions. But no commonly accepted doctrine for coalition war-fare exists today. Any multinational operation will require planning by all the participants, interoperability,shared risks and burdens, emphasis on commonalties, and diffused credit for success.

Summary

This article is being published simultaneously in Military Review, vol. 73, no. 6 (June 1993).


economy produced around half of the world’sGross National Product. Today, it comprisesless than a quarter. In any event, coalition op-erations are generally key to legitimizing theuse of force. Yet, both as a function of our his-torical experience as a leader of coalition op-erations and the continuing fact that Americabrings the most military power to the table,we should also recognize that American mili-tary leaders will almost always be called uponto lead multilateral coalitions in which we areparticipants. The fundamental question

becomes one of“how?”

Notwithstand-ing our reoccurringhistorical experi-ence, we have attimes been remark-ably ill-prepared forcoalition opera-tions. In truth, wehave not had, nordo we yet possess, acommonly agreeddoctrine for formingor fighting as part of

military coalitions. Some may argue it is notnecessary to have such a foundation; but,under its absence, we will have to addresseach new coalition on an ad hoc basis. Alsoin its absence, we have no comprehensivedoctrinal base to create the meansor tools to improve our ability toparticipate in, or lead, coalition op-erations. There is a clear and om-nipresent reason to create such adoctrinal consensus. Five of our re-gional commanders in chief (CINCs) arecoalition or alliance commanders, as is oneof our specified CINCs.

There is no cookbook approach tocoalition warfare. Every coalition will bedifferent in purpose, character, composi-tion, and scope. But there are some basiccommonalities that confront any coalitioncommander. Obviously, the most validbasis we have to form a doctrine is our ownhistorical experience. Yet, for the most part,our historic perspectives tend to analyze

the leaders who led victorious coalitions, asif the secrets of success lay in personalitiesmore than methods. A doctrinal founda-tion must be based on methods.

Interestingly, and as a testament to theirvalue, we have yet to experience an inci-dence where a prepared military coalition inwhich we are engaged has been attacked. Inthose cases—Western Europe and SouthKorea—where the coalition had the will,time, and resources to prepare for alliancewarfare, the effects were never tested in bat-tle. Thus, we cannot be certain their prepara-tions were sound. It may have been that thetranquility they imposed undercut their abil-ity to achieve essential concessions from na-tions whose priorities were more nationalis-tic than threat-oriented. Every other case wescrutinize involved ad hoc coalitions mergedhurriedly in crisis or conflict. For obviousreasons, they also may not represent themodel upon which we should create a doc-trine. Between the two, however, there isample experience to build a doctrine.

We know that joint operations, in and ofthemselves, represent significantly greatercomplexity than single-service operations.The Joint Staff is trying to create the doctrinalarchitecture to glue joint forces together inwarfare. In a coalition, the difficulties of jointoperations are still prevalent, but with theadded dimensions and complexity of two or

more national armed forces, all of whichbring their separate orientations and proclivi-ties to the practice of warfare. Often the ap-parent intractability of problems has been soawesome that any attempts at achievingunity have been limited to the strategic andoperational levels. Battlefield responsibilitieshave been divided nationally based on the ca-pabilities each nation brings to the coalition.Each national force is given discrete sectorsand missions. A single leader is appointed tounify coalition efforts and—based on thenumbers of national forces involved—decen-tralizes operations through national chains ofcommand, which become multi-hatted. Thisis a patchwork approach. Seams are recog-nized but stitched together by strategic and

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General Robert W. RisCassi, USA, is currently the Commanderin Chief of the United Nations and the ROK–U.S. CombinedForces Command; the Commander of U.S. Forces, Korea; andthe Commanding General, Eighth Army.

notwithstanding historical experience, we have been remarkably ill-prepared forcoalition operations


operational agreement. Sometimes the seamsare tight; sometimes they are loose.

If we look back at World War I, WorldWar II, Vietnam, or even the Gulf War, wesee variations on this structure and also theproblems that resulted. In multiple cases,campaigns were disjointed by ruptures intiming, unity of purpose, or tactical disagree-ment. Often commanders found themselvesin positions where mutual support was es-

sential. Yet, procedureswere nonexistent or inad-equate and had to bejury-rigged on the spot.Cross use of assets—com-bat, combat support (CS),and combat service sup-port (CSS)—was limitedor foregone because of in-compatibility. In somecases, vast technological

differences between forces caused eithermultiple tiering of the battlefield or over-re-liance on the most capable units continu-ously to perform the most difficult missions.Differences in national doctrines, languages,and cultures often meant breaches in under-standing, inability to communicate on thebattlefield, fratricide, and disorga-nization. In short, effective opera-tions were hindered by multiplesources of friction.

What are the elements essen-tial to conducting joint operations in acombined environment? In other words,what have we learned and how do we in-tend to apply it the next time Americanforces are asked to lead a multinationalcoalition in combat?

DoctrineThe first point is that a coalition must

share a common doctrine to take advantageof commonalties. Doctrine is more than sim-ply how we intend to fight. It is also the tech-nical language with which we communicatecommander’s intent, battlefield missions,control measures, combined arms and jointprocedures, and command relationships.Doctrine is not contained simply at one levelof war—strategic, operational, or tactical—itembodies all. Campaign execution demandsthat these levels of war become inextricablylinked. To achieve the full synergistic effects

of joint combat power, the warfighting doc-trine must be common to all arms. In the ab-sence of a commonly understood doctrine, itbecomes extraordinarily difficult to plan orexecute military operations.

Yet, approaching a commonly agreeddoctrine can be politically frustrating. PastU.S. attempts in Europe and Korea to enjoinallies to embrace AirLand battle were metwith arguments that it is a distinctly Ameri-can doctrine whose execution is technology-dependent—therefore suspected as a TrojanHorse for “buy American” campaigns—orthat it is terrain-dependent and suitable onlyin Europe. Notwithstanding suspicions, hav-ing a commonly understood doctrine is es-sential to mutual understanding in battle.

The following four tenets—agility, ini-tiative, depth, and synchronization—are themost firm basis for organizing and conduct-ing coalition operations. They are not char-acteristically American attributes, nor arethey limited to any single service. They arecross-national intellectual tenets which,when physically applied, cause success inmodern war. Their application may be im-pacted by the technology available, but thetenets are essentially mental, rather than

physical. They are a reflection of how tech-nology has evolved modern battle, and maygrow obsolete over time as the nature of warcontinues to mutate. As both mental statesof mind and emphasized characteristics inbattle, they allow us to bridge the intellec-tual gap between “principles of war” andpractical execution. More particularly, whenclosely examined, these tenets strike at theheart of the most difficult, yet crucial aspectsof joint and coalition operations.

Agility is compared to that quality foundin great boxers who sustain an intuitive graspof their position and motion in the ring—aswell as their opponent’s—and maintain thebalance and force to move and strike as op-portunity permits. In an environment that isconstantly shifting, where the unexpected isto be expected, agility is essential. Battle is acontest where vulnerabilities and opportuni-ties open and close continuously; victorygoes most often to the commander and force

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a coalition must share a common doctrine totake advantage of commonalties


with the balance and insight to strike or shiftwithin these windows. Agility derives from akeen sense of what is happening in battle,the poise to transition rapidly from one situ-ation to the next, and a physical and mentalability to always have more options than theenemy. It was powerfully displayed by Gen-eral Walker and his coalition command inthe battle for the Pusan perimeter. Relying oninterior lines, Republic of Korea (ROK)/U.S.

forces continuously repo-sitioned and reconfiguredreserves to parry enemythrusts, shifted forcesalong the outer perimeterto reduce or accept vul-nerabilities, and concen-trated and countercon-centrated combat powermore rapidly than NorthKorean commanders. It

was a liquid defense that succeeded becauseit retained its balance to address the unex-pected. Often, North Korean thrusts were re-pelled within a hair’s breadth of a decisivebreakthrough. Eliminating any seams be-tween American and South Korean forces wasvital to sustaining agility. All sources of com-bat power were pooled, boundaries and com-mand relations were shifted as the situationrequired, and there was an absolute mergingof joint and binational efforts. The agility ofa multinational force proved superior to thatof a homogenous enemy force.

Initiative, again, is a state of mind aswell as an action-reaction cycle. At its core,it is dictating the terms of battle to an oppo-nent, thus obviating the opponent’s abilityto exercise initiative. Thus, it is a highlycontested quality whose balance swings onsurprise, deception, speed of action, ingenu-ity, and asymmetric comprehension. Initia-tive requires flexibility in thought and ac-tion, an ability to act and react faster thanan opponent, and a derived priority amongsubordinates at all levels regarding the link-age of their actions to the ultimate intent,more so than the scheme of higher com-manders. It has been made all the more crit-ical by the rampant pace or tempo of mod-ern battle. No plan, no matter how detailed,can foresee every contingency, develop-ment, vulnerability, or opportunity that willarise in battle. In fact, the more detailed andinhibiting the plan, it may have the reverse

effect of limiting or restraining initiative. Itwas the quality exuded by Admiral ChesterNimitz and his commanders at Midway asthey turned the tide of Japanese offensivesthrough tactical and operational initiative.As Nimitz’s forces closed with the morepowerful Japanese fleets, they continuouslysought to induce vulnerabilities in their op-ponent, until they were able to execute adecisive thrust that caught the Japanesefleets off-balance. Tactically, the decisive airattacks that won the battle were not a pre-planned operation; they were a timely re-sponse applied when the enemy fleet waslocated and deemed vulnerable to andwithin reach of an air attack. At the opera-tional level, Nimitz exceeded his instruc-tions to remain defensive and protect hisprecious carriers. But he did so because heunderstood the higher intent and was ableto link both the risks and benefits of his ac-tions to the larger campaign design. The im-pact was a strategic turning point in the Pa-cific campaign. Had Nimitz adhered to theletter of his instructions, it is unlikely hewould have delivered this blow and thecourse of the Pacific campaign would havebeen different.

Depth requires both mental conceptual-ization and physical reach. It is applied as areference to time, space, and resources. It rec-ognizes that modern battle has eliminatedlinearity—and linear thought. War is a con-tinuum of events and activities in space andtime. Both the increased tempo of battle—whether through faster, more mobile groundforces, higher sortie generation rates for air-craft, or the evolution of fleets no longer tiedto homeports—and the increased ranges, ac-curacies, and lethalities of weapons systemshave compressed time and space. In all di-mensions of war, the current and future bat-tles must be interrelated. Like a chess playerwho views the board as a single, interrelatedplane of action—and each move as a preludeto a series of further moves—the moderncommander must extend his hand in timeand space to create future vulnerabilities andopportunities, and reduce future enemy op-tions. Coalition commanders at Normandyapplied this tenet decisively. Recognizing thevulnerability of Allied landing forces to Field

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Marshal Erwin Rommel’s ability to counter-concentrate heavy armor forces on the Co-tentin peninsula, they forged and executed adeep interdiction campaign to slow themovement of German armored columns andprevent them from arriving at the battlefieldbefore the coalition was able to establish de-fensible beachheads. Simultaneous with theinitiation of the air campaign, French resis-tance and Allied special operations units

executed a daring operation,targeting the concentration ap-paratus of German forces andfurther inhibiting the flow ofGerman reinforcements fromreaching the beachhead intime. The application of air-power was a unified effort com-bining air forces of several na-tions, and the interdictionumbrella covered all of the na-

tional ground forces participating in the in-vasion. The invasion succeeded becausecoalition commanders applied nonlinearthought to their operations, striking in depthin both the air and ground dimensions withthe full palette of Allied capabilities.

Synchronization is perhaps the most dif-ficult tenet to apply in coalition operations.It is a term often related to the inner work-ings of a watch. In that context, it is the cali-brated movement of hundreds or thousandsof different pieces moving in tandem and op-erating cooperatively to produce the desiredeffect. In war, the desired effect is simplycombat power at the time and place of thecommander’s choosing. It is key to achievingunity and efficiency in action. Yet, in a coali-tion there are great inhibitors to effectingsynchronization. Differences in language,technology, doctrine, and training act todeter efficiency and increase the potential forfriction. These problems are not overcomesimply through planning, although thor-ough planning is a key factor. Synchroniza-tion must also be fluidly applied as condi-tions change and the unexpected occurs. Itrelies on common procedures, a shared un-derstanding of the language of battle, andsmooth linkages between the disparate na-tional entities in a coalition, at all levels. Thesuccess of General Douglas MacArthur’s mas-terful Inchon landing and breakout of thePusan pocket in the Korean War was an ex-ample of synchronization. He planned these

two operations as coordinated hammerblowsto crumble the North Korean offensive andturn what appeared to be a risky operationinto one of history’s most memorable routs.The full series of operations—air, sea, ground,and amphibious—were carefully synchro-nized to achieve maximum shock and sur-prise. Because of the risks, the timing had tobe precise, with each operation intended tocreate conditions for the success of the nextoperation. Coordination between servicesand national forces was exacting and thor-ough. Once the series of operations began,they operated in tandem to crush the NorthKorean offensive. The landing forces at In-chon moved deftly inland, cutting the NorthKorean lines of supply and operation, isolat-ing and overextending the North Koreanforces to the south, and setting the condi-tions for an audaciously executed breakout,which then converged northward. Air opera-tions were executed to harass and interdictthe withdrawal of North Korean columns. Itwas a tightly synchronized series of opera-tions, involving the forces of several nationsin a series of the most difficult, yet success-ful, joint operations in the history of warfare.

The principles of war also offer a way tointellectually massage the elements of anoperation to understand its risks andstrengths. Almost every nation’s military re-lies on a list of principles; for the most partthey are derivatives of one another. As awhole, the principles focus commandersand staffs in their effort to decide whether acourse of action is prudent and to under-stand its risks. When viewed in context withthe tenets, combined commanders have asolid intellectual foundation for action. Justas important, commonly accepted militaryprinciples serve as a point of reference whenorganizing the coalition and establishingcommand relations.

The tenets and principles are vital meansto think about war, but these thoughts mustbe structured. The layering of military artinto strategic, operational, and tactical levelsis valid and for the most part universal. Al-though the layers are difficult to separate,they provide the intellectual linkage betweencampaigns, operations, battles, and engage-ments in a manner that ensures continuity ofeffort, as well as to describe the contributions


British troops andunits from other coali-tion countries gatherfor review by KingFahd of Saudi Arabiaduring OperationDesert Storm.

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of various echelons to the overall effort.Moreover, as a coalition winds its waythrough these levels in planning, it forces thecoalition’s leaders to confer on every aspectof military efforts.

CampaignAgreement on strategy is the foundation

for coalition action. It is derived from policyagreements between participating nations

and must be sharp enough toshape the direction of an im-plementing campaign, yetbroad enough to capture the ef-forts of the various nationalforces. The development of aneffective military strategy is dif-ficult even when military ac-tion is unilateral; it is far moretrying in a coalition. Strategy isdesigned to accomplish politi-

cal objectives. Because of its proximity topolicy, it will be the point of reference forgaining consensus between military and po-litical leaders. Consequently, it is also mostlikely to be the center of controversy in bothpolitical and military spheres. Rarely do na-tions enter a coalition with identical viewson ends to be achieved. As a coalition in-creases in numbers of member nations, con-flicting objectives and additional politicalconstraints are added to the pot. The coali-tion commander must walk a taut line be-

tween accommodating and compro-mising, yet preserve the ability toachieve military decision. At thesame time, it is important to remem-ber the old dictum that in coalitionsthe will is strongest when the per-ception of threat is greatest. Overtime, as conditions change, so maythe will and objectives of participat-ing nations.

Coalition strategic formulationis difficult also because of the sheer

mass involved in the effort. Strategy involvesthe melding and coordination of nearlyevery element of multinational power to ac-complish military objectives. It may requireinsights into different national industrial capabilities, mobilization processes, trans-portation capabilities, and interagency con-tributions, in addition to military capabili-ties. It must bind all these together withprecision and care. It operates on the tan-

gent edge of international relations anddiplomacy and must seek congruency withthese forms. It addresses issues as weighty asthe endstate to be achieved and as mundaneas the rules of engagement to be applied ateach stage of operations. In coalition opera-tions, strategy is the level of war where inter-national politics and bodies are coalescedinto a unified approach.

The ability to design an effective militarycampaign will be a calculus of the militarystrategy. At the operational level, disagree-ments that occur generally are among mili-tary professionals. But, there are of coursepolitical ramifications and considerations.The campaign must be paced or phased bythe availability of combat power as it is gen-erated from multiple national sources. Thecampaign plan also provides the base fordefining and recommending national contri-butions. Unless this is done and provided tothe various national authorities, the com-bined commander will end up with a forcecomposition that is not rationalized towardoperational requirements. The campaignplan has the integrating effect of serving asboth the driver for force requirements andthe timeclock for generating those assets.

The campaign plan is the tableau forsynchronizing all elements of combat power.It provides combined commanders with thevital understanding to link operations, bat-tles, and engagements to the coalition’sstrategic objectives. It is the orchestral ar-rangement of these various activities in a rational path to achieve the endstate envi-sioned in the strategy. It must address a vari-ety of choices concerning the approach towarfare—offensive or defensive, terrain- orforce-oriented, direct or indirect approach—and in so doing, becomes the enabling pro-cess for actually applying force.

Tactical operations should be designedto create a seamless battlefield where fric-tion is minimized and the four tenets can beapplied freely. This requires cooperationfrom all participating nations. It is at thislevel of war where the combined inhibitorsto efficient operations could have theirmost degrading impact. At higher levels ofwar, success is mostly a function of plan-ning and apportioning forces and resourcesto various missions. At the tactical level of

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An M–1 Abrams mainbattle tank movesacross the Egyptiandesert during ExerciseBright Star ’89.

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the campaign mustbe paced or phasedby the availabilityof combat poweras it is generatedfrom multiple national sources


war, forces must actually engage together inbattle and function synergistically to defeatan enemy. All of the differences in training,equipment, language, and culture congealto hinder the application of combat power.Events move rapidly and have a cascadingeffect. It is for these reasons that manycoalitions have sought to conduct tacticaloperations, battles, and engagements withinnational boundaries. However, this ap-

proach cedes an advantage toenemy commanders who maytarget precarious seams. It ac-cepts a vulnerability thatcould be costly and reducescollective combat power by in-crementally separating theparts from the whole.

General Dwight Eisen-hower’s experience as Euro-

pean Theater of Operations commander inWorld War II amplified the difficulties thatcan arise at all three levels of war. Althoughthe Combined Joint Chiefs of Staff met andagreed early in the war to pursue a strategyto defeat Germany first and Japan second,and to apply a direct approach against Ger-many through an early cross-Channel inva-sion into Europe, this is not what occurred.By late 1943, the United States had more sol-diers, ships, airplanes, and landing craft inthe Pacific than in the Atlantic. The Britishpressured for an indirect approach againstGermany and convinced the American Presi-dent to attempt an invasion up the boot ofItaly before a cross-channel invasion intoFrance could be launched. This further de-layed the eventual date of the cross-channelinvasion to the summer of 1944. Once theinvasion occurred, Eisenhower faced contin-uing disagreements between his Americanand British commanders over whether thecampaign should be on a broad front or con-centrated on a single axis. He maintained hisbroad front approach, but acquiesced on oneoccasion to Field Marshal Sir Bernard Mont-gomery’s insistence on concentration of re-sources in an attempt to achieve decisionalong the Flanders avenue into Germany.The result, Operation Market Garden, led totactical quarrels between American com-manders, who viewed the operation as tooambitious for the terrain, and Montgomery,who argued that temerity needed to be putaside. Market Garden failed, but not due to

lack of support by any coalition force. Whenit failed, Eisenhower returned to the broadfront approach and it succeeded. The cross-channel invasion was later than initially an-ticipated, but did occur and was decisive.Germany was defeated first and Japan sec-ond. In short, neither nation got exactlywhat it wanted and the agreed strategy wasnot executed with any sense of discipline,but the objectives were obtained.

The use of centers of gravity, phasing orsequencing, main and supporting efforts,culminating points, setting conditions, andthe other mental tools we use to organizeand orient operations should be employedin planning and operations at every level.They are not uniquely American. They areneoclassical extrapolations drawn from mili-tary theorists worldwide. By using thesetools, the commander merges the theoryand practical application of the military art.Each of these mental tools is a critical pointfor creating broader understanding of theunderpinnings of how force is to be applied,and for what purpose. When used for men-tal reference, they enable subordinate com-mands to move beyond robotic execution.They liberate subordinates to apply ingenu-ity, innovation, or situational adaptability toeach event because they understand “truenorth” rather than simply the compass vec-tor provided in the scheme of maneuver.

PlanningA common planning process is essential.

The degree to which allied commanders andstaffs understand and are able to participatein planning impacts on the time required toplan and the sharing of knowledge of everycomponent of operations. We rely on the In-telligence Preparation of the Battlefield (IPB)as the underlying process to gain commonlyunderstood perceptions of the threat and itsorganizations and capabilities, terrain, andother environmental factors that may im-pact on operations and courses of actionavailable to enemy commanders. Withoutthis foundation, applied as a collective andtrickle down process that occurs from thestrategic through tactical levels, it is difficultif not impossible to shape uniform percep-tions of the threat or agree upon the coali-tion’s courses of action.


Australian troops ar-rive at a makeshiftlanding zone on a Ma-rine CH–53 Sea Stallionto provide security forrelief supplies beinglifted into Somalia.

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IntegrationImplementing a common planning pro-

cess is only a small, albeit important, part ofbringing unity to coalition operations. Theexecution of these plans involves far morecomplex problems. Each nation will bring itsown forces and capabilities to the coalition.Integrating these forces for action dependsupon many variables. There may be, and usu-ally are, vast differences in the organizations,capabilities, and cul-tures of militaryforces. As a generalrule, differences aremost severe in groundforces. Air and navalforces, because theymust operate in inter-national mediums,are equipped withcommunications gearand common proto-cols and proceduresto provide for orga-nized space manage-ment. All of the “ves-sels” that operate inthe air or sea can be readily classified for theirstrengths and weaknesses to perform the vari-ous missions of air and naval warfare. Groundforces come in all shapes and sizes, and theirequipment may be entirely dissimilar and in-compatible. Technological differentials, par-ticularly in this era of revolutionary change,can be vast. Therefore, fundamental com-monalties become even more important.

At the theater level, integration resultsfrom functional design. There can be onlyone Air Component Commander (ACC),Ground Component Commander, NavalComponent Commander, Special OperationsForces (SOF), and/or operational MarineHeadquarters. Having two or more of any ofthese functional headquarters invitescalamity. Yet, imposing functional integra-tion requires more than creating headquar-ters. The interrelationships and synergies be-tween functional commands stumble in theface of many of the same delicate issues thatour own joint forces find difficult to resolve.The command relationship between ground-based air defenses and air forces, the appor-tionment of responsibilities and roles indeep operations and the relationship of mul-tidimensional forces such as marines or


A key distinction is that the IPB must bea joint process. It must analyze everymedium of the battle—air, sea, and ground—over time. In fact, every service has itsown variation of the IPB process. Naval com-manders look to sea lines of communica-tions and enemy bases as the terrain or mo-bility routes pertinent to combat operations.They consider the enemy fleet’s organiza-tion, capabilities, doctrine, and objectivesand then design operations to deny theseobjectives. Air commanders analyze enemyair capabilities, bases, and courses of actionbefore forming a vision of their own opera-tional requirements. What has been lackingis a joint and combined IPB process thatviews the enemy commander’s multidimen-sional operations as an entity. In a combinedtheater involving joint forces, such an intel-lectual template is the only holistic means todesign joint operations.

There is an additional value to the IPBprocess. We emphasize the importance ofgetting inside the decision cycle of theenemy commander. Unless we do so, wecede the initiative of battle; a recipe for de-feat. Instinctively, this means that all ourprocesses—planning and execution—mustbe swifter than the enemy’s. The cycle of de-tect, decide, target, and execute becomes allthe more difficult when multinational forcesare entered in the equation. As a generalrule, the more organizations, joint and coali-tion, that must be integrated in an opera-tion, the longer it takes to integrate or syn-chronize actions. The IPB process, which iscontinuous, is the best means to accomplishthis. It creates a degree of predictabilitywhich is essential to get and stay ahead ofenemy decision cycles.

From this point of departure, the coali-tion moves through the remainder of theplanning process—statement of comman-der’s intent, estimate of the situation,wargaming and formulation of the conceptof maneuver, and the remaining sectionsand annexes of the coalition operation plan(OPLAN). The American structures for theOPLAN, operations orders, and fragmentaryorders are the templates for order formula-tion and communication because they arereasonably complementary with most na-tional systems and incorporate all the ele-ments of the planning process itself.

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U.S. Army infantrymencross the Bug Han GangRiver during ExerciseTeam Spirit, a combinedSouth Korean/U.S. train-ing exercise.

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naval air or attack helicopters to variouscomponent commanders must be addressed.But the magnitude and complexity escalatebecause each national force has its own con-victions on these issues. Moreover, coalitionsmay confront the obstacle of nations main-taining strings on various forces, or insistingupon stovepipe management of various ele-ments. Concessions to any nation on any ofthese issues create precedents that others

may insist upon. It may notbe possible to derail all theseinhibitors, but proliferationinvites unmanageability.

It is helpful to analyzeand integrate joint and com-bined functionality using thebattlefield operating systemsand the dynamics of close,deep, and rear operations.

These provide the bases to organize efforts,find the critical nodes where multinationalintegration must occur and ensure balanceand mutual support in battle. But, for thepurposes of joint warfare, the Army’s defini-tion of these areas is too narrow. For navalpower, an additional point of analysis is sur-face, subsurface, special operations, and air.For air power, the various abilities of na-tional forces to perform tradi-tional air missions must be ana-lyzed. These include close airsupport (CAS), battlefield air inter-diction (BAI), strategic bombing,long-range interdiction, specialoperations, and counterair. ForSOF, it is the means to perform thevarious functions of reconnais-sance, military strikes, and integrating withthe other combat arms.

As national force strengths and vulnera-bilities across each of these functions are as-sessed, achieving balance will require a shar-ing and mixing of assets to increase synergy.Deep operations cannot be inhibited by na-tional boundaries. Nor should any force beleft without the ability to apply the tenet ofdepth. Because of international differentialsin the ability to see and strike deep, thecoalition must arrange its capabilities andcommand structures to extend this capabil-ity across the entire front of operations. Theability to see and strike deep to desired effect

is a function of flexibility. Fleeting targets ofopportunity must be struck, however, bywhoever is available to exploit the opportu-nity. Moreover, enemy dispositions and op-erations in his rear will be interchangeableacross the front of operations; deep opera-tions must always be viewed as an opera-tional requirement because of the enemy’sflexibility to shift and move forces not incontact. Just as there can be no blank spacesin linear operations, there can be nonethroughout the depth of the battlefield. But,deep operations beyond the control of ma-neuver commanders must be under controlof a single coordinating headquarters. This iseven more critical in coalition than unilat-eral operations. To do otherwise invites du-plication, fratricide, and incoherence.

On the other hand, close operationsmay be divided into national sectors. Butthere are risks and inefficiencies in this ap-proach. It could critically hinder the abilityto mass combat power across nationalboundaries. Even if this approach is applied,it must be recognized that it does not allevi-ate the coalition’s need to instill the agilityto integrate forces in the close battle. Reserveformations, air power, and other sources ofcombat power must have the capability to

be applied across the front of operations.Rear operations must be intermixed buttightly centralized. National lines of com-munication, main supply, and mobilityroutes will be in a disorganized competitionfor priority unless strong central control isimposed. It is unwise to decentralize reararea responsibilities. To do so underminesthe need for integrated air defenses, orga-nized responses to rear ground threats, andthe organized security of the host popula-tion and nation.

Command and ControlThe ability to integrate rests largely on

one principle. Unity of command is themost fundamental principle of warfare, the


F/A–18C Hornets andMirage 2000s flyingtogether during Exer-cise Dasix Lafayette, acombined U.S./Frenchexercise in theMediterranean Sea.

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relinquishing national command and control of forces is an act of trust and confidence unequalled in relations between nations


single most difficult principle to gain incombined warfare. It is a dependent of manyinfluences and considerations. Because ofthe severity and consequences of war, relin-quishing national command and control offorces is an act of trust and confidence thatis unequalled in relations between nations.It is a passing of human and material re-sources to another nation’s citizens. In acoalition it is achieved by constructing com-

mand arrangements and taskorganizing forces to ensurethat responsibilities matchcontributions and efforts.Command relationships be-tween national commandersshould be carefully consideredto ensure that authoritymatches responsibilities. It iscardinal that compromises not

be permitted to outweigh warfighting re-quirements. If political frictions inhibitproper assignment of authority, responsibili-ties and operational design must be alteredto ensure unity of command.

Theater headquarters—the theater com-mand and each of the component com-mands—should be both joint and combinedin configuration and manning. Regardless ofthe nationality of the commander, the staffmust represent the cross section of unitsunder command. This practice of combiningstaffs must be followed to whatever depth ofechelon that units are combined in forma-tion. At the theater level, it may be essentialto form combined joint targeting boards tomanage the integrated targeting process fordeep operations. Placing this under the ACCis often most effective, since the ACC will inall likelihood provide the majority of assets.The same form of tool may be necessary ateach cascading level where joint and com-bined capabilities must be merged. Rear op-erations—the communications zone(COMMZ)—should be delegated to a singlecommander. Most often, the COMMZ com-mander will be an officer of the host nation.In those cases where the rear crosses multi-ple nations, as with the United NationsCommand (UNC) in Korea and UNC (rear)in Japan, it is essential to clarify the respon-sibilities and obligations of each nation inaddressing or accomplishing the coalition’s

tasks, as well as the limits to the coalition’sflexibility to operate within nationalboundaries.

Subordinate or tactical commandsmay be organized as the situation dictates.A naval commander who comes to thecoalition with only surface assets must op-erate in the envelope of a three dimen-sional naval force and should logically besubordinate to the three dimensional com-mander. As a rule, the commander withthe most complex multidimensional forcepossesses the most total understanding ofhow to fight that force. Ground armies orcorps will probably be multinational inconfiguration. In fact, tactical integrationof ground forces down to the corps level isvirtually essential.

