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

0001W i n t e r

The PersianGulf War—Ten Years After

Principles ofJointness

Naval Innovation

Japanese Self-Defense Forces

Missile DefenseAttack Operations

If the Joint Chiefs of Staffcould guarantee that any“one” of the Armed Servicescould by itself protect thenation, we would subscribeenthusiastically to theproposition of putting every-thing we had behind oneService. . . . But we cannot.No one weapon, or oneService, or one form of mili-tary action is considered sufficientto meet all our security needs.

—Arthur W. Radford

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 1

On January 17, 1991, at 0238 hours localtime, AH–64 Apache helicopters firedvolleys of Hellfire missiles and rockets,simultaneously destroying two early

warning radar sites and paving the way for coali-tion aircraft to penetrate undetected deep insideIraq. Minutes later, F–117 stealth fighters, ship-launched Tomahawk missiles, and cruise missileslaunched from B–52s initiated paralyzing strikesaround Baghdad. These separate coordinated at-tacks crippled Iraqi integrated air defenses as wellas command and control capabilities. Thus beganOperation Desert Storm, a 43-day war that culmi-nated in the liberation of Kuwait after a 100-hour

offensive by coalition ground forces. These open-ing attacks of the Persian Gulf War are exemplarsof the synergy of weapons systems. They high-light the value of having many different arrowsin one’s quiver and the effectiveness of jointness.Desert Storm reflected the technological superior-ity of the Armed Forces. More importantly, it wasa showcase of the spirit, dedication, and profes-sionalism of American troops.

The 10th anniversary of the Persian Gulf Warprovides an appropriate moment to examine thenature of an historic victory and profit from itslessons. In tandem with Just Cause in Panama,

JFQAWord fromthe

Chairman

(continued on page 4)

AH–64As with Hellfiremissiles, Desert Storm.

DO

D

1 A Word from the Chairmanby Henry H. Shelton

7 From the Field and Fleet:Letters to the Editor

■ F O R U M

8 The Persian Gulf War—Ten Years After

12 Lessons of Desert Stormby Barry R. McCaffrey

18 The Joint Force—A Decade,No Progressby Douglas A. Macgregor

24 A Network-Centric Solution:Naval Operations in the Persian Gulfby Norman Friedman

30 Storm Over the Desert—A New Assessmentby Benjamin S. Lambeth

35 Airpower and a Decade of Containmentby Paul K. White

40 Postwar Strategy: AnAlternative Viewby Ted Galen Carpenter

■ O U T O F J O I N T

45 Principles of Jointnessby Robert C. Rubel

■

50 Naval Innovation: From Coal to Oilby Erik J. Dahl

57 Jointness in the Japanese Self-Defense Forcesby Fumio Ota

61 A Systems Approach toReadiness Reportingby John C.F. Tillson

66 Rethinking Joint Trainingby Anthony Haugrud, Gary C. Lehmann,and Curtis Phillips

71 Missile Defense AttackOperationsby Nathan K. Watanabe and Shannon M. Huffman

77 Space and the TheaterCommander’s Warby Thomas A. Doyne

■ C O N T E N T S

2 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

The cover shows M1A1 main battle tank undercamouflage, Desert Storm (DOD). The front inside coverfeatures A–10s, Seymour Johnson Air Force Base (U.S. AirForce/Raheem Moore), soldiers covering operations inKosovo (982d Signal Company/Drew Lockwood), marinesbeing extracted during exercise (Fleet Imaging Center Pacific, Guam/Crystal Marie Brooks), and launching S–3Bfrom USS Enterprise (U.S. Navy/Marlow P. Dix). The table of contents depicts Iraqis collecting debris allegedlyfallen from sky (AP/Wide World Photos/JassimMohammed) and HMS Inflexible (National Archives). Theback inside captures marine disembarking from assaultvehicle (U.S. Navy). The back cover shows Korean war

memorial, Washington (Combat Visual Information Center/Robert J. Thayer);marines heading for Blue Beach at Inchon, September 15, 1950 (U.S. ArmySignal Corps/Herbert Nutter), F–86 Sabre jets, December 1950 (U.S. Air ForceHistory Office), soldiers atop M–26 tank awaiting North Koreans on NaktongRiver, September 1950 (U.S. Army Signal Corps/Thomas Marotta).

P H O T O C R E D I T S

JFQ

■ T H E J O I N T W O R L D

101 Organization, Doctrine, and Education

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

103 Negotiating in the Post-ColdWar World: A Review Essayby Casimir A. Yost

105 Doughboys in Battle: A Book Reviewby Brian M. Linn

106 Preparing for the Next War: A Book Reviewby John F. Antal

107 In the Shadow of Hanoi: A Book Reviewby Rod Paschall

108 Blueprint for StrategicThought: A Book Reviewby Harold R. Winton

109 Intervention in Haiti: A Book Reviewby Ronald H. Cole

83 Joint Shipboard HelicopterOperationsby Geoffrey C. Lambert and Mark M. Huber

89 Fighting with Firesby Guy R. Hooper and Michael L. McDaniel

■ C O M M E N TA R Y

95 New Instruments for War and Peaceby Joseph J. Eash III

■ O F C H I E F S A N D C H A I R M E N

100 Forrest Percival Sherman

Joint Force Quarterly

W I N T E R 2 0 0 0 – 0 1 / N U M B E R 2 7

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 3

JFQ is published for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staffby the Institute for National Strategic Studies, National De-fense University, to promote understanding of the integratedemployment of land, sea, air, space, and special operationsforces. The journal focuses on joint doctrine, coalition warfare,contingency planning, combat operations conducted by theunified commands, and joint force development.

The opinions, conclusions, and recommendations ex-pressed or implied within are those of the contributors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Department of Defenseor any other agency of the Federal Government. Copyrighted

portions of this journal may not be reproduced or extractedwithout permission of copyright proprietors. An acknowledg-ment to Joint Force Quarterly should be made whenever mate-rial is quoted from or based on its contents.

This publication has been approved by the Secretary of De-fense. All previous issues have been published electronicallyand are available over the Internet at the address indicatedbelow. Paid subscriptions to JFQ are offered through the U.S.Government Printing Office.

The editors invite articles and other contributions on jointwarfighting, interservice issues that support jointness, and

topics of common interest to the Armed Forces (see page 112for details). Please direct all editorial communications to:

Editor, Joint Force QuarterlyATTN: NDU–NSS–JFQ300 Fifth Avenue (Bldg. 62)Fort Lesley J. McNairWashington, D.C. 20319–5066

Telephone: (202) 685–4220 / DSN 325–4220Fax: (202) 685–4219 / DSN 325–4219e-mail: JFQ1@ndu.eduInternet: http://www.dtic.mil/doctrine

Martin J. Peters, Jr.Production Coordinator

Stephen J. FlanaganDirector

Institute for National Strategic StudiesEditor-in-Chief

William A. RawleyU.S. Government Printing Office

Art Director

Robert A. SilanoDirector of Publications

Institute for National Strategic StudiesEditor

LTC James Jay Carafano, USAExecutive Editor

Calvin B. KelleyCopy Editor

ISSN 1070–0692 April 2001

0327 Prelims.Pgs 9/7/01 8:54 AM Page 3

military performance during Desert Shield/DesertStorm was the culmination of a decade of reformin doctrine, training, and leadership develop-ment. The conflict validated changes in com-mand and control introduced by the Goldwater-Nichols Act. It also marked a departure from thegradualist approach that characterized Americanparticipation in Vietnam. Rather than strike, thenpause, as was tried unsuccessfully two decadesearlier, the Gulf War was prosecuted vigorouslyfrom start to finish, with dramatic results. Newweapons and equipment—precision strike muni-tions, stealth fighters, and information technolo-gies—likewise demonstrated their potential andenhanced the effectiveness of applying over-whelming force.

The Gulf War also underscored the impor-tance of diplomacy and interagency cooperationin dealing with regional and international securitychallenges. The establishment and maintenanceof a coalition of 35 diverse countries under a U.N.mandate required deft diplomatic footwork. Anddiplomacy also played a major role during theconflict, exposing the intransigence of SaddamHussein and dissuading Israel from responding to40 SCUD missiles which struck the country.

Desert Storm also demonstrated the signifi-cance of public backing for military operations.As a veteran of the Vietnam War, I was moved tosee an overwhelming outpouring of support forour soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen. Theyellow ribbons, letters, and other acts of kindnesswere inspirational, and the support did notwaiver as weeks turned into months. One lessonis that when leaders take the time to explain whyrisking lives serves national security interests, thepeople of this Nation will accept the dangers athand and rally to the cause.

Yet a debate has developed over the conductof the war and how the United States has dealtwith its aftermath. Certainly declaring the cease-fire 100 hours into the ground campaign seemedjudicious at the time. Iraq had been thoroughlydefeated. However, we stopped before disarmingall the Republican Guard, the best-equipped andmost loyal element of Saddam’s military and apillar of strength on which his regime relies to

■ A W O R D F R O M T H E C H A I R M A N

4 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Joint Force Quarterly

GEN Henry H. Shelton, USAPublisher

ADVISORY COMMITTEE

VADM Paul G. Gaffney II, USN ■ National Defense UniversityChairman

BG David A. Armstrong, USA (Ret.) ■ Office of the Chairman

Col Darrell A. Browning, USMC ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College

Brig Gen Richard B. Bundy, USAF ■ The Joint Staff

VADM Arthur K. Cebrowski, USN ■ Naval War College

MG Reginal G. Clemmons, USA ■ National War College

A. Denis Clift ■ Joint Military Intelligence College

VADM Scott A. Fry, USN ■ The Joint Staff

BG David H. Huntoon, USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College

MG Robert R. Ivany, USA ■ U.S. Army War College

Brig Gen Edward L. LaFountaine, USAF ■ Joint Forces Staff College

Maj Gen David F. MacGehee, Jr., USAF ■ Air War College

MajGen Harold Mashburn, Jr., USMC ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces

Col John T. Sheridan, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College

Col John H. Turner, USMC ■ Marine Corps War College

EDITORIAL BOARD

Stephen J. Flanagan ■ National Defense UniversityChairman

Richard K. Betts ■ Columbia University

Col John M. Calvert, USAF ■ Joint Forces Staff College

Col Stephen D. Chiabotti, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College

Eliot A. Cohen ■ The Johns Hopkins University

COL David M. Cole, USA ■ U.S. Army War College

COL Robert A. Doughty, USA ■ U.S. Military Academy

Aaron L. Friedberg ■ Princeton University

Alan L. Gropman ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces

COL Timothy S. Heinemann, USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College

CAPT Chester E. Helms, USN ■ Naval War College

COL Paul Herbert, USA ■ National War College

Mark H. Jacobsen ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College

Thomas L. McNaugher ■ The RAND Corporation

William H. J. Manthorpe, Jr. ■ Joint Military Intelligence College

John J. Mearsheimer ■ The University of Chicago

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

James H. Toner ■ Air War College

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

LtCol James I. Van Zummeren, USMC ■ Marine Corps War College

A PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL

(continued from page 1)

Desert Storm demonstrated thesignificance of public backing formilitary operations

this day. In hindsight, it is easy to argue that coali-tion forces should have marched to Baghdad, butthat was not the declared endstate for the coali-tion. Indeed, continuing the ground campaignmay have fractured the alliance and created com-plications for the future of the region.

Although the near-term threat to the PersianGulf was contained, Iraq remains a challenge.Saddam refuses to comply with U.N. resolutionson weapons of mass destruction. It is troublingthat Iraq’s borders have again been redrawn, la-beling Kuwait as a province. In addition, keepingBaghdad in check has become more complicated.International support for sanctions has declinedbecause of factors such as the increased price ofoil, the endemic poverty and public health crisisin Iraq, and the heightened tensions betweenArabs and Israelis over Palestine.

Given the drawdown of the Armed Forces,coupled with readiness concerns, one questionthat has arisen during this 10th anniversary iswhether the Nation could refight Desert Stormtoday. The military is 40 percent smaller than itwas in 1990, while the million-man Iraqi armyhas gone from fourth largest to tenth, with350,000 soldiers. If we were to engage Iraq again,the new war would not be a simple replay ofDesert Storm. Although the U.S. military issmaller, it still has the best-trained, best-equipped,and best-led force in the world, and its capabilitieshave improved in many areas. We have main-tained a strong partnership with member states of

the Gulf Cooperation Council. This has led to astabilizing presence in the region with over 20,000military personnel (3,000 soldiers, 10,500 sailorsand marines, and 7,000 airmen). Ground, naval,and air units are dedicated to several importantmissions including maritime interdiction, no-flyzones, and air defense and ground security inKuwait and Saudi Arabia. Also, the collective mili-tary strength of council members constitutes amuch stronger deterrent force than it did in 1990.

The United States has prepositioned fourbrigade sets of equipment stored on the groundin the theater and afloat. This capability reducesdeployment timelines to the region by weeks.

Precision strike capabilities have been im-proved, with weapons like the joint direct attackmunition, a low-cost guidance/navigation systemfor conventional munitions including the MK–842,000-pound bomb. It makes two B–2 bomberscapable of attacking the same number of targetsin adverse weather as sixteen F–117 stealth fight-ers in good weather during Desert Storm.

To better employ precision strike capabilities,faster sensor-to-shooter links can now cut thetime between acquiring a target and attacking it.We can more rapidly engage mobile targets, suchas truck-mounted missile launchers, whichproved difficult during Desert Storm even withspotters on the ground inside Iraq.

S h e l t o n

Marines during Imminent Thunder,1990.

DO

D

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 5

But despite such improvements we shouldnot be complacent. The pace of operations sinceDesert Storm, as well as the procurement holidayof the 1990s, has placed considerable stress onU.S. forces. With the pace and proliferation oftechnological advances, any supposed advantage

is at risk. Iraq and other po-tential adversaries continu-ally study our capabilitiesand constantly seek to capi-talize on our weaknesses, ei-ther real or perceived. Theywill try to counter any ad-vantage with asymmetric

means, such as weapons of mass destruction andcyber warfare.

Desert Storm also revealed vulnerabilities in-herent in force projection. First, the military stillneeds access to sea and aerial ports to build upand supply forces in-theater. In 1990, SaddamHussein did not contest our entry into Saudi Arabia. We cannot assume that luxury in the fu-ture. The U.S. military must develop strategiesand capabilities to rapidly overcome enemy portdenial operations. Second, it took months to es-tablish an offensive capability in-theater. We needmore rapid force projection, including additionalairlift and sealift assets.

Logistic support also must be streamlined. Iflines of communication into and within a theaterare in danger, we will be unable to amass themountain of matériel that characterized DesertStorm. Integrating logistic information systemsand developing real-time asset visibility across themilitary will enable rapid merger or transfer ofsupplies among individual service and functionalcomponent commands of a joint force. Capitaliz-ing on emerging information technology will re-duce logistic footprints in-theater, thereby de-creasing both lift and security requirements.

Other advances in information capabilitiesmust be exploited to improve interoperability bythe services. Desert Storm was essentially a se-quential application of core competencies. Thegoal is compressing the timeline for the applica-tion of force, fully developing total combat powermuch sooner in a conflict, to reap the benefits ofthe synergistic effects of the simultaneous appli-cation of force, much like the strikes on the open-ing night of the Gulf War.

U.S. Joint Forces Command—executive agentfor joint experimentation—has a mandate to ex-plore concepts and technology to turn the forceenvisioned in Joint Vision 2020 into reality. Thisincludes defeating anti-access strategies, capitaliz-ing on information technologies to integrate op-erations and intelligence, merging command andcontrol networks, streamlining logistic support,and speeding up sensor-to-shooter links.

Command and control must be brought intothe 21st century by improvements in conceptsand technology, taking full advantage of innova-tions in doctrine, organization, training, andleadership. Moreover, we must bolster the tacticaland operational agility of joint force commands.

Finally, I salute the men and women whoparticipated in Desert Shield/Desert Storm. I willnever forget the third day of the ground cam-paign when I flew over VII Corps and saw hun-dreds of tanks and armored vehicles heading to-ward the enemy. Rooster tails of sand spewedhigh in the air behind the units going north. Fol-lowing at breakneck speed was a five-ton truckflying a huge garrison flag, bigger than the truckitself, whipping in the wind. My only thoughtwas: “Saddam, here comes the U.S. Armed Forcesat their best, and we’re coming at you! I hope youknow what you’ve gotten yourself into!” But hedid not have a clue.

In the finest tradition of our military, thosewho fought in the Persian Gulf War demonstratedgreat skill, dedication, and bravery, contributingto a victory over a ruthless aggressor and provingto the world that America is a reliable ally thatwill put its sons and daughters in harm’s way forthe cause of freedom and world peace.

During the 10th anniversary of the Gulf Warwe must look to ensuring stability of the regionin the future. This demanding mission calls fordiplomatic, political, and economic ingenuity.The Armed Forces will also play a vital role. Justas in 1990, we stand ready to face the task.

HENRY H. SHELTONChairman

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

6 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Desert Storm also revealedvulnerabilities inherent in force projection

■ A W O R D F R O M T H E C H A I R M A N

F–117A during DesertStorm.

DO

D (S

cott

P. S

tew

art)

Letters . . .INDO–PAKI DIALECTICTo the Editor—On the fate of Kashmir, what“history shows” as Rahul Pandit would have it in his response to my article, “Nuclear Proliferation on the Indian Subcontinent” (JFQ, Spring 2000), is that the facts are not compelling for either side.Although I can understand why Dr. Pandit as aKashmiri takes the matter of blame to heart, theU.N. resolution of 1948 warrants attention.

The truce agreement declares, “Pakistan willuse its best endeavor to secure the withdrawal fromthe state of Jammu and Kashmir of tribesmen andPakistani nationals not normally resident thereinwho have entered the state for the purpose of fight-ing” (Part II, A, 2). It also states, “when the commis-sion shall have notified . . . India that the tribesmenand Pakistani nationals referred to in Part II, A, 2hereof have withdrawn, thereby terminating the situation which was represented by . . . India to theSecurity Council as having occasioned the presenceof Indian forces in the State of Jammu and Kashmir, and further, that the Pakistani forces arebeing withdrawn from the state of Jammu andKashmir . . . India agrees to begin to withdraw thebulk of its forces from that state in stages to beagreed upon with the commission” (Part II, B, 1).

That Pakistan acted dishonorably in fulfillingits obligations under the truce can hardly be dis-puted. But, if Pakistan is to be believed, the hostili-ties that required the truce were a grassroots upris-ing by tribesmen, which included Muslims wholived in Kashmir, against abuses of a foreign powerin an independent principality. Pakistan did notabide by the terms of the truce, ostensibly becauseit feared that Indian troops in Kashmir would fill thevacuum of power.

India was to withdraw in stages in consulta-tion with the commission and not, as Dr. Panditsays, only after Pakistani forces departed. U.N.observers on the scene to monitor the truce couldnot convince either party to budge. Troops on bothsides began digging in, and the cease fire line,which had also been the skirmish line, soon meta-morphosed into what is the line of control today.

Kashmiri accession, which India cites to layclaim to the state, is also subject to argument.Pakistan charges that the provincial ruler never ac-ceded while India claims that he did. Regardless ofhow historians read this event, the ruler cannot berebuked if he promised to accede in exchange forprotection. He was about to lose Kashmir and per-haps even his life. A dispassionate observer mightwell consider an agreement made under suchduress unenforceable.

There is one aspect of this issue that is notsubject to argument. An instrument of accession

does not exist. This is significant because the ac-cessions of more than 500 princely states to Indiaduring the transition of British power were formal-ized with written documents.

If the clarification Dr. Pandit seeks is ac-knowledgment that Pakistan is worthy of blame forlack of progress in establishing a U.N. plebiscite, itis found in my article, which explicitly states thatthe issue is whether Kashmiris will be able to de-cide their own future. This is an outcome that con-tinues to be blocked by militants on both sides ofthe line of control.

—CDR Kenneth R. Totty, USNRU.S. European Command

SOLDIERS AND MARINESTo the Editor— I found it surprising to read in“Rethinking Army-Marine Corps Roles in PowerProjection” by Brian Dunn (JFQ, Autumn 00) that“only 10 Army and 3 Marine Corps divisions spanthe globe to deal with various small contingencies.”The Army has a total of 18 divisions and anothertwo divisional headquarters that oversee separatebrigades. These numbers do not include the inde-pendent cavalry regiments and separate brigades.The argument that only active forces are ready andavailable for deployment ignores the multiple de-ployments made by Reserve components in DesertStorm and over the last decade. Army NationalGuard divisions have deployed to Bosnia and willsoon take over the mission completely. Similarlymany units are deploying with minimal training.I know of a call up when soldiers were given twoweeks notice before mobilization and deployedwithin 30 days. The era of the stay-at-home National Guard is over.

