| By Justin Ewers
IN
HIS NEW BOOK, STEPHEN BUDIANSKY
ARGUES THAT ONLY RECENTLY HAS MILITARY
AIR POWER LIVED UP TO EXPECTATIONS.
AIR
POWER
The Men, Machines, and Ideas
That Revolutionized War, From Kitty
Hawk to Gulf War II
By Stephen Budiansky
Penguin Group, 518 pp.
Less than eight years after the
Wright brothers first showed that
manned flight was feasible—“introducing
into the world,” Orville wrote,
“an invention which would
make further wars impossible”—an
Italian pilot in a rickety machine
became the first to wage war from
the air. The four grenade-size bombs
he dropped, in 1911, over Turkish
troops in Libya, seem to have missed
completely. But that didn’t
stop Italian papers from whipping
their headlines into a frenzy: “Terrorized
Turks Scatter Upon Unexpected Celestial
Assault.” And it didn’t
stop the Turks from an equally iconic
response: They insisted the bombs
had landed on a hospital.
So it would go for much of the
next hundred years of military aviation,
writes Stephen Budiansky, a veteran
defense journalist, in Air Power:
The Men, Machines, and Ideas That
Revolutionized War, From Kitty Hawk
to Gulf War II. War in the
sky would make mind-boggling technological
leaps over the next few decades—from
biplanes and grenades to Stealth
fighters and laser-guided bombs
in only a few generations. But for
most of its existence, he argues,
air power has been a dangerously
overvalued blunt instrument. Dogmatic
air generals through both World
Wars, Korea, and Vietnam insisted
that their new weapons could single-handedly
change the face of warfare. (Carl
Spaatz, commander of the U.S. Eighth
Air Force in WWII, thought the D-Day
invasion was a waste of time. “After
it fails,” he said, “we
can show them how we can win by
bombing.”) It was only at
the end of the century that air
power reigned supreme at last in
the two Gulf Wars—and even
then, Budiansky writes, not the
way its early acolytes foresaw.
For most of the airplane’s
existence, the idea of war in the
air always soared far ahead of air
power’s actual capabilities.
Visions of city-destroying superweapons
began dancing in generals’
heads almost as soon as airplanes
entered combat. “Nothing man
can do on the surface of the Earth
can interfere with a plane in flight,”
declared Giulio Douhet, an Italian
military officer who in the 1920s
popularized the idea that the airplane
would end wars before they started
by bombing civilian “morale.”
First, though, air forces would
need sturdier mounts, and the engineering
sideshow first dominated by two
bicycle mechanics quickly developed
into a genuine scientific field
all its own. Strut-and-string biplanes
gave way to sleek monoplanes. In
1931, the first full-size wind tunnel
was built to test aerodynamics,
and by the end of World War II,
the outer limits of prop-driven
planes had been reached. Swept-wing
jets soon took over. Supersonic
flight was only a few years away,
and in 1958, a RAND think-tank dreamed
up the first laser-guided bombs.
In spite of this fantastic progress,
Budiansky maintains, the airplane
continued to come up short as a
weapon. Bombing attacks on German
factories in WWI seldom stopped
production. The inaccuracy of massed
air assaults in WWII was appalling:
Less than half the bombs dropped
by the Eighth Air Force came within
even 2,000 feet of their targets.
In Korea and Vietnam, air power
was hamstrung by politics. Curtis
LeMay wasn’t the first air
general to believe he could bomb
his enemy “back into the Stone
Age,” nor was he the only
one who failed to do so.
Ultimately, Budiansky argues, air
power has become truly transformative
only recently. With the advancement
of the computer chip and the ever-increasing
availability of “smarter”
bombs, aviation has found its place
on the battlefield, not, as early
advocates imagined, far beyond it.
American combat aircraft now devote
nearly all of their attention to
enemy ground forces. In Gulf War
II, 68 percent of air munitions
were precision-guided, and 79 percent
of Iraqi targets were enemy troops
and vehicles. And aircraft have
undeniably made their presence felt:
In Gulf War I, the U.S. Army stockpiled
220,000 rounds of tank ammunition
for the invasion of Kuwait, but
after six weeks of air strikes,
tank crews needed less than 2 percent
of it. “Nothing like this
had ever happened in a war before,”
Budiansky writes. Air power reigns
supreme, at last, if not quite the
way its inventors had hoped.
Justin Ewers is a freelance
writer based in Washington, D.C.
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