Tactical integration—and thereforecommand and control, C2—of groundforces is arguably the most difficult toachieve; it will be attained most rapidly byearly integration of some tactical units.Fundamental considerations are the fac-tors of mission, enemy, terrain, troops,and time available on the battlefield. Thiswill dictate the alignment and missions ofvariously equipped and talented forces onthe battlefield. Lightly armed forces canperform in military operations on urban-ized terrain, densely foliaged or moun-tainous terrain, heavy forces in more mo-bile environments, airmobile or motorizedforces in virtually any terrain. While thismay sound like common sense to an expe-rienced commander, its practice becomesquite difficult when vertical boundariesand C2 are dictated by the nationality offorces contained within the boundaries.As rapidly as possible, coalition groundforces must overcome any impediments totactically integrated operations. To ignorethis reality leaves vulnerable seams forenemy commanders to exploit, or it couldcause placement of forces in unsuitablefighting conditions. Either could be fatal.There were a number of instances of thisin the early stages of U.N. operations con-ducted during the Korean War. The virtualdecimation of the Turkish brigade in thebattle of Kumyangjang-Ni was a tragic in-stance of a tactical unit moved necessarilyinto a fluid battlefield that lacked themeans to integrate operations with other

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Saudi infantry take upposition in a trainingexercise during Opera-tion Desert Shield.

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allied ground units. The unit fought fiercelyagainst overwhelming odds in an attempt tostem the North Korean and Chinese coun-teroffensive occurring in its sector. As itslosses mounted and the unit reeled underunrelenting enemy attacks, it was forced tofight in isolation and remained unable torely on Allied combat power, which wasavailable, or to coordinate its activities withAmerican units on its flanks. During the

early days of this conflict, theneed for U.N. forces to be pre-pared to integrate tactically inunexpected circumstances waslearned again and again. Theneed to ensure unity of com-mand and to integrate forcesunder this principle became amatter of survival.

TrainingThe first priority in generating coalition

combat power from a conglomeration of na-tionally separated units is to train, emphasiz-ing the fundamental commonalties outlinedearlier. Only through training will combinedunits master and sustain collective warfight-ing skills. As the coalition is brought to-gether, staffs and commanders must rapidlyadapt to the units and processes in the fight-ing organizations being formed. The impedi-ments and sources of friction become clear atonce. So do the solutions that must be ap-plied. This assumes, of course, that time isavailable for training before introduction toconflict. The situation may dictate otherwise.

General Joseph Collins, when he com-manded VII Corps at Normandy, applied thetechniques that are vital to ad hoc coalition

warfare. When VII Corpsforces hit the beaches atNormandy, they had beentrained to fight a doctrinethat had been basedlargely on earlier WorldWar II experience. Itproved woefully inade-

quate for the battle conditions faced by VIICorps. It became apparent that the doctrinewas ill-suited to the hedgerows, flatlands,and built-up areas of France. In the midst ofbattle, Collins began to retrain and reinstructhis units as he constructed new doctrine ap-plicable to the enemy and terrain he faced.He and his commanders analyzed every en-

gagement, gleaning the lessons to be appliedin the future; testing new techniques andkeeping them if they worked, discardingthem if they did not. When units were noton the front line engaged in battle opera-tions, they were training. When air-groundcoordination and the procedures for tying inwith Allied units on the flanks proved to beflawed, he invented new, more effective pro-cedures on the spot. Within a few shortweeks, Collins devised the doctrinal founda-tion that was applied by Allied forces success-fully throughout the remainder of the Euro-pean campaign—he did so under the mostarduous conditions.

Standing coalitions should not need torely on inventiveness and adaptability duringconflict. Peacetime training should be de-signed to engage coalition forces in the mostdifficult and demanding tasks they may beasked to perform in war and to fathom theweak points that will cause friction under themost trying circumstances. The point is toidentify, then eliminate or narrow the seamsbetween forces that could reduce synergyand synchronization. Procedures that requiremultinational forces to operate seamlesslyshould be practiced routinely. Because of thecomplexity of joint and combined opera-tions, the required skills atrophy quickly.Training should be joint and should reoccurcyclically at the operational and tactical lev-els. This is essential both to build the basisfor trust, which will be vital in war, and toidentify the abilities and limitations of coali-tion forces. For an ad hoc coalition, the samemethodology applies, but the time availablemay be condensed and have to occur duringhostilities.

Simulations are proving to be a meansto exercise these skills and techniques fre-quently and inexpensively. They train com-manders and staffs on essential planningand execution skills and may be appliedthrough the range of strategic, operational,and tactical levels of war. When effectivenessis analyzed through the lens of battlefieldoperating systems and the tasks, conditions,and standards of various expected mis-sions—attack, defend, delay, passage of lines,battle-handover, airmobile operations, CAS,amphibious assault, and so forth—a host ofinvaluable lessons may be accumulated.


USS Belleau Wood andUSS Reasoner duringExercise RimPac ’90which included forcesfrom Australia,Canada, Japan, theRepublic of Korea, andthe United States.

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procedures that requiremultinational forces to operate seamlessly shouldbe practiced routinely


Even still, simulations cannot be a total sub-stitute for field training. Small, yet impor-tant problems will escape visibility—na-tional differences in air-to-ground attackprocedures . . . cultural differences such asholy days or food restrictions . . . or even theabsence of digital communications capabil-ity in indirect fire units of some armies maynot become apparent. These point to theneed for field training at the tactical, com-

bined arms level.Combined commanders

must provide the focus and di-rection to organize training.They must provide subordinatecommanders those mission es-sential tasks that must be con-ducted in combined operationsand the tasks, conditions, andstandards to be maintained.

Because time and resources for combinedtraining are limited, it is all the more impor-tant that combined commanders give priori-ties for combined training that focus unitson those missions most likely to be per-formed in combat.

Command, Control, Communications,Computers and Intelligence

Applying the tenets of combined doc-trine relies on a command, control, commu-nications, computers and intelligence (C4I)architecture that is capable of integrating thejoint forces of all the nations in the coali-tion. It is in the various functions embeddedin C4I that American forces possess some oftheir greatest advantages on the battlefield.Indeed, as we continue to improve our capa-bilities for collecting, analyzing, and dissem-inating intelligence, managing the vastamounts of information upon which deci-sions are made and incorporating more andmore computer aids to the battlefield deci-sion and execution processes, we must exer-cise care that these systems do not evolveinto exclusionary processes. Unless the ar-chitecture incorporates the ability to sharewith, and in turn receive from, other na-tional forces, the battlefield will not beseamless and significant risks will be present.

The impediments to achieving inte-grated C4I are several fold. First, of course, isthe language barrier. Each order that is pro-duced, every issue that arises unexpectedlyon the battlefield, and every transmission

must be laboriously translated into the mul-tiple languages included in the coalition.This steals precious time from the detect-de-cide-target-execute cycle and is apt to befraught with errors. Although it is commonfor coalition headquarters to maintain trans-lation cells, their speed will depend on thesize and complexity of information to beprocessed, and the accuracy of translationwill vary from translator to translator. More-over, absent a common doctrine, basic mili-tary terms differ from nation to nation. Theresult, generally, is a severe narrowing in theamount of information conveyed betweencoalition commanders. Overcoming this, asa minimum, requires multilingual softwarethat ties back to a common operating sys-tem. Because of the need to be rapidly em-ployable by many national forces, its soft-ware must be user friendly and easy to learn.In addition, coalition headquarters shouldhave prepared dictionaries of common mili-tary terms and symbols, both as a transla-tion base for information management sys-tems and to reduce the latitude of differenttranslators to portray differing meanings. Afinal sidenote is that as forces enter a coali-tion, their capabilities and assets must be en-tered immediately in C4I data bases to en-able theater command staffs to incorporatethem into the multiple aspects of battlemanagement and planning for the coalition.Because many nations now employ comput-ers in managing their forces, it is also impor-tant that we share common standardswithin our peacetime alliances which willpermit a rapid merging of information man-agement systems.

These fixes, however, do not eliminatethe problems at tactical levels where deci-sions and orders generally are not processedthrough multilingual systems, and teams oftranslators are not available. Moreover, dif-ferent forces will bring noninteroperablecommunications devices, which block lateraland horizontal relations. Here there is no al-ternative but to determine where the criticalnodes of multilateral contact occur and posi-tion translator liaison teams equipped withcommunications systems that expeditecross-communications. It is especially im-portant to view the requirements for liaisoncells from a joint perspective. Many land

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forces, for example, do not have alliance liai-son officers or do not position them belowdivision level.

The sharing of intelligence and sensitivetechnical means will depend on providingthe interpreted product of battlefield intelli-gence to each member of the alliance. TheUnited States brings to battle the most so-phisticated and enviable capability to gaindeep operations visibility of any nation in

the world. If it is kept in seclusion, it willsignificantly reduce the combat poweravailable for deep operations and forceother alliance members to fight blindlywith regard to time. Some nations havealternative means and systems, and theseshould also be incorporated into a work-able intelligence collection plan whoseproducts are accessible to others.

Yet few nations, including theUnited States, are willing to share thesensitive sources of intelligence gatheringor enlighten other nations on the techni-

cal strengths and weaknesses of various col-lection means. Military coalitions may in-clude partners whose reliability is stipulatedon the threat at hand and will not last be-yond the resolution of the contingency—apoint wryly observed by Prime MinisterWinston Churchill when he noted he wouldsleep with the devil when survival was atstake. As well, our past history with coalitionwarfare has incorporated nations withwhom we were already engaged in other al-liances, such as NATO, where the protocolsand limits of intelligence sharing are alreadyembedded. Notwithstanding, allies mustshare intelligence at the tactical and opera-tional levels as a minimum. As new collec-tion means are introduced into our force,such as Joint Surveillance and Target AttackRadar System or remotely piloted vehicles,we must have means to rapidly share theirproducts with coalition partners. Intelli-gence sharing arrangements must be rapidlyagreed, even if sources are not shared. Infact, the more quickly allied forces becomeclaimants and recipients of pooled assets,the variables of agility, initiative, depth, andsynchronization increase accordingly.

LogisticsLogistics management of coalition forces

is a matter ultimately dependent on a widefield of variables. National arrangements,

host nation support agreements, equipmentcompatibility, and cultural requirements arebut a few. Some coalition forces will enter thecoalition with the intention and means toprovision themselves. In these cases, coali-tion control may be no more than a need tocoordinate; or, providing ports of entry, off-load capabilities, storage sites, and routes andmeans for pushing sustainment forward.Others will arrive with the need for more ex-tensive support. This may be solvablethrough binational agreements from onemember nation to provide support to an-other, or may require active coalition man-agement. As a rule, actual execution of tacti-cal logistics support to alliance membersshould be decentralized. At the coalitionheadquarters level, the focus should be onmeasuring the requirements of executing thecampaign plan, providing advance estimatesof these requirements to national units, andensuring that proper controls are in place todeconflict and permit movement and pro-cessing of combat power to units.

Its practice is remarkably difficult. Simu-lations, again, can be a tremendously valu-able tool for finding problem areas before ex-ecution. Problems which are unique tocoalition warfare continually surface. De-pending on the infrastructure available intheater, there may be many claimants onsparse local resources. Potable water, fuelpipelines and storage, shelter, and local foodproduction are almost all national infrastruc-tures built at the capacity required to sustainthe local population, and nothing more.Some national forces do not have the meansfor bulk delivery over long distances, or evena field ration system with preservable com-modities. Unless centralized management isapplied, each national force is likely to con-tract independently to acquire these essentialgoods. Aside from being inefficient and un-wieldy, this approach will also ensure instantinflation in the costs of local goods and ser-vices, which is harmful to operating budgetsand even more disastrous for local citizenswho lack the capital to outbid national mili-tary forces. In effect the coalition headquar-ters must enter a unique relationship withhost nation authorities for contracting goodsand services, to include manpower and labor,


The destroyer USSO’Bannon arriving atKiel during ExerciseBALTOPS ’92 with theGerman national en-sign flying in the fore-ground astern the de-stroyer FGS Molders.

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and then serve as the intermediary betweennational force requirements.

Just as there may be significant techno-logical differentials in the combat capabilitiesof various forces, there could be large differ-ences in the quality and magnitude of sup-port provided. As CS and CSS are echelonedrearward, various capabilities may have to bepooled. American or European field hospitals,for example, may have to be prepared to ac-

cept allied casualties. Ammuni-tion stocks, if they are compati-ble with allied systems, mayhave to be shared. Each class ofsupply and form of supportmust be considered for each na-tional force in order to identifyrequirements for mutual depen-dency. If this is not done, itcould result in a loss of combat

power or unexpected perturbations in themidst of operations.

The coalition headquarters is alsouniquely situated to apply efficiencies thatwill minimize the diversion of potentialcombat power from the battlefield. Arrange-ments for cross-national support, host na-tion contracts to shift transportation orother functions to local firms, developingnodal points for transferring supplies andmaterials, and other means should be em-ployed to reduce independent burdens formoving goods from the ports or airfields tothe forward line. Distribution and local re-pair systems should be pooled wherever pos-sible to limit the numbers of personnel re-quired to perform support functions, and

reduce the confusion of control-ling rear areas. Combined logisti-cians must always be on watch foropportunities to find efficienciesand improvements in the logisticsarchitecture. They must step abovethe paradigms of their own na-tional doctrines and structures andlook for ways to combine efforts.

Some would define the pur-pose of military doctrine and leadership asto achieve order in the chaos of battle. Incoalition operations we do this by accentuat-ing the commonalties that exist: first, be-tween our national interests; second, be-tween how we intend to deal with threats tomutual interests; and then in how we actu-ally apply our combined forces in battle.

Where commonalties are required but lack-ing, we move quickly to create them. Often,a coalition’s cohesion will depend on theproportionate sharing of burdens, risks, andcredit. All these can be most fairly and satis-factorily apportioned if the total force is ableto operate as a single entity.

The key to achieving this unity is bypromulgating a doctrine for warfighting thatis commonly understood and applied. Plan-ning systems must be collective and partici-patory, yet responsive and unerringly timely.Those areas where the seams are mostprominent, and therefore where friction ismost likely to arise—through combined tac-tical integration, C4I, training, and logis-tics—need to be rapidly analyzed and tested,then sewn tighter. Obvious differences suchas language, culture, or interoperability can-not be eradicated, but they can be mini-mized. These dictums hold true for bothlong-term and ad hoc coalitions. Indeed thetools and lessons we develop in our standingcoalitions must be captured and employedin the formation of ad hoc coalitions to ac-celerate the cohesion of coalition forces.

Technology also offers means of improv-ing the unity and effectiveness of joint oper-ations in a coalition environment. It can beapplied to bridge different languages and op-erating systems. It also can be applied toshare and integrate national resources,whether in combat systems, logistics man-agement, or the flow of information to everycomponent in joint and combined warfare.

For the foreseeable future, Americanmilitary leaders will most often be the lead-ers of multinational military coalitions. Asthe U.S. Armed Forces continue to reshapefor the challenges of the post-Cold War era,it is important that the requirements ofcoalition warfare remain a priority effortamong all services. Every improvement incoalition operations that we bring to thebattlefield will have an impact on the suc-cess of operations and reduce the human tollfor our own forces, as well as every one ofour allies. We have the technology and expe-rience to improve coalition warfare. The un-derstanding of joint and combined doctrineis the first step. JFQ

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often, a coalition’scohesion will depend on the pro-portionate sharingof burdens, risks,and credit

roles and missions. And his-tory, both ancient and mod-ern, testifies of a nearly univer-sal agreement that truejointness demands seamlesslylinked operations between dif-ferent military capabilities.

If politicians and senior of-ficers did not use the motley

definitions in this strange pail to supportdifferent policies, the task of defining joint-ness could safely be left to theoreticians.Since, however, jointness has attained in thedefense arena the buzzword status that jus-tice, equality, and of late empowerment enjoyin the domestic debate, it is important to beas clear as possible about what jointness isand what it is not. Failure to do so is likelyto lead to an erosion of the distinctive abili-ties of the military disciplines from whosedifferences—ironically—the rationale forjointness originally springs.

The difficulty of defining jointness wasapparent in the debate over the Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorganiza-tion Act of 1986. Both opponents and sup-porters of the legislation appealed to thiselusive term to justify their arguments. Theformer claimed that because of the increasedpowers granted to the Chairman, future Presi-dents would lose the joint perspective pro-vided by the expertise of other service chiefs.The legislation’s proponents responded thatan increase in the Chairman’s power wasneeded to provide the jointness that was


Cooperation like applepie is rarely if everquestioned as a desir-able thing. Unfortu-nately, while everyone

knows what an apple pie is, fixing a militarydefinition of cooperation is much harder.The easy response is jointness, but trying todefine this quality produces surprisingly var-ied answers. By implication, legislation al-ready written defines jointness as a diminu-tion of the power of the individual services.In a more positive vein the Chairman of theJoint Chiefs, General Powell, sees jointnessas teamwork and cooperation. Congressionalideas as expressed by the Chairman of theSenate Armed Services Committee, SenatorNunn, find jointness in the elimination ofredundant weapon systems or overlapping

Jointness defies consistent definition. The Goldwater-Nichols Act, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,the Senate Armed Services Committee, and students of operational art all view jointness differently. Whatwill be the result of divergent, often opposing concepts of jointness? Goldwater-Nichols mandated jointnessby structural reforms; General Powell sees jointness as interservice teamwork; Senator Nunn hopes jointnesswill be a mechanism for eliminating what he considers to be redundant roles and missions. History hasshown that unified forces triumph while poorly organized ones perish. Nevertheless, General Schwarzkopf—who is lionized as an operational commander—waged joint warfare with great success, though he served infew joint assignments during his career. The summons to the services to fight as a team will be ignored bycommanders at their own peril, and a joint culture may ensure that as the defense budget is slashed theservices are diminished proportionately. But jointness must not eliminate the debate on the purposes andutility of the individual services that must now be conducted in the post-containment era.

Summary

The Limitsof JointnessBy S E T H C R O P S E Y


missing due to the disproportionate influenceof the individual services and their chiefs.

Change the OrganizationGoldwater-Nichols does contain a defi-

nition of jointness, if only by negation. Thelegislation suggests what jointness does notmean by identifying interservice rivalry asthe obstacle to it. Accordingly, the act aimsat reducing the power of the services bychanging military education to emphasizeinterservice cooperation, diminishing thecontrol exercised by each service over ca-reers, and increasing exposure of officers to acentral staff. The 1986 landmark legislationnever offered a positive model of how amore joint military would think or perform.But it did draft very firm guidelines alteringservice college curricula, insisted on speci-fied qualifications for career advancement,and laid the foundation for shifting effectiveresponsibility for acquisition of majorweapons systems to the Office of the Secre-tary of Defense.

So comprehensive was the congressionalunderstanding of jointness that the reorga-nization directly touched military officersand senior civilian officials. The legislationdrained power from the service secretariesand gave new, broad authority to the Officeof the Secretary of Defense (OSD), specifi-cally, the Under Secretary of Defense for Ac-quisition. Consistent with the 30-year effortto gather authority within OSD—which doesnot embrace the private sector’s current ef-forts to decentralize—the legislation’s au-thors doubted the ability of the services tomanage major programs and preferred in-stead to consolidate control over a $300 bil-lion budget at the center.

Goldwater-Nichols applied the same ap-proach to the military chain of command.Congress regarded the services as quarrelsomesiblings with single, infinite appetites. It de-spaired at arbitrating endless contradictory

claims, and sought to raise the Chairman andthe Joint Staff so that they could settle dis-putes and unite the efforts of the unruly ser-vices. So successful was the legislation thatGeneral Powell, the first Chairman to servehis entire tour under the new law, has beenable to give jointness a new meaning.

Powell has defined jointness in morepositive terms than the 1986 legislation. Hisview is that cooperation means teamwork.Given the increasingly dismal prospects fordefense funding and demands on the ArmedForces in a disorderly world, his definitionalso makes political sense.

In the private sector scarcity encouragesthrift, drives prices up, and then usuallyseeks out other avenues to satisfy demand.In the Government—especially the mili-tary—dwindling budgets have traditionallystimulated a free-for-all between and amongthe services that rewards the bureaucraticallyadept and ends only when resources onceagain start to flow. The bitter fight over rolesand missions following World War II is themost notorious example in American mili-tary history. Demobilization and postwarbudget reductions were the dry tinder; Presi-dent Truman’s decision to pick that momentto fundamentally rearrange the services wasthe flame that set the pile burning.

Colin Powell has turned out to be moreskillful at politics than Harry Truman. Con-templating the defense cuts at the beginningof his tenure in 1989, Powell has consis-tently sought to create an atmosphere of co-operation among the services that fends offdivisive issues of basic structural change orreordering priorities. A measure of thestature that the Chairman’s political skillshave earned is a willingness to disagree withboth Senator Nunn and President Clinton.

Senator Nunn asked basic questions inJuly 1992 about the structure of the ArmedForces, such as whether naval aviation andthe Marine Corps were still required. Hewondered if a single service should be placedin charge of all electronic warfare aircraft,and whether the responsibility for defendingtroops and installations should be consoli-dated under the Air Force. Echoing these dif-ficult queries, but taking them a major step

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Seth Cropsey is director of the Asia Studies Center atthe Heritage Foundation. He has served as PrincipalDeputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Special Operations and Low Intensity Conflict.


toward execution, President Clinton in Au-gust 1992 told the World Affairs Council inLos Angeles that:

In 1948, then Secretary of Defense James Forre-stal convened a meeting of the military service chiefsin Key West to allocate responsibilities among thefour services. It failed. As President, I will order thePentagon to convene a similar meeting to hammer outa new understanding about consolidating and coordi-nating military missions in the 1990s and beyond.

In a draft assessment of the future of theArmed Forces, noted in the press on the lastday of 1992, Powell saw no reason forsweeping changes. “Yes, we can be said tohave four air forces,” said the Chairman’s re-port, “but each is different, playing a uniqueand complementary role.”

Change the SpiritThe image of the military as a powerful

organism composed of mutually dependentand cooperative groupings of cell structureshas characterized General Powell’s tenure as

Chairman. Joint Warfare ofthe U.S. Armed Forces (JointPub 1), which was pub-lished in November 1991, isthe clearest picture of thisimage. Technology, it says,has made the services in-creasingly interdependent.Teamwork, trust, and coop-eration among the servicesare needed now more thanever to succeed in war. And

as balance is required in the kinds of forcesfielded, “there is no place for rivalry” amongmembers of the joint team.

The idea of jointness in Joint Pub 1 ispolitically attractive because it helps sup-press dissension among the services at a timewhen straitened budgets are most likely tocause such quarrels. Moreover, the need forteamwork between the different military dis-ciplines rests on unassailable operationalground. Joint Pub 1 singles out examples inAmerican history from riverine warfarealong the Mississippi in the Civil War toDouglas MacArthur’s amphibious attack onthe enemy’s rear at Inchon in 1950. But the

writers could have reached much furtherback into history.

In 425 B.C., the seventh year of their fa-mous contest, the Athenians and Spartansfought over the protected harbor of Pylos onthe west coast of the Peloponnesian penin-sula. The Athenian command concentratedits efforts on the Spartan garrison which heldout on Sphacteria, the island that guards thewestern approaches to Pylos. Throughout anoperation that lasted over ten weeks theAthenian navy worked smoothly with heavyand light infantry, the former enforcing ablockade that hampered resupply of the Spar-tan detachment, the latter frontally harassingthe besieged defenders. Eventually hungerhelped break the Spartans’ will to resist andallowed the Athenians to surprise theirenemy in his fortified positions.

Two centuries later, the struggle betweenRome and Carthage for power in theMediterranean spilled over into Spain. AsScipio, the joint commander, directed abombardment and infantry assault againstthe walled city of New Carthage (today’sCartagena), his naval component comman-der Admiral Caius Laelius launched a simul-taneous amphibious attack on the city’s sea-ward side. Diverted by these synchronizedshocks, the defenders neglected their thirdflank which lay exposed to a shallow lakethrough which a Roman detachment wadedand entered New Carthage. After defeatingthe besieged Carthaginians, Scipio offered acrown to the man who had first breachedthe walls. When both a marine and a centu-rion of the fourth legion claimed the honor,Scipio acted with great respect for what wewould today call jointness. He awarded twoprizes and declared that both warriors hadmounted the wall at the same moment.

The need for combined operations andharmony between the different fighting dis-ciplines has been understood—if not alwayspracticed—since antiquity. But Joint Pub 1takes this proven operational idea anotherstep by arguing that the teamwork neededin battle is just as necessary throughout themilitary’s other work, using the same lan-guage of exhortation to encourage equalharmony throughout the whole military.

the need for combinedoperations and harmonybetween the differentfighting disciplines hasbeen understood—if notalways practiced—sinceantiquity


Because “the arena of our potential opera-tions is the entire planet,” the Armed Forcesrequire “the ability to project and sustainthe entire range (emphasis added) of militarypower over vast distances.” 1 There is “noplace for rivalry that seeks to undercut ordenigrate fellow members of the jointteam.” 2 And, “the nature of modern warfareputs a premium on cooperation with eachother to compete with the enemy.” 3

For actual combat, Joint Pub 1’s call topull together is clear and cannot be dis-puted. However, in drawing up a concept ofoperations to prepare for combat or in draft-ing the doctrine that determines what forceswill be called upon, or in choosing whichweapons to build or what national militarystrategy to follow, the admonition to cooper-ate runs into problems. Reasonable mencan—and do—differ about weapons systems,the appropriateness of certain missions, andthe contributions of the individual servicesto the Nation’s security.

According to Joint Pub 1, “Individualprofessional growth, reinforced by militaryeducation and varied service and joint assign-ments, leads to a refined capability to com-mand joint forces in peace and war.” 4 But thedocument does not claim that this combina-tion of education and experience will answerthorny military questions, the ones that pre-dictably draw bureaucratic blood and leavetrails of nettles from the Pentagon to CapitolHill. What does Joint Pub 1 expect when such

issues arise? Should officers use teamworkand cooperation as a guide, adjusting theiropinions to avoid clashes with other expertsfrom different services?

This question is particularly relevant tostill another current definition of jointness,the one noted above that has been proposedby Senator Nunn and endorsed by PresidentClinton. In their view the Key West agree-ments on service roles and missions thatSecretary of Defense Forrestal and the chiefsreached in March 1948 have failed to pre-vent wasteful duplications of effort. As can-didate Clinton said in his Los Angeles WorldAffairs Council speech:

I agree with Senator Sam Nunn that it is time totake a fresh look at the basic organization of ourArmed Forces. We have four separate air forces—oneeach for the Marines, Army, Navy, and Air Force.Both the Army and Marines have light infantry divi-sions. The Navy and Air Force have separately devel-oped, but similar, fighter aircraft and tactical mis-siles . . . . While respecting each service’s uniquecapabilities, we can reduce redundancies, save billionsof dollars, and get better teamwork.

Change the MissionsFar more radical than either Goldwater-

Nichols or the Chairman’s calls to joinhands in battle and out, the Clinton-Nunnvision sees teamwork as the by-product of ef-ficiency. Rationalizing the missions of theArmed Forces so that no two services per-form the same job will save money first anddemand cooperation second. Of the severalapproaches toward establishing a more uni-fied military, the ideas supporting this oneare weakest. Not because Nunn’s proposal tocombine such staff functions as the medical,chaplain, and legal corps are baseless. Andnot because his questions about the need forseparate air and infantry capabilities in hisSenate speech of July 2, 1992 are unworthy.

Nunn’s argument fails to observe its ownstandards. Quoting a former Chairman, Admi-ral William Crowe, Nunn rightly faults thecustomary manner in which America has re-duced its forces at “the end of a period of mili-tary crisis and the start of an era of relativepeace.” Proceeding backwards, the UnitedStates has cut defense first, says Senator Nunn,

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Senator Nunn during a visit to the PersianGulf.

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and asked second how “to shape a new forcein light of the changed circumstances.”

However, instead of trying to peer intothe years ahead or explain the lessons thatshould have been learned from the struggleagainst the Soviets, Nunn looks to the past.For him, the most important challenge inAmerica’s change of circumstances is “toprovide a fighting force . . . that is not boundby the constraints of the roles and missionsoutlined in 1948.”

Nunn, of course, is referring to the com-promise by which the Office of the Secretaryof Defense and the Joint Chiefs were estab-lished while maintaining a separate MarineCorps and naval aviation arm. This compro-mise was a political response to an idea de-veloped by Secretary of War Henry Stimsonand Army Chief of Staff General GeorgeMarshall. Deputy Chief of Staff GeneralJoseph McNarney presented the proposal tothe House Select Committee on Post-WarMilitary Policy in 1944. Its original justifica-tion had been the lack of sufficient coordi-nation between the Army and Navy duringthe war, especially just before the Japanese

attack on Pearl Harbor. But interservice co-

ordination is not Nunn’sfirst goal; he nowhereclaims the lack of it as aproblem. The Nunn-Clinton proposal identi-fies the benefit of mov-ing beyond the 1948agreements in terms ofpotential savings. Look-ing at air power Nunnsays, “We spend tens of

billions of dollars every year operating tacti-cal aircraft squadrons in each of the four ser-vices.” Noting that the Navy wants to spendfrom $55 billion to $75 billion on a new ver-sion of the F–18 while the Air Force plans toreplace its F–16 fleet, Nunn asks whether theservices could save money by cooperatingtogether in the development of a commonmultirole fighter.

These questions are rooted in the desireto save costs, not in changed circumstances.Nunn in the end offers merely another justi-

fication for cutting defense that may or maynot suit the disorderly world and Americaninterests. It does not start out by taking de-liberate aim at these vexing problems. Butwhatever the merits of his proposal, it doesexpand the definitions of jointness.

These definitions share a common, sus-picious view of the services and are differen-tiated by their political content. Goldwater-Nichols is the least political. Knowing themilitary’s responsiveness to hierarchy andpromotion, it seeks harmony through orga-nizational changes that tinker with powerand incentives. The legislation has other ef-fects, but it had no other end.

General Powell’s emphasis on opera-tional teamwork stands unmovably on thefirm ground of experience. It is harder to saywhat the positive effect of his call to repro-duce this cooperation at the staff levelmeans except in broad terms of encouragingrespect for the views of officers from differ-ent services. But Powell’s more distant—andpolitical—goal is to dampen the rivalryamong the services that could still be an in-strument of wanton dismemberment in thehands of legislators bent on extracting fur-ther peace dividends from the military.

Most political are Nunn’s questions onduplication and redundancy. Wrapped in re-flections on the changed circumstances ofour time and casting back to the politicaltussles of the late 1940s, the queries by theChairman of the Senate Armed ServicesCommittee are linked by the political goal ofreducing defense costs, which accounts forcampaigner Clinton’s support.