Dunn also errs in his comparison of Armyand Marine divisions. They are simply not the same.Marine divisions are the ground component of theMarine Air Ground Task Force (MAGTF) and signifi-cantly larger than those of the Army. In fact, activeMAGTFs are mini combined arms corps with sepa-rate ground, air, and support components.

Finally, one point Dunn does not address isthe allocation of peacekeeping chores. Why is itthat an Army with 18 divisions provides a divisionto Korea, brigades to Kosovo and Bosnia, and abattalion to the Sinai while the Marine Corps withfour MAGTFs has no such commitments? TheArmy also provides several ready brigades. As thatservice continues to draw down, it is time to re-think roles and missions and get the Marines intopeace operations.

—CPT Eric P. Michael, ARNGCommonwealth of Virginia

To the Editor— In a recent article “RethinkingArmy-Marine Corps Roles in Power Projection,”Brian Dunn makes the case for the two services torevisit their traditional missions and to create amore complementary relationship. He advocatesthat the Marines “must abandon amphibious war-fare as a core capability and embrace an expedi-tionary role based on urban warfare and air mobil-ity to complement the role of the Army to fightheavy forces.” On one hand, if Dunn is suggestingthat turning from a traditional forcible amphibiousentry capability (opposed landings like Iwo Jimaand Okinawa), I tend to agree. On the other, if he ischallenging the naval character and concept of op-erational maneuver from the sea, he is mistakingthe objectives of transformation. The Marine Corpsis in fact embracing the expeditionary role, asDunn proposes, and part of that expeditionary roleis a forward deployed capability—consistently withMarine expeditionary units, occasionally as Marineexpeditionary brigades, and with the potential forMarine expeditionary forces. Forward deploymentmeans being deployed aboard ships, and the Ma-rine Corps will still use that medium to launch op-erational forces in new assault amphibious vehi-cles, the current inventory of transport helicopters,and ultimately the Osprey. At the same time Marineforces will be equipped with sea-based air supportfrom Harriers, Cobra gunships, and naval fixed-wing fighter/attack aircraft.

Dunn also incorrectly states that “only two[MEUs] are routinely forward deployed.” The Marine Corps routinely has three MEUs forwarddeployed in the Mediterranean, Persian Gulf, andPacific. I dispute that MEUs offer “additional com-bat power, but not much.” In most developing na-tions where America is arguably most likely tofight, I would venture that a Marine light armoredreconnaissance company—with two 81mm vehicle mounted mortars, two mounted TOW mis-sile launchers, eight 25mm machine guns, nine-teen 7.62 pintle and coaxial-mounted machineguns (not to mention small arms)—does in factadd substantial combat power.

—Maj Patrick J. Carroll, USMCHeadquarters, U.S. Marine Corps

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 7

F R O M T H E F I E L D A N D F L E E T ■

JFQWelcomes your letters and

comments.FAX your correspondence to (202) 685–4219/

DSN 325–4219 or send it on the Internet to JFQ1@ndu.edu

■ J F Q F O R U M

W hile military professionals tend to lookaskance when they hear the phrase that“generals always prepare to fight the lastwar,” the final battle serves as a guide for

the future. Soldiers have always prepared for the next conflictby taking the measure of their last victory or defeat. During

this process those lessons which appearedvivid and unquestionable at the end of awar become the focus of debate as poisedintellects and the gift of hindsight offernew meaning. The lessons of Operation

Desert Storm have beensubjected to the same typeof scrutiny in the decadesince 1991.

Ten years ago Americaled a coalition of 32 na-tions. The conflict arosewhen Iraq invaded Kuwaiton August 2, 1990. Five

days later, U.S. troops began deploying toSaudi Arabia as part of Operation DesertShield. In November, the United Nationsset a deadline of January 15, 1991, for thewithdrawal of Iraqi troops. Saddam Hus-sein refused to comply. Desert Storm then

8 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

The Persian GulfTen Years After

Getting to the Fight

T he greatest challenge initially was balancing theforce such that it could function for its intended pur-pose. Now, what do I mean by this? We have all the

warlords who fully understand how many air wings youneed, how many battleships and aircraft carriers and every-thing else, and how many Marine di-visions and Army divisions you need.Everybody understands that, and theysit around discussing it; it’s like they’rearguing about a haircut policy. Howlong should the hair be cut? They’ll allhave an opinion. So you don’t have toworry about that part. You just lay arequirement on them. The real chal-lenge is balancing the force in theearly stages and over time, so thatyou can go from a demonstrated com-mitment or decision to get involved(I’m talking now about the first weeks of August), to estab-lishing a credible deterrent to enemy attack, and finally togenerating overwhelming offensive power. In essence thisentails the continuous evaluation of the mission, the enemy,all the troops involved, the time available, and the terrainover which you’re going to fight. This process of evaluation isa very basic exercise that is done from the lowest force levelsto the top.

—Lieutenant General John J. Yeosock, USACommander, Army Forces Central Command (1990–1991)

Refueling F–16Cs.

DO

D (F

. Lee

Co

rkra

n)

Asmara

Tehran

Baghdad

Kuwait City

Muscat

Riyadh

Sanaa

Nicosia

Cairo

Khartoum

Djibouti

Abu DhabiDoha

Jerusalem

BeirutDamascus

T U R K E Y

C Y P R U S

E T H I O P I A

E R I T R E A

S U D A N

E G Y P T

D J I B O U T I

J O R D A N

I S R A E L

L E B A N O N

K U W A I T

Q A T A R

U . A . E .

Y E M E N

S Y R I A

I R A Q

I R A N

O M A N

S A U D I A R A B I A

Thumrait

Sib

Masira

Hafar Al Batin

Ar Ar

Tabuk

Khamis Mushayt

Taif

Incirlik Diyarbakir

USS Ranger

USS Midway

USS America

USS TheodoreRoosevelt

USS John F. Kennedy

USS Saratoga

USS Missouri

USS Wisconsin

Iraqi Forces Air Base Chemical/Biological Weapons Plant Ballistic Missile Plant

Coalition Forces Air Base Naval Asset

Iraq / Iraqi Occupied Territory

Nations Sympathetic to Iraq

Coalition Members

Map 1. Iraqi and Coalition Forces, January 15, 1991

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 9

War

Source: Mark Grossman, Encyclopedia of the Persian Gulf War (Santa Barbara: ABC–CLIO, 1995).

Organizing the Force

W e knew what needed to be done.We knew how to lash up. TheFrench were the hardest to deal

with, not because they didn’t want to be in-volved, but because they were so poorlyequipped in terms of command and control.We had to work around them and it was veryhard for a big navy such as ours to do so. Butbecause we were such a big force, we wereable to give everyone meaningful roles thatwere within keeping of their national com-mand authority releases relative to the rulesof engagement, and also to accommodateany differences of opinion that arose. Wewere able to work through those issues. Forexample, when [General] Sir Peter [de la Billière, British Forces Commander MiddleEast] expressed some concerns about the vul-nerability of British minesweepers operatingso far north so early, we put EA6s on top ofthem to make sure that there couldn’t be astray shot from shore . . . command and con-trol at sea was exceptional. However, somecountries are now falling way behind in ourability to lash up our command and controlnets, and we’ve really got to work on that.

—Vice Admiral Stanley R. Arthur, USNCommander, Naval Forces Central Command

(1990–1991)

Task Force 155 duringDesert Storm.

U.S

. Nav

y (W

illia

m A

. Lip

ski)

I R A N

I R A Q

Iraqi Forces

Allied Forces

Logistics Bases

French 6th LightArmoredDivision

82d AirborneDivision

101st AirborneDivision

24th InfantryDivision

3d ArmoredCavalryRegiment

2d MarineDivision 1st Marine

Division

EgyptianSyrianForces

1st CavalryDivision

1st ArmoredDivision

British1st ArmoredDivision

1st InfantryDivision(Mech)

3d ArmoredDivision

2d ArmoredCavalry Regiment

Saudi MechanizedInfantry 1st Brigade,

2d ArmoredDivision

Saudi TaskForces

4th and 5th

Marine Brigades(afloat)

Persian Gulf

Euphrates River

S A U D I A R A B I A

48 Hours

12 Hours

ObjectiveCollins

XVIIIAirborne

Corps

Army Central Command

VIICorps Joint

ForcesCommand

North

JointForces

CommandEast

MarineCentral

Command

K U W A I T

Basra

Safwan

Khafji

Kuwait City

Nasiriyah

Salman

Shubah

Hafar al Batin

Rafah

Samawah

■ J F Q F O R U M

10 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Preparing for Battle

It’s a matter of perspective, but the greatest challenge I had was simply to develop a plan of at-tack that would enable us to accomplish our mission and get as few marines and soldiers killed aspossible in the conduct of that attack. The planning process was not an easy one because we be-

lieved from day one that there was a possibility that the Iraqis were going to use chemical weapons.So how do you breach a significant minefield? And while you’re conductingyour breach, how do you deal with the possibility that you might be attacked bychemical weapons?

The other issue I faced, which was one that even to this day is still ratherdistasteful to me, occurred within my own service. And it has to do with joint-ness, because in this case jointness worked. I was not at the table in Riyadhevery night and the Marines in Washington were absolutely beside themselvesbecause, supposedly, we were being left out of the picture. It was alleged inWashington that John [Yeosock] and Chuck [Horner] were conspiring againstthe Marines in some way. Of course, I knew that was not the case. Still, Head-quarters Marine Corps in Washington said, “Boomer, you need to be in Riyadh,and if you aren’t going to go there, then we are going to try to put anotherthree-star in Riyadh” (we did have a very competent major general there theentire time).

—Lieutenant General Walter E. Boomer, USMCCommander, U.S. Marine Forces Central Command (1990–1991)

F/A–18s aloft duringDesert Storm.

DOD (Scott Stewart)

Map 2. Coalition Ground Operations, February 24–28, 1991

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 11

began on January 18 with massive airattacks. Coalition ground forces as-saulted on February 24 and within fourdays encircled and liberated Kuwait,soundly defeating the Iraqi military.Though Baghdad agreed to the peaceterms offered by the coalition, it failedto fully comply with weapons inspec-tions. As a result, the United Nationscontinues to impose sanctions againstthe regime.

Analysts have disputed the decisive-ness of the victory and the wisdom ofcontaining Iraq. The debate continuesas the defense establishment pondersthe challenges posed by a new century.This JFQ Forum contributes to the debate with six articlesthat assess what can be learned from the American contribu-tion to the victory and postconflict efforts to strengthen secu-rity and stability in the region. The authors address a range ofissues from the improvement of joint capabilities to rethink-ing national strategy. JFQ

M1A1 tanks crossingdesert in Kuwait.

DO

D (R

ober

t L. R

eeve

)

Learning from Victory

It’s easy for me to say this, not being in the Army, but Ithink the Army—and I use that term in the collectivesense—has a doctrinal problem with regard to headquar-

ters. I think Army doctrine really never officially recognizedThird Army as an echelon above corps. So Schwarzkopf hadthe corps commanders thinking they were doing somethingthat was their responsibility, and then you had the divisioncommanders—I just think we had too many staffs.

As the guy trying to interface with those staffs, I’d tellthem that I needed their number one priority. I wouldn’tbother John [Yeosock] with this, because John was having hisgall bladder taken out, so I’d call [Brigaider General] SteveArnold. What does the Army regard as its number one prior-ity? I’d always get five number ones. Finally I just turned thejob over to Lieutenant Colonel Bill Welsh, an Army officer inD.C., and I said, “You tell us what the number one priority isfor the Army.”

Army organizational doctrine needs to be reexamined. IfI had my way, I would give the corps commander a couple ofivory-handled 45s, a set of goggles, a map with plastic on it,and a driver and a riding crop, and I’d send him out there andsay, “Make it happen.” And then I’d just let the divisions andthe echelon above corps level do the planning.

—Lieutenant General Charles A. Horner, USAFCommander, U.S. Central Command Air Forces (1989–1992)

■

12 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

wrapped in the legitimacy of theUnited Nations—and checked a ruth-less dictator and restored independenceto Kuwait. The ambiguities of the Viet-nam War were largely absent duringDesert Storm. The conflict in the Per-sian Gulf was decisive and supportedby the international community. Yetfor the Army and Marine Corps it alsodistorted expectations on the cost ofground combat as well as the nature ofmodern warfare.

Victory was not secured after onlya few days of fighting on land; it was

Our memories of the PersianGulf War include CNN im-ages of antiaircraft tracerslighting the sky over Bagh-

dad and smart bombs striking bridgesand buildings. Americans recall theevent as a stunning victory over a well-armed, brutal, but ultimately ineptenemy achieved in a thousand hours.They believe that the war was just—

General Barry R. McCaffrey, USA (Ret.), commanded 24th Infantry Division in thePersian Gulf War and served as Commander in Chief, Southern Command; from1996 to 2000 he was director of the Office of National Drug Control Policy.

Lessons of Desert StormBy B A R R Y R. M c C A F F R E Y

M1–A1 tank rolling off Saudi transport,Desert Shield.

DO

D (B

rian

Cum

per)

M c C a f f r e y

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 13

fifteen years in the making. It wasrooted in the lessons of Vietnam:

■ war should not be entered intowithout full public support

■ to gain that support, troops shouldbe put into combat only when national in-terests are clear and can be convincingly ex-plained

■ once committed, both the Nationand the Armed Forces must be implacable.

Leaders took advantage of thedecade and a half between Vietnam andDesert Shield to shape the U.S. militaryinto the most lethal and disciplinedfighting machine in the world. Thecommitment of resources to create thisforce paid enormous dividends. Unde-niably, the reinvention of land-sea-airforces was largely driven by the need todeter or fight huge Soviet ground for-mations menacing Western Europe. Butthis sophisticated team was also extraor-dinarily effective in the desert.

During one hundred hours ofground combat, preceded by the moststunning air campaign in history, sevenArmy and two Marine combat divisionsin concert with coalition ground forces

turned the fourth-largest army in theworld into the second-largest army in-side Iraq. This allied force used maneu-ver, deception, speed, and carefully tar-geted violence, which not onlyachieved its military objectives butsaved lives and cut short what couldhave become a protracted struggle. Theground elements fought effectively andacted with compassion. This victorywas possible because of a revolution inmilitary affairs that was largely unseenby the American people until the lop-sided victory in the Persian Gulf re-vealed its dimensions and power.

People’s WarCompared to any other force de-

ployed by the Nation over its history,the soldiers, sailors, marines, and air-men who fought in Desert Storm werebetter educated (over 90 percent werehigh school graduates), more capablephysically, better trained (through

high-tech force-on-force, live-fire exer-cises as well as battlefield simulations),and more prepared for the operationalenvironment faced in battle. Com-pared to the force of the late 1970s the

contrast is stark. From 1976 to1981 the Army routinelymissed recruiting goals.Morale, readiness, and train-ing were marginal and drugabuse, crime, and mainte-nance problems were high.

Every service struggled with grave de-clines in readiness.

It took more than a decade tobuild the military that America eventu-ally watched with pride during theGulf War. Improved pay, benefits, andfacilities contributed to the sense thatserving in the Armed Forces was wor-thy of the best and brightest. Cutting-edge technology was crucial. But re-building the noncommissioned officercorps, forming a physically fit force,creating a disciplined military culture,and rejecting drug and alcohol abusethat sapped professional strengththroughout the ranks after Vietnamwas even more important.

Research and development in the1980s enabled the defense industrialbase to develop and field revolutionarysystems designed to overwhelm Sovietweapons and tactics. Critics derided

many of these systems in the years be-fore the Gulf War. Some defense skep-tics, for example, doubted the surviv-ability and utility of the Bradleyfighting vehicle. The Abrams tank wasregarded as unreliable and unsupport-able because of its fuel consumption.Several advanced weapons and othersystems—including the sea-launchedcruise missile, F–117 stealth fighter, andmany night vision devices and elec-tronic warfare capabilities—had neverbeen used in combat and had under-gone limited operational testing. Somecriticized this hardware as too complexand prone to failure under harsh condi-tions. The Soviets were routinely citedas the model of a more rational mili-tary-industrial process. Such cynicismproved unfounded as coalition hard-ware proved equal to the task.

However, U.S. forces in DesertStorm could have won the conflict de-cisively even if they had swapped theirequipment with the Iraqi military. Thisview reflects a deeply ingrained, expe-rience-based belief. Effectively employ-ing sophisticated matériel requires de-manding, results-oriented training. Incontrast to the American approach,Iraqi training during the Desert Shieldbuildup was almost as pathetic as itsstrategic leadership.

it took more than a decade to buildthe military that America watchedwith pride during the Gulf War

General Schwarzkopfand staff during victory parade.

DO

D (R

ob J

enso

n)

■ J F Q F O R U M

14 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

past successes can blind commandersto rapidly evolving asymmetricalthreats which may target predictableU.S. military doctrine, leadership, andequipment in the future.

Some argue that the focus of doc-trine on European armored combat leftthe United States with a force that hadlittle application to post-modern war.

Thoughts of BattleDoctrine plays a unifying role in

the employment of people, resources,and time. History demonstrates thatbrave soldiers with excellent equip-ment can be paralyzed and defeated iflacking in doctrine to integrate andleverage their advantages. The humili-ation of France by the Wehrmacht andLuftwaffe during the opening moves ofBlitzkrieg in World War II makes thatpoint. Prior to Desert Storm, the serv-ices invested years integrating theirwarfighting doctrine. That collabora-tion produced forward-looking, of-fense-based strategies that exploitedAmerican strengths and enemy weak-nesses. In the early 1980s, for example,the Army moved from a reactive andstatic combat doctrine known as activedefense to AirLand Battle, which fo-cused on maneuver flexibility, synergy,and violence. The change in doctrineparalleled improved leadership train-ing throughout the Army. AirLand Bat-tle stressed bold, coordinated groundand air offense and exploiting battle-field initiative, which provided a deci-sive advantage during the hundred-hour maneuver that characterized theattack of Desert Storm.

A crucial factor in improving doc-trinal initiatives was that commandersand units practiced and honed con-cepts under realistic conditions. Begin-ning with top gun air combat schoolby the Navy, the services developedstate-of-the-art, force-on-force trainingand exercises linking doctrine and newsystems under realistic conditions.Such training produced leaders whoseindividual and collective success (andpromotions) were based on demandingand fully transparent exercises. TheArmy National Training Center at FortIrwin, Air Force Red Flag at Nellis AirForce Base, Marine Air Ground CombatCenter at Twentynine Palms, and Navyinstrumented sea warfare training inthe Caribbean allowed warfighters tomake fatal mistakes in a realistic battlelab instead of combat. At joint trainingcenters, combat leaders underwent apainful learning process that oftendamaged their egos but saved lives inwar. A training atmosphere of candor,rapid feedback, and defined outcomestandards was critical.

An Unsettled LegacyAre the battlefield lessons that

contributed to the success of DesertStorm relevant ten years later? Militaryleaders have frequently been accused ofpreparing to fight the last war. If thiswere the case at the moment, the GulfWar template would offer a wasted in-tellectual exercise at best and a pre-scription for defeat on some future bat-tlefield at worst. Focusing doctrine on

F–117As in hangar,Desert Shield.

DO

D (H

ans

H. D

effn

er)

M c C a f f r e y

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 15

The military today is being tasked withbroader security missions. It is ex-pected to tackle challenges rangingfrom peacekeeping to the proliferationof weapons of mass destruction. Pro-viding humanitarian aid, combatingterrorism, and confronting interna-tional drug cartels and organized crimeare among the support duties. So whatdoes the future hold?

First, people requirements havenot changed significantly. The ArmedForces will continue to need a substan-tial number of personnel (1.5 mil-lion)—and tactical leaders with the mo-tivation, skills, and mental agility to

operate decisively in a complex, con-fusing, and dangerous internationalarena. As combat equipment becomesmore sophisticated, broadly educated,literate, and highly trained people willbe needed to operate and maintain it.Violent conflict will require globalreach, rapid decisionmaking, and ex-panded notions of battlespace with dig-ital, space-based information systems.At the same time, overwhelming levelsof raw intelligence from a range of sen-sors could lead to paralysis rather thandecisive action. The ability of leaders toassimilate real-time combat data andsort out vital information will be criti-cal to success.

The political sensitivity of futurebattlefields will be driven by their in-creasing transparency to high-techmedia oversight, requiring leaders tofunction under challenging conditionsdespite intense scrutiny from interna-tional news sources and hostile politi-cal actors. Near instantaneous globalcommunication creates a political-mili-tary environment in which tactical de-cisions by even junior noncommis-sioned officers can shape nationalstrategy. Furthermore, advanced com-bat systems will put increasingly lethal,simplified weapons and targeting capa-bilities into the hands of enemy and

friendly small-unit leaders.These operations will not berun successfully from eitherWashington or a unifiedcommander’s war room.The Armed Forces must con-tinue to recruit and train ca-

pable people and imbue them with alevel of judgment previously expectedonly of mature servicemembers.

America produces vast numbers ofyoung men and women with greatphysical courage and leadership ability.Professionals of this caliber will not re-main in the military simply for highpay, dual-income opportunities, largequarters, or predictable home-stationtime. Neither will they leave the serviceof their country because they fear deathor injury in combat. However, they willbe unforgiving if denied the combatedge and confidence generated by de-manding and realistic training, first-class

technology, and a culture based on trust,respect, and personal growth.

Developing, acquiring, and field-ing combat systems requires making as-sumptions on next generation threatsthat will shape resource commitmentsand future doctrine. Today military re-search and development is conceptu-ally adrift. The mayhem and brutalityof modern violence are functions ofnonstate militias, truck bombs, chemi-cal weapons, cruise missiles, diesel sub-marines, high-speed missile boats,mines, and large amounts of Cold Warhardware flooding arms bazaars. Bil-lions of dollars in drug money and in-ternational criminal activity contributeto this lethal mix.

The equipment-technology doc-trine cycle must be driven by require-ments for transportation and logisticsto deploy from the continental UnitedStates. Joint forces must be ready tofight on arrival. New threats to interna-tional security can’t be resolved by sea-launched precision weapons and air-power based at home. Today the Nationhas essentially the wrong force structurefor the missions at hand. It requiresnew concepts, additional resources, anda revitalized strategic political consen-sus to build capabilities geared for bothwarfighting and peace operations.

Here the lesson of the Gulf War isthat substantial funding, research anddevelopment, and procurement arecrucial for the national defense pos-ture. The challenge is preserving theexisting infrastructure while develop-ing the next generation of doctrine,training, and weapons. The procure-ment cycle for some major systems is15 years. There will be serious overlapwith older combat systems that mustbe maintained even though more re-cent versions have been developed andgradually integrated. Nevertheless,these systems are aging. The M–1 tankentered the inventory in the early1980s and the F–15 fighter went intoservice in 1975. Incremental improve-ments in many battlefield systemshave given the United States preemi-nent capabilities. But the Pentagonmust look beyond contemporary tech-nology and force structures and iden-tify what is needed to dominate thebattlefield of tomorrow.

the ability to assimilate real-time combat data and sort out vital information will be critical to success

Advanced warfightingexperiment, NationalTraining Center.

13th

Pub

lic A

ffairs

Det

achm

ent (

Ric

hard

Puc

kett

)

■ J F Q F O R U M

16 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

CONUS-based assets—to a CONUS-centered air-ground force with globalair and sea-delivery reach.

Washington also must rethinkwhat seems to be a self-defeating re-quirement that each force deploymentbe articulated to the American peoplethrough an exit strategy. This concepthas been an unmitigated disaster.Events in the Persian Gulf reaffirmedthe wisdom of committing troops towarfighting or peace missions onlywhen the Nation is determined toachieve its purpose—whether that en-tails bloodshed or a fifty-year presenceas in the case of NATO. The elevationof the notion of exit strategy to the

status of a strategic principle signalsweak commitment. It may also ensurethat time and initiative are ceded to apotential enemy.

Overmatching ForceThe doctrine produced to defeat

the Warsaw Pact proved itself in DesertStorm. It stressed offensive initiativeand coordinated day-night employ-ment of advanced combat systems.The battle doctrine was well suited tohigh intensity operations conductedagainst the brutal, rigid, and poorly ledIraqi forces. In preparing for high-intensity conflicts of the future, theprinciples of AirLand Battle doctrineremain valid. Though refinements inexisting doctrine are needed because oftechnological advances, the funda-mentals of joint, synchronized offen-sive are unlikely to change.

Over the last decade the ArmedForces have conducted various opera-tions around the world as part of hu-manitarian, counterterrorist, counter-drug, and peacekeeping missions.

Two principles of national securitywill be critical in maintaining militarydominance while anticipating require-ments. First, the Armed Forces must beprepared for the worst-case scenario:high intensity conflict against wellequipped and determined enemies.Substantial forces fielded by modernnation-states still pose the most signifi-cant, though least likely, threat to na-tional interests. Prior to the Gulf Warmost militaries were organized aroundthis core commitment. This strategyworked. The United States prevailed inDesert Storm and during the Cold War.The price of failure in a possible high-intensity conflict means we must notallow our focus to drift from such large-scale threats.

Second, systems must be devel-oped that are relevant to realistic sce-narios for deployments from theUnited States to distant battlefields.The Armed Forces can’t count on ene-mies to allow a six-month buildup likeDesert Shield. A greater investment isneeded in capabilities to deliver deci-sive force anywhere in the world onshort notice. Major sea-based, pre-posi-tioned equipment is vital. However,the deployability of ground and airsystems is also crucial. Capability mustbe transformed from a forward-de-ployed ground force—backed by

Joint strike fighter approaching Patuxent River.

Nav

al A

ir S

tatio

n P

atux

ent R

iver

(Ver

non

Pug

h)

DO

D (H

eder

lite)

Launching Tomahawk missilefrom USS Mississippi.

M c C a f f r e y

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 17

These security responsibilities chal-lenged the military to develop newdoctrine for contingencies at the lowerend of the operational continuum. In-volvement in multinational peace-keeping and peace-enforcement islikely to remain a requirement.

Postulating the employment of re-mote lethal targeting technology towage war—followed by the unopposeddeployment of peacekeepers—hasgiven rise to the hopeful but misplacedbelief that future wars can be fought

with little or no loss of American lives.But absolute dependence on high techin pursuit of a bloodless war may in-troduce at least two flaws intowarfighting doctrine. First, it will limitthe ability to respond to the full rangeof possible conflicts. There is also dan-ger in communicating to potential en-emies that the direct employment ofground combat troops in favor ofother options is foreclosed. The mili-tary can’t protect both Americans andinnocent populations abroad by adopt-ing zero-casualty force protection as anoperational priority. There are causesfor which our soldiers should be will-ing to fight and die.

A second danger resulting from amisguided belief in bloodless conflictcomes from turning abstract notions ofbattlefield fairness or proportionalityinto an operational imperative. Amer-ica has a strong sense of fair play andjustice for all. It abhors human suffer-ing, a virtue which is among its great-est strengths. However, blindly apply-ing fairness and balance on thebattlefield is inimical to national secu-rity. History suggests that the denial ofmilitary experience increases the long-term suffering inherent in combat.

Any military that limits itself tonarrowly calibrated proportional forceis an organization in search of defeat.The Armed Forces do not go off to warto put up a good fight; they go to win.

They do not attack in kind; they attackwith every type of force to break enemywill and defeat it. By prosecuting war-fare aggressively, one not only limitslosses but shortens the conflict and thuslessens the suffering of noncombatantsand often enemy forces themselves.

The Armed Forces must act in ac-cord with international law. They mustrespect the rights of prisoners andnoncombatants. They are accountableto the American people and scruti-nized by the media. Like political lead-

ers who must explain thejustness of a cause, mili-tary leaders should informthe public on strategiesused to protect nationalinterests. But when theNation goes to war, com-

manders are entrusted with the lives ofAmerican men and women. Leadersfrom the President down to a fire teamleader bear responsibility for achievingobjectives while safeguarding lives.

The military must strive to em-ploy its forces to maximal advantagein prosecuting complex missions.However, critics argue that the servicesremain parallel and noncomplemen-tary and that they are characterized by

parochial doctrines, which generateturf battles over resources.

The dominance of expensive,high-tech equipment will require ahigher quality of training for jointforces. To obtain the maximum benefitfrom advanced technology, an equiva-lent long-term resource commitment totroop and leader training, education,and career development is needed.

To accomplish the range of mis-sions the Armed Forces are likely toface, training must be both tailoredand flexible. It will require assets com-mensurate with the complexities ofwarfare. Simulations and virtual bat-tlefields will become preferred meth-ods of joint training. The existingforce structure often will not allowmatching forces to contingencies.Joint commanders must deal with theoperational expectation that unitsmay be sent anywhere any time forvarious missions. Realistic, rigorousjoint and combined arms training willhave to produce cohesive teams thatcan adapt to rapidly changing opera-tional environments.

Though strategy, force structure,and technology may differ in the fu-ture, the principles on which theDesert Storm force was built shouldcontinue to serve us well. The lessonsof the Gulf War related to personnel,equipment, doctrine, and trainingmust be applied to the challenges theNation will face by virtue of having theworld’s greatest military. Leaders willneed the agility to respond to threatsfaster and more competently. Americamust continue to bear the burdens ofpeace operations, humanitarian aid,economic containment, counter-terrorism, illegal drugs, et al. Its mili-tary must prepare for violent engage-ment against major organized forcesthat might threaten Southwest Asia,Japan, Korea, Thailand, or Israel. TheUnited States must also provide supportfor multinational military engagementdesigned to keep sea and air routesopen for the global free-trade commu-nity, maintain access to energy supplies,and defend vital global interests. JFQ

history suggests that the denial of military experience increases the long-term suffering inherent in combat

DO

D (B

rian

Cum

per)

Unloading M–2A2sfrom Maersk Constallation.

■

18 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

In theory, jointness is the meansthrough which the National Com-mand Authorities achieve unity of ef-fort from diverse service competencies.Yet for many members of the military,the idea of jointness presents a Pan-dora’s box of unattractive possibilities.Parochialism, not cooperation, re-mains the watchword despite the com-mon deference to jointness. AlthoughCongress has argued for years that in-creased jointness will produce a moreefficient and effective military, DesertStorm together with the demise of theSoviet Union did not alter service atti-tudes. Operations against the formerYugoslavia offer further evidence thatthe single-service American way of war

E ver since the passage of theGoldwater-Nichols Act, thegaze of Congress has beenfirmly fixed on the need for

jointness. The conviction that 21st cen-tury operations will involve land, sea,and air forces is buttressed by the per-ception that technological advancescombined with the genius of theAmerican military will transform theArmed Forces into an information agejoint organization.

Colonel Douglas A. Macgregor, USA, is a senior military fellow in the Institute forNational Strategic Studies at the National Defense University and the author ofBreaking the Phalanx: A New Design for Landpower in the 21st Century.

The Joint Force

A Decade, No ProgressBy D O U G L A S A. M A C G R E G O R

Live fire exercise inKuwait, 2001.

AP

/Wor

ld W

ide

Pho

tos

(Joh

n M

cCon

nico

)

M a c g r e g o r

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 19

has changed little since the PersianGulf War, leading Eliot Cohen to ob-serve that there are “four single-servicewarfighting establishments.” Thesepoints notwithstanding, funding aCold War legacy force, with its originsin the experience of World War II, mayno longer be possible. It is not an acci-dent that a budget of $300-plus billionis critical to maintaining services thatare downsized versions of the samemilitary that mounted Desert Storm.This is significant because jointness,transformation, and fiscal reality areon a collision course.

After the StormVictory in the Persian Gulf led

senior leaders to insist that ground andair operations against Iraq were joint.In reality there was little evidence forsuch a claim. Even though the Com-mander in Chief, Central Command,prescribed a chain of command andorganized joint forces, operationslargely conformed to World War II.Single-service warfighting organiza-tions waged Desert Storm with onlybroad strategic guidance. Therefore it isnot surprising that the services soughtto exploit success to validate their doc-trine, organization, and equipment.

On the ground, the superior per-formance of the Army, especially inthe culminating battles on February26–27, should have afforded a strongargument in favor of a highly trained,superbly equipped force consisting pri-marily of combat troops organized andpostured for rapid deployment in anew joint warfighting framework. In-stead the Army of the Cold War simplygot smaller.

Victory in the Persian Gulf be-came the Army rationale for preservingthe status quo. None of its initiativessince the war, to include Force XXI,Army after Next, Strike Force, or the cur-rent Army Transformation Initiative,challenged the ten-division structure,the warfighting paradigm, or the insti-tutional policies and mobilization

practices of the Cold War. Integratingthe enormous and increasingly precisefirepower of the Navy and Air Forcewith landpower should have figuredinto joint doctrine and postwar forcedesign by the Army. Despite the poten-

tial for jointness in the AirForce expeditionary forceconcept, without basicchanges in Army combatorganization, the idea oforganizing ground and airforces to operate in tan-

dem did not translate into jointness.The unwavering faith of the Air

Force that extended bombing couldhave won the Gulf War by airpoweralone did not advance the cause ofjointness in that service. Instead, In-stant Thunder, the air operationagainst Iraq, became simply a modelfor the future. Strategic airlift took sec-ond place to the F–22, the post-warcenterpiece of operations by the AirForce. That regime security could bemore important to Baghdad than aconventional strategy did not enter theanalysis. Later, when formidableground combat power was neededearly to operate with airpower within ajoint framework in the crisis overKosovo, it was unavailable.

Naval forces were more circum-spect in the wake of the Gulf War, be-cause participation by the Navy hadbeen significant in terms of numbers,platforms, and aircraft, but relativelymodest in terms of actual warfighting.Another reason for self-examinationwas that in 1991 no other navy couldchallenge the Nation for control of theseas. Since recapitalization is expensiveand time-consuming, the most intensesoul-searching of any service is ongo-ing there. This was evident in the be-havior and thinking of senior naval of-ficers in the context of jointness.

Admiral Paul Miller, the firstCommander in Chief, Atlantic Com-mand (the forerunner of Joint ForcesCommand), became a champion ofadaptive force packaging—repackag-ing land, sea, and air forces in unitstailored for specific missions. His re-configuration of carriers in the Hait-ian intervention that replaced airwings with Army air mobile troopsand the concept of nodal warfare inlittorals created possibilities for navalpower in joint operations. Vice Chair-man of the Joint Chiefs, AdmiralWilliam Owens, not only fostered ex-periments by placing Army tacticalmissile systems on ships, but organ-ized the Joint Requirements Oversight

unwavering faith that extendedbombing could have won the Gulf Wardid not advance the cause of jointness

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (J

im V

arhe

gyi)

Intelligence analyst at Fort Bliss,Roving Sands ’00.

■ J F Q F O R U M

20 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

and apply service-optimized systems,they discover that service optimizationproduces suboptimum performancewithin the joint operational framework.

These points notwithstanding,knowing the joint task force will be theinstrument of choice on the opera-tional level, CINCs have pressed for in-creased joint training. General JohnSheehan, USMC, who succeededMiller, promoted joint operationallevel training and succeeded in bring-ing component headquarters to Suf-folk, Virginia, for interoperabilitytraining. Even though service-basedheadquarters are not organized,trained, or equipped to command andcontrol joint forces, this represented astep toward genuine joint operations.Sheehan could not change the practiceof forming JTFs from single-servicecomponent headquarters. The serviceswould not tolerate joint command andcontrol structures or standing JTFs asreplacements for single-service struc-tures. In the battle between service andjoint warfare, the former won.

The services grasped the revolu-tionary potential of emerging strikesystems but would not abandon theWorld War II paradigm of service dom-inated command and control that ob-structs the seamless integration ofcomponents with new air, space, andmissile capabilities. In this regard, JointVision 2010 and Joint Vision 2020 aresimply bumper stickers for single-serv-ice programs and do not prevent com-peting service requirements from dom-inating joint integration efforts.

Admiral Harold Gehman, whileCommander in Chief, Joint ForcesCommand, raised the issue of competi-tion between joint and service experi-mentation in 1998 as follows:

When it finally gets down to it, thisis going to be a choice of resources anddoctrinal issues. My intent is, and mycharter is, and my resourcing is that I willbe funded and manned and equipped to goout and get just as good an argument,with just as much research and develop-ment, and just as much analysis, and justas much field trial and wargames, thatthe joint way of doing something is just asgood or better than the service way ofdoing it.1

Council to promote jointness. Suchinstitutional developments led theNavy into uncharted waters.

With a tradition of living on thestrategic periphery, the Marine Corpsmoved more quickly than the Army torefocus on new forms of small-scaleconflict. Recognizing that technologycould enable smaller formations to bedecisive, the Marines examined con-cepts for employing forces in SeaDragon and Urban Warrior. Such exer-cises involved new operational con-cepts as well as the organizationalstructures to execute them. For themost part, notions of jointness ex-tended only to the Navy, and despiteinnovations, the Inchon paradigmthat dominates Marine Corps thinkingand organization for combat did notsubstantially change.

The Marine Corps can argue per-suasively that it already fields a JTFwhich integrates land, sea, and air re-sources—the Marine air-ground taskforce. Hence any efforts to increase

jointness that might reduce service au-tonomy and remove control overfixed-wing aviation or other assets aretreated with suspicion. In addition,the Marines are among the most stri-dent critics of the ramifications of theGoldwater-Nichols Act on trainingand officer development.

Jointness and CINCsWhile the services struggled with

jointness, CINCs discovered the waythat the services responded to the pres-sures of joint operations under the con-trol of unified commands. Clearly theservices link specific weapons and com-munication systems to activities re-garded as most vital to their missions.Therefore they seek to optimize the in-tegrated performance of systems accord-ing to their needs rather than those ofthe joint community. As a result, as uni-fied commands attempt to integrate

U.S

. Nav

y (P

eter

Jon

es)

USS Coronadooff Hawaii,Strong Angel.

M a c g r e g o r

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 21

A few years later, just before retir-ing, Gehman cited the constraints onaccelerating transformation and recom-

mended that his successors serve for upto eight years to outlast bureaucraticopposition and implement change. Butas Kosovo demonstrated, innovationdepends on organizational focus over asustained period rather than any per-sonal attempts to guide change.

The Balkans ExperienceNATO strikes lasted for 78 days

before Serbia agreed to pull its forcesfrom Kosovo. The reasons for this deci-sion were more self-evident than real-ized at the time. The withdrawal ofsupport by Moscow under great pres-sure from Washington left Belgradewithout assistance in its bid to retaincontrol of Kosovo. Simultaneously, de-struction of its meager economy, with

an output in 1998 that was less thantwo-thirds of the economic activity ofFairfax County, Virginia, made resist-

ance useless without Russ-ian aid. Belgrade could notretain Kosovo without suchsupport. Serb women andchildren would starve orfreeze. Finally, Moscowwarned of a possible U.S.-

led ground offensive.At the same time, the Alliance

faced grave obstacles in its mission toexpel Serbian forces from the area. Al-though unmanned aerial vehicles(UAVs) found some excellent targets, forexample, rules of engagement requireddouble or triple confirmation beforestrikes. That made it difficult to developan effective decision cycle because ofthe fear that a mistake at 15,000 feetwould jeopardize air operations.

In the intelligence arena, the timeneeded for remote command centersto get information to pilots from otherthan Air Force sources was too long.The Air Operations Center (AOC) sys-tem proved too cumbersome to rapidlydisseminate critical data to pilots ontheir way to target areas.

Army and Air Force systems wereunable to quickly fuse and disseminatethe pictures from joint and single-serv-ice intelligence, surveillance, and re-connaissance sources in the CombinedAir Operations Center (CAOC) in Vi-cenza during a fast-paced conflict. Inpart this was a consequence of infor-mation overload, as well as the struc-tural orientation of service systems.

The command and control struc-ture also did not integrate service staffsand organizations in a single Kosovoengagement zone operations structureunder the supported commander, thejoint force air component commander(JFACC). Operation Allied Force was di-rected by a JFACC staff, not a combatoperations, combat plans, and strategystaff. The JFACC/AOC organization didnot reflect that JFACC was the sup-ported commander. AOC requiredground liaison officers from the Armywho would have worked for the aircomponent commander and advisedon effectively attacking enemy groundforces. Moreover, launching NATO airstrikes against Yugoslavia in March1999 began the largest UAV deploy-ment by Western forces since the GulfWar. Linking UAVs to CAOC via satel-lite illustrated the value of an effectivejoint system for coordinating opera-tions with service air platforms anddistributing imagery across services.The fact that most UAVs (except AirForce Predators) belonged to groundunits raised questions on joint man-agement, control, and direction ofthese vehicles. Without a joint opera-tional architecture embracing theaterforces, such questions were largely re-duced to a fight among services forcontrol and were not resolved.

A top-heavy Army command andcontrol headquarters could not con-duct joint operations. It declined tosend representatives to JFACC targetingboard meetings. That a corps head-quarters with more than 500 officers,noncommissioned officers, and sol-diers was necessary to coordinate a5,000-man task force within the frame-work of an Air Force-based JTF re-flected the rigidity of the existingArmy multi-echelon, single-servicecommand and control structure.

as Kosovo demonstrated, innovationdepends on organizational focusover a sustained period

Global Hawk duringfirst flight, 1998.

DO

D

■ J F Q F O R U M

22 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

replaced them at night, or that U.S.target analysts misinterpreted the in-formation received.