The Passion for PurpleThere is a serious problem with this

growing chorus of calls for jointness. Thesense of purpose and morale, and thus ulti-mately the effectiveness of the services, isthreatened by a calculus of their diminishingidentities. The undesirability of absolutejointness—complete absorption of all theservices into a single organization—shouldbe plain since there is no serious proposal togo that far. Somewhere is a view of the ser-vices as too big and complicated to be led

the undesirability of absolute jointness—complete absorption of allthe services into a single organization—should beplain since there is no serious proposal to go that far


easily from the center, and of their skills astoo diverse to be mixed without weakeningthe final compound.

Unfortunately, albeit unintentionally,this is where we are headed. Ideas have beenlegislated, those representing the currentthinking of the leaders of the Department ofDefense, and those still in the planningstages, are not like a series of proposals on na-

tional health from whichone must be chosen. In-stead, these and otherproposals will have a cu-mulative effect.

The increased timethat officers spend in staffpositions as a result ofGoldwater-Nichols as wellas the rising quality of of-ficers who are assigned tojoint billets has improvedthe strength of personnelon combined staffs. Ofthis there is no doubt. Butat what price? When thesystem as retooled byGoldwater-Nichols pro-duces its first Chairmanand set of Joint Chiefs,

will they know as much about the capabilitiesof their services as those who preceded them?Will the opinions they give under the mostdemanding circumstances to a President whohas no military experience be as operationallyinformed as the advice of a general officersuch as Norman Schwarzkopf who, until hebecame a CINC, had only served one tour ona joint staff? 5

And what dislocations are being causedby the legislatively induced requirement forthe Armed Forces to push a large pool ofqualified officers through the relatively nar-row channel of joint duty billets? Personneldetailers already talk in private both aboutthe demoralization junior officers sense atnot earning joint qualifications soonenough, and the growing pressure to excludefrom joint assignments any officer who isnot rated first or second among several peersin yearly evaluations. Although men likeGeorge Marshall distinguished themselves

early in their careers, the genius of suchother great officers as Ulysses S. Grant re-vealed itself later. Is the system’s rational re-sponse to Goldwater-Nichols denying theNation the talents of late bloomers? Or willthe military ultimately find a way to moveofficers through joint duty assignments byunintentionally hamstringing the Joint Staffand the CINCs with a host of joint billets?

Neither alternative beckons. For the mo-ment, however, one direction is clear. Thecurrent Chairman, General Powell, has usedthe powers of his office which were enlargedby Goldwater-Nichols, as well as his own ex-ceptional political talents, to cultivate aspirit of cooperation among the services.Balanced reductions in forces reinforced byan inclusive approach to service assets incombat and cushioned by such educationalefforts as this journal have been the order ofthe day.

But again, the call to jointness has somediscordant notes. The need for teamworkwhen combined operations are required isincontestable. However, do joint assign-ments and education, the powerful messageof documents such as Joint Pub 1, or eventhe Goldwater-Nichols Act itself promotesuch teamwork where it matters: in combat?Perhaps. But the evidence is scanty.

Joint Pub 1 paints General Schwarz-kopf’s victory over Iraq as a jewel in thejoint crown. It quotes repeatedly and atlength from all his component commanderson the virtues of harmony. But Schwarzkopf,by his own account, is a straightforward,old-fashioned Army man with little toler-ance for staff life, and no warm feelings forjoint duty. He speaks of his decision to ac-cept an assignment in the Army Secretariatas ticket punching.6 And, the “happiest day”of Schwarzkopf’s tour on the staff of U.S. Pa-cific Command occurred when he was or-dered to Germany as assistant division com-mander of the 8th Mechanized Infantry.7 TheCentral Command commander did not trustthe Joint Staff much either. Referring toslides from a briefing on Operation DesertStorm which President Bush received inWashington, Schwarzkopf told his chief of

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staff, “I want them presented by you person-ally, not some officer from the Joint Staff.” 8

Nowhere in his popular autobiographydoes Schwarzkopf mention Goldwater-Nichols or the 1986 law’s supposed multipli-

cation of the CINC’spower which others havetouted as key to the suc-cess of U.S. arms in theGulf War. Although hehad anxious momentswhen Washington’s re-quests for informationmade him fear that thepolicymakers did notwholly grasp the truepicture, Schwarzkopf at-tributes his success in

part to the freedom he was given to operateaccording to his best judgment and Powell’sability to run political interference.

Schwarzkopf’s appreciation of jointnesslacks the diversity of approaches and harmony ofeffort tone that characterizes Joint Pub 1, butthe vacuum is filled by practical and effectiveaction. When his order to move VII Corpsinto position in control of Safwan airfield wasnot obeyed, the CINC tells his Army compo-nent commander that unless the original or-ders are executed, he will give the job to theMarines. This threat helps speed action.

It fits neatly into the operational appreci-ation of jointness that Schwarzkopf gained in1983 as Army advisor to Vice Admiral JoeMetcalf who led the invasion of Grenada. AsSchwarzkopf tells it, when Metcalf requiredexpertise on ground operations—as he did inplanning the opposed movement of Armyand Marine units across the island to freeAmerican medical students—Metcalf askedSchwarzkopf to write the orders.

However, when it subsequently becameclear that a helicopter assault to release thestudents at Grand Anse would be quickerand less costly, Metcalf gave the order.Schwarzkopf explained the plan to the Ma-rine colonel whose helicopters were to carryArmy troops in the hostage rescue. Whenthe colonel balked, Schwarzkopf noted thatthe order came from Metcalf and threatened

a court martial. The matter was quickly re-solved and the operation proceeded.

Joint tours, revised educational curric-ula, exhortations to cooperate, and leg-islation did not help—or hurt—GeneralSchwarzkopf in the execution of his jointduties. When he was called on for advice, hegave his best which was very good indeedbecause it was based on many years of workperfecting his skill. And when he requiredassistance and cooperation of officers fromother services, he knew how to get it.

The balance in the system which pro-duced Schwarzkopf and such other success-ful unified commanders as General MaxThurman, who led the U.S. Southern Com-mand during the invasion of Panama in1989, was as difficult to achieve as it is easyto upset. In this equilibrium, the need forcompetitive ideas at the center where deci-sions are made about the size, shape, pur-pose, and mixture of forces serves as equi-poise to the demand for harmonious actionin battle.

Such efforts as the increasing emphasison jointness tip the scales in the direction ofconcerted operational effort. However, by ef-fectively putting a damper on conflictingideas, they also suppress debate over suchfundamental issues as the composition andcharacter of future forces. Backed by a force-ful Chairman, Joint Pub 1’s insistence oncommon perspectives, teamwork, and coopera-tion delivers a strong warning against argu-ments, for example, that support asymmetri-cal reductions in U.S. forces in response toworld events. Admonitions that “there is noplace for rivalry” on the joint team, that themilitary should “exploit the diversity of ap-proaches that a joint force provides,” helpestablish a standard of political correctnessin the Armed Forces that chokes off consid-eration of ideas which, while troublesome tothe interests of an individual service or aparticular weapons system, might be impor-tant to the Nation.

The problem is not jointness but ratherwhat is meant by jointness. Unified effort inthe field has real meaning, and there is noserious argument against this. But outsidethe realms of the unified commanders, the

joint tours, revised educational curricula, exhortations to cooperate,and legislation did nothelp—or hurt—GeneralSchwarzkopf in the execu-tion of his joint duties


notion becomes unclear or encourages intel-lectual torpor.

The medical profession’s contemporaryexperience offers clear parallels and a con-structive direction. Like officers, physiciansmust devote a growing portion of their timeto mastering the technical demands of theirart. Technological advancements in diagnos-tic and surgical instruments as well as thedoubling of medical knowledge roughly everyfour years is forcing doctors to concentrate onsmaller and smaller parts of the humananatomy. The body, however, is a whole, anda pathology of the optic nerve, for example,might be apparent to neurosurgeons whereophthalmologists would overlook it. The cureis to balance specific with general knowledge.In military terms, the solution to the want ofa common perspective is not to exhort offi-cers and enlisted personnel to get one, but toprovide one that is based on ideas rooted inexperience.

In other words, one must study historyto understand the causes of military successand failure. By noting joint and combinedoperations throughout the text, Joint Pub 1does acknowledge this need. But its histori-cal lessons all teach jointness. And depen-dence on ratios of students from differentservices to determine whether a service col-lege course qualifies as joint in the wake ofGoldwater-Nichols is an obvious example ofthe triumph of process over substance. Mili-tary history is richer and more complicated.It shows that organizations as well as greatcaptains can make the difference betweenvictory and disaster. It teaches the value ofthinking through tactical and strategic prob-lems beforehand. It demonstrates the advan-tage of being able to swiftly change ideas,plans, and operations in the face of theunanticipated.

Jointness is not an end in itself. Nor cananyone prove that it is. Jointness is a mini-mal requirement for most of the imaginablesituations in which this Nation would useforce in the future. Apart from combat, it is arhetorical whip that maintains a politicallyuseful discipline among the services in a

time of falling defense budgets. But the hier-archy’s forceful message not to squabble alsohelps muffle consideration of such ideas asthe unequal division of budget cuts based onnational requirements or a national securitystrategy that may not rely on balancedforces. Unfortunately, such questions areprecisely the ones to be examined. Insofar asthe pressure for jointness keeps these issuesat bay, the Nation is deprived of a debate itshould conduct.

In Federalist 10 James Madison, urgingadoption of the Constitution, reflects on theproposed Union’s ability to control the dan-gerous effects of political faction. “Thecauses of faction cannot be removed . . . re-lief is only to be sought in controlling the ef-fects.” Heading off controversy in the ArmedForces over basic questions on the futurecould eventually remove the causes of dis-agreements among the services by helpingto strip them of their pugnacity. This wouldnot serve America well either. It would bebetter to seek jointness off the battlefield inthe renewed effort to understand the valu-able lessons of warfare through the experi-ences of those who have succeeded andfailed at it. JFQ

N O T E S

1 The Joint Chiefs of Staff, Joint Warfare of the U.S.Armed Forces, Joint Pub 1 (Washington: National De-fense University Press, 1991), p. 2.

2 Ibid., p. 4.3 Ibid., p. 15.4 Ibid., p. 32.5 Schwarzkopf quotes the reaction of his command-

ing officer, Major General Richard Cavazos, to the newsSchwarzkopf had been ordered to the Pacific Commandwhen he was a one-star general: “Whoever made thatdecision is a dumb bastard.” H. Norman Schwarzkopf inIt Doesn’t Take a Hero (New York: Bantam Books, 1992),p. 214.

6 Ibid., p. 191.7 Ibid., p. 221.8 Ibid., p. 360.

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In a February 1993 “Report on theRoles, Missions, and Functions of theArmed Forces,” General Colin Powell,Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,recommended changing the UnifiedCommand Plan (UCP) by placing cer-tain forces in the continental UnitedStates under a single joint comman-

der for the primary purpose of ensuring thejoint training and readiness of response forces.The Secretary of Defense approved that rec-ommendation in April and an implementa-tion plan is now under development. Theplan will merge Forces Command (FORS-COM), Atlantic Fleet (LANTFLT), Air CombatCommand (ACC), and Marine Corps ForcesAtlantic (MARFORLANT) into a single com-bat command. The services will retain their

A New Mission for Atlantic CommandBy P A U L D A V I D M I L L E R

In a recent report to Congress, General Colin Powell raised the issue of creating a joint command to enhancethe ability of forces based in the United States to respond quickly in the event of crises. The Chairman con-cluded it would be advantageous to establish such an organization and recommended that assets of ForcesCommand, Atlantic Fleet, Air Combat Command, and Marine Corps Forces Atlantic be fused into a singlejoint command. U.S. Atlantic Command (LANTCOM) will become that command with responsibility for jointtraining, force packaging, and deployments during contingencies, including providing support to U.N. peacekeeping operations and assistance in times of natural disasters. To accomplish this new joint missionLANTCOM must streamline training and exercises, facilitate packaging and adapting forces to meet theaterrequirements, and enhance readiness through innovations in doctrine.

Summary

U.S. Navy photo by Paul Brylewski

Navy SEALs descendto a submarine.DOD photo

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statutory responsibilities and the U.S. AtlanticCommand (LANTCOM) will be responsible forjoint training, force packaging, and facilitatingdeployment in crises.

The advantages of the proposed changes,particularly in the area of joint training, war-rant a close look. LANTCOM is well-suited toassume this new mission. As a CONUS-basedjoint headquarters, it already enjoys strongcomponent relationships with FORSCOM,LANTFLT, ACC, and MARFORLANT. ColdWar planning in LANTCOM focused on de-fending the sea lanes and conducting offen-

sive naval operationsagainst the Soviet Union.While the NATO Allianceendures—and LANTCOMretains a large regionalarea of responsibility—the threat of war isgreatly reduced. ThusLANTCOM has the capac-

ity to assume added responsibilities in keep-ing with the revised military strategy and theproposed changes to the UCP.

The Commander in Chief of the AtlanticCommand (CINCLANT) also has responsibili-ties under NATO as Supreme Allied Comman-der Atlantic (SACLANT). In the new planCINCLANT will likely continue to serve asSACLANT where he will be well situated tointegrate and tailor forces to support SupremeAllied Commander Europe (SACEUR) forNATO contingencies. Since LANTCOM willno longer be a predominantly naval com-mand, CINCLANT will be a nominative posi-tion filled by an officer from any service.LANTCOM will also be assigned additionalmissions in support of United Nations peace-keeping and disaster relief missions. The com-mand might also be renamed in order tomore accurately reflect this new focus.

Comments on the Chairman’s roles andmissions report—both from inside and out-side the military—cite the proposed new

mission for LANTCOM as one of the mostsignificant aspects of this triannual report.The proposal builds on many important jointtraining initiatives which have flourishedsince the Goldwater-Nichols DOD Reorgani-zation Act of 1986, particularly in the wakeof Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm.

General Powell helped to point the waywith the publication of Joint Pub 1, JointWarfare of the U.S. Armed Forces, which tracesthe roots of jointness and charts a course forthe future. Meeting challenges with asmaller, less costly force depends on realiz-ing the full force-multiplier potential ofjointness. Joint Pub 1 is a focal point for thefurther refinement of joint doctrine.

Joint Training and Exercises The first cornerstone in realizing the full

potential of our Armed Forces is joint train-ing—particularly regularly scheduled, majorjoint exercises. Both Exercise Ocean Venturein the Atlantic and Exercise Tandem Thrustin the Pacific are examples of joint trainingbeing done by the CINCs. In 1992 those ex-ercises saw thousands of soldiers, sailors, air-men, and Marines train together on jointwarfighting tasks. A new spirit of cooperationand enthusiasm was clearly evident. Progresswas made on doctrinal and joint command,control, communications, computers and in-telligence (C4I) issues as raised by OperationsDesert Shield/Desert Storm such as proce-dures for the Joint Force Air ComponentCommander (JFACC) and effectively employ-ing mobile operations and intelligence cen-ters with joint C4I connectivity.

Joint training has a high priority in alltheaters. The U.S. Pacific Command (PA-COM) has developed an innovative, two-tierJoint Force Commander (JFC) concept to en-sure the readiness of JFCs and staffs in re-sponding to contingencies. PACOM has de-ployable JFC staff augmentation teams thattrain and exercise regularly with designatedjoint force commanders. The U.S. CentralCommand (CENTCOM) has been busily en-gaged in joint training in Southwest Asiasince the end of the Gulf War. Regular jointstrike and air defense exercises maintainreadiness for rotationally deployed forces

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Admiral Paul David Miller, USN, is Supreme AlliedCommander Atlantic, and the Commander in Chief, U.S. Atlantic Command. He was previously Commander in Chief, United States Atlantic Fleet.

meeting challenges with a smaller, less costly forcedepends on realizing the full force-multiplierpotential of jointness


from all services. The U.S.European Command(EUCOM) uses the AirForce’s Warrior Prep Cen-ter in Germany to sup-port aggressive jointtraining efforts. Jointtraining in the U.S.Southern Command(SOUTHCOM) supportscounterdrug and nationassistance operations.

With all the atten-tion that has already beendirected toward jointtraining, one might ques-tion the need to assignoverall responsibility forjoint training of CONUS-based forces to a singlecommander. But there aretwo reasons to do so.First, such a consolida-tion will build on, ratherthan supplant or replace,

ongoing efforts. Unified CINCs will continueto conduct joint training to sharpen the focusand maintain the readiness of assigned forces.Second, as the military grows smaller fewerforces will be positioned forward, either per-manently stationed (as in Europe and Korea)or rotationally and periodically deployed (asCENTCOM). Assigning responsibility for jointtraining readiness to LANTCOM will help toensure that deploying forces are ready on ar-rival for joint operations. It would also be ameans for ensuring that those forces—anddesignated back-up units at the ready—can betrained to meet the requirements and stan-dards of the supported CINC.

As in the case of joint training, each ser-vice is doing an excellent job of providingbasic, intermediate, and advanced training toensure its forces are ready for joint opera-tions. This traditional stovepipe approach totraining has served us well. It evolved duringthe Cold War to meet each CINC’s require-ments for forward positioned forces. In most

cases the requirements were met by usingfairly rigid combinations of permanently as-signed forces and standardized deploymentgroups. This was largely a single or dual ser-vice approach—as opposed to being trulyjoint. The system worked well and supportedour military strategy. The supported CINCsdealt directly with the services providing theforces, and joint force integration was accom-plished in the field, often on an ad hoc basis.

The Cold War prescription may now pro-vide more capability than needed in some re-gions. To do the job with a smaller force, wemust explore ways to more tightly lace to-gether the full joint military capability of theUnited States. We must explore and refineways of providing the CINCs with packagesof capabilities more closely tailored to theirrequirements. Once assigned the joint train-ing mission, LANTCOM will be ideally situ-ated to assist CINCs in designing and train-ing the needed joint capabilities packages.

Joint Force PackagingThe second cornerstone of realizing the

force multiplier potential of jointness is devel-oping effective joint force packages. TheChairman and the unified CINCs are alreadyevaluating ways to better organize and trainforces to support CINCs by making it easier tocall forward specific capabilities needed intheir respective areas of responsibility (AORs).One concept envisions rotationally deployedforces from all services organized into adaptivejoint force packages—that is, specific capabili-ties deployed during a given timeframe andsupported by designated back-up units inCONUS. This concept brings together initia-tives from various quarters and involves twoelements: packaging forces and adapting thoseforces to specific theater requirements.

Forging adaptive joint force packagesdoes not require major adjustments to exist-ing service organizations. Each service willremain responsible for individual unit readi-ness and training. The Atlantic Fleet, for ex-ample, has replaced traditional battle groupformations with expanded force packagesmore closely aligning responsibilities for tac-tical training with the operational chain ofcommand. The new organization provides

A T L A N T I C C O M M A N D

(Top) A Coast Guard cutter intercepts agroup of Haitians.(Bottom) Carriers seenunderway during Exer-cise Dragon Hammer’92, (from foreground)Italy’s GuiseppeGaribaldi, France’sFoch, and Spain’sPrincipe de Asturias.

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greater flexibility and adaptability, permit-ting battle groups, amphibious ready groups,or other needed force packages to be config-ured from a broad range of maritime capabil-ities. The Pacific Fleet has been reorganizedalong similar lines. In 1991 General MerrillMcPeak, Air Force Chief of Staff, reorganizedthe basic structure of the air wing. New AirForce composite wings are comprised of therange of assets needed to provide a completecapability package. These new organizationsprovide more options to the unified CINCsand make it easier to select needed capabili-ties from each service force package kit. Sin-gle service force packages can be adapted byselecting capabilities to meet specific theaterrequirements. We are just beginning to ex-plore ways of doing this.

Maritime forces provide a useful exam-ple of how force packages can be adapted tospecific theater requirements. Formerly, tocounter the global Soviet threat, carrier bat-tle groups (CVBGs) comprised a fairly stan-dard menu of assets and capabilities. Newnaval force packages facilitate breaking ColdWar deployment patterns by making it easierto structure and train capability-specificpackages. In today’s fast-changing world anaval force may not need the same capabili-ties in one region or situation as in another.One CINC may desire to augment the offen-sive firepower of an aircraft carrier by vary-ing the mix of strike aircraft in the embarkednaval air wing. Another CINC may chooseto modify the capabilities of the carrier byreducing the number of naval aircraft andinstead embarking Special Operations Forces(SOF) or a special purpose Marine force withcapabilities tailored to specific theater re-quirements. Circumstances in a third regionmay be such that requirements can be metwith a tailored Marine Amphibious ReadyGroup (MARG) supported by Tomahawkcruise missile-firing ships and submarines. Ineach case the capabilities are tailored tomeet CINC requirements. Army and AirForce capabilities may be similarly tailored.

From the vantage point of the supportedCINCs, the ready forces of all services repre-sent the full set of available capabilities. Tomeet CINC requirements for forward posi-


tioned forces with a smaller force, the partic-ular full joint force package must be trainedjointly and structured to support a givenCINC’s specific requirements. Training mustfocus on specific contingencies and opera-tions that the joint force may be called uponto execute. As seen in the accompanying il-lustration, tailored elements of the full set ofjoint forces—adaptive joint force packages—can then be positioned forward as needed.As the concept matures, supported CINCswill be able to write a more accurate pre-scription—based on the situation in theAOR—and call forward only the precise ca-pabilities needed. Since the full joint forcewill have trained together, an adaptive jointforce package—once deployed—becomes theforward element of a trained and ready jointforce available in CONUS.

In examining the adaptive joint forcepackage concept, Navy and Marine Corpscomponent commanders of LANTCOMjointly developed concepts for a carrier-based Special Purpose Marine Air-GroundTask Force (SPMAGTF). This special taskforce would provide the supported CINCwith specified, focused capabilities—such asnoncombatant evacuation, security opera-tions, or tactical recovery of aircraft and per-sonnel. Other maritime force package op-tions, including tailored carrier air wingsand MARGs with a more capable Air CombatElement (ACE), are also being examined.Recognizing the largely maritime flavor ofthese efforts, LANTCOM has been workingwith Army, Air Force, and SOF components,as well as the Coast Guard, to explore contri-butions that those forces could make to de-ployable joint capabilities packages.

Tailored joint capability packages, struc-tured and trained for a variety of require-ments, will soon prove their value in EUCOM.Joint Force 93–2, for example, represents anadaptive joint force package which blends ser-vice capabilities by combining a typical 11-ship carrier battle group, 5-ship Marine am-phibious ready group, Special OperationsForces, land-based Air Force and naval aircraft,and advanced Army helicopters. Working

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with LANTCOM to develop, integrate, andjointly train such force packages will help thesupported CINCs meet the requirements forcontinuous and periodic presence. By usingthe full potential of a joint force and calibrat-ing forward-positioned capabilities to theneeds of CINCs, we can maintain a forwardpresence without overcommitting our forces.

The end of the Cold War enables LANT-COM to focus increased attention on tailor-ing joint exercises and training to support

other CINCs. Assigning LANTCOM the jointtraining mission for CONUS-based forceswill institutionalize this critical role. Orient-ing joint force training toward the supportedCINCs’ requirements and training deployingforces alongside designated back-up unitswill ensure additional forces can be sent for-ward. Surge forces would arrive in theater or-ganized, trained, and ready for large scalejoint operations.

To efficiently tailor joint training to therequirements of the supported CINCs, weneed an effective, widely understood means


Adaptive Joint Force Package Concept

Full Joint Force Package

Tailored Forward Element

Ready Response toCINC Requirements

Special Operations Forces

Air Force Squadron(s)

Army Deployment for Training

Marine Expeditionary Unit

Naval Task Group

Naval Battle Group

Army Division

Air Force Wing(s)

Marine Expeditionary Brigade(s)

Special Operations Forces

Joint Command Element

JTF Command Element


to communicate re-quirements. The JointStaff and the CINCsare developing a uni-versal joint task listwhich will make iteasier for supportedCINCs to state theirtraining requirementsin common terminol-ogy, prioritize neededtraining, and aidLANTCOM in struc-turing exercises tomeet those needs.

Joint DoctrineThe third cornerstone in realizing the

full joint force multiplier potential is ensur-ing the readiness of JTF commanders andstaffs to plan and execute contingency oper-ations. Each geographic CINC is developinga JTF training concept, but individual the-ater approaches are not yet grounded in acommon set of JTF staff tasks, conditions,and proficiency standards. Once the univer-sal joint task list is finalized, LANTCOM willbe able to train deployable JTF and compo-nent commanders in joint doctrine, tactics,techniques, and procedures tailored to thesupported CINC’s requirements from amenu of common standards that are appli-cable worldwide.

Four principles have guided develop-ment of the implementation plan for thenew joint training mission:

▼ Finding ways to add value without add-ing cost

▼ Avoiding creating additional bureaucraticlayers

▼ Resisting the pressure to increase the sizeof the LANTCOM staff

▼ Making good use of what already exists

These principles will help achieve thefull value of the proposed changes to theUnified Command Plan. One example is thepotential payoff to be derived from coordi-nating exercise schedules. Aligning individ-

ual service schedules will make training moreefficient, relevant, and interesting. Consider-able improvement can be achieved whilestaying within programmed budgets andforce structure. Existing service exercises canbe overlaid by jointtraining withoutincreased cost. Ser-vice exercises canbe synchronizedfor mutual benefit,and sequenced toyield efficiencies int r anspor t a t ion ,range utilization,and support.

Another areawith important po-tential payoff is theevaluation andtesting of joint tactics, techniques, and pro-cedures to refine joint doctrine. Being locatedin close geographic proximity to the JointDoctrine Center, the Army Training and Doc-trine Command, and the newly createdNaval and Air Force doctrine commands, aswell as Army and SOF tactical training cen-ters at Fort Bragg, LANTCOM is squarely atthe hub of a number of activities. Assigningthe expanded joint training mission toLANTCOM will facilitate evaluating, testing,and sequencing the development of jointdoctrine.

The hub-and-spoke analogy also appliesto other joint training activities. LANTCOMis working in cooperation with existing com-ponent commands to establish joint tacticaltraining and development teams. Each teamfocuses on specific joint tactical missionareas such as joint air operations and jointair defense. The teams will assist in design-ing and evaluating realistic, relevant jointexercises and training. They will also de-velop joint tactical standards and assist intraining joint staff elements. The teams pro-vide focal points for developing joint tactics,techniques, and procedures, and cadres ofjoint tactical experts on the CINC and com-ponent staffs. Joint tactical training develop-ment teams could also provide a vehicle fordrawing on the expertise, and integrating

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service exercises can be synchro-nized for mutualbenefit, and sequenced toyield efficienciesin transportation,range utilization,and support

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the efforts, of various service tactical school-houses and centers of excellence in an effort toenhance joint training without infringingon service priorities.

Another useful hub-and-spoke arrange-ment could be created by establishing an ap-propriate joint agency to provide a range of

technical support ser-vices to the exerciseprograms of both theCINCs and the ser-vices. This agencycould provide turn-key support in tech-nologies and servicescommon to such ef-forts. One example isproviding the dis-tributed simulationtechnology neededto link existing train-ing ranges, commandposts, and simulatorsto an effective jointtraining network.While the serviceswould continue tooperate and use exist-ing facilities, traininghorizons would beexpanded by sharingdata and capabilities

among users via a distributed simulationnetwork.

The skills and experience required forsuch complex technologies are not plentiful.Building exercise support organizations sepa-rately for the CINCs, their components, andservice staffs is inefficient and prohibitivelyexpensive. One option under considerationwould merge the Joint Doctrine Center(JDC) in Norfolk, Virginia, and the JointWarfare Center (JWC) at Hurlburt Field,Florida, into a single command located nearLANTCOM headquarters. This new JDC/JWCagency would be controlled by the JointStaff and support simulation-based studies.By working in partnership with theJDC/JWC the pressure to expand the LANT-

COM staff would be minimized and poten-tial redundancies would be limited, particu-larly in the areas of joint publications, dis-tributed simulation, and exercise support.

The Atlantic Command currently hasseveral JTF commanders. One of them, JTF-4, is the executive agent in the counterdrugcampaign. Others are established for train-ing and contingency response. Each servicecomponent has potential training/contin-gency JTF commander, namely, the Com-manding Generals of the three CONUS-based active Army Corps; CommanderSecond Fleet; Commander 12 th Air Force(soon to be Commander 8 th Air Force); andCommanding General, Second Marine Expe-ditionary Force. The permanently assignedstaffs of JTF commanders are oriented pri-marily toward service functions and respon-sibilities. Each JTF commander is routinelygiven important responsibilities in joint ex-ercises, and augmented by personnel fromCINCLANT and other components as neces-sary. Joint training and readiness could bemeasurably enhanced by permanently as-signing sufficient personnel from each ser-vice to make the JTF staffs truly joint, butwithout diluting the ability to carry out ser-vice responsibilities or compromising pri-mary areas of expertise. This could be ac-complished by exchanging a modestnumber of permanent billets between exist-ing organizations, though the need for someadditional billets cannot be ruled out with-out further analysis.

One key to adding value without addingcost or additional bureaucratic layers issteadfastly controlling growth of the LANT-COM staff if it assumes new responsibilities.Ideally, the goal is zero growth. To accom-plish the mission without additional person-nel, LANTCOM would rely on service com-ponents—namely, FORSCOM, ACC,LANTFLT, and MARFORLANT—to performtheir current functions. LANTCOM is notable to take over responsibilities or do thework of the component commands. Rather,it will provide a common vision and effi-ciently coordinate mutual efforts. The com-ponent commanders themselves would serveas an executive board, helping to develop


Members of the 82d

Airborne secure abuilding during an ex-ercise in the Gulf.

Marines hit the beachin Manta, Ecuador,during a combined exercise.

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and instill in LANTCOM the customer orien-tation needed for success.

Earlier organizations have had aCONUS-based joint training mission, such asU.S. Strike Command, established in 1961and replaced by U.S. Readiness Command in1971. Because they were perceived to con-flict with service Title X responsibilities (thatis, to organize, train, and equip forces), nei-ther command succeeded in its mission.LANTCOM would succeed only by comple-menting, rather than competing with, ser-vice programs. Success would be measuredby just how well LANTCOM satisfies cus-

tomer demand by providing trained andready joint force packages to meet a sup-ported CINC’s particular needs for periodicpresence forces, forward positioned forces,and surge forces in times of crisis or conflict.

The Goal of UnificationGlobal security and economic reality

call for a restructuring of our defenses. Thisinvolves refining the capabilities and roles ofthe Armed Forces to advance the Nation’s se-curity interests in the future. The definitionof those interests is growing. To do the jobwe must change and adapt. We must findnew ways to bring our full capabilities tobear on emerging security challenges.

We still need a capable military to de-fend our national interests. But, at the sametime, the Armed Forces can be smaller andless costly. Meeting future challenges with asmaller, less costly force, however, will de-pend both on continued technical and C4Isuperiority, and on realizing the full force-multiplier potential of jointness.