Technologies developed sinceDesert Storm should have decreaseddecision cycle times and increased theability to achieve battlefield effectsmore efficiently and effectively by em-ploying all service capabilities duringthe Kosovo air campaign. But jointcommand and control concepts andprocedures did not fundamentallychange, and U.S. forces were unable toexploit opportunities offered by newtechnology. In Operation Allied Force,commanders and staffs from the serv-ices were not postured to exploit infor-mation opportunities. Effective proce-dures began to emerge by the end ofthe air campaign, but they shouldhave been in place at the start. What ismore, the distrust between ground andair commanders evident in 1991 per-sisted during the 1999 air campaign.

Shaping the ForceIn the absence of a joint opera-

tional framework that integrates air,space, and missile power with groundcombat forces, defeating an enemy will

The Army refused to incorporateattack helicopters in air targeting or-ders. The approaches of the Air Forcedeliberate planning process and theArmy movement-to-contact methodcollided. If operations went asplanned, the Army would have sacri-ficed electronic warfare as well as otherair defense countermeasures routinelyprovided to Air Force pilots. These di-verse approaches left the joint com-mander with no alternative to ineffi-cient sequential service operations.

Because naval aviators lacked ade-quate target-imaging systems to droplaser-guided bombs from F–14s andF–18s during training flights, theylearned in combat. Naval aircraft hitless than half of their laser targets inSerbia, and thus Navy participation injoint operations was constrained.

The Joint Chiefs mobilizedenough equipment, intelligence, sur-veillance, and reconnaissance for twowars to carry out the bombing cam-paign. For example, every joint surveil-lance aircraft instructor was calledupon, disrupting training for years.Kosovo also had a significant effect onreal-world missions. With key assetssuch as tankers and electronic jammersrushed to Kosovo, the Air Force had to

temporarily shut down no-fly opera-tions over Northern Iraq. It reportedthe need for a period of six months toreconstitute forces after the conflict.

Service oriented operations alsoimpeded joint logistics. While Albanialacked a deepwater port, its coastlinefavored joint logistics over the shore(JLOTS). But that did not occur. JLOTShas suffered from a shortage of fund-ing and a paucity of realistic exercisesfor years, yet a sustained offensive de-pends on strategic sealift. U.S. forceswere thus unprepared for anythingother than the air campaign.

Although the military exists in aclass by itself in the case of strategic

mobility, the Kosovo experiencedemonstrated an overreliance onstrategic airlift, which in turn is de-pendent on a robust in-theater infra-structure that was inadequate in the

Balkans. But little was doneto exploit alternative meansto move men and matériel.Army rotary assets couldhave moved equipment fromship to shore. Despite successwith this type of joint opera-

tion in Haiti, it was not attempted inKosovo.

Operations against Serbia demon-strated that the American way of warhas changed little since 1991. The ap-plication of a single arm—air and mis-sile power—allowed the enemy toadapt to the single threat—to hunkerdown and wait out the bombardment.Assumptions on omniscient surveil-lance technology in connection withbattlespace knowledge and informa-tion dominance also turned out to befallacious. In spite of enormous U.S.and NATO superiority in every cate-gory of technology, allied battlespaceawareness was often manipulated bythe enemy. Strikes on decoys indicatedthat the Serbs let daytime reconnais-sance flights see real targets and then

in the absence of a joint operationalframework, defeating an enemy willbe expensive and time consuming

Flee

t Com

bat C

amer

a G

roup

, Pac

ific

(Chr

is D

esm

ond

)

Marines operatingsimulation system,Urban Warrior ’99.

M a c g r e g o r

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 23

be expensive and time consuming—ifit happens at all. Service componentsmust be organized to fit into JTFs with-out intervening or redundant layers ofcommand and control. Redefiningservice force modules as the lowestlevel at which operational units canaccomplish core competencies is vital.At the same time, JTF headquartersmust contain sufficient expertise fromall services to make the deployment ofredundant single service commandand control unnecessary. Current serv-ice transformation programs do notaddress this need.

Enemies may attempt to strikeearly to outpace a U.S. military re-sponse and act decisively withweapons of mass destruction to denyaccess. Accordingly, service operationalconcepts and command and controlstructures that obstruct jointness willhave a profound impact. As impliedabove, jointness is not an end in itselfbut rather a means to cope with theuncertainty and rapidity of change in aturbulent strategic environment.

If information superiority andbattlespace dominance are the organiz-ing imperatives that can determinehow the services will fight in the fu-ture, then new joint operational con-cepts and joint-capable organizationsare keys to success. Transformationthat occurs without joint influence

and oversight will not change the sin-gle-service warfighting establishments.

The strong links between weaponsprocurement, doctrine, and organiza-tion for combat puts this problem intosharp relief. For instance, if the Navybuys joint strike fighters and new carri-ers, it is likely to operate in basicallythe same manner in fifty years as itdoes today. Moreover, this means thatif joint control was exerted over serviceresearch, development, and acquisi-tion, transformation to new structuresfor warfighting can occur. Unfortu-nately, service target information sys-tems are being funded and the ArmedForces operate redundant assets. Todate, the Joint Requirements OversightCouncil, Joint Staff, and U.S. JointForces Command have been unable toovercome this predicament and replacethe World War II paradigm with onethat shapes decisions on force designand acquisition. Service control offunding and influence in shaping suchdecisions remains unchanged.

The recent initiative to organize acore JTF is notable because it addressesmany problems that resurfaced duringthe U.S.-led air campaign in Kosovo.As James Blaker has observed, “This is

a good idea, but we need to move tostanding joint task forces. Everyonesays it is not good to go to war with apick-up team. This is a step forward.”2

Yet organizing a standing JTF risks fail-ure if it ignores the fact that whenservice specific visions for warfighting,backed by extensive plans for weaponsmodernization, are not included injoint plans, the influence of the jointcommunity is marginal. After all, thebuilding blocks of JTFs must be mod-ules based on core competencies thatreside inside the services.

Bureaucratic power does not shiftvoluntarily. Civilian leadership in thePentagon, White House, and Congressis essential to the future of jointness.Until legislation as monumental as theNational Security Act of 1947 is en-acted to restructure the defense estab-lishment within the context of reform,nothing of substance will occur. Lec-tures, demonstrations, and expressionsof support by senior officers have notand will not yield tangible results toadvance jointness and rationalize theallocation of increasingly scarce fundsin the years ahead.

Perhaps the skepticism voiced byAlfred Thayer Mahan that no servicecan reform itself is valid. Change mustcome from outside to transform themilitary and realize authentic jointness.Otherwise the Nation could suddenlyfind that the Armed Forces are manningan expensive high-tech Maginot Linethat will inevitably be outflanked. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Elaine Grossman, “As Lead Experi-menter, Gehman Expects to ‘Duke it Out’with Service Chiefs,” Inside the Pentagon,vol. 14, no. 48 (December 3, 1998), p. 2.

2 Robert Holzer, “Stability at Top Is Criti-cal to JFC’s Pentagon Clout; Also Calls for aStanding JTF Headquarters,” Defense News,vol. 15, no. 35 (September 4, 2000), p. 1.

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (J

effre

y A

llen)

F–15E after mission,Allied Force.

■

24 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

but less sophisticated forces can offervaluable adjunct capabilities. Consider-ing future operations in light of theNavy experience in Operation DesertStorm suggests practices for harmoniz-ing the employment of platforms basedon disparate levels of technology.

Netted Picture—Unfettered WarNetwork-centric warfare relies not

only on organic sensors but on a tacti-cal picture created by integrating intel-ligence products. With this picture, ex-ecutors can synchronize actionswithout requiring minutely detailed

T he Armed Forces seem onthe verge of adopting a radi-cally different network-cen-tric style of warfare, even

though few coalition partners appearwilling to follow suit. It may be that thefit between network-centric and con-ventional warfare is poor but that thenew operational style offers such bene-fits the United States will feel compelledto press ahead. However, conventional

Norman Friedman is a defense analyst and widely published author whose worksinclude Desert Victory: The War for Kuwait.

A Network-Centric Solution

Naval Operationsin the Persian GulfBy N O R M A N F R I E D M A N

USS Missouripreparing to launch attack, Desert Storm.

DO

D (N

oel G

uest

)

F r i e d m a n

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 25

operations orders, attacking targetsover the horizons—that is, beyond thereach of organic sensors. Thus dis-persed forces can dominate large areas.Given situational awareness offered bythe netted picture, decisions can betaken quickly and precisely. In addi-tion, network-centric warfare envisagesthe use of relatively small numbers ofprecision weapons to deal with key tar-gets as an alternative to the usual prac-tice of attrition warfare.

What is rarely appreciated outsidethe Navy is that its forces have longoperated in network-centric ways.Their experiences may therefore an-swer the coordination questions net-work-centric warfare raises. A sharedtactical picture is not new. DuringWorld War II, U.S. and British fleets re-spectively developed combat informa-tion centers and action information

centres, which gathered tactical pic-tures using on-board sensors and off-board data. With such centers the issuebecame how well the picture could bedisseminated. Though the efforts wereprimitive by the standards of today,they were adequate at the time. Com-bat information centers, for example,enabled the Navy to destroy enemyaircraft in the Battle of the PhilippineSea—the famous turkey shoot.

Computers automated the processof assembling the picture to showmore potential tracks (targets), and theassociated digital link made dissemina-tion possible in near real time. Thuscomputers and data links—a revolu-tion in naval affairs of the 1960s—de-termined the extent to which shipscould cooperate tactically. Submarinecontacts could be prosecuted withoutinterlocked computers since, as theadage goes, antisubmarine warfare(AWS) is “awfully slow warfare.” How-ever, air defense was another issue. Notonly did ships have to be warned assoon as threats were detected; the net-ted picture was also the only reliablesource of identification.

Digital tactical computers went tosea in the 1960s to receive, display, andexploit a shared (netted) tactical picture

in a naval tactical data system.Other NATO navies, most promi-nently the British and Dutch, developed parallel systems. Thepicture was shared with a stan-dardized digital channel, link 11.This enabled dispersed forma-

tions to operate together in what a net-work-centric tactician would call a self-synchronous fashion.

Although netting was conductedover a small area, and the content ofthe netted picture was limited, the re-sult was a clear predecessor of currentconcepts. Several other NATO navieseither adopted the American tacticalnet or developed their own. From themid-1970s the Navy extended tacticalconcepts to create and disseminate aworldwide shipping tactical picture,initially to support Tomahawk missilestrikes. The primary link was an ultrahigh frequency satellite channel.

The requirement for network-cen-tric warfare is twofold. First, the plat-form needs a means of receiving thelink carrying the picture. Because linkshave a finite capacity, the picture isusually transmitted as updates. Second,the platform needs a computer to storeupdates and form them into a coher-ent tactical picture for decisionmakers.In the naval system the computerizedtactical picture is integrated intoweapon systems so that decisions

based on the picture are implementedby the computer carrying the picture.For example, targets are assigned toweapons depending on tracks (targets)carried by the computer. Since thecomputer carries identification data, itcan avoid friendly-fire accidents by re-fusing to engage a friendly track.

Aircraft often provide the mainstriking power of a modern navy. Afleet has relatively few planes so lossesto friendly fire are serious. On theother hand, aircraft are deadly threatsbecause they can launch stand-off anti-ship missiles. Therefore enemy planesmust be engaged as far away as possi-ble while friendly aircraft are identifiedquickly. By linking the engagement de-cision with identification, as given bythe netted picture, a fleet can preserveits striking power. As a result, NATOships with link 11 can cooperate tacti-cally. Ships without it or some equiva-lent capability cannot. For example,whatever the advantages of combiningRussian and NATO ships for a forayinto the Third World, the fact that theRussian navy uses a different com-mand structure and data link militatesagainst exposing their warships to in-tense air activity. They would be toolikely to shoot down friendly aircraft.

Coalition War in the GulfDuring Desert Storm the coalition

placed a naval group at the north endof the Persian Gulf, where it was regu-larly overflown by allied aircraft re-turning from strikes against Iraq. Thegroup was also in the path that Iraqi

during Desert Storm the coalitionplaced a naval group at the northend of the Persian Gulf

Boarding party checking ship.

DO

D (J

ohn

Bou

via)

Iraqi tankerAmuriyahset alaze(January 23)

Bubiyan “Turkey Shoot”(January 29–February 2)

Tankers attacked(January 26)

A–6 loss(February 2)

Attack(January 18)

U.S. and Kuwaitimarines occupyMaradim Island(January 29)

Iraqi maritimeattack on Khafji(January 29)

January 29Iraqi groundattack on Khafji

Iraqi vesselattacked(January 24)

Iraqi combatantssunk (January 24)

Ad Dorra oil field

Mina Al Bakr oil terminal

Khafji

Maradim

Qaruh

Mina al Saud

Mina al Ahmadi

KuwaitCity

Bubiyan

K U W A I T

I R A Q I R A N

S A U D I A R A B I A 0 25

Miles

Figure 1. Operations in Northern Gulf ( January–February 1991)

■ J F Q F O R U M

26 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

USS Missouri by HMS Gloucester, whichshot down an incoming Iraqi missile.

Moreover, the Gulf War saw a net-work-centric operation on a largerscale, the international embargo di-rected at Iraq-bound shipping enteringthe Arabian Sea. An embargo may ap-pear to be a low-tech operation, yet asmall number of ships must interceptcraft over a wide area. Each must becued to meet targets well beyond thehorizon, which practically defines net-work-centric warfare. Given a limitednumber of frigates and destroyers, itwas difficult to ensure that all ships car-rying contraband would be intercepted.

It was also important to link intel-ligence with ship location data becausethe Iraqis hoped to create an embar-rassing incident to force the West toabandon the embargo. In fact Iraq didattempt such a ruse. A merchant ship,Ibn Khaldoon, carried baby food, andincluded pregnant women on board.Other crewmembers had video cam-eras. When marines went aboard theship, they were to be filmed attackingwomen only to find baby food. Oncethe videotape was released to theworld, the United States would be seeninterfering with provisions intendedfor innocents, not conducting a mili-tary operation. Under the baby food,however, was contraband ammuni-tion. Because the marines knew aboutthe cargo and how to react, the cameracaptured what was beneath the decep-tive layer. How and why the marinesknew is the stuff of network-centricwarfare, in which diverse informationis fused to create the tactical picturefor decisionmakers.

In support of the embargo, theship-tracking system took account ofavailable intelligence to identify everyship and fused information from allsources into a single, integrated pic-ture usable by decisionmakers on thespot. Because the shipping picture wasimmense, it was not transmitted inone burst. Instead, like tactical datalinks, users got a series of updateswhich their computers assembled intothe needed picture. Thus the user re-quirements included a satellite dishand modem as well as a powerfulenough computer.

aircraft would take to attack U.S. carri-ers, a source of many coalition strikeaircraft. The ships also conducted minecountermeasures in the northern Per-sian Gulf.

Although many countries con-tributed warships, only NATO and Aus-tralian ships, sharing the data link andassociated tactical doctrines, operatedin the air defense zone of the northernGulf. Even then there were problems.

The airspace was also covered by land-based missiles (such as Hawks), whichwere not linked to the same tacticalpicture as ships. Mine countermeasurecraft were not connected into anycomputerized tactical picture thoughthey carried antiaircraft weapons. For-tunately, Iraqi aircraft flew few sorties.The coalition air force was protectedlargely by a rigid rule that surface-to-air weapons were not to be used. Theprincipal exception was the defense of

Source: Edward J. Marolda and Robert J. Schneller, Jr., Shield and Sword: The United States Navy and thePersian Gulf War (Washington: Naval Historical Center, 1998).

F r i e d m a n

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 27

When the shipping tracker wasdevised in the 1970s, it seemed noth-ing short of a carrier could support thecomputer and display hardware, whichwere assembled in the tactical flagcommand center. But the power ofcomputers had outstripped specifica-tions for the center. Commercialequipment could execute the softwareintended for the centers. Largelythrough the initiative of Rear AdmiralJerry Tuttle, an off-the-shelf systemwas adapted as the heart of the jointoperational tactical system (JOTS).Quite aside from Tomahawk targeting,the world shipping picture had enor-mous value to any ship commander. Inthat role there was no need to inte-grate JOTS into ship weapon systems.

Not only could it be installed easily; itcould be adapted to desktop comput-ers, designated tactical computerslargely because of this application.

JOTS is an application of network-centric ideas; for the fleet, it was one ofthe first uses to go beyond tacticalnets. The system, which providesfrigates and destroyers with the worldshipping picture, passed its operationalevaluation in mid-1990 before Iraqoverran Kuwait and the United Na-tions declared an embargo. JOTS typi-fied a new kind of defense system, soft-ware that runs on a standard, virtuallystand-alone commercial computer. Thesoftware was easily reproduced and thecomputers were on the shelf. Thus itwas simple to provide the system toenforce the embargo. It pictured notonly shipping but command messages,like link 11. It became the main com-mand tool for the embargo. Thoseusers who had never seen JOTS foundthat it enhanced their systems, and in-deed JOTS and successor systems arewidely used by NATO navies.

Lessons RevealedWhat does the experience of the

Persian Gulf War reveal about network-centric warfare and coalition partners?

The Navy approach to combat opera-tions is not a universal concept. Mostmilitaries operate with tight coordina-tion among closely-packed units.Lower-level commanders receive de-tailed instructions because excessiveinitiative may lead to disaster. Navieshave the luxury of allowing greater ini-tiative because their units are often dis-persed. Their tactical pictures, at least

at sea, are far simpler than thoseashore. For example, in the 1960swhen the Navy introduced a computertactical picture, a typical capacity was128 tracks—128 ships and aircraft onthe screen and in memory, no more.Even that was a major advance on ear-lier British systems that displayed as

U.S. and French warships moored at Manama.

DO

D (P

aul J

. Pag

e)

the joint operational tactical system is an application of network-centric ideas

Mina Al Bakr oil terminal

Sea Islandocean terminal

Battleshipfire supportarea

USS Tripoli mine strike(February 18)

Lane cleared(February 16–20)

USS Princeton mine strike(February 18)

Drifting Mines

Ad Dorra oil field

KuwaitCity

Bubiyan

Khafji

K U W A I T

I R A Q I R A N

S A U D I A R A B I A 0 25

Miles

Figure 2. Mine Clearing Operations (February 1991)

■ J F Q F O R U M

28 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

The naval net is closely related, ifonly in spirit, to network-centric con-cepts being applied by the Army andAir Force. It integrates a tactical picturewith combat control. In the Army digi-tal battlefield concept, for example,the picture is used as a medium ofcommand and basis for combat plan-ning. It changes the style of combatfrom a concentrated mass of units on awell-defined line to a dispersed massoffering mutual support over consider-able distances. Even suitable weaponsfor the Army are shaped by the abilityto engage unseen targets.

The real challenge, however, maycome not from creating a network-cen-tric land force, but fielding one towork with conventional armies. Dis-persed units are individually vulnera-ble because of their small size. That isentirely acceptable given mutual sup-port and reductions in friendly fire ex-pected on the basis of the shared pic-ture. However, that vulnerabilitymakes it difficult to work with a con-ventional force, which might be moreprone to targeting errors. That is nottoo different from the situation ofNATO versus non-NATO navies. Thesame may be said of air forces whosenumbers are shrinking as they gain ca-pabilities through, among otherthings, netting via the joint tactical in-formation distribution system/link 16.

The same challenges for data link-age exist in combining multinationalforces. In the case of NATO, extensivedistribution of the crucial naval datalink was completely natural becausethe link was needed for the wartimeoperations anticipated by the Alliance.But the post-Cold War world is moreambiguous. Coalitions are formed for agiven operation and are unlikely tosurvive beyond its end, as seen inDesert Storm. If such operations re-quire access to shared tactical picturesvia encrypted data links, how can ac-cess be shared in a conflict but not af-terwards? The picture really determineshow network-centric forces fight. Ac-cess may enable a country to corruptthe key data in future conflicts whennot a coalition partner. But providing acomputer terminal while retainingphysical control at all times would not

few as 24 tracks. As the Navy moves in-shore, the number of vessels and air-craft which its ships see and track in-crease, so the standard today isapproximately 4,000. That pales incomparison with requirements forland warfare, where tens of thousandsof vehicles may appear within a divi-sional area of responsibility.

Therefore, for ground forces net-work-centric operation means develop-ing a credible tactical picture on thebasis of which small dispersed unitscan fire over-the-horizon. It is not clearhow such forces cooperate with tradi-tional militaries with densely packedunits that develop firepower not fromsensing but from sheer mass. It is noteven apparent that network-centricforces retain the same tactical vocabu-lary, not to mention the same tactics.

Source: Edward J. Marolda and Robert J. Schneller, Jr., Shield and Sword: The United States Navy and thePersian Gulf War (Washington: Naval Historical Center, 1998).

F r i e d m a n

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 29

enhance the cohesion of coalitions,which presents a dilemma.

Like past conflicts, the PersianGulf War revealed that joint and com-bined integration often is essential. Airdefense did not depend on the loca-tion of the platform, but rather on itscommon pictures of air activity. Thelonger the reach of existing missiles—probably an inevitable result of provid-ing them with enough energy to deal

with fast incoming tar-gets—the more systemsmust share the samevolumes of responsibil-ity in the air. They mustalso share the same tac-tical picture. Wide-spread distribution oflink 16, the joint tacti-cal information distri-bution system, shouldgo far in solving thisproblem, but only forthe United States andsome of its allies.

Achieving network-centric solutionsfor integrated land, sea, air, space, andspecial operations forces will prove aneven greater challenge and require in-novative, low cost, and readily adapt-able technology

Extending the common picture tojoint forces assigned to a temporary orad hoc coalition is problematic. Net-work-centric warfare can be a slippery

slope. Integrating forces that areadapted only in part to network-cen-tric systems requires disabling the un-adapted portion and also inserting abridging capability to compensate fordiverse technology. JOTS illustratedthat some advantages of network-cen-tric warfare can be gained by forcesthat are not specially adapted to it. Thesystem was almost a pure informationterminal that did not have to be physi-cally integrated in ship combat sys-tems. Commanders could look at ship-ping pictures and shape their actions.It was a simple system that worked.The Navy example offers a provenmethod for the rapid integration ofhigh and low tech forces. JFQ

Flee

t Com

bat C

amer

a G

roup

(Dav

id C

. Mer

cil)

Combat informationcenter aboard USS Cowpens.

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (F

ranc

isco

L. R

omo

)

Tactical communicationssystem, Grecian Firebolt ’99.

■

E ven before the first bomb fell,some observers believed theair campaign held the prom-ise of winning the Persian

Gulf War. But overall there was ram-pant uncertainty over whether air-power could assure the outcome with-out a major ground offensive thatmight entail a notable loss of life.Computer models using traditional assumptions about attrition warfare

predicted allied casualties in the thou-sands. The final authorizing orderfrom the President to the Commanderin Chief, Central Command, acknowl-edged that losses could reach 10 per-cent of fielded coalition ground forces.

Despite such concerns, the conse-quences of initial air operations onshaping the war could not be denied.Opening attacks against command andcontrol facilities and integrated air de-fenses proved uniformly successful,with some 800 combat sortieslaunched at night under radio silenceagainst important targets. Only one

30 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Storm Over

the DesertA New AssessmentBy B E N J A M I N S. L A M B E T H

Benjamin S. Lambeth is a senior staff member at RAND who has flown 35 types ofmilitary aircraft; he is also the author of Russia’s Air Power in Crisis and TheTransformation of American Air Power.

A–10 providing closeair support.

DOD (H.H. Deffner)

L a m b e t h

medium altitude unmolested by eitherSAMs or fighters. Second, the eleventh-hour introduction of joint surveillancetarget attack radar system (JSTARS) air-craft permitted commanders to iden-tify fixed and moving objects on alarge enough scale to make informedforce commitments and execute lethalattacks against ground force targets,day or night. Third was the realizationduring battlefield preparation that in-frared sensors and laser-guided bombscould find and destroy dug-in tanks.All these factors gave U.S. airpower anunprecedented edge in joint warfareagainst ground forces.

The air campaign highlighted thefact that airpower embraces not onlyAir Force capabilities but Navy and Ma-rine assets as well as Army helicoptersand missiles. The first impact on open-ing night was not a precision weapondelivered by a stealth fighter but aHellfire missile launched from an at-tack helicopter against an air defensesite. Airpower harnesses all combatand combat support elements of theArmed Forces, including space and in-formation warfare, that exploit air andspace. Accepting that air warfare in-volves every service is an initial steptoward properly assimilating thechanging role of airpower.

The argument between land andair warriors over who deserves morecredit for the victory is like arguing

coalition aircraft was lost—a NavyF/A–18—presumably to an infraredmissile from a MiG–25. Over the nextthree days, the air campaign systemati-cally struck targets on the strategic andoperational levels, gaining unchal-lenged control of the air and freedomto operate with near impunity againstenemy airfields, ground forces, andother assets.

When a cease-fire was declared fiveweeks later, most observers acknowl-edged the roles of all elements of thecoalition, albeit with interpretationslargely drawn along service lines. How-ever, the prevailing view was thatDesert Storm was the apotheosis of air-power. The only question that remainedwas whether the conflict pointed to thepredominance of airpower in futurewars and thus to a need for a new wayof viewing military operations.

The conflict has been thoroughlydocumented. The Gulf War Air PowerSurvey, modeled on the strategic bomb-ing survey after World War II, con-tributed an analytical point of depar-ture for examining the campaign. Thefacts are not in dispute, but theirmeaning remains contentious.

Unprecedented WarControl of the air over Iraq was

essentially achieved during the open-ing moments of Desert Storm. In con-trast to the tentativeness of OperationRolling Thunder against North Viet-nam, virtually every target category inthe master attack plan was hit on thefirst night—simultaneously to maxi-mize shock effect. That made the

opening round of Desert Storm thelargest air offensive since World War II.

Early air control operations werequintessentially strategic, deprivingIraq of both defenses and situationawareness. Perhaps the clearest indica-tion of what air dominance meant was

found in the relative rate of allied com-bat aircraft losses. Sortie rates remainedroughly constant throughout the sixweeks of fighting. Yet the coalition in-curred nearly half of its aircraft losses(17) in the first week as low-level oper-ations were needed to penetrate Iraqiair defenses, which had not been fullyneutralized. Another eight weredowned in the final week as low-alti-tude operations were resumed to sup-port the ground campaign. Losses werelargely due to optically-tracked antiair-craft artillery and infrared surface-to-air missiles (SAMs), which could not belocated from the air.

Suppressing enemy air defenses(SEAD) and early neutralization of theIraqi air force were the most acclaimed

airpower achieve-ments. Yet they onlysecured a buy-in con-dition for enablingairpower to demon-strate real leverage:engaging an enemy

wholesale with virtual impunitythrough precision standoff attacks.This point is key to understanding thecapability that airpower revealed forthe first time during Desert Storm.

Three factors allowed airpower todraw down Iraqi forces sufficiently sothe ground offensive could advance,secure in knowing that the enemy wasbadly degraded. First, the SEAD cam-paign freed aircraft for operations at

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 31

early air control operations were quintessentially strategic, depriving Iraqof both defenses and situation awareness

B–52G taking off during Gulf War.

DO

D (C

hris

Put

nam

)

■ J F Q F O R U M

over which blade of the scissors cutthe paper. Because of battlefield prepa-ration by airpower, U.S. forces sufferedonly 148 killed and 458 wounded outof a half million deployed. For muchthe same reason, less than 2 percent ofthe 220,000 rounds of tank ammuni-tion shipped to the theater was firedin combat.

Looking ForwardAs effective as coalition aircraft

proved from the first night, it is mis-leading to conclude that such a displayof airpower should be expected in thefuture. The coalition was extremelyfortunate with respect to entry condi-tions. U.S. Central Command (CENT-COM) had five and a half months toplan, build up, and train in theater. Itwas not a come-as-you-are war.

Operationally, the desert was anideal environment for airpower,though distances to target and foulweather were complications. Althougheffective if used properly and with de-termination, applying airpower overBosnia and against Serbia proved to bemuch more challenging than it wasagainst Iraq. And the future holdsmore, not fewer, cases like the Balkans.

32 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

F–14As during DesertStorm.

DO

D (D

ave

Par

sons

)

AH–64s and OH–58s at forward operatingbase.

DO

D (D

ean

Wag

ner)

L a m b e t h

Center of the DebateMuch of the post-Gulf War debate

over airpower involves whether attacksagainst center of gravity targets, de-fined as leadership and infrastructureassets in and around Baghdad, signifi-cantly shaped the outcome. But thisobscures the question of the real con-tribution of airpower by falsely bifur-cating the air campaign into strategicand theater dimensions. There was aclear distinction in Desert Storm be-tween efforts to achieve coalition ob-jectives quickly and painlessly andconcurrent attempts to affect the abil-ity of Iraq to make further trouble inthe postwar world. This second goalinvolved taking full advantage of anongoing effort to diminish Iraq’s ca-pacity as a regional power.

Airpower in Desert Storm hasbeen most criticized for its less than re-sounding performance on the secondcount. Yet it is an inappropriate yard-stick for measuring effectiveness. It wason the critical but less appreciated firstcount—prompt air dominance and thesystematic destruction of fielded forceson the ground—where airpower metthe preconditions for winning the war.Aside from the controversial infrastruc-ture attacks (no more than 10 percent

In addition, Desert Storm was fa-cilitated by an unusual degree of inter-national cooperation. A firm U.N. Se-curity Council mandate authorizingthe use of all means necessary to ejectIraq from Kuwait, a broad-based multi-national coalition, and Soviet diplo-matic support were all essential. More-over, the coalition enjoyed a basinginfrastructure that left little to be de-sired, thanks largely to the U.S. mili-tary assistance provided to Saudi Ara-bia over four decades. But had alliedaircraft not been based within a rea-sonable operating radius, the air cam-paign would have unfolded quite dif-ferently. The United States cannotalways count on such cooperation.

The Bush administration enjoyedstrong domestic support during theGulf War, including backing by an ini-tially reluctant Congress. In addition,there was the advantage of a strategi-cally and tactically inept enemy whichfailed to move against Saudi Arabiaearly in the buildup. What is more,Iraq misjudged everything that mat-tered: whether the United Stateswould go beyond words and musterthe staying power and domestic sup-port once committed, allied cohesion,

the stance of Moscow, the effects ofmodern airpower, the strength of de-fensive fortifications around Kuwait,and the prospect of drawing the coali-tion into attrition warfare with highcasualties. In sum, the operational set-ting of the conflict was uniquely con-genial to airpower.

Worst Case ScenarioThe Desert Storm model breaks

down quickly in the case of Korea,where the Army and Air Force havepowerful needs for mutual respect be-cause of interdependence. Althoughairpower would surely be a key, no warfought there would allow the luxury offewer than 200 casualties. North Koreawould presumably fight for its survivaland resort to weapons of mass destruc-tion. Moreover, with over 500,000

armed combatants on both sidespoised for immediate action along thedemilitarized zone, there would beclose ground combat from the start.

Airpower would likely assure alliedownership over North Korea followingthe outbreak of a full-fledged war and

reduce losses by blunting an ar-mored attack, drawing downenemy theater missiles and ar-tillery, and gaining situationalcontrol by forcing opponents toremain underground. It couldengage in so-called bunker plink-

ing, although many North Korean facil-ities are sufficiently secure from air at-tack below ground that land forceswould need to dig them out. But air-power would be unable to defeat an ar-mored and mechanized infantry inva-sion alone. It could not simply combatenemy ground troops for forty dayswhile the other side did nothing. Onthe contrary, there would be plenty offighting for all allied force elements.

Overall the generous fortune thecoalition enjoyed in Desert Storm war-rants a measure of humility as well ascaution in drawing any conclusions. Forexample, because Iraqi fighters neverintruded into Saudi airspace, coalitionearly warning, reaction time, and inter-ception capabilities were never truly putto the test of aerial combat.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 33

much of the post-Gulf War debate over airpower involves attacks against center of gravity targets

AV–8Bs refueling onUSS Nassau.

DOD (Scott Allen)

■ J F Q F O R U M

of strike sorties in the war), what mat-tered most was the direct use of air-power for the declared mission of liber-ating Kuwait.

Over time the Persian Gulf Warhas become seen as less than a tower-ing strategic success. Many objectiveswere unattained. Moreover, a debatehas arisen over the decision to termi-nate the ground offensive at the 100-hour mark, when ground and air cam-paigns started to make the most ofexploitation. Yet as an exercise in ap-plying force, the operation was any-thing but inconclusive.

Hardware VictorySome maintain that technological

magic accounted for the lopsidedcoalition victory. That view reflectswhat has been described as the perva-sive technological utopianism of Amer-ican culture, which holds that all prob-lems can be solved by the propertechnological solutions. Yet that islikely to prove a hollow argumentonce history has the final word.

The technological edge that thecoalition exercised made an importantdifference. Silver bullets with effectsdisproportionate to their numbers in-cluded F–117s, AGM–88 high-speed

antiradiation missiles, APR–47 threatradar emission sensors on F–4Gs, laser-guided bombs, and JSTARS aircraft,among other systems. Without thesecapabilities, the war could have provenfar more protracted and costly.

However, the euphoria over tech-nology must be qualified. Two pointsmade by Les Aspin, while Chairman ofthe House Armed Services Committee,warrant mention: “One, the equip-ment worked and was vindicatedagainst its critics. Two, we know howto orchestrate its use in a way thatmakes the sum bigger than all theparts.” The second point is no less crit-ical. Though F–117s were indispensa-ble in achieving tactical surprise andearly control of the air, for example,the force multiplier of particular notewas the way in which coalition assetswere synergized.

High technology was pivotal, butwas not the single determining factor.The training, motivation, leadership,tactical expertise, and other attributesdemonstrated by all the services wereimportant to the outcome. One needonly consider the demanding task ofgetting 400 fighters airborne and mar-shaled at night in radio silence, refu-eled several times, and flying undertight timelines without a missed tankerconnection, let alone a midair collision

or other catastrophic accident, to ap-preciate how crucial aircrew skills andthe ability to adapt under stress wereto the success of the air campaign.

Desert Storm confirmed whathigh-tech weapons, coupled with com-petent leadership and good training,can do against less-endowed forces. Yetultimately the war was not about sys-tems or technology, although someweapons and combat support systemswere star performers. It was moreabout consensus building and the for-mulation of national goals, diplomacyand leadership in pursuit of thosegoals, and planning and coordinatedaction by professionals in employingmilitary power, notably airpower, toachieve them once negotiations andeconomic sanctions failed. Insofar asDesert Storm heralded a revolution inthe American way of war, it was the fu-sion of all these ingredients in a win-ning combination. JFQ

34 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Iraqi MIG–25 destroyedduring Desert Storm.

DO

D (J

. Ote

ro)

15,000 to 20,000 Iraqi soldiers died,120,000 to 200,000 deserted, and86,000 were captured. A policy of con-tainment, supported by U.N.-imposedsanctions and inspections backed by astrong military presence, has preventedIraq from significantly rebuilding itsforces and threatening its neighbors.

And yet ten years after DesertStorm, Saddam Hussein is still inpower and Iraq continues to challengeAmerica and the international commu-nity. He has instigated four militarycrises since the coalition victory andhas continuously forced the United

Before the Gulf War, Iraq hadone of the largest and mostpowerful militaries in theworld. With 750,000 men

under arms, 5,800 tanks, 3,850 artillerypieces, and 650 combat aircraft, Iraqwielded political and military influencethroughout the region. But OperationDesert Storm left that military in sham-bles. Iraq lost 2,633 tanks, 2,196 ar-tillery pieces, and 300 aircraft. Some

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 35

Colonel Paul K. White, USAF, is assigned to the Directorate for Strategic Plans andPolicy (J-5), Joint Staff, and is the author of Crises after the Storm: An Appraisal ofU.S. Air Operations in Iraq Since the Persian Gulf War.

Airpowerand a Decade of ContainmentBy P A U L K. W H I T E

AWACS aircraft atSaudi air base.

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (S

ean

M. W

orre

ll)

Tracking Iraqi fightersin no-fly zone.

39th Communications Squadron (Matthew Hannen)

■ J F Q F O R U M

States to react militarily and diplomati-cally at tremendous fiscal and politicalcost. The use of airpower, whether bydemonstrations, enforcing no-flyzones, or air strikes against select tar-gets, has been the primary response to

provocations by Baghdad. Because of aperception of limited liability and ahigh probability of success, airpower isincreasingly the weapon of first resort.After a decade of continuous engage-ment, how effectively has coalition air-power restrained Iraq?

Boxing SaddamThe United States and the United

Nations instituted a broad policy ofcontainment after Desert Storm. Theobjectives were to keep Saddam Hus-sein weak politically and limit his mili-tary ambition by supporting opposi-tion groups inside Iraq and inneighboring states, constrain attemptsto rebuild conventional forces, preventthe building or acquisition of weaponsof mass destruction, and carefullymonitor and if necessary degrade the

Iraqi economy to accomplish these ob-jectives. Accordingly, the SecurityCouncil passed Resolution 687 in 1991to support such measures.

To the surprise of many observersin the West, the Iraqi regime did not

self-destruct. The victoryprompted immediate upris-ings by Kurds in northernIraq and Shi’as in the south.Baghdad responded with

helicopter attacks which resulted in aninternational demand for the coalitionto intervene. U.N. Resolution 688 pro-vided the rationale to establish no-flyzones: to prevent Saddam from attack-ing his own people and contain hismilitary. The first zone was institutedin northern Iraq by Operation ProvideComfort (later Northern Watch) inApril 1991, then in the south by South-ern Watch in August 1992. Washingtontook on the job of containing Iraq toboth enforce U.N. resolutions and liveup to the mission statement of U.S.Central Command: to promote andprotect U.S. interests, ensure uninter-rupted access to regional resources andmarkets, and assist regional friends inproviding for their own security and re-gional stability.

Containment depends on varioustools: a lethal forward presence with athreat to use force, a rapid response ca-pability through pre-positioned equip-ment, an active sanctions and weaponsinspection regime, enforcement of no-fly and no-drive zones, and bilateral se-curity relationships with area partners.

Crises in ReviewIraqi forces have tested U.S. and

U.N. resolve on four occasions sinceDesert Storm. The first followed thedowning of a MiG–25 that had pene-trated the southern no-fly zone in late1992. Saddam then moved surface-to-air missile (SAM) batteries into south-ern Iraq and continued aircraft incur-sions in the no-fly zones. After alliedpilots reported that SAM radars weretargeting fighters, President GeorgeBush issued an ultimatum that Iraq re-move the missiles or risk retaliation.When the demand was ignored, coali-tion forces reacted in January 1993with air strikes into the south, cruisemissile attacks, and then more airstrikes. On January 19, the day beforePresident Bill Clinton was inaugurated,Iraq announced a unilateral cease-fire.

In this first crisis Saddam learnedthat coalition forces would use air-power to enforce U.N. resolutions. Atthe same time, the strikes were limitedand the targets had little value; thus healso learned that the United States wasreluctant to risk the lives of its service-members or Iraqi civilians to achieveits political and military goals.

A direct challenge to Kuwait re-sulted in Operation Vigilant Warrior in1994. On October 7, some 20,000mechanized troops of the RepublicanGuard reportedly moved within thirtymiles of the Kuwaiti border, where40,000 Iraqis were already stationed.The United States threatened to mounta preemptive strike on Baghdad if theIraqis did not withdraw and also im-mediately began to deploy thousandsof ground troops, heavy armor, andhundreds of fighters. Saddam movedthe newly-arrived forces north of the32d parallel and the crisis was ended byOctober 15.

This crisis led to U.N. Resolution949, which established a no-drive zonein southern Iraq. The massive and

36 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

a direct challenge to Kuwait resultedin Operation Vigilant Warrior in 1994

Iraqi tank on Basra-Kuwait highway.

DO

D

T U R K E Y

J O R D A N

K U W A I T

S Y R I AI R A Q

I R A N

S A U D I A R A B I A

Za

gr o

s M

ou

nt a

i ns

Euphrates

River

Tig

r is

R iver

Al Basrah

Tallil

An Nasiriyah

Al Amarah

Al KutAn Najaf

IrbilMosul

Baghdad

36˚

32˚

33˚Extended No-Fly Zone

Northern No-Fly Zone

Southern No-Fly Zone

Northern and Southern No-Fly Zones

W h i t e

This confrontation was a victoryfor Iraq. Weakened by economic andpolitical turmoil, Saddam performedsome internal housecleaning. He settleda grievance with a Kurdish faction andannihilated U.S. intelligence-gatheringefforts in the north. He also drove an-other wedge into coalition strategy asTurkey and Saudi Arabia decided not toallow air strikes from their territory(hence the cruise missile strikes) andFrance suspended its participation inSouthern Watch. The attack on Irbilalso highlighted the limits of contain-ment in the north. Because of its dis-tance from land- and carrier-based as-sets and the inability to employ forcesin Turkey, the coalition had few optionsto stop the attack on Irbil other than anall-out assault on Baghdad.

The fourth crisis, culminating inOperation Desert Fox, resulted from inspection incidents that nearly led toU.S. and coalition air strikes in Novem-ber 1997 and in February and Nov-ember 1998. In all three instances Saddam instigated confrontation byhalting or hampering inspections, ac-cusing U.N. team members of espi-onage, and demanding an end to U–2reconnaissance flights. In each case, airstrikes were averted at the last minuteby concessions on both sides, but con-stant cheat and retreat tactics by Iraqwere wearing thin. By December 1998U.S. forces had increased their pres-ence in the region in preparation foran armed response. On the evening ofDecember 16, with an impending voteto impeach President Clinton, Opera-tion Desert Fox commenced.