The fourth and final cornerstone in real-izing that potential is assigning a single com-mander the mission of training designatedCONUS-based forces to fight as a joint team.Giving that mission to LANTCOM, as recom-mended by the Chairman, would be the nextlogical step in the evolutionary process ofunification which began in 1947. By wiselyusing the tremendous capability at hand, wecan add value without increasing cost or thesize of the bureaucracy. And, by so doing, wecan ensure effective joint leadership andcombat capability on tomorrow’s multidi-mensional battlefields. JFQ

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(Top) Air Force A–10Warthog. (Bottom) Navy A–7Corsairs.

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IN THE ANNALS OF WAR few willdeny Operation Desert Storm’suniqueness. It followed an uninter-rupted U.S. force buildup on the Ara-bian peninsula that lasted five and a

half months. The air resources of all servicesarrived quickly, and most occupied a preex-isting base structure in theater that ensuredland-based airpower would play the predom-inant role. The battlefield called Iraq andKuwait was isolated before a bomb wasdropped or a missile fired. Unlike Korea andVietnam, the enemy had few places to hide.Communication and logistics lines were visi-ble and readily targetable. Most important,the United States held the initiative; itwould decide when, how, and where combatoperations would begin and how the cam-paign would unfold. The officers in com-mand were given wide latitude by politicalauthorities over the conduct of the cam-paign—what targets to attack, when to hitthem, and what weapons to use. In short, ifthe Commander in Chief, U.S. Central Com-mand (CINCCENT), and his airmen couldhave started from scratch and defined cir-cumstances ideally suited to the applicationof land-based airpower, they would have cre-ated a situation much like Iraq’s with itsarmy exposed to air attack in Kuwait.

Excerpted from Joint Air Operations: Pursuit of Unity in Command and Control, 1942–1991 by James A. Winnefeld and Dana J. Johnson. Copyright © 1993 by theRand Corporation. Published by the Naval Institute Press in May 1993 [ISBN 55750 926 3].

Unity of Control: Joint Air Operations in the GulfBy J A M E S A . W I N N E F E L D and

D A N A J . J O H N S O N

Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm demonstrated the effectiveness of modern airpower and joint air oper-ations. The nature of those operations, and the extensive resources at the disposal of both U.S. and coalitionforces, however, masked problems in command and control. Unresolved doctrinal issues and some residualcontroversy over roles and missions did not surface because of the abundant air assets in the theater. Accord-ingly, decisions about allocating resources never became contentious. The adage that one learns more fromfailure than from success should be applied to the Gulf War. There is still the danger that jointness may be afaçade for single-service command structures and procedures, or that its influence may stop with the CINC. A cadre joint air staff that can be rapidly expanded in a contingency is one lesson of Desert Storm, an opera-tion in which there was unity of control, but not command.

Summary


But it is unfair at best to say that theUnited States should put the experience ofDesert Storm aside because it was atypical. Inspite of the many unique features of DesertStorm, several characteristics of the campaignare likely to be common to major contingen-cies in the future. First, the effective and effi-cient application of military force requires“empowerment” of the unified chain of com-mand—to includejoint commanderswho are subordinateto the commanderof the unified com-mand. The author-ity delegated to theJoint Forces AirComponent Com-mander (JFACC)made it possible tointegrate the air ef-fort. Second, the ef-fectiveness demon-strated by joint air operations in Desert Stormwill become even more important as totalU.S. air resources diminish. Third, DesertStorm made it clear that airpower has devel-oped vital new dimensions since Vietnam:stealthy strike aircraft, large-scale use of preci-sion-guided munitions (PGM) including long-range cruise missiles, and comprehensive bat-tlefield surveillance systems are but a few.Fourth, the air forces of the three services canbe coordinated in the conduct of joint opera-tions—if there is clearly a lead service and ifeach service component is demonstrably de-pendent on the others to provide capabilitiesit cannot supply, quantitatively or qualita-tively. Finally, there is a place for air opera-tions, separate from the land and naval opera-tions, in theater contingency planning. Thisis not to argue that air operations are all thatwill be needed in most cases. But an air-onlyoperation is an option—either as a precursoror as a stand-alone element of theater strat-egy. Because that option exists, air operationsconcepts must be integrated fully in theirplanning.

It is against this backdrop of unique fea-tures and broad lessons that we need to ex-amine the air operations of Desert Storm

and the way they were planned, organized,controlled, and executed. It was nearly atextbook application of U.S. Air Force doc-trine, with the other services playing impor-tant supporting but not starring roles. TheAir Force deserves great credit for bringing tothe conflict a paradigm for command andstrategy that was suited to the circum-stances, while at the same time coordinatingwith the other services to achieve unity ofeffort and unity of control. For the first timesince World War II all the engaged fixed-wing tactical air forces of the various serviceswere under the tactical control of a single aircommander.

Doctrine and OrganizationBetween the Vietnam War and Opera-

tion Desert Shield several developments fos-tered interest in joint command and controlissues. The most important was the Goldwa-ter-Nichols Department of Defense Reorgani-zation Act of 1986. This piece of legislationgave the commanders in chief (CINCs) ofunified commands and the Chairman, JointChiefs of Staff, major new responsibilities inresource allocation as well as national secu-rity planning and operations. Such empow-erment came at the expense of the services,whose role was carefully limited to supportof the unified combatant commands—to or-ganize, train, and equip forces, but not toemploy them. While these changes went farbeyond joint air operations, their effect wasmost keenly felt in that sphere because it iswhere interaction among service roles andmissions was the most sensitive.

Along with the subtle but importantchanges in mindset put into motion byGoldwater-Nichols, there was significantmovement in the joint doctrinal realm.Three successive Chairmen pushed the for-mation of joint doctrine, culminating in theestablishment of an Operational Plans andInteroperability Directorate (J–7) chargedwith developing the doctrinal underpinningto support truly joint operations, especiallyjoint air operations.

But even beyond these factors, the ser-vices were gradually learning to operate to-gether and to accept subordinate roles. TheGrenada and Panama interventions as wellas joint exercises—though not always in-volving joint air operations as definedhere—built up a degree of familiarity that

W i n n e f e l d a n d J o h n s o n

Rear Admiral James A. Winnefeld, USN (Ret.), is a veteran naval aviatorand Dana J. Johnson is a policy analyst with the Rand Corporation. Theyare now collaborating on a book about airpower during the Gulf War.

if CENTCOMcould have de-fined circum-stances ideallysuited to land-based airpower,they would have createdIraq’s army

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CENTAF/JFACC Operations and Planning Organization

Source: USCENTAF Combat Plans Handout, December 31, 1990.

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had been absent in Korea and Vietnam. In-novative commanders reached out to de-velop joint plans to exploit the aggregate ca-pabilities of all the services. For instance, thelate 1980s saw greatly increased coordina-tion between commanders of the 7th Fleetand the 5th Air Force in Japan in developingjoint contingency plans for Northeast Asia.Previously, each service had formulated itsown contingency plan for striking theatertargets.

In spite of this progress, problems re-mained. Notwithstanding the 1986 OmnibusAgreement setting out guidelines for tacticalcontrol of Marine air forces, the Marine Corpsresisted the idea that there could be circum-stances in which its air assets would not betied to the Marine Air-Ground Task Force(MAGTF) role. The Navy for its part saw itselfas a full-service contingency force. Further-more, the Air Force demand for unity of com-mand to wage an air campaign (with muchless emphasis on land and maritime cam-paigns) received a sour reception from theother services. The Air Force had continuingdisagreements not only with the Navy andMarine Corps but with the Army over provid-ing battlefield support to ground forces.

Both the remaining difficulties and theprogress are easily overstated. The point isthat the Department of Defense embarkedupon Operations Desert Shield/Desert Stormwith some major advantages compared tothe situation that existed at the end of theVietnam War. But some unresolved problemswere masked by ambiguous compromises(for example, the Omnibus Agreement), sim-plistic solutions (some of the effects of Gold-water-Nichols), and an abundance of air as-sets (the product of the Reagan defensebuildup) that allowed commanders to dodgedifficult command and control issues. DesertStorm was to put both the progress that hadbeen made and the problems that remainedto a new test.

Initial PlanningSome observe that planning for Desert

Shield started in August 1990. But for yearsthe staffs of CINCCENT and his Commanderof Air Forces (COMUSCENTAF) had been de-veloping and honing plans for a massivemovement of airpower to the Gulf region.While the prospective opponent and circum-stances of combat shifted from time to time,

J O I N T A I R O P E R A T I O N S

”Black Hole“

Campaign Planning

Special Assistant

Analysis

TEMPLAR

CAFMSCAS/AI

AETACS

Ground TACS

COMMS

Airspace

Ground BattleArtillery

BreechingLOCs

MIL SPT

IADSAFLDS/AC

SAMSAAA

EW/GCI

NBCSCUDS

Executive Officer

FRAGOS

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Air Tasking Order(ATO)

Airborne Command Element(ACE)

Component Liaison(LNO)

Guidance-Apportionment Targeting(GAT)

Iraqiplanning

KTOplanning FRAG SupportTACS NAVLO

MARLO

Italian AF

French AF

Royal AFTeam #1

Team #2

Team #3

Team #4

BCE

SOCLOCanadian AF


a continuing feature of the plans was the keyrole of theater airpower. A major uncertaintywas the availability of bases in theater,which was quickly resolved by mid-August.Long-standing deployment plans, revised tofit the size of the forces committed and thebases available, were executed.

Less attention had been given to forceemployment plans for committed air forcesbecause so much depended on the nature ofU.S. involvement: would it be defendingagainst an invasion of Saudi Arabia, or goingon the offensive against an aggressor? Be-cause Lieutenant General Charles A. Horner,USAF, Commanding General of the 9th AirForce and COMUSCENTAF, was in the midstof deploying forward to Saudi Arabia withadditional responsibilities as CINCCENT(Forward), and because an early air offensiveoption was needed, CINCCENT, General H.Norman Schwarzkopf, USA, asked the ViceChief of Staff of the Air Force to develop anoutline air option.

The plan, known as “Instant Thunder,”was delivered to Schwarzkopf on August 10,1990 and tentatively approved as a planningoption by him and later by the Chairman,General Colin L. Powell, USA. At the Chair-man’s direction, planning for the air cam-paign was made a joint effort at that time,and representatives of the other services andthe Joint Staff were included.

The thought process behind “InstantThunder” called for development of a con-cept for the air campaign as well as some de-tails that could be part of an operationsorder. It was rough, but it was intended to

give the National Command Authorities anair option. It proposed an air offensive, notair defense or support of ground forces. Inmid-August this outline plan was taken toRiyadh, and Lieutenant General Horner wasbriefed. At that point air operations planningshifted to Riyadh; thereafter the Joint Staffand the services played only a supportingrole. The focal point of follow-on planningwas the development of an Air Tasking Order(ATO) that covered the first 48 to 72 hours ofair operations against Iraq and, to a lesser de-gree, Iraqi targets in occupied Kuwait.

Historically, the air tasking order is themeans by which Air Force commanderstranslate campaign and attack plans intobattle orders. It specifies which air forces willbe used against which targets, at what time,and under what coordination and deconflic-tion modalities. The ATOs for OperationsDesert Shield/Desert Storm were continuousand required time-consuming, meticulousstaff effort to ensure that forces launchedfrom different bases at different times (oftenflying through the same airspace) performedtheir missions and sup-ported one another. Be-fore Desert Shield the AirForce alone used such adocument and its associ-ated software for theater-wide operations. Theother services, more ac-customed to smaller op-erations and face-to-facecoordination from a sin-gle base, used less de-tailed battle order docu-ments or fragmentaryorders. In Desert Storm the ATO becamejoint and was the master document shapingthe air war.

Developing the attack plans and theATO for the first days of the air war was animmense undertaking because of the chang-ing priorities, target lists, and availability ofair assets. The effort was directed by theJFACC and carried out by the Guidance-Apportionment-Targeting (GAT) cell on theJFACC staff. The Iraqi targeting part of theGAT was referred to as the “Black Hole” be-cause access to it was so limited. Whilemanned mainly by Air Force officers, liaisonofficers from the other services also were


DOD leadership duringthe Gulf War: (frontrow, from left) GENColin L. Powell, USA,Chairman, Joint Chiefsof Staff; Hon. RichardB. Cheney, Secretaryof Defense; GEN H.Norman Schwarzkopf,USA, Commander inChief, U.S. CentralCommand (CINCCENT);LTG Calvin A.H. Waller,USA, Deputy CINC-CENT; (back row fromleft) LtGen Walter E.Boomer, USMC, COM-USMARCENT; Lt GenCharles A. Horner,USAF, Commander, 9th

Air Force/COMUS-CENTAF; LTG John J.Yeosock, USA, Com-mander, 3d Army/ COMUSARCENT; VADMStanley R. Arthur, USN,Commander, 7th Fleet/COMUSNAVCENT.

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in DesertStorm, the AirTasking Order(ATO) becamejoint and wasthe masterdocumentshaping theair war


part of the planning effortfrom the very beginning.

Developing the plan forthe initial phase of air opera-tions consumed most JFACCplanning time through the au-tumn and early winter. Mean-time, in the real world ofDesert Shield, daily ATOs gov-erned overland air defense,

surveillance, and quick-reaction alert opera-tions in the theater. These too were JFACCproducts, developed largely by Air Force offi-cers and supplemented by officers from theother services and coalition air forces.

Command ArrangementsThe command arrangements for Opera-

tions Desert Shield/Desert Storm were simplecompared to the convoluted command struc-ture in Vietnam. The chain of commandwent from the National Command Authori-ties in Washington through the Chairman toCINCCENT. Under CINCCENT was a mix ofservice component commanders, a func-tional component commander (JFACC), andassorted other support commands. The airfunctional commander (COMUSCENTAFwearing his JFACC hat) was General Horner,who was responsible for “planning, coordi-nation, allocation, and tasking based on thejoint force commander’s apportionment de-cision.” 1 Thus, ATOs approved by the JFACCguided the actions of the relevant servicecomponent commanders. This was a mani-festation of tactical control of sorties (but notservice components), an authority muchmore encompassing and rigorous than the“coordination control” that defined interser-vice relationships during the Korean War and

the “mission direction” supposedly operativein Vietnam.

The wording of the 1986 OmnibusAgreement gave the Marines an opening tobypass this arrangement, but the commandrelationships were now clearer and morebinding. The room for exceptions had beennarrowed, and there were fewer incentives toexploit those exceptions. The Navy playedby the new rules, in part because it was de-pendent on Air Force tanker and AirborneWarning and Control System (AWACS) sup-port and in part because it had to workthrough the system to hit targets it consid-ered important.

JFACC and ATO: Engines of JointnessBy centralizing planning and decision-

making the JFACC forced a greater degree ofcoordination of joint air operations than waspossible under the more laissez-faire com-mand environment of Korea and Vietnam. Ifa service component wanted tanker supportor air defense suppression, if it wanted toavoid having its aircraft endangered byfriendly fire, if it wanted certain targets hit,and if it wanted to be a player in the air at-tack plan, then it had to participate in thefunctions of JFACC headquarters as well as flythe air attack plan as set out incrementally inthe daily ATOs. As coordinating practices de-veloped, the services oriented their efforts to-ward shaping the ATO and negotiating excep-tions to this coverage. They could do thatonly by participating in the JFACC planningand order-writing process in Riyadh.

The ATO became a “bible”—transmittedelectronically to Air Force and Marine Corpsheadquarters and delivered by naval aircraftto carriers at sea. This is not to say that servicespecial interests did not attempt to workaround the JFACC and ATO; but such at-tempts became an exception, and the gamewas played by tacitly approved rules.2 TheJFACC and ATO were flexible in many dimen-sions, and the special needs of specific opera-tors were for the most part accommodated.

But in one important respect the ATOwas not flexible: it took 48 hours to build anair tasking order for any given flying day.While one day’s ATO was being executed an-other two were in preparation, and two orthree more were being sketched out concep-tually in the strike planning cell. Changes


Command and Control in Operation Desert Storm

Source: Interviews with participants.

Operational controlTactical control of sorties

COMUSCENTAF COMUSMARCENT COMUSARCENTCOMUSNAVCENT

CINCCENT

Joint Force Air ComponentCommander

(JFACC)

National Command Authorities

Joint Chiefs of Staff

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Lieutenant GeneralCharles A. Horner,USAF, USCENTAF Com-mander, at an airbasein the United ArabEmirates.


could be made in execution, but it was awk-ward and occasionally risky if communica-tions problems or other mishaps occurred.The ATO was particularly suited for useagainst a hunkered-down enemy who hadlost initiative. But in a rapidly changing situ-ation, or when there were delays in bombdamage assessment, execution problems

could and did occur. TheATO meshed well with theAir Force command para-digm of centralized control—but not with Navy and Marine practices of decen-tralized control and missionvice tasking orders.

An ATO covering an en-tire theater of operations was

large and unwieldy. In containing all theneeded information for all operators, it nec-essarily provided a great deal of extraneousinformation for any particular operator. Fastaccess and an ability to manipulate ATOdata into more usable formats required spe-cial software and systems support that theNavy and Marines lacked. The Air Force hada cumbersome but useful Computer-AssistedForce Management System (CAFMS) thatcould easily pick out data from the ATO anddisplay it to fit the needs of different eche-lons. Moreover, it provided an interactive ca-pability that Air Force users found helpful.

The Air ForceDesert Storm vindicated the Air Force

doctrine of unity of theater air coordinationand control and, up to a point, its strategicconcept of air operations separate fromground operations. Circumstances of geogra-

phy, base infrastructure, and the type ofenemy worked to the Air Force advantage,allowing use of its state-of-the-art weaponsagainst an ideal opponent in a nearly idealscenario. One need not dwell on the uniquenature of the Gulf War to observe that theAir Force was well prepared in its strategicconcept, doctrine, and hardware. The AirForce command and control system becamethe theater command and control system,and other services had to adjust to match it.A single air commander was designated; thatposition was filled by an Air Force officerwho was in close proximity to the CINC.Moreover, there was little evidence that theCINC became involved in JFACC decisionsother than those related to apportionment.However, as the ground campaign ap-proached, the CINC did insist on establish-ing a Joint Targeting Board to ensure thatthe needs of all service components weremore fully addressed.

JFACC was at its core an Air Force Staff.It was joint (or “purple suited”) only to theextent that liaison officers from other ser-vices and the coalition air forces were tem-porarily assigned to it. The old USCENTAF(9th Air Force) staff was expanded with per-sonnel from commands all over the AirForce. Where joint doctrine was lacking, AirForce doctrine and organizational practiceswere used by default if not preference.

The Air Force was equally well sup-ported in hardware and weapons. It had virtually the only stealth, theater air-to-airrefueling, state-of-the-art battlefield airsurveillance, and deep penetrator bomb ca-pabilities in theater. It also had adequatefighter aircraft. But it did not have enoughtankers to support both itself and the otherservices, or enough Suppression of EnemyAir Defenses (SEAD), reconnaissance, andPGM designator and delivery aircraft.

The NavyBefore Iraq invaded Kuwait in August

1990, both Navy and Marine Corps forceswere considered ideally suited to missions inthe Persian/Arabian Gulf region because ofthe problematic status of base access. More-over, a carrier battle group was rarely far fromthe Gulf, four to six surface escorts were usu-ally in the region or in adjacent waters, and


CENTAF Command Relationships

Source: U.S. Department of Defense, “Conduct of the Persian Gulf Conflict: Final Report to the Congress” (Washington: Government Printing Office, April 1992), p. K–12.

JFACC

14thAir Division (P)

(Fighter Aircraft)

15thAir Division (P)

(EW and C2 Aircraft)

17thAir Division (P)(SAC Aircraft)

1610thAir Lift Division (P)

(MAC Aircraft)

CENTAF

where joint doctrine was lacking, Air Forcedoctrine and organiza-tional practices wereused by default if notpreference

U.S. Navy Command Arrangements for Operation Desert Storm

Source: U.S. Department of Defense, “Conduct of the Persian Gulf Conflict: Final Report to the Congress” (Washington: Government Printing Office, April 1992), p. K–15.

ashore deputy COMUSNAVCENT, who re-mained afloat). It was this officer and notthe commander at sea who coordinateddaily with the CINCCENT staff and theJFACC. During initial operations the coordi-nation of naval air operations with theaterair operations flowed from the JFACCthrough the Navy Staff in Riyadh to thecommander afloat and then to the Red Seaand Arabian Gulf battle force commanders,the individual battle groups, and finally thecarrier air wing commanders. This arrange-ment was too unwieldy for timely coordina-tion, so a streamlined chain evolved inwhich the Navy staff in Riyadh worked di-rectly with the commanders afloat, oftenwith the strike cells on individual carriers. Ineffect, the commander at Riyadh and his of-ficers at JFACC became COMUSNAVCENT’sstrike coordinators.

Consideration was given to moving thecommander afloat to Riyadh so he could dis-charge his responsibilities as naval compo-nent commander more effectively and meetdaily with the CINC and other componentcommanders. But powerful institutionalvoices within the Navy argued that opera-tional command of the fleet must be exer-cised by an afloat commander, and thatthose responsibilities were more importantthan daily contact with the CINC and theother component commanders, includingthe JFACC. There was only one Navy flag of-ficer in Riyadh aside from the one attachedto the staff of CINCCENT, while there wereas many as ten afloat. COMUSNAVCENT,Riyadh, was the junior battle group com-mander and (except from August to Novem-ber 1990) a surface warfare officer.

The Navy experienced a series of opera-tional deficiencies during Desert Storm.Some were the result of policy and programdecisions made outside the Navy, but othersstemmed from service priorities and implicitdoctrine:

▼ Initial reluctance to deploy carrier battlegroups in the narrow and shallow Arabian Gulf.The result was delay and difficulty in integratingthe Gulf carriers with JFACC-controlled operations.

▼ Heavy reliance on Air Force tankers forstrikes because the carriers were initially far frommost targets. This denied the Navy the indepen-dent role it had grown accustomed to and be-came a basis for conflict with the JFACC whentheater tanker assets were in short supply.


there was equipment for a full Marine expe-ditionary brigade aboard a maritime preposi-tioning squadron moored at Diego Garcia.

Naval plans were oriented around twogeneral scenarios: defense of shipping andmaintenance of access to the Gulf (such asin Operation Earnest Will, the escort of re-flagged Kuwaiti tankers in 1987), and sup-port of a less likely air-land campaign. In thelate 1970s and early 1980s, the United Statesfeared an incursion by Soviet or Soviet clientforces; in the late 1980s the principal threatbecame Iran’s (and later Iraq’s) potential forcausing trouble locally. In the larger conflictscenarios the Navy and Marine Corps mightarrive first, but regional geography and thesize of the requisite U.S. force argued for aprimary Army-Air Force role.

In August 1990 the larger scenario oc-curred; bases were made available, and amassive, across-the-board U.S. militarybuildup began. The Navy’s short-durationcontingency operations paradigm could notprepare it for a new role as part of a large air-ground campaign. As the buildup continuedsuccessive battle groups arrived and foundthemselves plugged into a planning andtasking system and a command structure inwhich they had little experience—but somedegree of suspicion. The connection to theJFACC and ATO system was not a perfect fit.There were setbacks as the Navy’s new roleas a team player, not team captain, evolvedand was gradually accepted.

The key officer was the COMUSNAV-CENT representative in Riyadh (in effect the


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COMUSCENTAF

JFACC

Command lineTactical control of sortiesCINCCENT

COMUSNAVCENTOther

Components

NAVCENT(RIYADH)

Arabian Gulf BattleForce Commander

Red Sea BattleForce Commander

Other NavalForces

4 Carrier Battle Groups 2 Carrier Battle Groups

▼ Inadequate target identification systemson Navy fighters. In the dense air traffic environ-ment of Desert Storm, the rules of engagementwere designed to require dual phenomenologicalidentification of air contacts before engaging. AirForce fighters designed for the similarly restrictiveenvironment of Central Europe had the necessaryequipment; Navy fighters designed and equippedfor the less crowded outer air battle in defense ofthe fleet did not and could not be used in somecritical Combat Air Patrol (CAP) stations.

▼ A bottom-up strike planning system moreattuned to short-term contingency operationsthan to massive, continuous strike operations.Fragmented Navy strike planning worked in sin-gle carrier operations and deliberately plannedstrikes, but in Desert Storm it caused initial diffi-culty in integrating Navy flight operations withother service and coalition forces.3

▼ A shortage (shared with the other services)of laser designator platforms and laser-guidedbombs. The only designator platform was the ven-erable A–6. Many other aircraft could drop laser-guided bombs, but few could guide them.4 More-over, the Navy lacked the equivalent of the AirForce’s deep penetrator bomb (the laser-guided


I–2000). For this reason, Navy aircraft were notsuitable for some important strike missions.

Balanced against these shortcomingswere some Navy advantages:

▼ The land-attack Tomahawk missile wasnot only extremely accurate, but could be used indaylight and bad weather against strongly de-fended targets. The Air Force’s stealth F–117s op-erated at night, but the only way to keep key tar-gets under attack the rest of the time withoutputting aircrews at risk was to use Tomahawk mis-siles. There were no comparable standoff weaponsin JFACC’s arsenal.

▼ The Navy’s high-speed radiation missile(HARM)-shooter team put real teeth into theSEAD mission. For many, Navy F/A–18s, A–6s, andEA–6s with HARM were the preferred SEAD pack-age in theater. Navy (and Marine) resources wereused to make up for Air Force and coalition SEADdeficiencies, thus putting a high premium on pre-strike planning and coordination of tactics.

▼ The Red Sea carriers provided useful strikecapability in spite of the long distance to mosttargets and demonstrated again the comple-mentary nature of land and sea-based air opera-tions under competent joint command and con-trol arrangements.

F/A–18A Hornets, SH–3H Sea Kings, andA–6E Intruders on theflight deck of USSSaratoga in the RedSea during OperationDesert Storm.

An Air Force KC–135tanker refuels Navy A–6 Intruders and A–7Corsair II’s over theRed Sea during Opera-tion Desert Storm.

U.S. Air Force photo by Chris Putman

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Navy KA–6D and A–7Kaircraft from the RedSea Battle Group re-fuel in flight on theirway to engage enemytargets.

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The Marine CorpsThe Marines were early arrivals in Desert

Shield. Advanced elements of the 1st MarineExpeditionary Force and the 7th Marine Ex-peditionary Brigade arrived in Saudi Arabiaon August 14, 1990. Ships from MaritimePrepositioned Squadron Two began unload-ing equipment the next day. But Marine airunits were slow to appear—the first fightersquadrons arrived on August 22—because ofa shortage of Air Force tanker support for thetransit.5 From the start the Marines weretasked with defending the Gulf coast ofSaudi Arabia. Ultimately, their position wastranslated into an offensive posture in-tended to retake the coastal route to KuwaitCity. Marine air bases were quickly estab-lished at Sheikh Isa (Bahrain) and KingAbdul Aziz (near Al Jubyal). Some MarineAV–8B Harriers were kept afloat on amphibi-ous units to fly missions against Iraqi forcesin Kuwait and to provide air support for Ma-rine Corps ground units.

Since Vietnam, Marine fixed-wing tacti-cal air units had been completely reequipped.F/A–18s and AV–8Bs had replaced F–4s andA–4s, and only a few A–6s remained in the in-ventory. Senior Marine aviators still remem-bered Vietnam, including what they per-ceived as an Air Force attempt to gain controlof Marine air at the expense of the MAGTFconcept. As the Marines saw it, they had re-sponsibility for a specified area in the vicinityof their ground forces. Within that area it wasthe commander of the MAGTF, not JFACC,who determined missions and priorities. Sur-plus sorties would be made available toJFACC. The Marines saw themselves as theonly truly combined-arms team, integratedacross air-ground lines and not across servicelines in the air medium. The Air Force, on theother hand, focused on utilization of all tacti-cal air resources in theater and remainedadamant on the need for centralized alloca-tion and tasking authority.

The series of compromises struck be-tween the JFACC and Marine Corps com-manders put their fixed-wing tactical airunder the air tasking order system while theMarines retained control and tasking author-ity over sorties in specified zones near theirground formations. This was the old “routepackage” from Korea and Vietnam in all butname, but it did recognize in principle thetasking authority of the JFACC over all airoperations in theater. One element of the

bargain initially allocated all Marine A–6and half of all F/A–18 sorties to the JFACCfor tasking as he saw fit, while the remainderof the F/A–18 and all the AV–8B sorties re-mained effectively under Marine control.

Sortie Generation Performance in Operation Desert Storm

Number PercentComponent of sorties of total

Sorties flown January 17–March 3, 1991CENTAF 67,285 59MARCENT 10,321 9NAVCENT 18,007 16Allies 18,190 16

Total 113,803Sorties Flown February 23–27, 1991

CENTAF 8,133 54MARCENT 1,854 12NAVCENT 2,769 18Allies 2,327 15

Total 15,083Percent of total flown during ground war: 13%Percent of days of ground war compared to length of

campaign: 11%

Source: U.S. Department of the Navy, Navy Historical Center, Com-mand and Control in the Vietnam War (Washington: Government PrintingOffice, 1991), p. D–2. The Air Force reports a total of 109,876 sorties (all services/nations), compared to 113,803 in the corresponding Navytotal. See U.S. Department of the Air Force, Reaching Globally, Reaching Powerfully: The United States Air Force in the Gulf War (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1991), p. 28.

The fundamental tension in this bargainwas between the competing demands of astrategic air offensive under the JFACC (thatis, Air Force) direction and eventual tacticalair operations focused on support of groundforces (including Marines). From the start ofcombat air operations on January 17 to theoffensive push into Kuwait and Iraq onFebruary 24, the JFACC believed that Marineair had a role beyond preparing the battle-field for Marine ground operations. Marinecommanders agreed but were concerned thatwhen the time came to prepare the battle-field and conduct ground operations, theirair units would be diverted to other tasks. Itwas a quarrel over apportionment and tim-ing. Uneasy compromises were cobbled to-gether, as they had been in Korea and Viet-nam, but the fundamental doctrinal issuewas not resolved.

In the course of events, the Marines didhusband their sortie capabilities during earlyair operations before the start of the groundoffensive, so that adequate air support wouldbe available to Marines on the ground when



needed. The Marines’ sortie rate nearly dou-bled while the ground war was in progress.