The President ordered a series ofair strikes that lasted four nights. Forthe first time since Desert Storm, thetargets included Republican Guardunits and facilities in downtown Bagh-dad. In seventy hours the coalitionflew 650 sorties against 100 targets andsustained no casualties. A total of 415cruise missiles were launched, includ-ing 325 Tomahawk missiles fired bythe Navy and 90 heavier cruise missilesfrom B–52s. The strikes hit 80 percentof their designated targets, which ana-lysts calculated set back the Iraqi ballis-tic missile program by up to two years.

timely deployment of additional coali-tion troops demonstrated the serious-ness of American intentions to defendKuwait. Iraq probably expected a slowbuildup like Desert Shield. But thespeed and determination of U.S. de-ployments surprised and intimidatedBaghdad and may have deterred an in-cursion. However, the United Statesspent billions of dollars responding tothe threat while Iraq risked little.

The third crisis, Desert Strike, wasa response to a skillful attack againstthe Patriotic Union of Kurdistan inIrbil. Iraqi forces surrounded the city,smashed the Kurdish forces, and de-stroyed a protracted covert operationfunded by the Central IntelligenceAgency to destabilize the regime.American officials vowed retaliationand in September 1996 launched twowaves of cruise missiles against targetsin southern Iraq. In addition, theUnited States announced the unilat-eral extension of the southern no-flyzone to the 33d parallel, deprivingIraq of two air bases and moving thezone closer to Baghdad. Saddambegan aggressively rebuilding air de-fenses damaged by cruise missile

strikes as more allied fighters were de-ployed. SAMs engaged coalition air-craft during the following weeks, buttensions subsided and the crisis wasover by mid-November.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 37

Damaged Kurdishtown in northern Iraq.

DO

D (T

heod

ore

J. K

onia

res)

■ J F Q F O R U M

Low-Level AttritionThe weeks following Desert Fox

proved that the operation had a deci-sive impact. Saddam lashed out at per-ceived enemies inside and outside thecountry, called for the overthrow ofseveral neighbors, and threatenedbases in Turkey, Saudi Arabia, andKuwait that facilitated aircraft flyingno-fly zone patrols. Following a famil-iar pattern, Iraq announced it wouldfire on coalition aircraft that enteredits airspace, including no-fly zones,and offered a bounty to air defenseunits that shot them down. In late De-cember, F–15s and F–16s patrolling thenorthern no-fly zone responded to thelaunch of a SA–3 missile near Mosulwith a series of almost daily cat-and-mouse confrontations between SAMoperators and coalition aircrews.

In reaction to this challenge, theUnited States altered the rules of en-gagement. Previously, aircraft re-sponded when threatened by missiles,artillery, or radar illumination, againstthe site making the threat. By mid-Jan-uary 1999, the coalition was preparedto respond to any threat with a pre-planned course of action. A perceivedthreat could be an aerial no-fly zoneincursion by Iraqi fighters or targettracking radars. The allied responseevolved from a reactive to preemptiveapproach. Pentagon officials said airstrikes would continue as long as no-fly zone patrols were contested.

Ten years after Desert Storm, theUnited States finds itself in a stalemate.Air strikes still occur almost weekly, ahumiliating reminder that Iraq doesnot have sovereignty over 60 percentof its airspace. Yet Baghdad undoubt-edly continues to develop weapons ofmass destruction unhampered by U.N.inspectors. The Armed Forces havestruggled with readiness and retentionproblems due in large part to an in-creased and unrelenting operationstempo. Public fatigue, humanitarianconcern for civilians, Iraqi oil, and theabsence of viable opposition groups

have left policymakers with fewer op-tions, making the no-fly zones the cor-nerstone of containment.

Saddam’s StrategyReactions to air strikes by Iraq

since Desert Storm follow a pattern.During military action, the Iraqi mili-tary braces, accepts the blows with lit-tle resistance, and waits out the at-tacks. Then Saddam announcespublicly that any aircraft entering theno-fly zones will be shot down, fol-lowed by clashes between SAM or anti-aircraft systems and planes on patrol.He reacted the same way after each airstrike, including claims of success.Some speculate that his response is anattempt to remain defiant, proving tothe Iraqi army and the people of theregion that he is not cowed by theWestern powers with their prowessand technology.

The sight of a coalition pilot onCNN, being paraded through thestreets of Baghdad, could have greatimpact on the American psyche andwill to sustain air operations. Iraq hasthe capability to shoot down coalitionaircraft. On occasion it has shown sur-prising situational awareness. Eventhough its air defense forces continueto be hampered by antiquatedweapons and lack of training, it is anable adversary. As the period sinceDesert Fox has demonstrated, Saddamseems prepared to occasionally risk ele-ments of his air defense system tobring down a U.S. fighter. Baghdad isalso willing to prompt air strikes forpropaganda purposes, particularlywhen civilian casualties are involved.

38 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

ten years after Desert Storm, the United States finds itself in a stalemate

Sailors conductingmaritime interdictionoperations.

US

S T

he S

ulliv

ans

(J.B

. Kee

fer)

W h i t e

sanctions have limited impact. Historyindicates that deterrence must be im-mediate and direct. Damage must notbe aimed at the values of a people butat its ruling elite. That is why DesertFox threatened Saddam while retalia-tory air strikes have not.

It is clear that no-fly zones, al-ready the longest sustained militaryoperation since Vietnam, will continueuntil there is a change in containmentpolicy or the regime in Baghdad. Sad-dam has proven himself a resilient ad-versary. He continues to exploit oppor-tunities presented by changing worldopinion, increasing sanctions fatigue,and diplomatic blunders. It is not be-yond possibility that the United States,out of a lack of domestic and interna-tional support, could simply allow thecontainment policy to gradually fade,much like dual-containment towardIran. But as one senior U.S. official re-marked in October 1994:

This is not over. I think Saddam will try tofind a way to say to the United States andthe international community that neitherwe nor he can win the game according toits existing rules, so that we must changethe rules and give him what he wants.1

At the same time, despite flaws,containment has preserved nationalinterests. Persian Gulf security hasbeen maintained as has access to re-gional resources and markets. Americamust be prepared to stay the course,much as it has done in Korea for fiftyyears. In the absence of viable alterna-tives, containment, now more thanever dependent on the U.S. aerospaceadvantage, has proven to be a policythat works. JFQ

N O T E

1 Nancy Gibbs, “A Show of Strength,”Time, vol. 144, no. 17 (October 24, 1994), p. 17.

It would be a mistake to underestimatethe continuing threat.

The safety record during enforce-ment of the no-fly zones has been phe-nomenal. Coalition aircraft have flownmore than 280,000 missions with onlyone loss in hostile territory sinceDesert Storm, a French Mirage whichcrashed near Irbil after engine failurein June 1992. Rescue forces quickly re-trieved the pilot without incident. ButSaddam believes that the odds are inhis favor and that eventually the allieswill lose a fighter, either by a fortu-itous intercept or aircraft malfunction.The extraordinary emphasis placed onlimiting both friendly and adversarycasualties, as evidenced in Kosovo, re-veals U.S. vulnerability on this subject.How the Nation reacts to an aircraftbeing downed will be crucial in deal-ing with Saddam Hussein.

Airpower and ContainmentAnalysis of a decade of peace op-

erations yields clear conclusions onthe utility of airpower and prospectsfor regional stability. The concept ofno-fly zones emerged as a new dimen-sion of airpower following DesertStorm, specifically because of U.S. ob-jectives in Iraq. The zones have ex-erted a constant, credible militarythreat against Saddam. The risk of re-taliation by air strikes has been key inpreventing Saddam from threatening

his neighbors. In addition, coalitionair presence provides intelligence, re-connaissance, and early warning infor-mation on Iraqi forces.

The concept of no-fly zones hasmatured and expanded since their firstuse to protect Kurds and Shi’as. Theirenhancement by creating the southernno-drive zone gave no-fly zones greaterutility in reducing the Iraqi threat toKuwait and Saudi Arabia. In effect, thezones have evolved from protectingoppressed minorities to defending bor-der nations.

International sympathy for Iraqicivilians makes a repetition of DesertFox improbable. It is also highly un-likely that a revived U.N. weapons in-spection program will be effective inthe near future. Continued enforce-ment of the no-fly zones and retalia-tory air strikes allow the coalition tomaintain the status quo of a belea-guered containment policy.

Containing Saddam is one issue,but deterring him from further misad-venture is another. He took power andhas retained rule largely through force.In such a regime, the personal survivalof a dictator and his immediate politi-cal base is paramount, so externalthreats aimed at the welfare of thepopulation have little effect. Similarlydomestic public opinion and economic

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 39

Tomahawk lifting offUSS Shiloh duringDesert Strike.

U.S

. Nav

y

■

40 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

until the events of 1990–91. Today theNavy typically keeps a carrier battlegroup in the area. Dozens of planespatrol the no-fly zones over Iraq frombases in Saudi Arabia, Turkey, andKuwait. Military equipment is preposi-tioned in several countries. Overall,there are normally some 20,000 per-sonnel in the region, with tens ofthousands ready to deploy to the the-ater if a serious crisis arises.

Such a sizable presence supportsthe policy of isolating two so-calledrogue states, Iraq and Iran. This objec-tive has existed in substance since the

T he attack on USS Cole in theport of Aden was a re-minder of the dangers in-herent in the U.S. role as a

stabilizer in the Persian Gulf. Eventhough the region was regarded asstrategically relevant during the ColdWar and increased in military promi-nence after the overthrow of the Shahof Iran in 1979, America did not estab-lish a significant ongoing presence

Ted Galen Carpenter is vice president for defense and foreign policy studies at theCato Institute and the coeditor of NATO Enlargement: Illusions and Reality.

Postwar Strategy: An Alternative ViewBy T E D G A L E N C A R P E N T E R

Marking Gulf War anniversary in Baghdad,January 2000.

AP

/Wid

e W

orld

Pho

tos

(Ali

Hay

der)

C a r p e n t e r

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 41

final years of the Bush administration.For most of the Clinton years it wascharacterized as dual containment.The policy now reveals signs of fray-ing. Control of Iraq receives most ofthe attention from pundits and over-whelming support from Congress andthe American people despite less thanstellar results. Indeed, to the extentthat criticism exists, it tends to be thatthe Clinton administration was notharsh enough. Yet a look at the recordcasts doubt on the wisdom or sustain-ability of either component of dualcontainment.

Dubious RecordFor almost a decade an economic

embargo and intermittent bombinghave devastated the Iraqi populacewhile failing to dislodge Saddam Hus-sein. The country’s per capita income isless than a fourth of prewar levels, andinfant and early childhood mortalityrates have soared. Throughout most ofthis period the explanation for inflict-ing misery on innocent civilians wasthat such pressure was needed to com-pel the regime in Baghdad to cooperatewith weapons inspections. OtherwiseIraq may rebuild its chemical arsenal

and embark on a renewed program todevelop nuclear weapons. After airstrikes in December 1998 responding toIraq’s decision to expel U.N. weasponsinspectors, that justification was aban-doned, but no alternative rationale hasbeen clearly articulated.

The hardline policy toward Iraq isunraveling. International support hassteadily eroded. Desert Fox, the aircampaign in December 1998, was con-ducted by American and British aircraftwith other coalition members blunt inopposition. Criticism of U.S. policy hasgrown and the coalition has shrunk tothe United States, Britain, Kuwait, andat times Saudi Arabia. The most recentblow came in October 2000 whenTurkey dispatched a new ambassadorto Baghdad and secured an agreementto pump more Iraqi oil across theircommon frontier.

Interests IgnoredDefenders of U.S. policy invari-

ably emphasize two justifications be-yond facilitating arms inspections: pro-tecting access to oil supplies and

preventing Iraq from acquiringweapons of mass destruction. Whileboth justifications have superficialplausibility, they are flawed.

Economists as disparate as MiltonFriedman and James Tobin point outthat the oil rationale was unsound atthe time of the Gulf War and is still er-roneous today. Despite the modestprice spike that has occurred sincespring 1999, world prices for oil, ad-justed for inflation, remain below peaklevels of the late 1970s and early 1980s.Moreover, the current hike—reflectinga rapid economic recovery in East Asiaand resulting increases in energy con-sumption combined with the tempo-rary ability of the Organization of Pe-troleum Exporting Countries to restrainproduction—is likely to be relativelyshort-lived. Advances in discovery andextraction technologies suggest that

the trend of lower prices will likely re-sume and perhaps accelerate.

Although preventing Iraq fromgetting nuclear, biological, and chemi-cal weapons is a more serious objective,it is also suspect. Iraq is not alone in itsambitions. U.S. intelligence agenciesadmit that some two dozen nationspossess or are acquiring chemicalweapons, and at least a dozen have bio-logical weapons or will soon, includingseveral neighbors of Iraq. After tests byIndia and Pakistan in 1998, it is clearthat eight nations, including Israel, arenuclear-weapons states, and severalothers are only a screwdriver-turnaway. That raises the question of howmany wars of nonproliferation theUnited States is willing to fight.

It is unlikely that Iraq would usesuch weapons against the UnitedStates. Baghdad has neither long-rangebombers nor intercontinental ballisticmissiles. Besides, Saddam knows thatany attack with weapons of mass de-struction would result in a counter-strike. Likewise Iraq would be reluctantto use weapons of mass destruction

against Israel, becausethat country reportedlyhas 150 to 300 nuclearwarheads. Saddam maybe brutal and devious,but he has shown nosuicidal impulses. IfAmerica managed to

live with the likes of Stalin and Maowho had nuclear weapons, it should beable to deal with a relatively small andweak Iraq.

The more probable danger is thata free-lance terrorist (perhaps with theencouragement of Iraq) might deto-nate nuclear, biological, or chemicalweapons in the United States. But apolicy of coercion against Iraq makessuch an incident—and the prospect forthousands of casualties—more likelyrather than less. America is widely per-ceived, especially in the Islamic world,as a bully that abuses a populationwhich has suffered from the U.S.-ledembargo. That perception might feedthe rage of terrorists and create incen-tives to inflict massive American casu-alties at home.

defenders of U.S. policy emphasize protecting access to oil supplies and preventing Iraq from acquiring weaponsof mass destruction

M1A1 tank at checkpoint in Kuwait.

Flee

t Com

bat C

amer

a G

roup

, Pac

ific

(Jef

f Via

no)

■ J F Q F O R U M

42 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

many as half the planes are not opera-tional. Both its aircraft and tanks areincreasingly obsolete. Two other coun-tries, Iran and Syria, have similar prob-lems—but not to the same degree—and the remainder have beenmodernizing forces as the Iraqi mili-tary has deteriorated.

In sum, neighbors of Iraq havethe wherewithal to contain anotherepisode of Iraqi aggression. Indeed,military forces exist for a local balanceof power that would prevent any statefrom exercising hegemony. Lacking arediplomatic and institutional mecha-nisms for bilateral and multilateral co-operation. As long as the United Statesis determined to remain an interna-tional gendarme, other states will havefewer opportunities to explore alterna-tive security measures.

Annulling Containment The United States should end its

role as Saddam’s jailer. It should espe-cially question why Baghdad’s neigh-bors are not sufficiently alarmed at thealleged threat to support a coercivepolicy. If states in the region are notunduly worried, it is not clear why theUnited States—thousands of milesaway—should feel threatened. Pursu-ing a policy that is unneeded and in-creases exposure to retaliation is notjustified strategically.

For Iraq the elements of a con-tainment policy are already being run

by its neighbors. Evenin 1990–91, some ob-servers tended to exag-gerate Iraqi capabilitiesand minimize those ofneighboring states. Butas the outcome of the

war demonstrated, the military wasmore an extension of Saddam’s domes-tic repression apparatus than an effec-tive fighting force.

Today the disparity is more dra-matic: Iraq ’s neighbors—Jordan,Kuwait, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Syria, andTurkey—have 1,990 combat aircraftwhile Baghdad has 400. They have12,600 tanks to Iraq’s 2,200 and 1.68million active military personnel toIraq’s 429,000. And those figures donot begin to account for qualitativedisadvantages confronted by Iraq. Pilottraining, for example, has been mini-mal and sporadic for years, and spareparts for aircraft and other systemshave been in such short supply that as

USS Cole after terroristattack in Aden.

US

S C

ole

(Lyl

e G

. Bec

ker)

F–15 taking off fromDoha international airport, Qatar.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e (F

rank

Riz

zo)

C a r p e n t e r

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 43

Strategic OptionsAs frustration over containment

has mounted, there are growing callsto shift the emphasis to ousting Sad-dam Hussein from power. No matterhow gratifying the thought of remov-ing such a thug may seem, such acourse of action is fraught with diffi-culties. It would likely make Americaresponsible for the political future ofIraq, entangling it in an endless na-tion-building mission beset by in-tractable problems.

Barring a coup against SaddamHussein by one of his equally brutaland corrupt cronies, U.S. forces would

probably have to dislodgehim. Optimists argue thatso-called Iraqi democraticopposition in exile—espe-cially the largest umbrellagroup, the Iraqi National

Congress—can achieve the task withminimal assistance from Washington.That apparently was the logic that mo-tivated Congress to pass the Iraq Liber-ation Act and funds to support effortsto undermine the regime. But fewknowledgeable analysts take the oppo-sition seriously.

General Anthony Zinni, USMC(Ret.), a former Commander in Chief,Central Command, commented thatanti-Saddam forces are rife with fac-tionalism and show little independentinitiative. Indeed, the Iraqi opposition

is an assortment of groups which runthe gamut from Marxist revolutionar-ies to Islamic fundamentalists. Thusfar, the principal goals of these groupsappears to have been bickering andraising funds rather than waging a lib-eration struggle against Baghdad.

The above realities underscore thefirst major problem with a commit-ment to oust Saddam. Not only wouldAmerican troops be required to install anew government, but they would haveto protect it from authoritarian ele-ments and cultivate democratic institu-tions strong enough to survive theeventual departure of occupationforces. Otherwise, another dictator—anew Saddam—would emerge, andAmerica would face a renewed threat topeace and stability in the Persian Gulfregion. Installing and preservingdemocracy would entail nation build-ing of indefinite duration that woulddwarf efforts in Bosnia and Kosovo.

The unpromising prospects for astable Iraqi democracy should dis-suade those who argue that U.S. forcesshould have swept on to Baghdad in1991 and who ponder ways to rectify

that supposed error. But there areother equally daunting problems.Most notably, there is the issue posedby a persistent regional secessionmovement, the Kurds in the north. IfSaddam were removed either by Iraqiinsurgents operating under U.S. spon-sorship or by direct U.S. military ac-tion, America would have to decidewhether to preserve the territorial in-tegrity of Iraq or give its blessing to se-cessionists. Both options have down-sides. To hold together a post-SaddamIraq would not be easy. Attempting toforce Kurds to remain under Baghdad’sjurisdiction could provoke ferociousresistance. It could lead to the unenvi-able task of explaining to the Ameri-can people why U.S. troops were dyingin campaigns to suppress the aspira-tions of movements that sought tothrow off the shackles of Iraq’s Sunnielites. Yet endorsing an independent

installing democracy would entail nation building of indefinite duration that would dwarfefforts in Bosnia and Kosovo

Prince Sultan air basein Saudi Arabia,Southern Watch.

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (S

ean

M. W

orre

ll)

Marine vehicles coming ashore,Eager Mace ’99.

13th

Mar

ine

Exp

editi

onar

y U

nit,

Com

bat C

amer

a (D

on L

. Mae

s)

■ J F Q F O R U M

44 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

military presence as insurance againstregional aggression. Yet those sameparties are likely to undermine majorportions of U.S. policy by trying to fur-ther normalize relations with Baghdadand Tehran. Such hedging might makesense for them but offers few benefitsfor Washington.

There is a way out of this appar-ent dead end, but it requires dramaticchange. It will mean ending the polic-ing of the Persian Gulf and acting aspermanent regional stabilizer. It willrequire adopting a lower-profile roleand relying on the emergence of a for-mal or informal regional balance ofpower to maintain a tolerable degreeof stability. It may require acceptingoccasional short-term spikes in oilprices if turbulence occurs. Most diffi-cult, it may mean accepting furtherproliferation of weapons of mass de-struction. The Middle East-SouthwestAsian area would not have remaineduntouched by proliferation in anycase, as the emergence of Israel, India,and Pakistan as nuclear powers hasconfirmed. Relinquishing the U.S. roleas regional policeman may increase thepace of proliferation marginally, butthat is all.

Adopting a much lower militaryprofile and relying on a local balanceof power is not without risk. But it is adecidedly better option than continu-ing a policy noted for its unattainablegoals and eroding support. It will alsoreduce the danger of having forces onthe front lines of a violent region. JFQ

Kurdish states has drawbacks. TheUnited States would have to presideover the dismemberment of Iraq,which Sunnis and others in the Is-lamic world would resent, and whichwould also eliminate a major regionalcounterweight to Iran.