The Strategic Air CommandIn prior campaigns the effective use of

strategic bomber assets committed to theateroperations was hampered by awkward com-mand and control arrangements and equip-ment suitability problems. The simple expla-

nation was that in Koreaand Vietnam thosebomber forces were orga-nized, trained, andequipped for a globalstrategic mission cen-tered on nuclear weap-onry. The Air Force did

not want its strategic bombers, which had aglobal role, placed under the command of aregional CINC for a regional mission. Whilebomber forces were made available to a re-gional CINC in sufficiently compelling cir-cumstances, command and control re-mained firmly in the hands of the strategicbomber force commander.

In the early 1980s, however, StrategicAir Command (SAC) attitudes began tochange, and bombers were increasinglymade available to regional commanders forexercises and conventional contingency op-erations. Many explanations have been of-fered for this change. But for whatever rea-son, SAC bombers were included in theplanning for Desert Storm, quickly putunder CINCCENT operational control, andtasked under the centralized ATO.6 SAC liai-son officers were assigned to the JFACC, andtwo generations of command and controlproblems went away nearly overnight.

Allied Air ForcesInsofar as the number of sorties flown

are concerned, allied air forces played nearly

as big a role in the Gulf War as naval airforces. The air forces of the United Kingdom(RAF), France, Italy, Canada, Saudi Arabia,Kuwait, Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates,and Qatar were involved to some degree andwere important politically as an expressionof international resolve.

The allied air forces were under theJFACC and air tasking order system of con-trol. Since they lacked certain C3 and otherimportant combat support capabilities, theywere critically dependent on U.S. in-flightand mission planning aid. Of interest to thisexploration of command and control issuesis the fact that they represented one morelayer of complexity; the JFACC tried to bro-ker various national interests and developATOs that fulfilled both his responsibilitiesand those external requirements.

Air OperationsU.S. and coalition air operations were

the most massive and intensive since WorldWar II. Sorties were flown from nearly threedozen airfields, six aircraft carriers, and sev-eral amphibious force ships. Major artilleryand missile barrages were launched fromacross the battlefield and warships at sea.The most intricate aspects of coordination ofoperations were:

▼ Deconflicting forces using the same air-space or hitting the same targets while protectingthem from friendly fire and preventing misidenti-fication of friend and foe.

▼ Maintaining airpower flexibility and en-suring efficiency and effectiveness in the absenceof timely bomb damage assessment.

▼ Allocating tanker support for thousandsof tactical fighter sorties each day.

▼ Providing SEAD support to strike aircraftfrom a variety of air forces and operated by per-sonnel from dissimilar operational and doctrinalbackgrounds.

These challenges were all met success-fully, though not without great difficulty andthe occasional mistake. The careful planningfacilitated by the long buildup and central-ized control provided the basis of this suc-cess. The “short poles” in the operations tentwere tankers and SEAD aircraft, not tacticalfighter aircraft. These shortages preventedservice components and coalition partnersfrom opting out of some command and con-trol problems; full participation in effectiveair operations required coordination.


B–52 bomber taxis fortakeoff.

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U.S. and coalition air operations were the mostmassive and intensive sinceWorld War II


Once Desert Storm began, the major dif-ficulties in planning and operations con-cerned locating and destroying Iraqi Scudmissiles, allocating tankers, and making de-cisions about time and level of effort in thetransition from strategic air operations topreparation of the battlefield in the Kuwaiti

theater. The Scuds may not haveposed a significant militarythreat, but their political implica-tions forced the diversion of siz-able amounts of the air effort andthe attention of senior air com-manders.

Some Navy and Marine offi-cers complained of inadequatesupport and a JFACC bias towardsupporting Air Force units. Buttheir quarrel was more with theground rules for tanker allocationthan application of those rules.The Air Force staff officers whodominated the JFACC staff main-tained that their overriding goalwas to increase the number ofquality weapons on Iraqi targetsregardless of which service pro-vided the strike aircraft. Becauseof geography, Navy aircraft re-quired more inorganic tanker sup-port than Air Force aircraft perton of ordnance on target.

As the air war progressedArmy and Marine commandersbecame concerned that insuffi-cient attention was being paid toshaping and preparing the battle-field for ground operations. Strate-gic targets (such as command andcontrol, lines of communication,and airfields) were being hit, butin their view enemy ground forcesin the field were neglected in tar-geting. This restiveness resulted inthe formation of a Joint TargetingBoard under the deputy CINC.The job of this board was to play a

more active role in advising on air apportion-ment decisions and in targeting Iraqi forcesof interest to U.S. ground commanders. Thisalleged interference nettled Air Force officers,who believed they had sufficient informationand staff support from all involved servicesto arrive at apportionment and targeting de-cisions. Despite these conflicting viewpoints,

the results were satisfactory. By mid-Februaryground targets in Kuwait and southern Iraqwere a major focus of the overall air effort. ByFebruary 24 and the start of the theaterground operations, Iraqi ground forces hadbeen fixed and pounded to the point ofbeing largely neutralized. Few ground com-manders in history have been better servedby their air brethren.

Unity of CommandDesert Storm featured two important el-

ements of unity of command: a single jointforce air commander and a single air taskingorder that conveyed his instructions. TheJFACC exercised tactical control of sorties inthat he provided “detailed and, usually, localdirection and control of movements andmaneuvers necessary to accomplish missionsor tasks assigned.” Historically, this type ofcontrol, combined with the requisite author-ity, was largely absent in Korea and Vietnam,but COMAIRSOLS (the senior aviator incommand of the air units in the Solomons)certainly exercised it from 1942 to 1944.

But there is an important distinction be-tween tactical control and command author-ity. The JFACC did not command forces; hecontrolled their sorties when unity of effortwas required and set conditions underwhich sorties were flown in his operatingarea. Navy, Marine, and some coalition airforces helped shape the ATO by designatingthe sorties that would be made available fortasking. And they did not always fly theATO. Individual commanders and flightcrews from the services free-lanced when theATO did not match conditions.

While in some ways this sounds suspi-ciously like coordination control and mis-sion direction, there were subtle differences.There was a joint force air commander fromthe start, and he had the authority that hisAir Force counterparts in Korea and Vietnamhad wanted. There was a focal point for airplanning and employment decisions thatwas neither a committee nor a voluntary or-ganization. Commanders who operated out-side the JFACC/ATO umbrella did so withgreat care and only when they could justifytheir decisions. Centralized control and de-centralized execution became the norm, andfree-lancing the exception.


An Air Operations Chronology

August 2, 1990: Iraq invades Kuwait.

August 6, 1990: The Independencearrives in the Gulf of Oman, thefirst in an eventual buildup of sixcarrier battle groups.

August 7, 1990: U.S. forces begin toarrive in Saudi Arabia including AirForce tactical fighter aircraft, thefirst of ten fighter wings deployedto the region.

August 14, 1990: The 7th Marine Expeditionary Brigade arrives inSaudi Arabia.

August 22, 1990: The first MarineCorps tactical fighter aircraft arrivein Bahrain.

Late October and early November1990: Massive air forces arebrought into the region to includeSAC tankers and Navy SLCM-shooters which marked the transi-tion from the defense of Saudi Ara-bia to an offensive strategy for theliberation of Kuwait.

January 17, 1991: Combat air oper-ations start with the targeting ofenemy centers of gravity, defenses,battlefield preparation, and supportof ground operations. “ProvenForce”—an Air Force compositewing deployed from Incirlik,Turkey—begins combat sortiesagainst targets in northern Iraq.

February 24, 1991: Ground offensivebegins after five weeks of continu-ous air attack.

February 28, 1991: Cease-fire de-clared; Iraqi forces have been de-stroyed or neutralized by a combi-nation of ground- and air-deliveredfirepower.


But some old practices lived on. In spiteof rhetoric to the contrary, the route packageconcept (albeit in a new form) still flour-ished in Desert Storm. Many Navy, Marine,and Proven Force target sets were route pack-ages in all but name. Even the system oftime-sharing target sets or “kill boxes” madea reappearance. Liaison officers between theJFACC and the various service componentcommanders continued to perform an essen-tial function. A service component comman-der who chose not to release sorties or to flythe ATO still had an “out”; various force ele-ments still complained about lack of supportor failure to play by the rules. How can weaccount for these lapses or reversions andstill acknowledge Operation Desert Storm asuccess? The answer is that despite the

progress made towardachieving real jointness, theUnited States once againwas able to buy its way outof command and controlproblems by the mass of itstactical air forces. It fought

“big” but not always smart.A better measure of progress in joint air

operations is whether the command arrange-ments and doctrine would have worked withonly half the airpower. Seldom in the GulfWar did General Horner have to make thekind of decisions that COMAIRSOLS had toface daily—how to use his meager forcesagainst a strong and active enemy. Horner’sproblems were specialized, and he had timeto solve them beforehand. For example, hedid not have too few tankers, but rather toomany fighter aircraft; he had to squeeze thelarge number into a small area, not spreadthem thinly. His problems were traffic sepa-ration and mutual support, not hard choicesbetween missions for scarce assets (tankersand SEAD excepted). But the genius of Gen-eral Horner was in gaining and excercisingthe minimum amount of control he neededto get the job done—and creating conditionsthat permitted the services to work effec-tively together.

In sum, Operations Desert Shield/DesertStorm were a major victory for U.S. andcoalition arms. However, there remain im-portant unresolved doctrinal issues as well ascontroversies over roles and missions. Theabundance of resources available made it

possible to avoid some difficult apportion-ment and allocation decisions. Jointnessoften is used as a facade to cover single-service command structures and procedures.In many ways jointness still stops at theheadquarters of the CINCs: they are the low-est level at which joint staffs exist in mosttheaters. Desert Storm points to the useful-ness of cadre joint air staffs and the capacityto fill them out very rapidly.

What Desert Storm achieved was unityof control of air operations, not unity ofcommand. Indeed, unity of control may beall that is needed. Unity of command fortactical air forces may be a needlessly abra-sive and overarching term to describe whatis actually meant by tactical control. We canrejoice in the progress that has been madesince Vietnam in achieving a high degree ofjointness in the command and control of airoperations; but it is too soon to say that wehave done all or even most of what needs tobe done. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Joint Chiefs of Staff, “Joint Doctrine for TheaterCounterair Operations,” Joint Pub 3001.2 (Washington:Government Printing Office, May 23, 1986).

2 Royal N. Moore, “Marine Air: There When Needed,”U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, vol. 117, no. 11 (Novem-ber 1991), pp. 63–64.

3 Steven U. Ramsdell, “Trip Report” (Letter to the Di-rector of the Naval Historical Center), May 14, 1991.

4 Riley D. Mixon, “Where We Must Do Better,” U.S.Naval Institute Proceedings, vol. 117, no. 8 (August 1991),p. 38.

5 Lieutenant General Walter E. Boomer, USMC, “Spe-cial Trust and Confidence among the Trailbreakers,”U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, vol. 117, no. 11 (Novem-ber 1991), p. 47.

6 U.S. Department of Defense, “Conduct of the Per-sian Gulf Conflict: Final Report to the Congress” (Wash-ington: Government Printing Office, April 1992), p. K–8.


few ground commandersin history have been better served by their airbrethren

100

M ilitary historyfinds few exam-ples of nationsand armed forces

that consistently excel in ma-neuver warfare based uponspeed, focus, decentralized exe-cution, high levels of initiative,and strong small-unit leader-

ship. The German military in World War IIwas such an organization. It is credited, inparticular, with mastering the operationallevel of war. But one brilliant operation, theinvasion of Scandinavia in 1940, has almostbeen reduced to a historical footnote. That

campaign, recorded as an outstanding exam-ple of maneuver warfare at the operationallevel, is also the first joint operation that in-volved significant land, sea, and air forcesfighting under unified command.

Because it preceded the better-knownGelb attack on the Low Countries by just onemonth, the invasion of Scandinavia (code-named Operation Weserübung) has receivedscant attention from most historians. Never-theless, it is still worth studying by practi-tioners of the operational art since it is re-plete with examples of successfullyimplemented tenets of maneuver-based doc-trine. It also demonstrates the importance of

The German military genius for maneuver warfare is well illustrated by an often overlooked operation ofWorld War II, the invasion of Scandinavia in 1940. Operation Weserübung also warrants examination becauseit was joint in execution and demonstrates that the German army, navy, and air force—Wehrmacht, Kriegs-marine, and Luftwaffe—could fight as a team even if rivalry among the headquarters of the services madeHitler the operation’s unified commander by fault. A combination of speed, surprise, and daring enabled theGerman armed forces to defy the Royal Navy by transporting troops directly to their objectives along the Norwegian coast. Furthermore, quickness and dash baffled the hapless Norwegians and beleaguered Alliedforces. The lessons of this operation were not lost on the British for the balance of the war and remain relevant today as a case study in joint warfare and the operational art.

Summary

OPERATIONWESERÜBUNGand the Origins of Joint WarfareBy R I C H A R D D. H O O K E R , J R., and C H R I S T O P H E R C O G L I A N E S E


the linkages between the opera-tional art and strategy and be-tween the various arms and ser-vices which typically cooperate in

joint campaigns. Although morethan five decades have passed,the problems and challenges in-herent in modern joint opera-tions stand clearly revealed inWeserübung.

In this operation, Germanyemployed a joint force of army,navy, and air force units in a cen-trally planned, simultaneous as-sault, along multiple avenues ofapproach and against numerouskey objectives. Execution washighly decentralized, with a min-imal need for excessive com-

mand and control structures that are thehallmark of modern military organizations.Furthermore, the assigned objectives accu-rately identified and exploited Allied centersof gravity. Pitting strength against weakness,the Germans crushed the Danes in one dayand destroyed Norwegian resistance in lessthan two months, despite the arrival of a siz-able number of British and French troops.

This stunning success was based on a fewsimple factors. First, the Germans had goodintelligence that led to accurate appreciationsof enemy strengths and weaknesses therebyenabling them to focus on critical enemyvulnerabilities. Second, they applied theirstrengths—including airpower, surprise, andwell-led professional forces—against Alliedweaknesses such as timid commanders, inef-fective mobilization systems, and a vulnera-ble command and control network.

Third, the bold use of German warshipsto carry troops to their objectives in the teethof the Royal Navy led directly to operationalsuccess in the campaign. Fourth, Norwegianregular forces were outnumbered, ill-equipped, poorly organized and led, and gen-erally neglected. Simultaneous multiple blowsaimed at key points throughout the countryparalyzed the Norwegian decisionmaking

structure, thus allowingearly successes againstunprepared defenders.

Finally, the Ger-man invasion of France

in May 1940 forced the Allies (British,French, and a smattering of Poles) to entirelypull out of Norway in an effort to stave offdisaster on the Western Front. This final ele-ment, essentially based on good fortune,saved beleaguered German forces at Narvikand permitted the Germans to completetheir conquest of Norway.

Strategic and Operational PlanningThe German High Command turned its

gaze toward Scandinavia soon after the suc-cessful invasion of Poland. While preferringto keep Scandinavia neutral, German plan-ners feared that Britain and France might vi-olate Norwegian neutrality in order to posi-tion forces for an attack on Germany’snorthern flank.1 Hitler repeatedly arguedwith the Army High Command (Oberkom-mando des Heeres or OKH) that if he did notact first, the British would establish them-selves in the neutral ports. German navalc o m m a n d e r stouted Norway’ssuitability as astaging area forsurface, air, andsubmarine opera-tions to gain con-trol over the Nor-wegian Sea andsupport eventualoperations againstBritain, which inturn would facili-tate access to theNorth Atlantic.2

An important con-sideration was ac-cess to Swedishiron ore, which supplied German war indus-tries and which traveled overland fromKiruna in Sweden to Narvik in Norway andthence along the Norwegian coastline toGerman ports in the Baltic.

Hitler, who had exercised supreme mili-tary command since February 1938, was alsoinfluenced by the tentative steps taken bythe French and British to reinforce Finlandduring the Winter War (which he inter-preted as proof of their malicious intentions

H o o k e r a n d C o g l i a n e s e

Major Richard D. Hooker, Jr., USA, is a member of the National Security CouncilStaff and Second Lieutenant ChristopherCoglianese, USA, is a platoon leader withthe 24th Infantry Division (Mechanized).

German troops embarking for the invasion.

the first joint operation that involved significant land, sea, and air forces

General-Admiral Saalwächter,the supreme commander of naval forces deployed to Norway.


in Scandinavia) and later by theAltmark incident when Britishsailors boarded a German vessel inNorwegian territorial waters to free300 British POWs.

On December 14, 1939, Hitlerordered the Armed Forces HighCommand (Oberkommando derWehrmacht or OKW) to conduct

preliminary planning for the invasion ofNorway. The plan, known as Studie Nord, in-cluded reports submitted by the staffs ofeach of the services. Given its keen interestin the matter, the navy’s report was the mostexhaustive. The dominance of naval plan-ning derives in part from the involvementby the army and air force in the preparationsfor the upcoming invasion of France and theLow Countries, known as Plan Gelb.

The navy (Kriegsmarine) staff worked outan expanded version of Studie Nord betweenJanuary 14 and 19, 1940, that reached twoimportant conclusions. First, surprise wouldbe absolutely essential to the success of theoperation. If surprise could be achieved Nor-wegian resistance would be negligible, andthe only significant threat would be Britishships on patrol off the coast of Norway, orig-inally believed to be one or two cruisers. Sec-ond, the planners concluded that fast war-ships of the German fleet could be used astroop transports for part of the assault force.This use of the surface fleet would overcomethe range limitations on air transport andallow for the simultaneous occupation of

O P E R A T I O N W E S E R Ü B U N G

FRANCE

LONDON

ROSYTH

SCAPA FLOW

Stavanger

Egersond KristiansandArendal

OSLO

0 200 miles

STOCKHOLM

COPENHAGEN

WILHELMSHAVEN

KEIL

Vestfjord

BERGEN

Kattegat

THE NETHERLANDS

TRONDHEIM

NARVIK

German cruisersGerman destroyersBritish cruisersBritish destroyersNaval bases

FRANCE

LONDON

ROSYTH

SCAPA FLOW

Stavanger

Egersond KristiansandArendal

OSLO

0 200 miles

STOCKHOLM

Katteget

COPENHAGEN

WILHELMSHAVEN

KEIL

Vestfjord

BERGEN

NARVIK

TRONDHEIM

THE NETHERLANDS


fast warships of the German fleet could be used as troop transports for part of the assault force

2000 hours, April 7 1200 hours, April 8

On April 7 German naval units were sailing at top speed to-ward Trondheim. At the British Admiralty, no one believed

that Norway was the target: the German ships were expected toslip into the Atlantic in order to attack Allied convoys.

By noon on April 8 the Germans had already passed Trond-heim. The British were still northwest and south of Bergen,

whereas further south, unbeknown to the British, Germannaval groups were fast approaching the southern tip of Norway.

Source. Maps and narrative adapted from Norway 1940 by FrançoisKersaudy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991).


numerous points on the Norwegian coast,including Narvik.3

These two conclusions revealed daringand a “bias for action” which permeated theGerman armed forces and had already beenexhibited in the Polish invasion. The studycalled for landings along the entire Norwe-gian coast from Oslo to Tromso. On January20, 1940, the report was submitted to Hitlerand the following day he ordered the creationof a special staff within the OKW dedicated toformulating operational plans forWeserübung.4 Hitler apparently had at leasttwo reasons for bypassing the air force, whichwould play the dominant role in the actualoperation, and taking personal control of We-serübung. First, he probably thought that theoperation was too complex and ambitious for

the junior and untestedservice to plan and con-trol. Second, Hitler wasventing his rage at the airforce over an incidentearlier in the month when a Luftwaffe majorcarrying Gelb was forced down in Belgiumthereby letting the invasion plan get into Al-lied hands.5

On February 5 a joint planning staff wasassembled at OKW to prepare detailed plansfor the invasion. Significantly, the opera-tions staffs of the services were excludedfrom the planning process. The principalplanner was Captain Theodor Krancke, com-manding officer of the cruiser Admiral Scheer,assisted by a small number of army and airforce officers.

Studie Nord had initially called for onlyone division of army troops.6 But Krancke’splan established a requirement for a corps ofarmy troops consisting of an airborne divi-sion, a mountain division, a motorized riflebrigade, and six reinforced infantry regi-ments. Small parachute units were to seizeselected airfields so that follow-on forcescould arrive by air. Krancke identified six op-erational objectives which, if simultaneously


FRANCE

LONDON

ROSYTH

SCAPA FLOW

StavangerEgersond Kristiansand

Arendal

OSLO

0 200 miles

STOCKHOLM

COPENHAGEN

WILHELMSHAVENKEIL

Vestfjord

BERGEN

NARVIK

THE NETHERLANDS

TRONDHEIM


1400–1600 hours, April 8

In mid-afternoon on April 8 the Germans changed courses sev-eral times. A British plane spotted the German naval group

heading west, and radioed the message back to base. As a result,British ships headed west, thus losing any chance of blocking theGerman landings.

German troops suc-cessfully land at all locations from Oslo toNarvik, a unique accomplishment in the history of navalwarfare.


captured, would cripple the country militar-ily and politically and achieve the strategicgoals established by Hitler, namely:7

▼ Oslo, the capital▼ the populated southern coastal areas▼ Bergen, a major southern port and likely

British landing site in the event of counter-attack▼ Trondheim, a major rail terminus and the

key to control of central Norway▼ Narvik, the chief city in northern Norway

and the crucial rail link to Swedish ore fields▼ Tromso and Finnmark (northernmost

areas of Norway)

The loss of ports and airfields in thoseareas was expected not only to crush Norwe-gian resistance at the outset but also to fore-stall intervention by the western powersuntil it was too late. Seeking security inboldness and enterprise, the Germans in-tended a large scale coup de main to dislocatetheir true opponents, the British and French,by preempting their intervention in Norwaythrough the simultaneous attack and occu-pation of all the important points in thecountry.

To do this, Krancke’s plan called formoving German troops by both air and sea.Only a sudden descent on the Norwegiancoast and rapid buildup of forces by airlift

and sealift (supported primarily bytactical aviation) offered the hope ofsuccess without interference by theRoyal Navy. Both the large scale useof warships as assault troop trans-ports and the strategic movement oflarge troop formations by air wereinnovations in modern warfare.

The German intent was to in-duce the Danes and Norwegians tosurrender quickly without a fight.To ensure this Hitler ordered theimmediate capture of the kings ofDenmark and Norway.8 The Ger-mans believed that seizing both

monarchs would shatter resistance at theoutset and lead to a bloodless occupation.

After the Altmark incident on February14, 1940, Hitler appointed General Nikolausvon Falkenhorst to prepare forces for thecoup de main to take the Norwegian ports.9

General der Infanterie von Falkenhorst was amountain warfare expert who had acquiredsome experience in Nordic operations as aresult of German operations in the Baltic in1918.10 Falkenhorst quickly concluded that

Denmark should be occupied as a landbridge to Norway.11 Although the size of thelanding force was ultimately raised to six di-visions, daring and surprise, not overwhelm-ing force, remained the plan’s basis. If resis-tance was encountered, landings were to beforced, beachheads secured, and nearby Nor-wegian army mobilization centers occu-pied.12 The inability of the Norwegians tomobilize was their Achilles Heel—a criticalvulnerability and obvious target for Germanmilitary action.

The final plan assigned the 3d MountainDivision and five untested infantry divi-sions—the 69th, 163d, 181st, 196th, and 214th—to the conquest of Norway under commandof XXI Group. Three divisions made up theinitial assault echelon while the remainderwere scheduled to reinforce thereafter (a sev-enth division, the 2 d Mountain, was addedlater).13 The air force contributed three com-panies of parachute troops to seize airfields(in the German military the air force, not thearmy, owned airborne forces).

The initial landing detachments weresmall, with the bulk of invasion forces slatedto arrive by air and transport ship in subse-quent echelons during the first week. In thesouth, the 170 th and 198 th Infantry Divi-sions, supported by the 11th MotorizedBrigade, formed XXXI Corps for the assaulton Denmark. X Air Corps, a very large orga-nization of some 1,000 aircraft of all types,was tasked to keep the Royal Navy at bayand supply German forces by air.14

Lightning StrikesHitler’s initial desire to place all We-

serübung forces under a single army com-mander was not realized. Despite his statusas Supreme Warlord, and the obvious opera-tional advantages of unified command,Hitler was unable or unwilling to overrulethe strong objections of the navy and airforce, which rebelled at the idea of placinglarge naval and air forces under a land forceofficer. The operation remained underHitler’s personal command (exercisedthrough the OKW operations staff). Falken-horst was designated the senior commander,exercising no direct command authorityover naval and air forces. In the official afteraction report, German commanders notedthat the harmonious cooperation achieved


Generaloberst von Falkenhorst.


by the engaged forces was a compliment tothe personalities and professionalism of thecommanders involved, but not a result ofcommand arrangements, which they recog-nized as unsatisfactory.15

Mindful of signs that the Allies werepreparing to occupy Scandinavia first (Britishplanning, code-named Wilfred, was far ad-vanced and British forces did indeed laymines in Norwegian waters on April 8), Hitlerordered Weserübung to begin early on themorning of April 9, 1940, with landings atOslo, Bergen, Kristiansand, Trondheim, andNarvik. Supply ships camouflaged as mer-chant vessels actually preceded the assaultships and lay in wait in Norwegian harbors.Despite some intelligence indicators, Britishsurface units were not deployed to detectlarge-scale German movements. The Britishfleet, with troops embarked to conduct theirown landings in Norway, did sortie on April 7from Scapa Flow, but the fleet did not inter-cept the fast-moving German ships or inter-rupt their landing operations. In a tragic

blunder, the RoyalNavy marched off itssoldiers and steamedaway in search ofGerman battlecruisersreported in the area,leaving Falkenhorstto carry out his land-ing operations unop-posed.

The magnitudeand speed of the Ger-

man landings completely paralyzed civilianand military leaders in both Denmark andNorway, as well as the Allies. Denmark wasquickly overrun on the first day, allowingGerman close air support operations to bestaged from landing fields in Jutland. Nor-wegian coastal defenders put up a sharpfight in the Oslo Fjord, sinking the cruiserBlücher (with the staff of 163d Infantry divi-sion aboard) and delaying conquest of thecapital by half a day. (Oslo fell that after-noon to a few companies of troops whichflew into Fornebu airport.) Except at Narvik,the remaining landings met only minimalresistance. After clashing with landbased air-craft and small destroyer units on April 9,the Royal Navy drew off, permitting the re-mainder of the German assault echelons toland unimpeded. Except for the successfulescape by the Norwegian Royal family, theday was one of breathtaking success for theGerman armed forces.

The ineptness of the Norwegian armywas a significant factor in the planning andactual success of the campaign.16 GeneralLaake, Norwegian army commander inchief, was selected for the post less for hismilitary prowess than for a willingness todeeply cut the military budget.17 On the dayof the invasion he was reluctant for manyhours to grasp what was happening. Whenhe finally did realize that his country wasunder attack he returned to headquarters tofind it deserted. Among those who had de-parted was Laake’s aide who had taken thegeneral’s uniforms with him. Lacking even apersonal vehicle, Laake tried to catch upwith his headquarters by public transport—asymbol of the debacle that afflicted the Nor-wegian army that day.18

The mobilization centers were underconstant assault, and weapons depots andmobilization lists fell into German handsbefore Norwegian reservists could assemble.However, hundreds of young men camestreaming out of the cities and towns to joinGeneral Ruge, who was appointed comman-der in chief after the invasion. His highlyimprovised force was untrained and in-cluded make-shift battalions and companieswith little equipment. The troops were un-able to maneuver and deemed useless for of-


Troop transport aircraft enrouteto Norway.

As the first Germansland at Oslo airport at1000 hours on April 9,a cloud of smokemarks a downedBritish aircraft in thedistance.

fensive operations. Furthermore, most hadnever trained with artillery, planes, or tanks.Some units would eventually get organizedand fight effectively, but except for brief

clashes here and there,Norwegian opposition atthe outset was sporadicand ineffectual.19 Inagony, Norway couldonly hope that the Allieswould arrive soon.20

The Allies RespondFear of German air-

power and the rapiditywith which the Germansmanned Norwegian airand coastal defenses keptthe Allies from strikingback in the south. Inboth central and north-ern Norway, however,which were farther re-moved from German air-bases, an Allied riposteseemed more feasible. Ina race against time Alliedplanners strove to mount

a relief expedition before German forcescould organize for defense, even as Germanunits raced north along the valleys andcoastal roads to link up with isolated detach-

ments and complete the occupa-tion of Norway.

The first effective blow bythe Allies came on the morningof April 13 and was a disaster forGerman naval fortunes. Follow-ing a failed air attack from theBritish carrier Furious againstTrondheim the previous day, aBritish destroyer group com-manded by Admiral Sir CharlesForbes encountered German sur-face units screening landingforces off Narvik. Supported bythe battleship Warspite, Britishdestroyers advanced into thefjords and engaged Germanships sheltered there. Unable toreach the open sea the Germansships fought until their fuel andammunition were exhausted,and then were beached by their

commanders or sunk by British gunfire. Thelosses, combined with those of the previousdays, deprived the German navy of half itsdestroyer force and dealt its surface fleet ablow from which Germany never recovered.

In marked contrast to their earlier indeci-sion, the Allies now moved to break the Ger-man hold on central and northern Norway.On April 14, a party of Royal Marines landedat Namsos, 127 miles north of Trondheim,followed days later by the 146 th InfantryBrigade and the French 5 th Demi-Brigade ofChasseurs-Alpins (mountain troops). On April18, the 148 th Brigade landed at Andalsnesand, five days later, the 15 th Brigade disem-barked at Gudbrandsdal for the drive to re-take Trondheim. Thus, by April 23, four Alliedbrigades together with naval support were po-sitioned to the north and south of Trond-heim, assisted by 6,000 Norwegian troops.

Against these numerically superiorforces the German commander in Trond-heim, General Kurt Woytasch, could initiallydeploy only seven infantry battalions. Nev-ertheless, he responded vigorously by push-ing out strong parties to the north and southto deny the Allies use of the limited roadnet. Calling for reinforcements and air sup-port, Woytasch counterpunched aggressivelyat Steinkjer to the north, stopping the cau-tiously advancing Allied units in their tracks.Assisted by German forces pushing up fromthe south, which drew off the British threat



0 25 miles

Allied operation

German defence perimeter

Harstad

Skaanland

Hinnø

y

Ofotsfjord

BallangenAnkenes

Beisfjord

BjerkvikBøgen

GratangenElnenes

Elvegaard

Fossbakken

Sjøvegan

Vaagsfjord

Bardufoss

Salangen

Sørreissa

Meby

Kugerg

HaugfjellBjørnfjell

0 50 miles

German offensive

Allied offensive

Kristiansund

Åndalsnes Opdal

Dombås

Hjerkinn Tynset

Rørøs

Vinje

AgdenesBrettingenHysnes

GrongNamsos

BangsundSnaasa

Lake SnaasaSunnan

Vist

Follafoss

RøraVerdal

Steinkjer

Støren

Romsdalen

Gudbrandsdalen

Østerdalen

Trondheimfjord

Vaernes

Assen

Hjella

Kirknesvåg

TRONDHEIM

Despite barriers blownfrom the rock Germansoldiers advancenorthward.

Field Marshal Milch,commander of the air fleet deployed to Norway.

Operations in northern Norway until May 27, 1940 (above). Operations incentral Norway, April 1940 (right).

cruisers and destroyers weremassing off Narvik and the firstdetachments of British troops ar-rived to join the fleet.

The German situation inNarvik was tenuous from theoutset. The loss of sea controlhad prevented German rein-forcements from reaching thearea. The 3 d Mountain Division,under the command of GeneralEduard Dietl (less its 138 th

Mountain Infantry Regimentwhich was attacking Trondheimto the south) found itself cut offfrom the rest of the country.Days after his successful seizureof Narvik, Dietl was only able tomuster 2,000 mountain in-fantrymen together with 2,600disembarked sailors. Fully 1,200miles from Germany and cut offfrom weak German garrisons tothe south, Dietl and his moun-tain troopers waited grimly forthe counterblow to fall.

The British Imperial General Staff be-lieved that an Allied success at Narvik wouldgo far to restore their flagging fortunes. Asidefrom denying the German war machine theSwedish iron ore it so desperately needed, aconvincing defeat of the isolated Germanforces in north Norway would boost Alliedmorale and prick the German aura of invinci-bility. Yet the reasoning of the General Staffwas fundamentally misplaced. By dissipatingprecious naval and air forces in two separateefforts—the attempts to retake first Trond-heim and then Narvik—they ensured thefailure of both, while a resounding success bystronger forces at Trondheim would have es-tablished Allied forces ashore in possession ofa good port, rendering the small Germancontingent in Narvik irrelevant.21

Allied ground operations in the northbegan in earnest on April 24 as four Norwe-gian battalions attacked Dietl’s outposts atGratangen, supported by a French brigadewhich landed four days later. In early May asecond French brigade and a Polish brigadearrived; with the addition of British forces theAllies built their strength up to 24,500 troops.

to his rear, Woytasch easily dealtwith the half-hearted thrusts ofthe French and British.

Although their losses werelight, the combination of a pugna-

cious opponent and devastating air attackson their bases at Andalsnes and Namsos con-vinced the Allied commanders that their sit-uation was hopeless. On May 3 the last Al-lied troops sailed away from Namsos justahead of the advancing German troops, pre-cipitating the surrender of 2,000 Norwegiantroops in the area. Outnumbered by morethan six to one, the supremely confidentGroup Trondheim force and their able com-mander inflicted an embarrassing defeat, fur-ther eroding Allied confidence. Southernand central Norway now lay firmly inHitler’s grip.

Epic at NarvikGerman airpower—demonstrating

range, speed, and firepower unprecedentedin modern warfare—had played a key role inthe battles around Trondheim, but rangeand weather limitations greatly restricted theability of the Luftwaffe to support Germanforces at Narvik far to the north. Even as thefirst troops went ashore at Andalsnes, British



Allied attack

German defense perimiter

German counter offensive

Iron ore railway

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Bjerkvik

Meby

Gjelsvik

Troldvik

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Forneset

Skole

Hundalen

FagernesNybord

Ankenes

Framnes

Lillevik

Ofotsfijord

Orneset

ØyordRombaksfjord

Taraldsvikfjell

Taraldsvik

Herjan

gsfjord

Elvegaard

Beisfjord

Rombaksbotn

KubergStrømsnes

Fagerjorden

Djupviken

NARVIK

50 miles0

German offensiveAllied offensive

Kristiansund

BudMolde

Andalsnes

TRONDHEIM

Meråker

Røros

Støren

Kjeller

KjongsvingerJessheim

Egersund

Stayanger

Haugesund

Bergen

Larvik

Geiranger Larvik

LesjaskogVerma

Dombås

Hjerkinn

Alvdal

Tynset

Rendal

Øyer

SjøaKvam

Tretten

Otta

Nybergsund

ÅmotRena

Elverum

Sørma

Røa

BrandbuSkreia

Hamar

Lillehammer

Øster

dalen

Tangen

Eidsvoll

General Dietl.

The capture of Narvik, May 28, 1940.

Operations in southern Norway duringApril 1940.


British naval forces were further strengthenedwith a battleship and aircraft carrier.

Dietl’s problemswere mounting quickly.The Allies were buildingup their forces far fasterthan the Germans (onApril 18 Hitler orderedthat no new forces wouldbe committed to Narvik).The German troops inNarvik were exposed to

continuous shelling from destroyers lyingoffshore. Freezing temperatures, fog, andsnow hampered mobility and sapped themorale even of the tough mountain soldiers.The naval companies were untrained in landwarfare and armed only with captured Nor-wegian weapons. Moreover, food and am-munition stocks were dangerously low.

Despite these vulnerabilities Dietl re-sisted stubbornly, aided by a curious lack ofenergy and aggressiveness by the two Britishcommanders, Admiral of the Fleet the Earl ofCork and Orrery and General P.J. Mackesy.

Lacking the troops, ar-tillery, and air supportneeded to conduct majorengagements, the Ger-mans fought delaying ac-tions to maintain a pre-carious foothold inNarvik as well as controlover the rail line leadingeastward to Sweden. TheNorwegian forces mov-ing down from the northmade slow but steadyprogress. Although the2 d Mountain Divisionwas pushing hard fromTrondheim to relieve

Dietl (at one point marching 90 miles infour days over terrain determined to be im-passable by British intelligence officers 22),distance, poor weather, and lack of roadswere daunting obstacles.

On May 13, under attack from bothnorth and south and suffering from constantbombardment from sea and continuousthreat of landing, Dietl informed OKWthrough XXI Group that the situation atNarvik was critical. Dietl reported that his

troops were too exhausted even to retreatsouthward towards the advancing reliefcolumns. He planned to give up the city ifthe Allies persisted in their offensive and tohold a bridgehead on the railroad, but thiswould depend on speedy reinforcements,something the Germans had not anticipated.Otherwise, there was no alternative except tocross into Sweden and request internment.Group XXI requested permission for Dietl todo so should enemy action necessitate it.Hoping for a miracle, the 3d Mountain Divi-sion (actually no more than a weak regimentby this time) prepared for the end.

Dietl got his miracle. With pressurefrom XXI Group and OKW, Hitler approvedlimited reinforcements (Plan Gelb was under-way by then and diverting large formationsto Norway would draw strong oppositionfrom his commanders in France). On May14, a token force of 66 paratroopers arrived.Over the next three weeks a parachute bat-talion and two companies of mountain in-fantry (hastily trained in parachute opera-tions) were dropped into Narvik.

These forces enabled Dietl to hold onlong enough for the full weight of the inva-sion of the Low Countries to make itself felton the Allies. Although finally compelled togive up Narvik to vastly superior forces onMay 28, the remnants of 3d Mountain Divi-sion continued to fight astride the Kirunarail line. On June 8, 1940, the Allies secretlyevacuated the Narvik area. The next day theNorwegian Command signed an armisticeending the fighting and giving Germanytotal control of Norway. 23 The German repu-tation as an undefeated force remained in-tact and, in honor of their heroic stand,Dietl’s mountain troopers were awarded asleeve device commemorating their serviceat Narvik during the battle.

The AftermathThe true strategic significance of the

German conquest of Norway and Denmarkremains in dispute. Possession of the en-trance to the Baltic and effective controlover the Scandinavian peninsula securedGermany against attack from the north untilthe end of the war. German submarine andair units gained bases for attacks againstBritain and later Allied resupply convoysbeing run into Murmansk. Sweden wascowed into remaining neutral for the rest of


Narvik harbor.

throughout the campaign,planners and commandersensured that tactical concerns were subordinatedto strategic and operationalrequirements


the war. Germany wasalso enabled to supportFinland in its second waragainst the Soviets from1941 to 1944 which tiedup large numbers of Redarmy troops at minimalcost to the Germans.

These gains must beweighed against the lossof German surface ship-ping, the requirement tomaintain large forces inScandinavia, and the rel-ative ineffectiveness ofair and naval operationssubsequently launchedagainst the British Isles

from Norway. On balance, and given thefact that U.S. intervention and defeat in Rus-sia lay in an uncertain future, it is difficult tobe too critical of German strategy. Britainwould have undoubtedly occupied Norway,and possibly Denmark, had Germany notdone so, with clear implications for the inva-sion of France and the Low Countries.

As an illustration of mastery of the oper-ational art, however, Weserübung has few his-torical rivals. Throughout the campaign Ger-man planners and commanders ensured thattactical concerns were subordinated to strate-gic and operational requirements. Early tacti-cal engagements, widely separated in spaceand in some cases in time, were consideredin light of the operational plan and not al-lowed to take on existences of their own; thedecision not to sacrifice the campaign or dis-rupt Gelb to save a desperate situation inNarvik is only the most obvious example.

In planning and executing the cam-paign, Krancke and Falkenhorst showed animpressive ability to distinguish between riskand foolhardiness. Where the British dis-missed the chances of landing large forma-tions in the teeth of the Royal Navy,24 Ger-man planners correctly surmised that speed,surprise, and airpower combined to give We-serübung a good chance of success. While thecampaign is occasionally interpreted as adesperate gamble, the Germans undoubtedlysaw it as a bold venture with better thaneven odds of victory. They had good reasonto be confident.

Although few of the units employed inthe campaign had served in Poland, com-manders were sure of the tactical superiorityof their leaders, soldiers, and doctrine. Theyhad demonstrated this superiority in virtu-ally every engagement with Allied troops.Where French, British, Polish, and Norwe-gian units displayed hesitation, indecision,and timidity, the Germans showed dash, ag-gressiveness, and tenacity under extremelyadverse conditions. Particularly at Trond-heim and Narvik, the Germans faced numer-ous obstacles: bad weather, naval inferiority,unfavorable force ratios, poor roads, and fail-ing resupply. Their triumph was as much avictory over the hardships of northern war-fare as it was a decisive strategic setback forthe Allies.

A key lesson is that resolute leadershipcan keep the hope of victory alive when ev-erything else indicates otherwise. Outnum-bered and outgunned, the Germans continu-ously held because of their superior will.Certainly luck played a part in the outcome,but had Falkenhorst or Dietl succumbed totheir fears, the outcome of the Norwegiancampaign might have been different. Well-trained and well-led troops who were able toimprovise when necessary, the effective useof sailors in service-support roles, and the ca-pability to fall back smartly and shorten theline when required combined to give theGermans a marked advantage. Lesser com-manders, unable to fight when cut off, whohad limited reinforcements and whose logis-tics were always straining, who feared takingrisks when necessary, and whose lines ofcommunication were never secured wouldhave quickly capitulated.

Dietl in particular, a strong product ofthe German military education, took allthese disadvantages in stride. Even had theAllies not pulled out, significant overland,seaborne, and airborne reinforcements wereon the verge of being committed to the de-fense of north Norway following the collapseof the West if only German commanderscould induce their troops to hold out.25 Here,a superior attitude and will to win, funda-mentals of success in any endeavor, helpedovercome a potentially disastrous situation.


An armed Germantroop train moving tolink up with forces inthe north.


The Significance of WeserübungIn what sense did Weserübung demon-

strate maneuver warfare at the operationallevel of war? First and most importantly, theNordic campaign reveals a characteristic pre-occupation with achieving a rapid decision.Like Gelb, its more famous sibling, We-serübung shunned a systematic advancethrough the enemy’s territory in favor of aseries of lightning strikes designed to knockthe enemy out of the fight at the start. Thisobsession with decisive battle, which obvi-ates the need for protracted and costly cam-paigning, is perhaps the most defining fea-ture of maneuver warfare.

In comparing German and Allied opera-tional planning and command and controlduring the war, striking differences appear.The German decision-action cycle, whichoperated on the basis of brief mission orders,was crisper and faster. Whereas the Britishpassion for detailed planning and ponderousexecution revealed itself at every turn, the

Germans emphasizedmobility, speed, andtempo—or in the wordsof Confederate GeneralNathan Bedford Forrest,they consistently gotthere “first with themost.” The German sys-tem granted maximumindependence to subor-dinate commanders, re-

quiring only that they remain faithful to theoperational goals of the campaign. Whilethe Allies advanced cautiously and methodi-cally, the Germans fought with greater fluid-ity, focusing more on the enemy and less onretention of specific terrain features.

One difference was the strong preferencefor methodical battle shown by the Allies andthe absence of that approach on the part ofthe Germans. It is almost impossible to imag-ine the British tossing isolated detachmentsalong 1,200 miles of coastline, hoping to linkthem up later, and in the face of a muchstronger enemy navy, bad flying weather, andlarge amphibious counterattacks. The Ger-man planning relied on a sudden disruptionof Norwegian mobilization and simultane-ously seizing all likely landing sites suitablefor Allied reinforcements, with little regardfor secure flanks or a continuous front.

In so doing the Germans directed theirstrengths—that is, speed, shock, tempo, air-power, and superior tactical prowess—against the weaknesses of a less resolute ad-versary and crushed its will to fight.Falkenhorst and XXI Group neither foughtnor planned to win a campaign of attrition.Though the casualties on both sides wereroughly equivalent (with those of the Ger-man navy and air force significantlyhigher),26 German morale remained steadfastthroughout the campaign while the Alliesshowed little heart for the fight.

As a laboratory for future joint opera-tions, the German invasion of Scandinaviabroke new ground in the history of war. Onelesson was that cooperation among the ser-vices was an absolute precondition for suc-cess. Unlike the major land battles of WorldWar I and the Polish campaign, OperationWeserübung required the full integration ofland, sea, and air forces, with each service re-sponding aggressively. The Wehrmacht im-proved on its performance in Poland,demonstrating tactical superiority over itsenemies and a willingness to cooperate with,and rely upon, the other services for its verysurvival. The surface fleet of the Kriegsma-rine, grossly inferior to the British navy, suf-fered extraordinary losses but succeeded ingetting its assault forces ashore and coveringtheir deployment inland. The Luftwaffe con-ducted perhaps the most challenging air op-erations up to that time. Flying at extendedranges in miserable weather, with primitiverefueling and ground control, German pilotsprovided much of the strategic mobility andmost of the fire support for the army (whichlacked heavy artillery). Their contributionwas decisive.27

As previously noted, Operation Weserü-bung command arrangements were unsatis-factory. Although the principle of unifiedoperational command was sound, Hitler andthe OKW staff could not effectively exercisecommand and control over theater opera-tions from Germany, and no joint commandstructure existed on the ground in Norway.German commanders also did not have thebenefit of comprehensive joint doctrine ortraining prior to the operation.

Nevertheless, Operation Weserübung wasan outstanding success. As capable leaders


the German system grantedmaximum independence tosubordinate commanders, re-quiring only that they remainfaithful to the operationalgoals of the campaign


do, the German commanders worked together harmoniously to achieve the opera-tional goals that they understood thor-oughly. Individual service prerogatives werein the main consciously subordinated tojoint considerations, the only real standardthat counts. While later in the war Germanywould pay dearly for lacking organizationaland doctrinal frameworks for the conduct ofjoint warfare, in Norway the efforts to pro-mote jointness among the services con-tributed to a shining victory.

Compared to many operations later inthe war, Weserübung was minor. DespiteHitler’s expectation that Britain would notabandon its strategic aim of cutting off ac-cess to raw materials,28 German forces inNorway were not attacked save for com-mando raids. As an isolated operation, We-serübung was a resounding success for theGerman armed forces. The conquest wasachieved without a material reduction offorces on the Western Front or interferencewith preparations for Gelb. Moreover, theoperation was the first to be carried outunder a unified command system.28

The conquest of Norway and Denmarkis an interesting and worthwhile case for stu-dents of joint warfare and the operationalart. Many of the lessons from Weserübung re-main valid today when complex joint opera-tions mounted over great distances have be-come the norm. Although the technologybase changes rapidly, campaigns and battlesbetween comparable adversaries ultimatelyare a clash of wills. In that sense OperationWeserübung is still instructive. JFQ

N O T E S

1 B.H. Liddell Hart, History of the Second World War(New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970), p. 52.

2 B.H. Liddell Hart, The German Generals Talk (NewYork: Quill, 1979), p. 37.

3 Matthew Cooper, The German Army (Chelsea,Mich.: Scarborough, 1991), p. 191.

4 François Kersaudy, Norway 1940 (New York: SaintMartin’s Press, 1991), p. 43.

5 Earl F. Ziemke, “The German Decision to InvadeNorway and Denmark” in Command Decisions (Washing-ton: U.S. Army Center for Military History, 1960), p. 58.

6 Earl F. Ziemke, The German Theater of Northern Opera-tions (Washington: Department of the Army, 1959), p. 13.

7 Ibid., p. 15.8 Kersaudy, Norway 1940, p. 49.9 Liddell Hart, The German Generals Talk, p. 37.10 Ziemke, The German Theater of Northern Operations,

p. 16.11 John Keegan, The Second World War (New York:

Viking, 1990), pp. 50-51.12 Ziemke, Command Decisions, pp. 62–64.13 Christopher Buckley, Norway. The Commandos.

Dieppe (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1951), p. 10.

14 In all the Luftwaffe lifted 29,280 troops and 2,376tons of supplies during the first weeks of the invasion,an impressive feat given the bad flying weather and thesmall size of transport aircraft at that time. Ziemke, TheGerman Theater of Northern Operations, p. 56.

15 Ziemke, Ibid., p. 32.16 Kersaudy, Norway 1940, p. 68.17 Ibid.18 Ibid., pp. 68 and 72.19 Bernard Ash, Norway 1940 (London: Cassell, 1964),

p. 44.20 Ibid., p. 109.21 Ash, Norway 1940, p. 98.22 Ziemke, The German Theater of Northern Operations,

p. 97.23 Ibid., pp. 102–104.24 J.L. Moulton, The Norwegian Campaign of 1940

(London: Eyre and Spottiswood, 1967), p. 60.25 Ziemke, The German Theater of Northern Operations,

p. 104.26 The Germans lost 1,317 dead and 2,374 at sea; the

Luftwaffe had 127 combat aircraft shot down whileBritish attacks on the Kriegsmarine succeeded in the sink-ing of 1 heavy cruiser, 2 light cruisers, 10 destroyers, and6 submarines. The British lost 1,896 troops and 2,500sailors, as well as 1 aircraft carrier, 1 cruiser, 7 destroyers,and 4 submarines. The French and Poles combined suf-fered 530 dead while the Norwegians lost 1,335. A totalof 87 Allied airplanes were shot down. See Ziemke, TheGerman Theater of Northern Operations, p. 109.

27 Williamson Murray, German Military Effectiveness(Baltimore: Nautical and Aviation Publishing Company,1992), p. 154.

28 Cooper, The German Army, pp. 258, 267, 492;Ziemke, Command Decisions, p. 68.


For an appreciation of how the Germanarmy turned adversity into military ad-vantage during the interwar years, see thereview of The Roots of Blitzkrieg on pages125–127 in this issue of JFQ.

A Common Perspective

Taking its name from a phrase in Joint Pub 1—“Jointdoctrine offers a common perspective from which to planand operate, and fundamentally shapes the way we thinkabout and train for war”—the Joint Doctrine Center(JDC) launched a newsletter in April for the joint doc-trine community. A Common Perspective will appear quar-

terly and provide informa-tion on doctrine as it relatesto current issues, combatantcommand and service initia-tives, JDC involvement in ex-ercises, status of select publi-cations, Joint ElectronicLibrary, and terminology.Further details on thenewsletter are available bycalling: (804) 444–1065/

DSN 564–1065 FAX: (804) 444–3990/

DSN 564–3990or writing: Joint Doctrine Center1283 CV Towway (Suite 100)Norfolk, Virginia 23511–2491

Recent and Forthcoming Joint Publications


Doctrine

EYE ON NORFOLKWith the establishment of the

Navy Doctrine Center at NorfolkNaval Base in March 1993 and thestand-up of the Air Force DoctrineCenter at Langley Air Force Basescheduled for July, Norfolk and envi-rons have become the undisputedcapital of doctrinal development.This concentration of joint, interser-vice, and service doctrine activity in-cludes—in addition to the new Navyand Air Force centers—the Joint Doc-trine Center, the Air Land Sea Appli-

cation Center, and the U.S. ArmyTraining and Doctrine Command.

The synergistic effect of thiscommunity of doctrine developers inthe Tidewater area of Virginia will befurther enhanced by the establish-ment of the Joint Warfighting Centerin the near future [see insert on theopposite page]. Moreover, the prox-imity of U.S. Atlantic Commandwith its expanded joint training mis-sion will facilitate the evaluation,testing, and sequencing of joint doc-trine [which is described in “A NewMission for Atlantic Command” onpages 80–87 of this issue]. JFQ

JOINT DOCTRINEPUBLICATIONS

Since the passage of the DODReorganization Act of 1986 there hasbeen a steady stream of publicationson joint doctrine as well as on jointtactics, techniques, and procedures(JTTP). Taken collectively these pub-lications are having a significant im-pact that reaches far beyond thedoctrinal development community.The joint publication system is com-prised of 192 titles, of which about130 are currently in various stages ofdevelopment or revision. A useful

Number Title Final Approval

Reference

1–01.1 Compendium of Joint Doctrine Publication Abstracts Jul 93

1–01.2 Joint Electronic Library User’s Handbook Aug 93

1–03 Joint Reporting Structure (JRS) General Instructions Sep 93

1–05 Religious Ministry Support to Joint Operations Aug 93

1–07 Doctrine for Public Affairs for Joint Operations Jul 94

Intelligence

2–0 Doctrine for Intelligence Support to Joint Operations Aug 93

2–01 JTTP for Intelligence Support to Operations Nov 94

2–01.1 JTTP for Intelligence Support to Targeting Oct 94

2–01.2 Joint Doctrine and TTP for Counterintelligence Support Feb 94

2–02 JTTP for Intelligence Support to JTF Operations Dec 93

Operations

3–0 Doctrine for Joint Operations Oct 93

3–00.1 Joint Doctrine for Contingency Operations Sep 93

3–01.4 JTTP for Suppression of Enemy Air Defense Sep 93

3–01.5 Doctrine for Joint Theater Missile Defense Aug 93

3–02.1 Joint Doctrine for Landing Force Operations Aug 93

3–02.2 Joint Doctrine for Amphibious Embarkation Apr 93

3–03 Doctrine for Joint Interdiction Operations Aug 93

3–04.1 JTTP for Shipboard Helicopter Operations Jul 93

3–05.3 Joint Special Operations Operational Procedures Jul 93

3–05.5 Joint Special Operations Targeting and Mission Planning Procedures Jun 93

3–06 Doctrine for Joint Riverine Operations Oct 93

3–07 Doctrine for Joint Operations in Low Intensity Conflict Oct 93

3–07.1 JTTP for Foreign Internal Defense Jun 93

3–07.2 JTTP for Antiterrorism Jun 93

3–07.3 JTTP for Peacekeeping Operations Jul 93

3–07.4 JTTP for Counterdrug Operations Jan 94

3–09.2 JTTP for Radar Beacon Operations Apr 93

The Air Land Sea BulletinTo spread the word on recent

developments in service

interoperability the Air Land Sea

Application (ALSA) Center

publishes a quarterly

newsletter, The Air Land Sea

Bulletin. Additional information

on the bulletin is available by

calling:

(804) 764–5936/

DSN 574–5934

FAX: (804) 764–5935/

DSN 574–5935

or writing:

HQ ACC XP–ALSA

ATTN: The Air Land Sea Bulletin

114 Andrews Street (Suite 101)

Langley Air Force Base, Virginia

23665–2785


point of departure for gaining an ap-preciation of the joint doctrine de-velopment process is found in JointPub 1–01, “Joint Publication Sys-tem,” which defines the process andoutlines the steps involved in jointdoctrine projects. Joint Pub 1–01provides a hierarchy of joint publica-tions essential to the functionalorder and organization of joint doc-trine and JTTP. Publications whichhave been recently approved or arescheduled for approval through nextwinter are listed below. JFQ

Number Title Final Approval

Operations—Continued

3–10 Doctrine for Joint Rear Area Operations Feb 93

3–10.1 JTTP for Base Defense Mar 93

3–11 Joint Doctrine for Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical (NBC) Defense Dec 93

3–12 Doctrine for Joint Nuclear Operations Apr 93

3–14 Joint Doctrine and TTP for Space Operations Sep 93

3–15 Joint Doctrine for Barriers, Obstacles, and Mines Apr 93

3–50.2 Doctrine for Joint Combat Search and Rescue Sep 93

3–50.3 Joint Doctrine for Evasion and Recovery Sep 93

3–52 Doctrine for Joint Airspace Control in the Combat Zone Aug 93

3–53 Joint Psychological Operations Doctrine Jul 93

3–55 Doctrine for Joint Reconnaissance, Surveillance, and Target Acquisition Apr 93

3–55.1 JTTP for Unmanned Aerial Vehicles Aug 93

3–56 Command and Control Doctrine for Joint Operations Dec 93

3–57 Doctrine for Joint Civil Affairs Dec 93

3–58 Joint Doctrine for Operational Deception Nov 93

3–59 JTTP for Meteorological and Oceanographic Support Aug 93

Logistics

4–01.3 JTTP for Joint Movement Control Aug 93

4–01.5 JTTP for Water Terminal Operations Jun 93

4–02 Doctrine for Health Service Support in Joint Operations Aug 93

4–03 Joint Bulk Petroleum Doctrine Jun 93

4–04 Joint Doctrine for Engineering Support Jul 93

Plans

5–0 Doctrine for Planning Joint Operations Nov 93

5–00.1 JTTP for Campaign Planning Feb 94

5–03.1 Joint Operation Planning and Execution System: Vol 1., Planning, Policy, and Procedures Jun 93

[JTTP = Joint Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures ]Source: Joint Doctrine Division (J–7), Joint Staff (May 25, 1993).

The establishment of a JointWarfighting Center (JWC) has been ap-proved by the Chairman of the JointChiefs of Staff. The center will be a sepa-rate activity functioning under the Direc-tor for Operational Plans and Interoper-ability (J–7), Joint Staff, to assist theChairman, CINCs, and service chiefs pre-pare for joint warfare through exercisesand training, and by conceptualizing, de-veloping, and assessing doctrine. TheJWC will subsume the activities of both

Recent and Forthcoming ALSA Publications

“Army Air Force Air Base Ground Defense Manual” (A–AF ABGD),

FM 90–30/AFM 3–3, describes responsibilities and procedures forthe ground defense of air bases and installations.

“AWACS Ground Based Air Defense Operations” (AWACS–ADO),

FM 44–12/FMFRP 5–57/ACCP 50–37/USAFEP 50–37/PACAFP 50–37, provides an integrated joint air defense network forsituations when standard ground-based systems are not in place.

“Integrated Combat Airspace Command and Control” (ICAC2),

FM 100–21/FMFRP 5–61/ACCP 50–38/USAFEP 50–38/PACAFP 50–38/CINCLANTFLTINST 3320.1,

covers responsibilities for multi-service activity within specifically defined airspace.

“Multi-Service Procedures for the JointApplication of Firepower” (J–FIRE),

FM 90–20/FMFRP 2–72/ACCP 50–28/USAFEP 50–9/PACAFP 50–28/CINCLANTFLTINST 3330.5,

contains standard formats for requesting various types of firesupport from the services.

the Joint Warfare Center at Hurlburt Field,Florida, and the Joint Doctrine Center inNorfolk, Virginia; the stand-up of the cen-ter is expected to take about 15 to 18months. The JWC will take advantage ofstate-of-the-art technology to enhancejoint training, doctrine, tactics, tech-niques, and procedures, and be a cost-ef-fective mechanism for integrating exer-cises and training, doctrine development,and lessons learned among the services.

Joint Warfighting Center Announced


Education

PEACEKEEPINGCURRICULA

To support future U.S. militarycommitments to United Na-tions peacekeeping operations,

the President has directed the estab-lishment of peacekeeping curriculaat joint and service colleges. Severalinitiatives are underway to definethe emergency roles of the ArmedForces in peacekeeping and humani-tarian relief operations. The StrategicPlans and Policy Directorate (J–5) ofthe Joint Staff has the lead in imple-menting actions under a NationalSecurity Directive entitled “Presi-dent’s Peacekeeping Initiatives.” Theeducational and training dimensionsare being addressed through an in-teragency effort with participationfrom the Military Education Divi-sion and the Joint Exercise andTraining Division of the OperationalPlans and Interoperability Direc-torate (J–7), Joint Staff.

Toward that end a survey hasbeen conducted by J–7 of the curric-ula at the joint and service collegesto determine the extent to whichpeacekeeping is being taught. Theresults revealed that peacekeepingand humanitarian relief operationsare covered to some degree at eachinstitution. The Joint Staff is now inthe process of facilitating a flow ofinformation on this emerging areaof study to these colleges. In addi-tion, the on-going joint educationaccreditation process will monitorthe increased emphasis on peace-keeping in curricula.

The corresponding develop-ment of joint doctrine for peace-keeping continues with the Army aslead service. Joint Pub 3–07.3, “JointTactics, Techniques, and Proceduresfor Peacekeeping Operations,” wasrecently revised. The current draft ofthat publication can be reviewedthrough the Joint Electronic Library[see “Documentation”on the nextpage]. JFQ

DEFENSEACQUISITIONUNIVERSITY

The passage of the Defense Au-thorization Act of FY91 andthe Defense Acquisition Work-

force Improvement Act of 1990 ledto the creation of the Defense Acqui-sition University (DAU), which wasofficially dedicated in October 1992.DAU operates as a consortium bytailoring existing educational pro-grams at colleges, schools, and otheractivities across DOD to provide forthe professional development of theacquisition workforce, includingsome 17,000 military personnel.

The new university is the ex-ecutive agent for mandatory acquisi-tion courses offered at the basic, in-termediate, and senior levels—fromintroductory courses in contractmanagement offered at several insti-tutions to a senior course presentedat the Industrial College of theArmed Forces. The main objective ofthe courses is the certification of theDefense Acquisition Corps in thefunctional areas, and correspondingcareer fields, shown below.