Moreover, an independent Kurdis-tan would create a vexing issue forAnkara. A Kurdish republic would be apolitical magnet for Kurds in Turkey—more than half of those in the region.Ankara has waged a bloody war forover 16 years against a Kurdish factionin the southeast. Turkey would find itsdifficulties multiplied if these rebelforces had sanctuary in a neighboringstate, and their incursions would vio-late international law.

This situation would not matter ifthe United States had not declared thatpeace and stability in the region was avital national interest. Attempting tostabilize one of the most politicallyturbulent parts of the world has al-ready proven to be frustrating and anopen-ended commitment.

The other component of dualcontainment is especially detached

from reality and has come under in-creasing fire from foreign policy ex-perts. The triumph of reform elementsin Iran’s recent parliamentary electionspresents both a new opportunity and anew urgency for the United States toabandon its policy of isolating Tehran.If America can deal with a StalinistNorth Korea, it should certainly bewilling to confer with a quasi-demo-cratic Iran. Secretary of StateMadeleine Albright made conciliatoryremarks that were a step in the rightdirection, but more needs to be done.

A decade after the Persian GulfWar, the United States finds itself in astrategic cul-de-sac. If the current pol-icy is continued, there is little morethan the depressing prospect of a mis-sion with no clear objective andsteadily eroding support from regionalpowers and principal allies in Europeand elsewhere. America is itself largelyalone in its attempts to isolate Iran.Support for containing Saddam issomewhat greater, but it too is ebbing.If Washington does not adjust its strat-egy soon, it may find itself in the worstpossible position. Allies and clientstates would still want to maintain U.S.

U.N. weapons inspectorsleaving Baghdad.

AP

/Wid

e W

orld

Pho

tos

(Pet

er D

ejon

g)

D espite all the attention given to joint-ness since World War II, there is nocomprehensive theory that underpinsthe concept in doctrine. This is un-

usual in light of the large body of literature onoperational art. Most military practitioners findoperational art inherently joint, yet it has notbeen linked theoretically to jointness. Joint Publication 1, Joint Warfare of the U.S. ArmedForces, offers a list of joint principles, but theseare mostly exhortations and fall short of consti-tuting a theory.

The reason for this state of affairs is not hardto fathom. As one observer has put it:

In the course of research and analysis, I also gained asense of why jointness has rarely been treated clinically.

In peacetime, the bewildering maze of operational de-tail, legislation, doctrine, technology, personalities, fac-tions and formal organizations has made jointnessmany things to many people. Since as a subset of war,jointness in combat lies in the realm of chaos, it isno more tractable to numerical reductionism, logicalformats, or formulae than the arts, sculpture, or theweather. Like schools of thought in art, the intensityof partisanship on issues of jointness has sometimesapproached the level of emotion held toward foes inwar, for it touches closely on the critical bonding andcohesion that lie at the heart of military institutions,and their predisposition to see the world in “them-us” terms.1

In such a highly charged environment few peoplecan be objective enough to develop theory.

An evaluation of the relevant literature re-veals a fragmented approach to joint theory.There is a tendency to focus on theater warfight-ing or activities on the Pentagon level. This is un-surprising because the two environments are so

Winter 2000-01 / JFQ 45

out

of j

oin

t

Captain Robert C. Rubel, USN, is deputy dean of the Center for Naval Warfare Studies at the Naval War College and served on USSEisenhower during Desert Storm.

Principles of JointnessBy R O B E R T C. R U B E L

Inspecting facilities atInchon, October 1950.

Nav

al H

isto

rical

Cen

ter

different. Joint principles are normally consideredin terms of support of other activities. But whenthe literature attempts to address underlying fac-tors, two principles emerge repeatedly, either ex-plicitly or implicitly.

Merging services into unified organizations(such as joint force commands) can compensate

for weaknesses in oneservice through thestrengths of others—theprinciple of complemen-tarity. For example, theAir Force can providethe Army more air de-fense than ground forces

can provide for themselves. For the enemy to de-fend against one service it must become vulnera-ble to others; hence the dilemma. For example, tothrow a mobile operational reserve against aground thrust would require moving. This wouldmake the reserve vulnerable to attack from the airand thus pose an unsolvable problem.

Taken together, these principles define whatsynergy means in military terms. Combining ele-ments of two or more services is more effectivethan simply tallying their respective numbers.Joint doctrine seems to be based on such princi-ples, and Joint Pub 1 and Joint Pub 3, Doctrine forJoint Operations, prescribe synergy and presentingan enemy with dilemmas.

Although these principles represent the ben-efits of joint operations, they do not explain howjointness is achieved or how much is enough. Invarious ways many observers advocate the hierar-chy principle, which holds that the degree ofjointness (or cooperation among the services) isinversely proportionate to the number of com-mand echelons. Flatter organizations are moreprone to effective internal cooperation. This prin-ciple is embedded in doctrine in the form of thejoint task force, which is the principal method ofoperational command and control in theater—despite its ad hoc nature—precisely because itmakes operational organizations flatter.

A related principle, which can be termed thenecessity principle, states that jointness tends toincrease in the face of an enemy on the lower ech-elons of command. One analyst noted that “thesupreme lesson of the Pacific War . . . [is] that trueunity of command can be achieved only on thefield of battle.”2 Conversely, the least jointness isexhibited in peacetime at the higher echelons.

There is nothing surprising about the neces-sity principle, but it raises a point that seems toreach the heart of the matter. Even though cre-ative improvisation and willingness to put mis-sion interests ahead of parochial interests whenengaged in battle are laudable, they should notconstitute policy. In other words, rather thanwaiting until forces are locked in combat, itwould be better to have proactive jointness—theability to achieve effective cooperation prior to afight. But proactive jointness is an inherently top-down policy matter in peacetime and thus is in-hibited by the hierarchy principle since all eche-lons from the Joint Staff on down get involved.

Striking a BalanceThe literature also deals with the question of

how much jointness is enough and how much istoo much. Two ideas seem to be at work here.The first is the cohesion principle. Students ofwar almost universally state that joint arrange-ments which disrupt unit cohesion negate bene-fits by reducing morale and efficiency. The levelon which jointness disrupts cohesion is usuallythought to be the upper tactical level (division,battle group, wing, Marine expeditionary force).However, the necessity principle seems to indi-cate that lower levels have successfully integrated.The Cactus Air Force in the Solomons duringWorld War II integrated squadrons from differentservices into a cohesive fighting group.

It is worthwhile distinguishing between syn-chronization and integration. There appears to begreat advantage in having tactical units self-syn-chronize with units of other services. However, in-tegration—attaching elements of one service to an-other—is fraught with hazards. First, logistics can

46 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

■ P R I N C I P L E S O F J O I N T N E S S

out

of j

oin

t

it would be better to have proactive jointness—the ability to achieve effective cooperationprior to a fight

M–1 tank near Cernica,Kosovo.

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (W

illiam

Mon

toya

)

become so cumbersome that formation efficiencyis reduced despite the additive effects of the at-tached element. Second, depending on when unitsare attached, training (or lack thereof) will be simi-larly inhibiting. Thus the applicability of the cohe-sion principle seems situation dependent.

A second limiting factor is diversity. Somedecry the potential for strategic monism if theservices were truly unified; so the diversity princi-ple states that competition of ideas leads to morestable strategy development. This idea has meriton several counts. First, history is replete withepisodes in which a person or organization domi-nated national or theater strategy to the detri-ment of other interests. The United States is apluralistic democracy, and its strategy must bediscourse-based and represent the interests of allstakeholders. Second, if it was embodied in a gen-eral staff, jointness might lead to programmingdecisions that eventually painted the militaryinto a strategic corner. Moreover, the sad historyof the integration of the Canadian Forces whichunderwent true unification is universally cited asan example of too much of a good thing when itcomes to overcoming parochialism.

Internecine strife among the services shouldnot be tolerated. Congress, in the Goldwater-Nichols Act, underscored that competition couldonly be accommodated in the context of avail-able resources and on certain levels of command.Between 1947 and 1986, the diversity and hierar-chy principles combined, without the influence

of necessity, to override the complimentarityprinciple. Congress finally supplied the necessity.

Cohesion seems to lose relevancy in ascend-ing the chain of command while diversity losesrelevancy in descent. CINCs and JTFs dwell in themiddle where cohesion and diversity meet. Ajoint force commander can choose between twostyles of command with regard to the principles:a coordinator who rationalizes the possibly com-peting plans of component commanders or an or-chestrator who uses a staff to develop an opera-tional plan and then issues unambiguous orders.General Norman Schwarzkopf, USA, appears tohave been a coordinator during the Gulf War,leaving service components to develop theirplans (in the context of a general strategy) andthen taking the necessary minimum steps to de-conflict them. By contrast, General DouglasMacArthur was an orchestrator. The Inchon land-ing was a detailed operational maneuver imposedon unwilling subordinate commands by his staff.A coordinator will maximize diversity and there-fore unit cohesion while an orchestrator will min-imize diversity and risk tactical cohesion in theinterest of orchestration. The trick is knowingwhich command style is appropriate.

This can lead to the conclusion that the de-gree of desired jointness is situation dependent.Although these principles provide some generalideas on jointness, they do not offer clear guid-ance on which circumstances demand integra-tion. But other principles, although speculative,are based on observed facts and trends.

Winter 2000-01 / JFQ 47

R u b e l

out

of j

oin

t

F–16s during exerciseat Kunsan air base,Korea.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e (J

erry

Mor

rison

)

New ConceptsThe preparation principle, a corollary to the

necessity principle, asserts that the greater the ex-pected necessity for speed of command in opera-tions, the greater the required degree of proactivejointness. A fundamental tenet of Joint Vision2020 is that the future operational environmentwill require greater speed of command. This im-plies a need for self-synchronization of lower ech-elons and thus the services must invest in com-mand, control, communications, computers,intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance in-teroperability down to unit level.

Networking of combat units has a profoundeffect on how the preparation, cohesion, and di-versity principles apply to military operations.Networked units permit a swarming style of warin which commanders have substantial discretionin the constantly updated intent of JFCs. Sounddoctrine is critical to such operations, so that di-mension of preparation is central. But networkingallows both creativity and changes of plans onthe fly, so highly structured training is less useful.Because networked units are not as dependent onfixed formations for mutual support and more de-pendent on information sharing, the cohesionprinciple changes dramatically. There may be lit-tle need for formal attachments, and units collab-orate based on emerging common operationalpictures. Moreover, network-enabled swarmingrequires adherence to a basic rule set (doctrine)but permits and even demands considerable lati-tude in decisionmaking for local commanders, sothe diversity principle will change.

Joint strategies and operational concepts thatrequire tight orchestration should be subjected tocentralized planning and control—the orchestra-tion principle. There may be a time and place fordiverse inputs on strategy, but once a decision is

made diversity is an evil. Desert Storm illustratedthis principle. The Marines were supposed to con-duct a fixing attack in the center while VII Corpsmounted a flanking attack to surround and anni-hilate the Republican Guard. Yet Schwarzkopf didnot closely control the Marine rate of advanceand their rapid attack forced the Iraqis into head-long retreat before the Army could close the trap.

The triphibious principle (a term coined byWinston Churchill to fix the need to understandthe combined action of land, sea, and air forces)is the inverse of the dilemma principle. It holdsthat JFCs must avoid situations that jeopardizesuccess in one environment to evade risk in oth-ers. The land, sea, air, space, special operations,and information warfare environments are con-nected by this principle. A prime historical exam-ple was Guadalcanal, where Admiral Ernest Kingsent the Marines ashore before attaining adequatesea and air control.

The parallel strategies principle comes intoplay when risk is reduced by executing multiplesimultaneous strategies (such as air combinedwith ground or maritime) only to the extent thattheir effects are additive and do not significantlyattenuate their respective effects and execution.

48 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

■ P R I N C I P L E S O F J O I N T N E S S

out

of j

oin

t

JFCs must avoid situations that jeopardize success in oneenvironment to evade risk in others

Marines on range atCapo Teulada, Italy.

U.S

. Mar

ine

Cor

ps (M

atth

ew D

. Kel

l)

This is a combination of the complimentarity anddilemma principles writ large. Joint doctrine doesnot address this issue but leaves the door open forit, and it is a source of doctrinal friction betweenthe Air Force and other services. The MarineCorps, for example, depending on its own aircraftfor tactical fires, is loath to chop air assets to thejoint force air component commander (JFACC)since losses in one air campaign may impede en-suing amphibious or ground maneuver opera-tions. JFCs must have the authority, objectivity,and courage to decide on a principal operationalstrategy, but also the vision (based on education)to value the benefits and hazards of a multi-pronged strategy.

Two issues have been unaddressed by anyprinciple so far. The first is micromanagement.Some contend that increasing connectivity andflatter organizations will lead to centralized con-trol. There appears to be no governing principlein the literature or historical record. AbrahamLincoln tried to micromanage the Union Armywith the telegraph and express riders whileGeorge Bush left his coalition commander in aguidance vacuum during cease-fire talks afterDesert Storm despite the availability of satellitetelephones and fax machines. The proper degreeof management seems to be governed by person-alities and is not amenable to simple rules.

The second unaddressed issue is decidingwho should hold joint command. This issue iscurrently governed by the quasi-principle that a

joint force commander should be from the serv-ice supplying the preponderant force. There issome sense to this, but it does not guarantee thatthe most fit person gains command. There is theconcern that an officer from one service cannotbe trusted to make strategic decisions concerningthe core fighting capability of another service’smain forces. The Navy, for example, refused to as-sign fast carriers to General MacArthur in WorldWar II, assuming that an Army officer could notmake competent decisions about risking those as-sets. Most recently, the Army assigned a three-stargeneral to command a relatively small helicopterdetachment in Albania to ensure that the AirForce JFACC would not misuse the aircraft.

The answer to these problems is not foundin principles or rules of thumb. Rather it seems toreside in nurturing joint institutions. U.S. JointForces Command, as the joint force trainer andintegrator, and the National Defense Universityshould be centers of excellence that develop jointoperational theory and doctrine. This systemwould refine joint education and training to thepoint that all officers eligible for joint commandwould be adequately prepared and the preponder-ance of forces policy would suffice. Conversely, ifjoint officer development was sophisticated, capa-bilities and personality could decide the jointcommander, not uniform color. In such an envi-ronment, where higher echelons had great confi-dence in local commanders, counterproductivemicromanagement would be less likely.

Theory provides a common vocabulary fordebating complex issues. This may not resolveevery argument, but it enables parties in a debateto understand their differences. Moreover, theorybegets theory. The first step toward a clinical ex-amination of jointness will stimulate furtherwork. Progressive theoretical work might help pre-vent reinventing the wheel by successive genera-tions of officers. Cyclic attempts to promote joint-ness reflected in part by the necessity principlewould be disrupted and progress would ensue. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Roger A. Beaumont, Joint Military Operations: A ShortHistory (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1993), p. xv.

2 Louis Morton, “Pacific Command: A Study in Inter-service Relations,” The Harmon Memorial Lectures in Mili-tary History, 1957–1987 (Washington: Office of Air ForceHistory, 1988), p. 152.

Winter 2000-01 / JFQ 49

R u b e l

out

of j

oin

t

Emergency response on USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.

U.S

. Nav

y (J

ustin

Tho

mas

)

■

T echnology is often cited as a key aspectof the revolution in military affairs anda decisive factor in military operationstoday. A study of the transition by the

Royal Navy from coal to oil, stimulated by FirstLord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill and Ad-miral Sir John (Jacky) Fisher, reveals a more com-plex story. Although technological change was agreat success—every navy soon switched to oil—itdid not constitute a strategic advance for Britain.It was an achievement that represented a grave

risk to a nation which possessed large coal re-serves but no oil. This example suggests howtechnological innovations alone do not spark arevolution in military affairs.

Twilight of a TechnologyWhen Churchill went to Whitehall in 1911,

coal was still the primary source of power fornaval vessels. The Royal Navy had adopted oil forsubmarines and destroyers, and in most ships itwas sprayed on coal to increase its combustion.But coal remained the principal fuel, especiallyfor larger vessels like battleships. It was widelyavailable, especially in Britain, where Cardiff coalmined in Wales was preferred by navies world-wide. Coal was accepted by marine engineers,

50 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Commander Erik J. Dahl, USN, teaches at the Naval War College andpreviously was assigned as chief of the indications and warning branchat Headquarters, U.S. Forces Korea.

NavalInnovationFrom Coal to OilBy E R I K J. D A H L

HMS Queen Elizabethwith USS New York inforeground.

National Archives

D a h l

and Britain had a global network of coaling sta-tions. In addition, coal was inert and thus supple-mented armor by reducing damage from shellsexploding in coal storage bins.

But coal also had disadvantages. Moving itfrom shore to ship, and aboard ship, was dirtyand strenuous work that required extensive man-power. As Churchill noted, “the ordeal of coalingship exhausted the whole ship’s company. Inwartime it robbed them of their brief period ofrest; it subjected everyone to extreme discom-fort.”1 It was virtually impossible to refuel at sea,meaning that a quarter of the fleet might beforced to put into harbor coaling at any one time.Providing the fleet with coal was the greatest lo-gistical headache of the age.

Oil offered many benefits. It had double thethermal content of coal so that boilers could besmaller and ships could travel twice as far. Greaterspeed was possible and oil burned with less smokeso the fleet would not reveal its presence asquickly. Oil could be stored in tanks anywhere, al-lowing more efficient design of ships, and it could

be transferred through pipes without reliance onstokers, reducing manning. Refueling at sea wasfeasible, which provided greater flexibility.

Oil erased the drawbacks of a solid fuel. AsChurchill noted, “the advantages conferred by liq-uid fuel were inestimable.” But he also recognizedthat a switch would be difficult to implement: “Tochange the foundation of the navy from Britishcoal to foreign oil was a formidable decision in it-self.” Finding and securing sources of oil threat-ened to be the most difficult part of the venture:

The oil supplies of the world were in the hands of vastoil trusts under foreign control. To commit the navy ir-revocably to oil was indeed to take arms against a seaof troubles. . . . If we overcame the difficulties and sur-mounted the risks, we should be able to raise thewhole power and efficiency of the navy to a definitelyhigher level; better ships, better crews, highereconomies, more intense forms of war power—in aword, mastery itself was the prize of the venture.2

Opposing the transition was the weight ofnaval tradition, magnified by loss of the strategicadvantage of large coal supplies in Britain. Thisposition was voiced in 1904 by Lord Selborne, theFirst Lord of the Admiralty: “The substitution of

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 51

HMS Illustrious,coal-fired cruiserlaunched in 1896.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

■ N A V A L I N N O V A T I O N

oil for coal is impossible, because oil does notexist in this world in sufficient quantities. It mustbe reckoned only as a most valuable adjunct.”3

Supporting change was Admiral Fisher, theFirst Sea Lord from 1904 to 1910, and friend andadvisor to Churchill during his tenure as FirstLord of the Admiralty. Fisher, who dominated theRoyal Navy in his day, was renowned for many

innovations in adminis-tration and engineering,including Dreadnought-class battleships. An earlysupporter of oil as fuel, hewrote in 1902, “It is a

gospel fact . . . that a fleet with oil fuel will havean overwhelming strategic advantage over a coalfleet.”4 Fisher admitted with pride that he wasknown as an “oil maniac” as early as 1886.5

Fisher described such advantages as the abil-ity to replenish at sea and the smaller amountneeded to produce the same amount of energy ascoal. He reported that a new Russian battleshipburned oil alone and that “at one stroke, oil fuelsettles half our manning difficulties! We shouldrequire 50 percent less stokers.”6 Personnel sav-ings were also critical to the Royal Navy, whichregarded the shortage of trained sailors as itsworst long-term problem.

Although Fisher was unable to push the sen-ior service over the precipice during his tenure asFirst Sea Lord, he found Churchill an importantally since their first meeting in 1907. WhenChurchill became First Lord, Fisher wrote to afriend describing Churchill in the extravagantterms common in his correspondence: “So farevery step he contemplates is good, and he is

brave, which is everything! Napoleonic in audac-ity, Cromwellian in thoroughness.”7 Fisher regu-larly peppered Churchill with advice on a varietyof naval matters.8

One requirement, Fisher told Churchill, wasthat the Queen Elizabeth-class battleships be builtas a fast division, able to outmaneuver and crossthe T of the German fleet. In 1912, Fisher wroteto Churchill, “What you do want is the super-swift—all oil—and don’t fiddle about armour; itreally is so very silly! There is only one defenceand that is speed!”9

The war college was asked how much speed afast division would need to outmaneuver the Ger-man fleet. The answer was 25 knots, or at leastfour knots faster than possible at the time.Churchill concluded, “We could not get the powerrequired to drive these ships at 25 knots except bythe use of oil fuel.” This was enough for him.