DAU anticipates that over27,600 students will take 49 differ-ent acquisition courses during FY93.The 16 institutions participating inthe DAU consortium are the AirForce Institute of Technology, ArmyLogistics Management College,Army Management Engineering Col-lege, Defense Contract Audit Insti-tute, Defense Logistics Civilian Personnel Service Support Office,Defense Systems Management Col-lege, European Command Acquisi-tion Training Office, Industrial College of the Armed Forces, Infor-mation Resources Management College, Lowry Technical TrainingCenter, Navy Acquisition Manage-ment Training Office, Naval Facili-ties Contracts Training Center, NavalPostgraduate School, Naval Supply Systems Command Regional Con-tracting Centers, Naval Warfare Assessment Center, and Office of the Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Research, Development,and Acquisition.

For more details, see DOD Man-ual 5000.52M, “Career Develop-ment Program for Acquisition Per-sonnel,” or contact the director ofacquisition career management foryour service. JFQ

Functional Areas Career Fields

Acquisition Management Program Management

Communications-Computer Systems

Acquisition Logistics Acquisition Logistics

Production Manufacturing and Production

Quality Assurance

Procurement and Contracting Contracting

Purchasing

Industry Property Management

Systems Planning, Research, Systems Planning, Research, Development,Development, Engineering, Engineeringand Testing

Test and Evaluation Engineering

Business, Cost Estimating, and Business, Cost Estimating, and FinancialFinancial Management Management

Auditing Auditing


Documentation

THE JOINTELECTRONICLIBRARY

Niccolo Machiavelli, the 16th

century “national securityadvisor” to the Florentine

ruler Lorenzo the Magnificent, is bestknown to us as the author of ThePrince. That repository of the princi-ples of statecraft and the use of forcewas certainly an invaluable gift topresent to any ruler, for it offerssound advice without subjectingreaders to relentless research else-where. In the opening dialogueMachiavelli proclaims to Lorenzo,“And now I offer the results to YourHighness within the compass of asmall volume . . . that of enablingYou to understand in a very shorttime all those things which I havelearnt at the cost of privation anddanger, in the course of many years.”By enabling Lorenzo to quickly re-trieve and assimilate axioms on con-temporary statecraft—without hav-ing to distill wisdom from the vaststores of raw data—Machiavelli prof-fered power and greatness. Imaginewhat such an accomplishmentwould mean today. Consider the re-wards that any advisor could claimfor being able to spontaneously re-trieve information with effortlessflexibility, categorical systemic accu-racy, and research yields in multipleformats in the prescribed order of rel-evance. But for readers of Joint ForceQuarterly who may be looking forsuch a gift, go no farther: your mod-ern-day Prince is at hand in the JointElectronic Library (JEL).

JEL is a library of joint and se-lected service publications availablevia computer and modem over bothcommercial and governmentalphones to registered users world-wide. It contains more than 100,000pages of material on doctrine, educa-tion, and operations, including allunclassified joint doctrine publica-tions approved by the Chairman,Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as manyother doctrinal publications devel-oped by the services and allied na-tions, extracts from some intermedi-ate- and senior-level collegecurricula, plus research conductedby faculty and students at those in-stitutions. In addition, the library in-cludes The Air University Library Indexof Military Periodicals, Department ofDefense Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms, and selected source

material on historical and contem-porary issues. Consideration is beinggiven to developing separate classi-fied databases while continuing toexpand the unclassified repositories.

Most electronic libraries do nothave full-text databases. Instead theyoffer only bibliographies and briefabstracts that attempt to distill thecontents of documents. These li-braries normally operate as follows:having reviewed a database andidentified abstracts of specific docu-ments that may contain material rel-evant to the researcher’s needs, theitems must be requested to accessthem. Once the request is received,the host library must determinewhether the documents are in stock,and then send those that are avail-able to the requestor—a process thatcan take two to three weeks. Thissystem is akin to searching libraryshelves: first the document must beidentified and located, then the re-searcher must peruse the material todetermine its utility. Regrettably,items retrieved from the stacks, orthrough electronic libraries, some-times prove of little value to the researcher.

JEL, however, has the completetext of every document so thatwithin seconds it is able to scan itscollection and identify where theword or words being searched ap-pear. Imagine walking into a libraryand being able to quickly find every-thing on a given subject. Also con-sider leaving fully confident that nopertinent information has beenoverlooked, and that the data gath-ered had been systematically ar-ranged. That largely describes JEL’sefficiency and effectiveness. Obvi-ously there will be cases when spe-cific research requirements cannotbe satisfied. The difference lies in in-stantaneously determining a docu-ment’s relevance and then proceed-ing without any delay. Experiencedresearchers agree that collecting datais tedious and time-consuming: JELcan greatly facilitate this process.

The databases are also availableon compact disc-read only memory(CD–ROM) that offers the same full-text, rapid search, and relevance-ranking retrieval capabilities as theon-line modem system. Aside from

Subscribing to the

Joint ElectronicLibraryAgencies interested in gaining on-lineaccess to JEL must submit a request onofficial letterhead indicating the name,mailing address, and telephone numberof a point of contact to:

Director, Joint Doctrine Center1283 CV Towway (Suite 100)Norfolk, Virginia 23511–2491

or call the Joint Doctrine Center at:

(804) 444–3627/DSN 564–3627FAX: (804) 444–3990/DSN 564–3990

In addition to potential DOD users, re-quests for access are accepted fromother Federal agencies, nonprofit orga-nizations, and NATO countries. Once ap-proved, users are provided with “hookup” packages that allow them to accessJEL on a 24-hour a day basis withoutany charge.

Orders for CD–ROM supplements mustbe placed through service distributionsystems. JEL discs conform to ISO 9660specifications.


an extraordinary capacity to acceptand store data, the CD–ROM supple-ments eliminate transmission time—they contain up to 300,000 pages offull-text which is equivalent totransmitting 26 days with a PC andmodem—and allow unlimited re-search activity without either the expense or priority limitations im-posed by system-related telecommu-nications. The CD–ROM also con-tains the graphic images found inthe documents. This technology sig-nificantly augments JEL on-line access by serving numerous usersworldwide in an efficient and cost-effective manner.

The operational requirementsplaced on today’s “MagnificentLorenzos”—whether they are actionofficers or planners, doctrinal devel-opers or educators, policymakers orwarfighters—will continue to growat the same rate as rapidly changingcrises and global events. Not surpris-ingly, this will call for continued ex-pansion of JEL databases. Future de-velopments are likely to include thecoverage of functional areas directlyrelated to or impacting on joint doctrine and warfighting.

As Machiavelli’s dialogue withLorenzo continues, he implores,“May I trust, therefore, that YourHighness will accept this little gift inthe spirit in which it is offered; andif Your Highness will deign to peruseit, You will recognize in it my ardentdesire that You may attain to thatgrandeur which fortune and Yourown merits presage for you.” Suchare the practical riches within thegrasp of those who use this modernday Prince.

Contributed by COL Jerry Dunn, USA (Ret.)

JFQ

DEFENSE LIBRARYON DISC

The holdings of the PentagonLibrary and the National DefenseUniversity Library are now availableon a CD–ROM disc. Later this yearthe Staff College Automated MilitaryPeriodicals Index (SCAMPI) will beadded to the disc.

These collections of open litera-ture can be searched together or sep-arately, although access to the mate-rial cited is subject to the respectivepolicies of each library. The DefenseLibrary on Disc contains over220,000 records including items inthe fields of international securityaffairs, defense policy, military his-tory, resource management, and theart of war.

The “National Defense Univer-sity LS/2000 Catalog” containsrecords of the holdings found in theuniversity’s two libraries in Washing-

ton, D.C., and Norfolk, Virginia. The“Pentagon Library ILS Catalog” listsbooks, periodicals, documents, refer-ence works, microfilm, and videoswhich support the missions of DODand the services. But the catalog does not include classified material,administrative publications, or congressional hearings and reports.

The Pentagon Library onlylends material to personnel assignedto the Pentagon or to DOD agenciessituated in the National Capitol Re-gion where library service is unavail-able. Similarly, the National DefenseUniversity Library only lends mate-rial to faculty members and studentsattending one of its constituent col-leges. All other users of the DefenseLibrary on Disc must contact local libraries to borrow items identifiedon the CD–ROM or to request themthrough interlibrary loan. JFQ

Defense Library on CD–ROM

More information about the Defense Library on Disc may be obtained by contacting:

National Defense University LibraryATTN: Systems Librarian

Washington, D.C. 20319–6000

(202) 287–9474 / DSN 667–9474or

Pentagon LibraryATTN: Systems Librarian

Room 1A518, The PentagonWashington, D.C. 20310–6080

(703) 697–4658 or DSN 227–4658


1993 CJCS Essay CompetitionThe 12th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS) Strategy Essay Competition was held on May 20–21 at the National Defense University. This competition challenges students at the intermediate and senior colleges to write on some aspect of international security, defense policy, or military affairs, with special emphasis on joint topics. Each institution may submit five individual and five group essays to a panel of judges selected from the joint and servicecolleges. Winners receive prizes provided by the National Defense University Foundation.

Top honors this year were shared by two entries while eight others were cited for distinction:

Co-Winning EssaysLieutenant Colonel Peter W. Chiarelli, USA (National War College),

“Goldwater-Nichols Revisited: A Proposal for Meaningful Defense Reorganization”

Captain Brett D. Barkley, USMCR (Naval War College), “Bosnia: A Question of Intervention”

Distinguished Individual EssaysLieutenant Colonel Jon R. Ball, USAF (Air War College),

“Islamic Resurgence in the Middle East”

William H. Dunn, Department of the Army (U.S. Army War College),“In Search of Measures of Effectiveness for Counterdrug Operations”

Lieutenant Colonel Scott W. Conrad, USA (Industrial College of the Armed Forces),“Moving the Force: Desert Storm and Beyond”

Lieutenant Colonel Gregory A. Keethler, USAF (Air War College),“The Impact of the Soviet Union’s Demise on the U.S. Military Space Program”

Joseph McBride, Department of State (National War College), “Coping with Chaos: Promoting Democracy and Regional Stability in the Post-Counterinsurgency Era”

Captain Terry J. Pudas, USN (Naval War College), “Coalition Warfare: Preparing the U.S. Commander for the Future”

Major Thomas R. Griffith, Jr., USAF (Air Command and Staff College),“Attacking Electrical Power”

Distinguished Group EssayCommander Michael J. Sare, USN; Peggy J. Grantham, National Security Agency;and Gerald A. Lambrecht, Defense Intelligence Agency (National War College),

“U.S. Intelligence Support to United Nations Military Operations: Trends and Issues (U)”

Joint Warfare of the U.S.Armed Forces ON VIDEO

A ten-and-a-half minute video tape that highlights major concepts and themes found in Joint Pub 1, Joint Warfare of the U.S. Armed Forces, is available on request to military organizations/units by writing:

National Military Command CenterVisual Reading FacilityThe Joint Staff (J–3)Room 3C941, The PentagonWashington, D.C. 20301–7000

or calling: (703) 697–9033/DSN 227–9033


The Commandersby Bob Woodward

New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991.398 pp. $24.95.

[ISBN 0 671 41367 8]

It Doesn’t Take A Heroby H. Norman Schwarzkopf,

with Pete PetreNew York: Linda Grey/Bantam, 1993.

530 pp. $30.00.[ISBN 0 385 42584 8]

Desert Victory: The War For Kuwait

by Norman FriedmanAnnapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1991.

435 pp. $24.95.[ISBN 1 55750 254 4]

Storm Over Iraq: Air Power and the Gulf War

by Richard P. HallionWashington: Smithsonian Institution

Press, 1992. 383 pp. $24.95.[ISBN 1 56098 190 3]

Moving Mountains: Lessons in Leadership and

Logistics from the Gulf Warby William G. Pagonis

and Jeffrey L. CruikshankBoston: Harvard Business School Press,

1992. 248 pp. $24.95.[ISBN 0 87584 360 3]

Storm Command: A Personal Account

of the Gulf Warby Peter de la Billière

London: HarperCollins, 1992. 248 pp. £18.00.

[ISBN 0 00 255138 1]

She Went To War: The Rhonda Cornum Story

by Rhonda Cornum, with Peter Copeland

Novato, California: Presidio Press, 1992.203 pp. $19.95.

[ISBN 0 89141 463 0]

Hotel Warriors: Covering the Gulf War

by John J. FialkaWashington: Woodrow Wilson Center

Press, 1992. 78 pp. $9.75.[ISBN 0 943875 40 4]

REVISITING THEGULF WAR: A REVIEW ESSAYBy HARRY G. SUMMERS, JR.

Critical analysis, like theory,observed Carl von Clausewitzin Von Kriege (On War), can

become a guide to anyone wantingto learn about war from books.While not a recipe for action, “it ismeant to educate the mind of a fu-ture commander, or, more accu-rately, to guide him in his self-educa-tion.” Critical analysis is “theapplication of theoretical truths toactual events,” he warned. To be ef-fective “the language of criticismshould have the same character asthinking must have in wars; other-wise it loses its practical value and[loses] contact with its subject.”

But as in Clausewitz’s day, thatis often not the case. Readers ofmuch of what passes for criticalthinking today from academe andthink-tanks will recognize Clause-witz’s complaint that “our theoreti-cal and critical literature, instead ofgiving plain truths, straightforwardarguments in which the author atleast always knows what he is sayingand the reader what he is reading, iscrammed with jargon, ending at ob-scure crossroads where the authorloses his readers.”

“Sometimes,” he adds, “thesebooks are even worse: they are hol-low shells. The author himself nolonger knows just what he is think-ing and soothes himself with obscureideas which would not satisfy him ifexpressed in plain speech. . . . Thelight of day usually reveals them tobe mere trash, with which the authorintends to show off his learning.”

Memoirs“In the art of war,” according to

Clausewitz, “experience counts more

than any abstract truth.” When itcomes to critical analysis “if thecritic wishes to distribute praise orblame, he must certainly try to puthimself exactly in the position ofthe commander; in other words, hemust assemble everything the com-mander knew and all the motivesthat affected his decision.”

“[A] situation giving rise to anevent can never look the same to theanalyst as it did to the participant,”Clausewitz noted. “These can onlybe discovered from the memoirs ofthe commanders, or from peoplevery close to them.”

Fortunately for anyone explor-ing the theoretical truths of the GulfWar, such works are at hand. Five ofthe eight books reviewed here arefrom commanders or participants,and the balance from “people veryclose to them.” Their accounts of ac-tual events provide a basis for exam-ining such theoretical truths asunity of command, Total Force, jointand combined warfare, women onthe battlefield, and the state ofmedia-military relations.

Bob Woodward’s The Comman-ders provides insights into the effectsof the Goldwater-Nichols Depart-

“The Man of the Year (The Bear).” Portrait by SFC Peter G. Varisano, USA.

Cou

rtes

y of

the

U.S

. A

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Art

Col

lect

ion

Colonel Harry G. Summers, Jr., USA (Ret.), is anoted writer, lecturer, and distinguished fel-low of the U.S. Army War College; he is theauthor of On Strategy II: A Critical Analysis of the Gulf War and Gulf War Almanac.


ment of Defense Reorganization Actof 1986 on unity of command, espe-cially as it impacted on the Chairmanof the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He alsotells of the President’s decision to mo-bilize the Reserve and seek congres-sional approval for the war. In ItDoesn’t Take a Hero the impact of theGoldwater-Nichols reforms on theCommander in Chief of U.S. CentralCommand (CINCCENT) in the Gulfis recounted by the CINC himself.And General Schwarzkopf illuminatesanother truth, the criticality of jointoperations. Richard Hallion in StormOver Iraq argues the case for airpower.Norman Friedman’s Desert Victoryheralds Navy and Marine Corps con-tributions to the war. In MovingMountains General Gus Pagonis de-tails not only the importance of logis-tics, but the enormous contributionof the Reserve components as well.

Combined operations is a focusof Schwarzkopf’s book as he discussescoalition war both in terms of alliedforces under his direct command andthrough cooperation with the Arabcoalition commander. That story isreinforced by the account of theBritish commander, General Sir Peterde la Billière, in Storm Command: APersonal Account of the Gulf War.

Another major truth to emergefrom the Gulf War was the role ofwomen in combat. Major RhondaCornum’s She Went to War debunksmuch of the myth about women’sunique battlefield vulnerability inrelating her experiences as a pris-oner. Finally, with Hotel Warriors,John Fialka of The Wall Street Journalprovides a scathing indictment ofthe military and the media as bothfailed to live up to the theoreticaltruth of the importance of keepingthe American people informed.

Unity of CommandOne of the key principles of war

is unity of command. It has been ar-gued that the violation of this prin-ciple alone was a major factor in theloss of the Vietnam War. In the wakeof that conflict Congress reformedthe military chain of command, pri-marily through the Goldwater-Nichols Act which gave increasedpower to the Chairman of the JointChiefs of Staff as the principal mili-

tary advisor to the President and in-creased the authority of the CINCsof the unified commands.

How did Goldwater-Nicholswork in practice? From the senioreditor of The Washington Post comesan unparalleled inside look at deci-sionmaking in the White House andPentagon. Invited into the inner cir-cles of the defense community to re-count the military’s side of thePanama invasion, Woodward, whoserved in the Pentagon as a navallieutenant in 1969–70, was literallypresent at the creation of the Gulfcrisis. The result is The Commanders,a book which appeared in 1991 ascant three months after the end ofthe Gulf War. While not without itsfaults, this account provides an un-precedented look at how the top-level of the chain of command reallyworks. “It is above all a book abouthow the United States decides tofight its wars before shots are fired,”says Woodward. Using the Chair-man, General Colin Powell, as pro-tagonist, he focuses on the machina-tions of the Washington bureaucracyrather than the war itself.

Among the many insights is therole of the President in the decision-making cycle. Unlike Vietnam, therewas no dithering about NationalCommand Authorities, a catch-phrase for whoever it was, if any-body, who made the critical deci-sions in Washington. This time therewas no doubt about who was incharge. Another departure from theVietnam War was the Chairman’srole. As Goldwater-Nichols had envi-sioned, he proved to be the principalmilitary advisor to the Secretary ofDefense and the President. Con-versely, as Woodward reports, while“Powell had used the service chiefsquite effectively . . . in fact theyplayed almost no role in the deci-sionmaking. Their influence hoveredaround zero.”

Not so for General Schwarzkopf.Goldwater-Nichols gave enormousnew powers to the heads of unifiedcommands and Schwarzkopf wasquick to use it. As his autobiographyrecounts, he had total operationalcommand in Southwest Asia and

power over the manpower and ma-terial assets of all the services. AsGeneral Pagonis, Schwarzkopf’s lo-gistics chief, told Senator Sam Nunn,he could not have done his job be-fore Goldwater-Nichols.

But not everything ransmoothly. In an incident that wouldbe repeated in the opening days ofthe Clinton administration, therewas a brouhaha when Woodward’sbook was published about his revelation that Powell disagreedwith President Bush’s going to war,preferring instead to allow moretime for sanctions to work.

Asked about this apparent “insubordination,” Bush said “as faras Colin Powell goes, he owes theCommander in Chief his advice.When the Commander in Chiefmakes a decision, he salutes andmarches to the order of the Commander in Chief.

“And if there is anybody thathas the integrity and the honor totell a President what he feels, it’sColin Powell. . . . Colin couldn’thave given me more sound advicealong the way and couldn’t havebeen a better team player andcouldn’t have been a more sterlingmilitary commander.”

Senator Nunn, Chairman of theSenate Armed Services Committee,took a more jaundiced view. In October 1991, at the confirmationhearing for his second term as Chair-man of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,General Powell was questionedsharply, as The Washington Post putit, “for apparently telling more toWoodward than [he] told the com-mittee during the Persian Gulf War.”Nevertheless, Senator Nunn, whohad been severely criticized for sup-porting sanctions and opposingBush’s decision to go to war, allowedthe confirmation to proceed.

Woodward’s description of Presi-dent Bush at an eleventh-hour meet-ing to decide whether to get congres-sional approval before taking theNation to war is far-reaching in itsimplications. The decision and votewere both close, but they marked thereturn to a constitutional warmakingframework that had been abandonedwith disastrous consequences overKorea and Vietnam.


Total ForceClosely tied to the decision to

seek congressional approval for thewar was the mobilization of the Re-serves. As Woodward notes, “Certaincritical military specialties such aslogistics, transportation, medical ser-vices, construction, and intelligencewere concentrated in the Reserves.”This was not accidental. “Frustratedby President Johnson’s refusal tofully mobilize the military duringVietnam by calling up the Reservefor any major military action . . . theReserve call-up was inevitable. Bushnow authorized it.”

It was a momentous decision,for the war could not have beenfought without them. “At the peakof Desert Shield,” Schwarzkopf said,his logistics command “had 94 dif-ferent Reserve and National Guardunits under [its] command,” some70-plus percent of its personnel. Asimportant as their physical contribu-tion was to the operation, their psy-chological impact was even greater.In 1964 when then Army Chief ofStaff General Creighton Abrams devised the Total Force concept, herealized that the Reserve was abridge between the active force andthe public. “When you come to waryou bring the American people withyou,” General Ed Burba of U.S.Forces Command remarked to a Reserve audience after the Gulf War.

Joint OperationsMobilizing the Reserve and the

Nation was only one of many waysthe Gulf War differed from Vietnam.Another was organizing for combat.“MACV [Military Assistance Com-mand Vietnam] functioned not di-rectly under the Joint Chiefs of Staffin Washington but through CINCPAC[Commander in Chief, U.S. PacificCommand in Honolulu],” said General William Westmoreland in hismemoirs. “What many fail to realizewas that not I but [CINCPAC] was thetheater commander in the sense thatGeneral Eisenhower . . . was the the-ater commander in World War II.” Bycontrast Schwarzkopf was very muchin the Eisenhower mode. Instead of

headquarters being 6,000 miles fromthe battlefield as it was in Vietnam,Schwarzkopf moved U.S. CentralCommand (CENTCOM) from itspeacetime location at MacDill AirForce Base in Tampa, Florida, toRiyadh, Saudi Arabia, by late August1990 where it was to remain for theduration.

While in reality he acted as hisown ground force commander,Schwarzkopf had a classic jointchain of command. He exercisedcommand of Army forces throughLieutenant General John Yeosock(commander of 3d Army), Marinesthrough Lieutenant General WalterBoomer (commander of I Marine Ex-peditionary Force), air forces throughLieutenant General Charles Horner(commander of 9th Air Force), andnaval forces through Vice AdmiralHank Mauz, and his successor, ViceAdmiral Stanley Arthur (commanderof 7th Fleet).

“Officially, as a commander inchief, I reported to Secretary [of De-fense Dick] Cheney,” Schwarzkopfwrote, “but Colin Powell was virtu-ally my sole point of contact withthe administration. ‘It’s my job tokeep the President and the WhiteHouse and the Secretary of Defenseinformed,’ Powell would say. ‘Youworry about your theater and let meworry about Washington.’ This ar-rangement was efficient. . . . But Ialso found the arrangement unnerv-ing at times, because it kept me inthe dark. Often, after White Housemeetings, Powell would call withquestions that made me wonderwhether our civilian superiors hadgrasped military realities.” One suchcase was the decision to begin theground war, which Schwarzkopf de-scribes as a shouting match withPowell. “You are pressuring me toput aside my military judgment forpolitical expediency,” he said at onepoint. Another was the decision onending the war. “Frankly my recom-mendation had been, you know,continue the march,” he commentedto television interviewer David Frostin March 1991. “I mean we hadthem in a rout.” But after WhiteHouse and Pentagon remonstrancesthat he had recommended no such

thing, he apologized for a “poorchoice of words.”

In an address at the U.S. NavalAcademy in May 1991, Schwarzkopfsaid that Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm were certainly “theclassic example of a multiservice op-eration, a truly joint operation.” ButIt Doesn’t Take a Hero focuses on theground attack. The Navy gets shortshrift from Schwarzkopf as it didfrom the media. “During DesertStorm courageous [Navy] aircrews . . . literally decimated major-league targets,” complained Rear Ad-miral R.D. Mixon, commander ofBattle Force Red Sea. “Navy strikeaircraft flew 23 percent of all thecombat missions.” The problem isthat no one knew it. “We tend toavoid the press,” Mixon said, anomission his service paid for dearly.

To compensate for that omissionwe have Norman Friedman’s DesertVictory. While not a participant inthe war, Friedman—a respected de-fense analyst who writes a monthlycolumn for the Naval Institute’s Pro-ceedings—is certainly close to thosewho were there. A chapter in hisbook entitled “The Seaward Flank”and an appendix on “Naval Forces inthe Embargo and the War” detail theNavy’s role in the Gulf. Friedman’sanalysis is not confined to naval operations but covers the air cam-paign as well. He is particularly criti-cal of the rigidity of the Air Forcecomputer-driven Air Tasking Order(ATO) system. While acknowledgingthe success of air operations, he be-lieves that it could never be decisive.“Saddam never did decide to surren-der to air attack,” he concludes, “butthe coalition always had to be awarethat he had the option of stoppingthe attack before its real objective(the elimination of Iraq as a regionalthreat) had been made.” When it ap-peared Saddam Hussein might dojust that with his overtures to the So-viet Union for a “peace plan” inFebruary 1991, the decision wasmade to launch the ground attack.

In Storm Over Iraq, another re-spected analyst, Richard Hallion,takes a different point of view. Theauthor of a number of books on thesubject, Hallion believes airpowerwas decisive in the Gulf. “Simply (if

REFUSING TO REFIGHT THELAST WAR

. . . America’s hands wereno longer tied. Unlike NorthKorea’s Kim Il Sung and NorthVietnam’s Ho Chi Minh, Sad-dam Hussein was not shieldedby the skirts of China and theSoviet Union. American mili-tary strategy had come full circle, and in many importantrespects was back to World WarII again. Like Adolph Hitler, towhom he has been compared,Saddam Hussein was to feel thefull fury of America’s conven-tional military might.

Gradualism and stalematewere out the window. “Prior toordering our forces into battle,”said President Bush, “I in-structed our military comman-ders to take every necessarystep to prevail as quickly aspossible and with the greatestdegree of protection possiblefor American and allied service-men and women.

“No President can easilycommit our sons and daughtersto war,” he concluded. “Theyare the Nation’s finest. Ours isa volunteer force—magnifi-cently trained, highly moti-vated. The troops know whythey’re there.”

And that was more thanjust rhetoric. Because of the re-naissance in military thinkingin the 1970s and 1980s, our sol-diers, sailors, airmen, Marines,and coast guardsmen were thebest-trained and best-preparedmilitary force that the UnitedStates had ever committed toaction.

From On Strategy II: A CriticalAnalysis of the Gulf War

by Harry B. Summers, Jr.New York: Dell Publishing, 1992.

[ISBN 0 440 21194 8]


boldly) stated,” he avers, “airpowerwon the Gulf War.” One may dis-agree with his conclusions, but it isimpossible not to be impressed withthe scope of his analysis, whichtraces the impact of airpower fromits beginnings. His arguments weredeemed so persuasive that selectedportions of his book were excerptedby the Air Force and published aspart of “Reaching Globally, ReachingPowerfully: The USAF in the GulfWar,” that service’s “quick look” atwhat the air war had accomplished.Quoting a comment by Defense Sec-retary Cheney approvingly, that theIraqis “didn’t fight back because theair war turned out to be absolutelydevastating,” Hallion concludes that“airpower can hold territory bydenying an enemy the ability toseize it and by denying an enemythe use of its forces. And it can seizeterritory by controlling access tothat territory and movement acrossit. It did both in the Gulf War.”

While the debate continuesover whether airpower alone can bedecisive, there is no argument withLieutenant General William (Gus)Pagonis’s account of the decisiverole logistics played during the GulfWar in Moving Mountains. A total of122 million meals were served, 1.3billion gallons of fuel pumped, 52million miles driven, 32,000 tons ofmail delivered, 730,000 people proc-essed through aerial ports—justsome of the statistics from the logis-tics of the war. Making it all possiblewas Gus Pagonis, Schwarzkopf’sDeputy Commander for Logistics re-sponsible for “fuel, water, food, vehi-cles, ammunition, all classes of sup-ply (except equipment spare parts)for the Marine Corps, Air Force, andthe Army.” From a 20-man team,Pagonis’s force grew to some 88,000individuals, including 39,925 sol-diers. “I owe much of the success ofmy command to the talents of ourflexible and well-trained Reservecomponent (National Guard and Re-serve) units,” he writes. “At theheight of the Gulf conflict, the 22d

Support Command drew a full 70-plus percent of its personnel fromReserve units; and we’re lucky wewere able to do so.” As director ofhost-nation support, Pagonis built

an effective in-country supply basefor food, water, and ground trans-port. “Conducting business with theSaudis and other Middle Eastern na-tionals was an ongoing educationalexperience,” he says, in what is amasterpiece of understatement.

Combined OperationsPagonis was not the only one

dealing with foreign nationals. Op-eration Desert Storm not only repre-sented a Total Force operation—withboth active and Reserve componentsof the Army, Navy, Marine Corps,Air Force, and Coast Guard—and ajoint operation involving a team ef-fort by all the services—but it wasalso a combined operation involvingmilitary contingents from someforty allied nations. Crucial to prose-cuting the war was the cooperationof the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.“Without Saudi Arabia—without itsharbors and airfields, military bases,housing, transportation systems,money, fuel, and friendly environ-ment—the war would have been farmore difficult and dangerous towage, if it could have been waged atall,” said Schwarzkopf’s Saudi coun-terpart, Lieutenant General PrinceKhalid Bin Sultan al-Saud. The sonof the Saudi Minister of Defense,Khalid was educated at the RoyalMilitary Academy, Sandhurst; at-tended the Air War College atMaxwell Air Force Base; and holds amaster’s degree from Auburn Univer-sity. While Schwarzkopf exercisedunity of command as sole comman-der of all U.S. forces, such an ar-rangement was not politically feasi-ble for control of combined forces.Instead there was a cooperative, dualcommand: Schwarzkopf com-manded the American, British, andFrench forces, and Khalid com-manded the forces of Saudi Arabia,Gulf states, Egypt, Syria, and theother coalition partners. “Schwarz-kopf and I had a successful andfriendly partnership,” Khalid noted,“and I would like to think we bothacquitted ourselves well.” Unfortu-nately this spirit did not survive thepublication of Schwarzkopf’s book.“It is not unusual after a war for gen-erals to magnify their own achieve-ments and belittle those of others,”


Khalid wrote. “I regret to say that . . .my comrade in arms during the Per-sian Gulf War has succumbed to thistemptation . . . he gives himself allthe credit for the victory over Iraqwhile running down just about ev-erybody else.”

More forgiving is Storm Com-mand: A Personal History of the GulfWar by General Sir Peter de la Billière, commander of British forcesin the Gulf. An Arabist with 15 yearsexperience in the Middle East, SirPeter, Britain’s most decorated serv-ing soldier, spent most of his careerin the Special Air Service (SAS), theBritish army’s premier special opera-tions unit. Accustomed to avoidingthe limelight, de la Billière nonethe-less had a major impact on the war.For one thing, he was instrumentalin increasing British ground contri-butions to a full division and thengaining his 1st Armoured Division anindependent battlefield mission. Foranother, his SAS forces operating behind enemy lines drove theSCUDs out of range of Israel. Report-edly these efforts led the way to increased use of U.S. Special Opera-tions Forces in covert operations onthe battlefield.

Unfortunately, there has beenlittle written—in English at least—on the contributions of the French6th Light Armored Division and theSaudi, Egyptian, and Syrian divi-sions. Friedman does discuss, how-ever, the contributions of alliednavies. Likewise, Hallion has a verymoving section on allied participa-tion in the bombing campaignwhere eight Tornado aircraft werelost, including six from the Royal AirForce, one from the Saudi air force,and one from the Italian air force.

Women on the BattlefieldAnother theoretical truth of the

Gulf War was the affirmation of therole of women on the battlefield.Women had served in past wars,mostly as nurses or clerical person-nel, but for the first time they servedin large numbers in combat supportand combat service support units.Some 41,000 women served in theGulf. There were 27,000 in the activeforce, but the highest proportion—

13 percent of the total—were Re-servists, including 21.3 percent ofthe Reserve officers. As Defense Sec-retary Dick Cheney said on March 2,1991, “Women have made a majorcontribution to this effort. We couldnot have won without them.” AndSchwarzkopf was equally compli-mentary. “Discussion with the con-gressional delegation led by Con-gressman Ford,” reads his war diaryfor March 16, 1991. “One issue waswomen in the military—how didthey do? The CINC said ‘Great!’ ”One major fear was the public reac-tion to women coming home inbody bags—though some 200 mili-tary nurses were killed in World WarII and eight in Vietnam—and whatwould happen if a woman was takenprisoner, forgetting that duringWorld War II 79 Army and Navynurses were held as POWs by theJapanese.

She Went to War is Army MajorRhonda Cornum’s account of hercaptivity at the hands of the Iraqis.A flight surgeon and helicopterpilot, she was shot down while on asearch-and-rescue mission oversouthern Iraq. Her matter-of-fact taleof what she went through, and hersubsequent revelation that she hadbeen sexually molested—what shecalled “an occupational hazard ofgoing to war”—does much to refutethe idea that women are somehowpeculiarly vulnerable in battle andunable to withstand the rigors ofcombat. Be that as it may, while theargument continues over assigningwomen to direct combat, there canno longer be any doubt overwomen’s legitimate role on the bat-tlefield. As Cornum says, “The quali-ties that are most important in allmilitary jobs—things like integrity,moral courage, and determination—have nothing to do with gender.”

The MediaThe final theoretical truth is

that, like it or not, the news mediaare an essential part of the Americanway of war. In November 1984, in adiscussion of the necessary precondi-tions for going to war, then DefenseSecretary Caspar Weinberger saidthat there must be some reasonableassurance of public and congres-

sional support. But how do you getthat support? “A Gallup public opin-ion poll in early 1991 showed 85 per-cent of the public had a high level ofconfidence in the military,” notedRear Admiral Brent Baker, the Navy’sChief of Information. “Where didthe public get its perception of themilitary’s professionalism? They gotit from news media reports.”

After the Gulf War there wasmuch whining and sniveling fromthe media, much of it antiwar dia-tribes cloaked in First Amendmentpieties. But there has been legitimatecriticism as well, and the military ig-nores it at its peril. Among such criti-cisms is Hotel Warriors: Covering theGulf War by John J. Fialka, the warcorrespondent of The Wall Street Journal. Finding fault with both themedia and the military, he arguesthat the present system serves neitherjournalists nor soldiers. “The basicpoint that John Fialka makes,” saysthe Library of Congress’s PeterBraestrup, “is that the Nation and theArmed Services are best served . . . bycompetent firsthand reporting of mil-itary performance, good or bad.”

Some argue that it is too soon tomake a critical analysis of the GulfWar. Others argue that it was ananomaly with no lessons to proffer.But such arguments miss the point.“The military student does not seekto learn from history the minutiae ofmethod and technique,” said thenArmy Chief of Staff General DouglasMacArthur in 1935. “In every agethese are decisively influenced by thecharacteristics of weapons currentlyavailable and the means at hand formaneuvering, supplying, and con-trolling combat forces.

“But research does bring to lightthose fundamental principles, andtheir combinations and applications,which in the past have been produc-tive of success. These principlesknow no limitation of time. Conse-quently the Army extends its analytical interest to the dust-buriedaccounts of war long past as well as those still reeking with the scentof battle.” JFQ

THE MILITARY COSTOF DISCRIMINATIONA Review Essay by ALAN L. GROPMAN

The Navy commissioned its firstblack officers—twelve ensignsand one warrant officer—in

April 1944, thereby ending symboli-cally and painfully 146 years ofracial discrimination. The GoldenThirteen is an oral history recount-ing the wartime experiences of eightsurviving members of that first co-hort of black naval officers. Their


reminiscences are complemented byinterviews with white officers whoboth trained and commanded theGolden Thirteen during World WarII. This book is a clear reminder of along and painful chapter in U.S. mil-itary history in which the combatpotential of black soldiers, sailors,marines, and airmen was lost to theArmed Forces.

Recruiting the ThirteenThe Golden Thirteen was a suc-

cessful group of enlisted men whotrained for ninety days in early 1944at Great Lakes Naval Training Stationto provide a token complement ofcommissioned blacks. The group wasmade up of solid performers, bettereducated than many white officers ofthe period. Several were exception-ally well qualified. Samuel Barnes, for example, was a college graduateand athlete who later earned a doc-torate; Frank E. Sublett had com-pleted three years of college andgained a national reputation as afootball player; Graham E. Martin,who had excelled both academicallyand athletically at Indiana Univer-sity, starred on the Great Lakes foot-ball team which ranked among thebest in the country; and William S.White had been graduated from theUniversity of Chicago Law Schooland served as an assistant U.S. Attor-ney before his induction into theNavy. But because they were black,no assignments other than menialjobs were open to White and othermembers of the Golden Thirteenwhen they enlisted. In fact, if theyjoined the Navy on December 7,1941, their only choice of assign-ment would have been mess steward.

The Navy had stopped enlistingblacks in 1919, by which time Afro-American sailors were relegated toduties as stewards and cooks. In 1932the Navy opened up enlistment onceagain, but only to those blacks whoagreed to wait on tables or work inthe kitchen. But assigning blacks toservile duties had not always beenthe Navy’s practice. From the days ofJohn Paul Jones to the Civil War, andas recently as the Spanish AmericanWar (in which a black sailor earnedthe Medal of Honor), blacks had

served in combat. In fact, until theclosing years of the last centuryblacks made up a higher percentageof the naval combat force than theirshare of the national population. Yetby 1932, although they made upover 10 percent of the U.S. popula-tion, blacks had fallen to less than 1percent of the Navy’s enlisted force.(By the end of World War II blacksailors made up about 5.5 percent ofthe Navy.) In other words, the perva-sive racism of the early 20th centuryinfluenced attitudes in the Navy tothe extent that the service was de-nied the contributions of qualifiedwarriors solely on the basis of theirrace. During the 18th and 19th cen-turies, when slavery had been legaland racism common, the Navy hadovercome prejudice to employ blacksprofitably and in integrated fashionon warships. But by the early 20th

century, race rigidity had become sosevere that the Navy denied itselffighters and humiliated tens of thousands of blacks.

The Golden Thirteen, proud ofbeing commissioned, suffered theirshare of indignities. The commanderat Great Lakes, for instance, orderedthe new ensigns not to enter the of-ficers’ club. The Bureau of Naval Per-sonnel, moreover, had no plan forusing these unique officers, so manyof the thirteen served in billets be-neath the level of white officers. Forexample, two went to the WestCoast to jointly command a yardoiler, a job previously held by a sin-gle enlisted man.

Had it not been for PresidentFranklin Roosevelt the Navy wouldhave not permitted blacks to serveoutside the mess, but because of theCommander in Chief’s pressure, theNavy permitted blacks to competefor general service positions afterJune 1942, though duty was still lim-ited to shore installations and smalllocal-defense craft. In the fleet blackscould serve only in messes. TheNavy, moreover, barred any servingmessman from transferring from thatspecialty to the general service,claiming that such transfers mightcause a shortage of servants. Roosevelt also forced the Navy toopen its naval commissioning pro-gram known as V–12 to blacks on a

The Golden Thirteen: Recollections of the

First Black Naval Officersedited by Paul Stillwell,

foreword by Colin L. PowellAnnapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1993.

304 pp. $21.95.[ISBN 1 55750 779 1]

Alan L. Gropman is a professor of history atthe Industrial College of the Armed Forcesand the author of The Air Force Integrates,1945–1964. A retired Air Force colonel, heflew more than 650 missions in Vietnam.

age of the Army’s combat force thanit did of the population, thus thefighting and dying burden dispro-portionately fell upon whites. TheGeneral Staff directed the Army WarCollege to study the underuse ofblacks in combat, and it did on nu-merous occasions. But each time thequestion was examined racist mythsand stereotyping interfered with theability of the War College’s studentsand faculty to make useful recom-mendations. The class of 1925, forexample, asserted its racist findingsin a report that stated blacks hadsmaller craniums than whites, andthat the black brain weighed 20 per-cent less. The authors also con-cluded that blacks were instinctivelycowardly. Despite these blatantlyfalse conclusions, the students andfaculty argued that blacks ought toserve in combat for manpower con-siderations, though always underwhite officers and within segregatedunits because social inequality made


nondiscriminatory basis, but thisprogram was not advertized widelyand many blacks never got the word.

Assistant Navy Secretary AdlaiStevenson convinced Secretary ofthe Navy Frank Knox that the ser-vice would be less subject to criti-cism by the black press and leader-ship if a dozen blacks couldcomplete an abbreviated officertraining course before the first blackV–12 people were graduated. TheGolden Thirteen thus sprang fromStevenson’s intervention. Through-out the war the Navy commissionedonly 60 blacks compared with morethan a hundred thousand whites.

Elsewhere in the Department ofthe Navy, the Marine Corps was in-fected by the same racial poison. Be-fore World War II the Marines hadaccepted no blacks. In April 1941, ashis service rapidly expanded, theCommandant of the Marine Corpswent on the record as follows: “If itwere a question of having a MarineCorps of 5,000 whites or 250,000Negroes, I would rather have thewhites.” While many blacks werequalified for duty in the infantry orcombat aviation, segregation pre-vented them from being warriors.The Marines actually instructedmedical examiners to simply dis-qualify black applicants during en-listment physical exams (the ArmyAir Force acted similarly). The Marine Corps leadership deniedblacks combat positions during andeven after World War II, but todayblacks make up more than 20 percent of Marine riflemen.

Blacks in the ArmyThe Navy and the Marine Corps

were not the only services that re-fused to assign blacks to combat dur-ing the war. Despite a heritage ofblack service in the Civil War, Indiancampaigns, and Spanish AmericanWar, the Army reacted similarly. Inthe interwar years fewer than 2 per-cent of the Army was black, andthose few black soldiers were rele-gated to support duties.

Although the Army studiedways to employ more blacks, bigotryblocked the beginning of actual re-form. During World War I blacksconstituted a much smaller percent-

“close association of whites andblacks in military organizations in-imicable to harmony and effi-ciency.” Nine subsequent War Col-lege reports presented suchpseudoscientific generalizationswhich cost the Army full use ofblack soldiers. Blacks comprisenearly 30 percent of the Army today,even higher percentages in the com-bat arms, whereas in 1940 black sol-diers constituted only 1.5 percent ofthe total enlisted force, with nonebeing truly combat soldiers.

The war expanded the numberof blacks in the Army exponentially.Some did see combat in segregatedunits and, by 1945, a few thousandwere actually fighting beside whitesin essentially integrated units. TheArmy’s racial experience was un-happy, however, because its leaders,including those in the Army AirCorps, both civilian and military, re-mained deeply prejudiced

Tuskegee Airmen Go to WarIn 1940 the Army Air Corps had

no blacks serving in any capacity andwanted to retain that status quo. Butas in the case of the Navy the Presi-dent forced the War Department tochange its policy. Consequently, in1941, the Army was forced to estab-lish a training base for black aviators,and it did so near Tuskegee, Alabama.The graduates of Tuskegee Army AirField, still known as “Tuskegee air-men,” were formed into the 332d

Fighter Group and the 477th MediumBombardment Group.

The 332d got into action andbuilt a fine record flying from basesin North Africa, Sicily, and Italy. Thegroup flew about 1,500 missionsduring the war, more than 15,000sorties in all, shot down more than100 enemy aircraft in air-to-air com-bat, destroyed more than 150 otherson the ground, and sank a destroyerwith machine gun fire (a uniqueachievement). Most significant ofall, the 332d never lost an escortedbomber to enemy fighters in 200 es-cort missions. Tuskegee airmen flewover some of the most heavily de-fended enemy targets, among themthe Ploesti oil fields in Romania andBerlin itself. The success of the 332d

in escort missions was also unique.

The Golden Thirteen werenot activists. None of them hadsought to make history. TheNavy’s leaders had simply de-cided that it was past time tobring down the barriers to opportunity in the fleet; and as aconsequence, these thirteensailors were plucked out of theirseparate lives to learn the waysof officership.

Yet from the very beginningthey understood, almost intu-itively, that history had dealtthem a stern obligation. They realized that in their handsrested the chance to help openthe blind moral eye that America had turned on the ques-tion of race.

And they recognized that ontheir shoulders would climb generations of men and womenof America’s future military, including a skinny seven-year-old kid in the Bronx namedColin Powell.

From the foreword to The Golden Thirteenby Colin L. Powell


No other unit with a similar numberof missions had comparable success.

The triumph of the 332d, how-ever, while publicized in the blackpress, was not advertised widely bythe Army; so during the balance ofthe war the achievements of theTuskegee airmen did not bring aboutincreased opportunities for blacks. Infact, the unit remained segregated,its airmen often treated badly andfrequently humiliated by prejudicedleaders. Thus deprived of their right-ful due as heroic aviators the men ofthe 332d could not stand as rolemodels for recruitment. By the endof the war blacks still formed onlyabout .5 percent of the pilot force.

Perhaps the most egregious ex-ample of the damage done to thewar effort by bigotry—and an in-stance of how prejudice can drive of-ficers who were otherwise profes-sional to act against the nationalinterest—was the provoked mutinyof officers in the 477th MediumBombardment Group. The 477th wasa four-squadron B–25 unit formed inJanuary 1944 at Selfridge Air ForceBase, Michigan. It was initially ear-marked for the European theater,later for the Pacific. However, thegroup commander, Colonel RobertE. Selway, instigated an uprising thatdestroyed unit morale, thereby dash-ing the group’s chances for gettinginto combat.

Selway selected only whites tostaff his headquarters and commandthe flying squadrons. All the otheraviators as well as the mechanicsand support specialists were blacks.In the 477th, the policy was that noblack could command a white de-spite the fact that many black veter-ans of the 332d had flown numerouscombat missions and had volun-teered for more combat with the477th. None of the white officers hadcombat experience.

Selway, moreover, himself re-fused to associate with blacks by vis-iting the officers’ club. Because ofhis example the white squadroncommanders did likewise. Fearing anegative reaction from nearby De-troit with its large black population,Selway moved the 477th south to aninadequate airfield. He anticipatedthat the relocation would offer him

of the trials and triumphs of a finegroup of Americans, and let this latest entry in the record of blackmilitary history serve as a painful reminder for all who wear the uni-form that intolerance is destructive.In this current era of constrained resources, the defense establishmentcannot afford to waste any humanasset. JFQ

ON THE OTHERSIDE OF THE INTERWAR YEARSA Book Review by BRIAN R. SULLIVAN

Those who find themselves dis-mayed by impending cuts inthe Armed Forces can take con-

siderable heart from a new study ofthe German army between 1918 and1933. James Corum, who teaches inthe School of Advanced AirpowerStudies at the Air Command andStaff College, has written an engross-ing history of the Reichswehr thatserves as an antidote to worries overdeclining force structures.

The Versailles Treaty compelledthe Weimar Republic to reduce thestrength of the German army to100,000 men. (With a German popu-lation of 63 million in 1925, this wasproportionate to a U.S. Army of400,000 today.) Furthermore, the Al-lies forbade the Reichswehr to possessaircraft, armor, antiaircraft guns,medium and heavy artillery, and poi-

better control over his troops, al-though in fact they had caused notrouble to that point. The move setback the training schedule, andsince the airfield was poor, he had torelocate again in March 1945 tocatch up on training.

At the new base, Freeman Fieldin southern Indiana, he constructedone officers’ club for his white cadreand another for blacks. The actionviolated Army regulations and drovethe black aviators of the 477th to ex-ercise their rights. When they in-formed Selway of their intention toenter any club he opened, he threat-ened them with prosecution, issuedan order specifying by name whocould enter the white club, and fi-nally arrested (and manacled) 61black aviators who disobeyed his reg-ulation. These men were shippedout, and his outfit, supposedly on itsway to war, stood appreciably shortof aircrews. He then compoundedthe injustice by ordering the remain-ing officers to certify by signaturethat he was not discriminatingagainst blacks on the basis of race.All the whites complied and, becauseit was a direct order in time of war,about 300 black officers also signed,but 101 blacks refused even underthreat of arrest and worse. Selway ar-rested these men and shipped themoff as well, leaving his outfit short of162 pilots, navigators, and navigator-bombardiers. The 477th was dead.

In his actions, Selway was sup-ported by superiors who, in turn,were backed by general officers inthe Pentagon, including the DeputyCommanding General of the AirCorps. Thus in a time of war, whenthe country was counting on everyasset, bigotry not only drove seniorofficers to violate their oaths, butalso to deprive the Nation of thecombat services of skilled and dedicated aviators.

Racial integration and the fullutilization of human resources basedupon ability rather than race cameto all the services within six years ofWorld War II, sooner in the cases ofboth the Navy and the newly estab-lished Air Force, evidence that thecostly discrimination of the waryears could have been abandoned.Read The Golden Thirteen and learn

The Roots of Blitzkrieg: Hans von Seeckt and

German Military Reformby James S. Corum

Lawrence, Kansas: University of Kansas, 1992. 274 pp. $29.95

[ISBN 0 7006 05 41 X]

Brian R. Sullivan is a senior fellow in the Institute for National Strategic Studies atthe National Defense University. He is thecoauthor of a recent book entitled Il Duce’sOther Woman.


son gas, as well as limiting it to 1,926machine guns and 252 mortars. Theforce structure was set at seven un-derstrength light divisions and threebrigade-size cavalry divisions. The es-tablishment of a General Staff wasoutlawed. But despite these restric-tions, the author demonstrates thatthe German army soon was “thebest-led, best-trained, and arguablythe most modern army in theworld.” In fact, Corum observes, this“small, lightly armed Reichswehr be-came the best trained army . . . in car-rying out large-scale operations.”

The principal credit for this ex-traordinary achievement goes toGeneral Hans von Seeckt, whoheaded the German army from 1919to 1926. While Seeckt employed anumber of methods, he emphasizeda scrupulous system for selectingboth officers and enlisted men plus ademanding regimen of formal educa-tion and an uncompromisingly real-istic approach to field training. De-spite the care with which they werechosen and the size of the manpowerpool (in the late 1920s there were 15applicants for each enlisted slot andfewer than 200 officer candidate po-sitions each year), the Reichswehrruthlessly weeded out those who

failed to meet its iron standards. Offi-cer candidates were required to serve18 months in the enlisted ranks be-fore undergoing 30 months of pre-commissioning training. And eachyear scores of candidates were foundlacking and dismissed.

Recruits were subjected to crush-ing pressure while doing 6 months ofinfantry training, followed byequally rigorous specialized branchtraining. Enlisted men were issuedtactical handbooks and compelled tostudy them with the same diligenceas medical or law students. Promo-tion even to the rank of lance corpo-ral required demonstrated leadershipcapabilities and the successful com-pletion of extremely demandingwritten and oral examinations.

The Versailles Treaty permittedGermany to have an officer corps ofonly 4,000 but placed no limit onthe number of NCOs. Taking full ad-vantage of this loophole, Seeckteventually created 19,000 seniorNCOs, while restricting the totalnumber of field grade and generalofficers to 920. He also limited thesize of division staffs to 32 officers, alevel the Wehrmacht retained. SeniorNCOs commanded platoons, re-ceived training to lead companies or

batteries, and were expected to em-ploy combined arms in battle. TheReichswehr did not use majors as of-fice managers, nor staff sergeants tomake coffee. But it was able to ex-pand from 100,000 in January 1933to 3.7 million in September 1939,then smash its enemies and overrunPoland, Scandinavia, and WesternEurope in ten months.

The Reichswehr also laid thefoundation for the later victories ofthe Wehrmacht on brilliant tacticaland operational doctrine, modernand extremely efficient weapons andequipment, and the development ofmechanized and air-ground warfare.But as Corum notes, Seeckt’s Reich-swehr did not propagate doctrine.“The American term implies a rigid-ity of tactics, the ‘proper’ way to em-ploy the principles of war. . . . Theclosest equivalent term that the Ger-mans had was concept. Military tac-tics were general guidelines—theywere not meant to be literal formu-las or principles of warfare.” This in-tellectual flexibility, combined withSeeckt’s encouragement of dissent,allowed the Reichswehr to push veryfar and rapidly beyond the thinkingof 1918.

“India-Burma, 2 April 1942–28 January 1945.” CMH Pub 72–5.Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992. 26 pp. [ISBN 0 16 035881 7]

“Aleutian Islands, 3 June 1942–24August 1943.” CMH 72–6. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992. 26 pp. [ISBN 0 16 035882 5]

“Papua, 23 July 1942–23 January1943.” CMH 72–7. Washington:Government Printing Office, 1992.22 pp. [ISBN 0 16 035883 3]

The Center for Air Force Historyis reprinting a series entitled “Wingsat War” which was first issued by the Army Air Forces. It includes the following titles on air campaigns in Europe:

“The AAF in the Invasion of Southern France.” Wings at War,

WORLD WAR IIREMEMBERED

THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY OFWORLD WAR II is being com-memorated in various ways,

including publication by the servicesof monographs and pamphlets onthe European and Pacific theaters aswell as the homefront. Some titlesare reprints of works which origi-nally appeared during or shortly afterthe war and offer contemporary ac-counts of many of the most impor-tant joint and combined operationsin military history. Among the publi-cations issued by the Army and AirForce are those listed below; titlespublished by the Navy and Marine

Corps will be found next time in“Off the Shelf.”

The U.S. Army Center for Mili-tary History is developing a series ofbrochures for distribution during thecommemorative period entitled“The U.S. Army Campaigns of WorldWar II.” Of those titles in the seriesalready in print, the following are focused on the war in the Pacific:

“Philippine Islands, 7 December1941–10 May 1942.” CMH Pub72–3. Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1992. 23 pp. [ISBN 0 16 035879 5]

“Central Pacific, 7 December 1941–6December 1943.” CMH Pub 72–4.Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992. 23 pp. [ISBN 0 16 035880 9]


Clandestine development andtesting in foreign countries of pro-hibited weaponry—particularly trialsof tanks, aircraft, artillery, and gas inRussia—allowed the Reichswehr tovalidate new concepts of war. (Thebook’s superb illustrations documentthis story well.) Once Hitler orderedrearmament in 1933, the Germanarmy could put prototypes into full-scale production. Describing the pro-cess, Corum explodes some mythsabout Seeckt’s attitudes toward ar-mored and air warfare. Contrary toHeinz Guderian’s self-promotingclaims, Seeckt and the Reichwehr’s armored enthusiasts developed ideasand equipment that made possiblethe panzer division. Nor were suchideas taken from Liddell Hart orFuller. In fact, German armor expertsdid not learn of Liddell Hart’s bizarretank warfare concepts until 1945. Asfor Fuller’s influence Corum says theReichswehr’s armor theorists “were, inthe main, critical readers who care-fully chose concepts—Fuller’s andothers’—that seemed reasonable andpractical and discarded the rest.”

The 180 officers Seeckt ap-pointed to his shadow air force werefamiliar with the theories of Douhet,Trenchard, and Mitchell. But the fu-

ture leaders of the Luftwaffe came tothe same conclusion as Seeckt and re-jected such thinking. Their analysisof strategic bombing concepts con-vinced them that such attacks wouldlead to unacceptable losses. Instead,“the Reichswehr’s air staff . . . devel-oped a comprehensive air doctrinethat emphasized the tactical role ofthe air force in supporting groundforces. Even [when] the Luftwaffe wasestablished as a separate branch ofthe armed forces, the overwhelmingmajority of officers had been trainedto think of airpower in terms of justone element of a combined arms ef-fort. . . .” The Luftwaffe failed, how-ever, to develop strategic bombersand long-range fighters to accom-pany them. But the Reichswehr’s airofficers did initiate the air compo-nent of the Blitzkrieg that proved sosuccessful in 1939–42.

The Reichswehr’s accomplish-ments are best appreciated by con-trasting them with developments inthe British and French armies duringthe same period. Corum’s workshould be read in conjunction withShelford Bidwell and Dominic Gra-ham, Fire Power: British Army Weaponsand Theories of War, 1904–1945 (Lon-don: George Allen and Unwin, 1982),and Robert A. Doughty, The Seeds ofDisaster: The Development of FrenchArmy Doctrine, 1919–1939 (Hamden,Conn.: Archon Books, 1985). For theconsequences which resulted fromthe impact of the twenty years ofGerman military innovation on ageneration of French army torpor, seeDoughty, The Breaking Point: Sedanand the Fall of France (Hamden,Conn.: Archon Books, 1990).

The Roots of Blitzkrieg offershealthy reassurance to those whomay feel desperate over the financialstringencies of the 1990s. Seeckt’s Re-ichswehr suffered from a nightmareof restrictions and economies com-pared to those that face the U.S.Armed Forces today. But the narrowmaterial parameters of 1919–33 of-fered no effective barrier to revolu-tionary Reichswehr advances intactics, operations, weapons, andequipment. Many of the same intel-lectual and organizational methodsof seventy years ago remain applica-ble today, under the far more advan-

tageous circumstances enjoyed bythe American military. But they arealso available to our less fortunatepotential opponents. For anyone interested in turning adversity into advantage, read The Roots ofBlitzkrieg. JFQ

BOOKSNOTEDNEW ARRIVALS

The following list contains some recentlypublished titles on defense studies andmilitary affairs. Beginning with the next

issue of JFQ, “Off the Shelf” will feature aquarterly annotated roundup of books, arti-cles, and monographs dealing exclusivelywith joint and combined warfare.

Thomas A. Cardwell III. Airland Combat: AnOrganization for Joint Warfare. MaxwellAir Force Base, Ala.: Air University Press, December 1992. 269 pp.

Kenneth W. Condit. The Joint Chiefs of Staffand National Policy, 1955–1956. The His-tory of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Volume 6.Washington: Historical Office, Joint Staff,1992. 326 pp.

Trevor N. Dupuy et al., editors. International Military and Defense Ency-clopedia. 6 vols. Washington: Brassey’s(US), 1993. 3,132 pp. [ISBN 0 02 881061 9 (vol. 1)]

William Jackson and Edwin Bramall. TheChiefs: The Story of the United KingdomChiefs of Staff. London: Brassey’s (UK),1992. 508 pp. [ISBN 0 08 040370 0]

Anthony James Joes. Modern Guerrilla In-surgency. Westport, Conn.: Praeger Pub-lishers, 1992. 248 pp. [ISBN 0 275 94263 5]

Brian W. McLean. Joint Training for Night AirWarfare. Maxwell Air Force Base, Ala.: AirUniversity Press, October 1992. 103 pp.

Donald M. Snow. “Peacekeeping, Peacemak-ing, and Peace-Enforcing: The U.S. Role inthe New International Order.” Carlisle Bar-racks, Pa.: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S.Army War College, February 1993. 40 pp.

Ghulam Dastagir Wardak et al., compilers.Issues of Operational Art. The VoroshilovLectures: Materials from the Soviet Gen-eral Staff Academy. Volume 3. With an introduction by David M. Glantz. Washing-ton: National Defense University Press,1992. 568 pp. JFQ

no. 1. Washington: GovernmentPrinting Office, 1992. 60 pp. [ISBN 0 16 038133 9]

“Sunday Punch in Normandy.”Wings at War, no. 2. Washington:Government Printing Office, 1992.32 pp. [ISBN 0 16 038134 7]

“Pacific Counterblow.” Wings atWar, no. 3. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992.56 pp. [ISBN 0 16 038130 4]

“Airborne Assault on Holland.”Wings at War, no. 4. Washington:Government Printing Office, 1992.57 pp. [ISBN 0 16 038135 5]

“Air-Ground Teamwork on the Western Front.” Wings at War, no. 5. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1992. 50 pp. [ISBN 0 16 0381232 0]

P O S T S C R I P T


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CONTRIBUTIONS: JFQ welcomessubmissions on all aspects of jointand combined warfare from membersof the Armed Forces as well as de-fense analysts and academic special-ists from both this country andabroad, including foreign militarypersonnel. While there is no standardlength for articles, contributions of3,500 to 6,000 words are appropriate.Other submissions, however, to in-clude letters to the editor and longeritems of commentary on articles pub-lished in previous issues are invited.Copies of supporting material (suchas charts, maps, and photos) shouldbe submitted with manuscripts citingthe full source and indicating applica-ble copyright information if known.To facilitate the editorial review ofyour contribution, please providetwo copies of the manuscript to-gether with a 150-word summary.Place all personal or biographicaldata on a separate sheet of paperand avoid identifying yourself in thebody of the manuscript. You mayfollow any accepted style guide inpreparing the manuscript, but end-notes rather than footnotes shouldbe used; both the manuscript andthe endnotes should be typed indouble-space with one-inch margins.If possible, submit your manuscripton a disk together with the type-script version to facilitate editing.While 3.5- and 5.25-inch disks pre-pared in various formats can beprocessed, Wordperfect is preferred.(Disks will be returned if requested.)Additional information on submit-ting contributions is available by either calling: (202) 475–1013/DSN 335–1013 or addressing yourqueries to:

Managing EditorJoint Force QuarterlyNational Defense UniversityFort Lesley J. McNairWashington, D.C. 20319–6000

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Published by theInstitute for National Strategic Studies

National Defense UniversityWashington, D.C.

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