Queen Elizabeth-class battleships were built toburn oil only. Once this decision was made,Churchill wrote, it followed that the rest of theRoyal Navy would turn to oil:

The fateful plunge was taken when it was decided tocreate the fast division. Then, for the first time, thesupreme ships of the navy, on which our life de-pended, were fed by oil and could only be fed by oil.The decision to drive the smaller craft by oil followednaturally upon this. The camel once swallowed, thegnats went down easily enough.10

But building oil-fired ships was only part ofthe exercise; it was also necessary to secure a sup-ply and solve storage and transport problems. Tomeet these challenges Churchill established aroyal commission. With Fisher as chairman, thecommission eventually published three classifiedreports confirming the benefits of oil. It judgedthat ample supplies of oil existed but urged that astorage capacity be built in peacetime to ensuresufficiency in time of war.

The final step was finding a source, and to-ward that end a delegation went to the PersianGulf to examine oil fields. Two companies werethe likely choice of supply: the powerful RoyalDutch Shell Group and smaller Anglo-Persian OilCompany. After considerable maneuvering, andlargely through Churchill’s encouragement, thegovernment decided to maintain competition inthe oil industry and ensure supplies by investingdirectly in Anglo-Persian. The government ac-quired 51 percent of company stock, placed twodirectors on its board, and negotiated a secretcontract to provide the Admiralty with a 20-yearsupply of oil under attractive terms.

52 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

the Royal Navy regarded theshortage of trained sailors as its worst long-term problem

German battleshipPosen, powered bymixing coal and oil.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

D a h l

Military-Oil ComplexOther factors were involved in the switch to

oil beyond the efforts of Fisher and Churchill. Pri-vate industry helped develop ships and engine de-signs. As Hugh Lyon wrote, “The use of oil fuelwould not have been possible without the pioneer-ing work of such British firms as Wallsend Slipwayon the design of suitable and economic burners.The Admiralty did do some research itself, but themain bulk of the investigations that were con-ducted in Britain were the work of private indus-try.”11 This argument is similar to that advanced byWilliam McNeill, who described the period from1880 to World War I as a “runaway technologicalrevolution.” It was largely the result of “commandtechnology” in which government planners urgedindustry to innovate. In the case of the Royal

Navy, for example, the Admiralty—largely due toFisher—set specifications for engineers but did notactually design the ships and guns.

The growing oil industry also played an im-portant part. Peter Padfield sees the efforts of pri-vate firms, especially Anglo-Persian, as “a good ex-ample of the way in which British command ofthe sea, exercised through her world system, al-lowed her to exploit commercial opportunitieswhich in turn increased her command.”12 Padfieldargues that Anglo-Persian, acting as part of theBritish Empire, pushed the switch to oil, whichdrove the Royal Navy to seek higher speeds.

Although Fisher and Churchill had close per-sonal and professional relations with senior oilexecutives, their correspondence reveals that mil-itary and strategic concerns, and not commercialmotives, were at the root of the switch. Fisher, forexample, worked closely with leaders of majorcompanies but rejected offers to sit on corporate

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 53

HMS Inflexible on Hudson River, 1910.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

■ N A V A L I N N O V A T I O N

boards. He also did not have favorites, praisingand supporting each competitor at differenttimes. The Burmah Oil Company, for example,

was an early sup-plier to the Admi-ralty, beginning in1904 when Fisherwas First Sea Lord,and was the fore-

runner to Anglo-Persian. Fisher also wrote flatter-ing accounts of the chiefs of Anglo-Persian’s arch-rival, Shell, including a description of HenriDeterding as “Napoleonic in his audacity andCromwellian in his thoroughness.”13

Race to the FutureBeyond the efforts of the main actors and

pressures of industry and commerce, it appearsthat several broader historical factors in the yearsleading up to World War I made the time right

for Britain to adopt oil. One factor was the grow-ing Anglo-German naval race. But just as criti-cally, by this time several decades of widespreadexperimentation and development of fuel oil hadshown that the technology was feasible. It ap-peared Britain ran the risk of being left behind.

The Italian navy led the way in experiment-ing with oil starting in 1890, and by 1900 most ofits torpedo boats were oil burning. The mixed-fir-ing method of spraying oil on coal was routine bythe early 1900s, and a liquid fuel board in theUnited States recommended using oil as a stand-alone fuel in 1904. The first oil-burning Americandestroyer, USS Paulding, was commissioned in1910, and by 1911 the USS Nevada-class battle-ship was planned for solely oil as fuel.

By 1912 oil technology was relatively well un-derstood. But there was no particular race to de-velop oil-fueled warships, and in 1914, despite theadvantage of oil, only America joined Britain inmoving far in that direction. The United States hadample supplies. But Fisher received regular reportsthat the Germans were developing oil.

54 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

widespread experimentation and development of fuel oil had shown the technology was feasible

U.S. Fleet, GuantanamoBay.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

D a h l

To innovate and maintain a lead over anenemy was Fisher’s goal. He cautioned Churchillin 1912: “The luxuries of the present are the ne-cessities of the future. Our grandfathers never hada bathroom . . . you have got to plunge for threeyears ahead!” A letter from Fisher demonstratesboth his concern over German developments andexcessive rhetoric:

The one all pervading, all absorbing thought is to getin first with motor ships before the Germans! Owing toour apathy during the last two years they are aheadwith internal combustion engines! They have killed 15men in experiments with oil engines and we have notkilled one! And a . . . fool of an English politician toldme the other day that he thinks this creditable to us.14

This combination of concerns expressed byFisher—that development was inevitable, anenemy was working on it, and Britain must stay inthe lead—had been present in the earlier develop-ment of the Dreadnought-class battleship. In 1910he wrote “Like the planet Neptune, the discoveryof the dreadnought was inevitable, but luckily wesaw her in the heavens before the other chaps andgot our unparalleled lead! Thank God!”15

Ironically, Fisher’s information was faulty inthe case of oil, and Germany did not develop oilas quickly as Britain or the United States. Ger-many used mixed firing in a major combatant for

the first time in 1909 and did not use all-oil firingfor surface combatants until after World War I.Nonetheless, it was a combination of the generallevel of oil development and the threat of Germanadvances that pushed Britain to change despitethe loss of the coal advantage. The transition itselfquickly became recognized as the right decision,and the new fuel became universally used in navaldesign in a few years. In 1919 Jane’s Fighting Shipsannounced that “the geared turbine and ‘all oil’fuel system have secured a distinct success.”

Fortunes of ConflictAlthough the British navy did gain a speed

advantage, particularly since Germany did notdevelop oil until after World War I, the changedid not appear to be a deciding factor in the con-flict. At the same time, the Royal Navy sufferedfrom oil shortages, particularly in 1917 when at-tacks on submarine tankers began to tell. For atime British ships were forced to stay in harbor asmuch as possible and destroyers were held to aspeed of 20 knots.

The switch to oil neither sparked a naval rev-olution nor delayed Britain’s naval decline. In partits historical significance may have been over-shadowed by development of the dreadnought. It

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 55

HMS Dreadnought underway.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

■ N A V A L I N N O V A T I O N

may also be that World War I gave little opportu-nity for innovation, and by World War II everynavy had adopted oil, neutralizing gains. This ex-plained, as Michael Handel stated, why technolog-ical advantages may be short-lived. “The generalavailability of new technologies to all participantsin a war cancels out the advantage that mightotherwise be realized from greater knowledge andcontrol. When both sides have telephones, radios,radars, high-speed computers, or [remotely pilotedvehicles], no one has the advantage (that is to say,when all other things are equal).”16

Moreover, limitations may relate to a com-mon complaint leveled by historians, that Fisherfocused on the material over the strategic. He isblamed on one point in particular. Paul Kennedy,discussing the lose of ascendancy by the RoyalNavy over the army before World War I, ex-plained that “energetic and farsighted though theFirst Sea Lord was in so many ways, he was nogreat strategist and had crushed all moves to cre-ate an effective naval staff.”17

The transition from coal to oil was sympto-matic of the broader limitations of leadership ofthe navy by Fisher and Churchill: it was a signifi-cant innovation but not a strategy. It improvedthe warfighting capability of the Royal Navy butdidn’t change the way wars were fought.

The transition from coal to oil in the RoyalNavy came about through a variety of factors. Fun-damentally, it was a technological phenomenonwaiting to happen. Britain, the United States, anda few other nations had been experimenting with

oil, and its advantages were generally known. Inthe event, Britain and the United States made thechange at about the same time. But in Britain thestrategic risks were great enough to require the skillof both Fisher and Churchill to accomplish thechange. The Anglo-German naval race—particu-larly reports that Germany was developing oil asfuel more quickly—provided the final impetus. JFQ

N O T E S

1 Winston S. Churchill, The World Crisis, Vol. 1 (NewYork: Scribner’s, 1923), p. 134.

2 Ibid., pp. 133–36.3 P. K. Kemp, ed., The Papers of Admiral Sir John

Fisher, Vol. 1 (London: The Navy Records Society, 1960),p. 81.

4 Arthur J. Marder, ed., Fear God and Dread Nought:The Correspondence of Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fisher ofKilverstone, Vol. 1 (London: Jonathan Cape, 1952), p. 220.

5 John Fisher, Records (London: Hodder andStoughton, 1919), p. 202.

6 Marder, Fear God, p. 235.7 Ibid., p. 430.8 Ibid., p. 402.9 Ibid., p. 426.

10 Churchill, The World Crisis, pp. 133, 136.11 Hugh Lyon, “The Relations Between the Admiralty

and Private Industry in the Development of Warships,”in Technical Change and British Naval Policy 1860–1939,edited by Bryan Ranft (New York: Holmes and Meier,1977), p. 49.

12 Peter Padfield, The Battleship Era (New York: DavidMcKay, 1972), p. 203.

13 Fisher, Records, p. 201.14 Marder, Fear God, p. 426.15 Ibid., p. 332.16 Michael Handel, War, Strategy and Intelligence (Lon-

don: Frank Cass, 1989), p. 21.17 Paul M. Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of British Naval

Mastery (London: The Ashfield Press, 1976), p. 234.

56 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

German battleshipNassau, launched1908.

Nat

iona

l Arc

hive

s

By F U M I O O T A

P rior to World War II the Japanese impe-rial army and navy lived a cat-and-dogexistence. They individually reportedto the emperor and there was no or-

ganization to coordinate their efforts. Their per-ceived threats and strategies were also different.The army had traditionally looked north towardRussia while the navy focused on America, espe-cially after the Russo-Japanese War. Both servicesmaneuvered for larger shares of the budget. Even

war did not bring them closer together. The navynever informed the army of its crushing defeat atMidway, and the army was preparing to build itsown submarines by the end of the war because itdid not trust the navy.

After the conflict Japan drew from experi-ence and established the self defense force (SDF).The National Defense Academy, established in1953, adopted a joint education system. The jointstaff council coordinated ground, maritime, andair staff offices. Joint training included commandpost exercises, maritime transportation of groundforces, and maritime and air exercises. A centralprocurement office managed acquisition forground, maritime, and air self defense forces.

Not all the lessons of the interwar periodand World War II were thoroughly learned. Joint-

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 57

Vice Admiral Fumio Ota, is president of the Joint Staff College andformer director of logistics, Joint Staff Office, Japan Defense Agency; a graduate of the Industrial College of the Armed Forces, he also hastaught at the U.S. Naval Academy.

Chiyoda participatingin Pacific Reach ’00.

U.S

. Nav

y (T

erry

Cos

grov

e)

Jointness in theJapanese Self-Defense Forces

■ J A P A N E S E S E L F - D E F E N S E F O R C E S

ness among the services was not fully developed.Threat perceptions and strategies still differed.The ground self defense force (GSDF) continuedto primarily look north, while the maritime selfdefense force (MSDF) tended to focus on sea linesof communication, extending southeast and

southwest from Japan. Each service built its owncommunication system, target symbols, and mes-sage formats. As a result, they could not commu-nicate among themselves on common securevoice devices. The air self defense force (ASDF)did not share any early warning informationfrom E2Cs, originally a U.S. Navy aircraft, withMSDF ships afloat. The ASDF data link systemwas incompatible with the MSDF data link 11.The services literally had their own languages; forexample, coastal areas were the beach to GSDFand the surf to MSDF.

Recent efforts to improve jointness in theJapanese self defense forces offer an opportunityto look ahead and identify ways that these initia-tives can contribute to combined operations.

Renewal of PurposeJointness problems are being resolved for

several reasons. First, Japan’s security partner, theUnited States, has stressed integrated operationssince passage of the Goldwater-Nichols Act in1986. Because each service maintains high levelsof interoperability with its American counterpart,especially MSDF, many joint assets such as a tacti-cal command and control system and messagetext format have been introduced. Consequently,

58 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

U.S

. Nav

y (A

lex

C. W

itte)

USS Kitty Hawkin South China Sea.

U.S. and Japanesesailors aboard USS Kitty Hawk.

U.S

. Nav

y (J

ustin

Pro

ulx)

O t a

every service exchanges messages using a com-mon format. Both MSDF Aegis destroyers andASDF airborne warning and control system(AWACS) aircraft are equipped with the U.S. jointtactical data link system, allowing the services toestablish data communication with each other. IfJapan deploys ballistic missile defense, which is

currently under study, jointness among the SDFservices will advance further in terms of com-mand, control, communications, computers, in-telligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance be-cause such defenses will require integratingAWACS aircraft, Aegis platforms, Patriot missiles,and other assets.

Second, the services have begun to tacklesimilar issues, which was not always the case dur-ing the Cold War. The new defense guidelinesadopted by Japan and the United States also haveled to a common perception by all the services ofpotential threats to the region.

Third, the legal basis for jointness withinSDF has improved. The joint staff now has moreauthority and responsibility. For example,amendments to the defense agency establishmentlaw, enacted in March 1999, have resulted in im-provements in coordination of SDF componentswhen the need arises for integrated operations inresponse to a crisis such as large-scale disasters.

Fourth, joint operations have gradually in-creased. Because of constitutional constraints,SDF has no experience in overseas operational de-ployments. Since the Cold War, however, Japanhas participated in several peace operations. For

example, during operations in Cambodia in 1992GSDF civil engineers, MSDF transport and supplyships, and ASDF C–130s deployed together. Allthe services also contributed in Mozambique in1993, Rwanda in 1994, and the Golan Heightsfrom 1996 to the present. Domestically, SDF hasconducted many natural disaster relief operationsjointly, including the Hanshin-Awaji earthquakeand the Mount Unzen and Mount Usu volcanoes.The first field training involving each service inJapanese-U.S. joint and combined exercises washeld on Iojima and adjacent areas in 1998. It cov-ered varied multiservice operations includinglandings and aerial descents. MSDF destroyersjoined ASDF in providing air cover while GSDFpatrolled the coastline along the Sea of Japan.The exercise built on joint exercises over the last15 years, and many valuable lessons have beenlearned and implemented. Moreover, joint doc-trine has existed since 1968 and is continuouslyunder review and revision.

Fifth, the benefits of joint professional mili-tary education are becoming apparent. It beganfor senior officers in the early 1950s. The National Institute for Defense Studies, an organi-zation of equivalent standing to the National Defense University in Washington, has educatedboth military and civilian students from otheragencies since 1953. The Joint Staff College wasopened in 1961 for graduates of the Japan Defense University, who are now key players intheir services and on the joint staff council withthe retirement of officers with exclusive army ornavy backgrounds.

Future ChallengesDespite major advances in jointness, unre-

solved issues remain. The Japanese coast guard,with 517 ships and 70 aircraft, is not integratedinto the armed forces. Although the Coast Guardin the United States maintains a close relation-ship with the Navy, there is no compatibility be-tween counterparts in Japan. Disparities involvecommunication equipment, weapons, ammuni-tion, and training. But this stovepipe situation ischanging. The two services recently began to con-duct joint exercises. The MSDF destroyer Amagiriparticipated in a review of coast guard ships forthe first time in April 2000.

Another issue is combined operations. Japanand the United States have been conducting exer-cises since their alliance began. Each service nor-mally conducts various exercises with their oppo-site number. But a single service rarely trains withmultiple services from another country. Com-bined cross-service exercises must be developed.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 59

because of constitutional constraints, SDF has no experience in overseas operational deployments

Marines and Japanesesoldier during ForestLight.

3dM

arin

e D

ivis

ion,

Com

bat C

amer

a (J

ason

D. I

nger

soll)

■ J A P A N E S E S E L F - D E F E N S E F O R C E S

For instance, GSDF and its Ameri-can counterparts, the Army andMarine Corps, have collaboratedsince the 1980s. MSDF has drilledwith the Navy since the 1950s.ASDF has held combined exer-cises with the Air Force since the1970s. But MSDF did not exercisewith the Air Force except forlarge-scale joint and combinedworkouts until 1995. In that yearan MSDF escort division con-ducted a cross-service drill withU.S. aircraft from 35th Opera-tional Group on two occasions.MSDF exercised antiair warfareand air control while the Air

Force conducted ship attacks. Japanese partici-pants gained significant experience and Ameri-cans had a unique opportunity to sharpen cross-service skills.

Combined exercises resulted from a friend-ship between the commanders of 35th OperationsGroup and the MSDF escort division that hadbegun when they were members of the same sem-inar at the Industrial College of the Armed Forcesin early 1990s. That bond has opened the door forfuture training opportunities and illustrates thevalue of international military educational pro-grams. But the experience also indicates that exer-cises are too important to be left to personal rela-tionships. They must be an integral part of abilateral program.

The International DimensionCombined exercises benefit both Japan and

the United States. For MSDF, it is a chance to holdsimultaneous omnidirectional/multi-threat, anti-air warfare exercises in an electronic warfare envi-ronment with experienced U.S. pilots. In addition,such events offer opportunities to improve inter-operability in communication and informationexchange. For the U.S. military, interoperability iskey to cementing relationships with allies andfriends. Training is important to creating trust andconfidence. This is strong evidence that morejoint and combined training is needed.

Combined operations have been the subjectof conferences and publications in recent years.At a gathering on “Military Coalitions and theUnited Nations: Implications for the U.S. Mili-tary” held at the National Defense University in1993, Admiral Paul David Miller, then Comman-der in Chief, Atlantic Command, spoke about arevolution in defense multinationalism and sug-gested that teamwork, interoperability, and func-tional connectivity were key to operational suc-cess. Regional cooperation and constructiveinteraction have been incorporated in the mili-tary canon, for example, in Naval Doctrine Publi-cation 1, Naval Warfare (1994): “We must main-tain our ability to conduct day-to-day operationswith other services and other nations.” This em-phasizes the importance of teamwork in a jointand multinational environment.

There are many types of combined exercises.The possibilities include antiair warfare with U.S.ships and Japanese fighters, mine warfare involv-ing American aircraft and Japanese forces, andU.S. naval gunfire support for Japanese troops.Other Asian allies could adopt the U.S.–SDF expe-rience as a training model. There may also be ap-plications for such efforts in Europe, where thereare no policies on combined cross-service train-ing. NATO has combined exercises where all serv-ices are involved and transnational service exer-cises among the same service components.

Many countries have undergone arms reduc-tions and force drawdowns since the Cold War.Moreover, exercise opportunities have decreased.Consequently, militaries are looking for creativeideas to overcome training shortages and techno-logical shortfalls. Additional transnational threatsare emerging; thus forces must respond transna-tionally as well. Combined joint exercises are partof the solution. JFQ

60 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Japanese helicopterlanding on USS BlueRidge.

U.S

. Nav

y (K

urt E

ishe

n)

U.S

. Mar

ine

Cor

ps (J

ohn

A. G

iles)

Combined memorialceremony, Iwo Jima.

There is general agreement that readi-ness reporting is flawed and does notaccurately reflect operational require-ments in the post-Cold War era. Readi-

ness reporting has improved somewhat in recentyears. Unit reports—known as the global status ofresources and training system—have seen incre-mental changes that have increased the ease andprecision of reporting by the services. Moreover,

in response to the provisions of the Goldwater-Nichols Act, the Chairman has initiated a systemthat includes quarterly reports from CINCs, com-bat support agencies, and services. This report,the joint monthly readiness review, addressesoverall readiness in two major areas—current day-to-day preparedness and readiness to execute amajor theater war or other scenario envisioned innational security strategy. In 1993, the Secretaryof Defense established the Office of the UnderSecretary of Defense for Personnel and Readinessand the Office of the Deputy Under Secretary forReadiness to oversee preparedness. The Secretary

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 61

John C.F. Tillson is a member of the research staff at the Institute forDefense Analyses and has served both on congressional staffs and in the Office of the Secretary of Defense.

A Systems Approach to

Readiness ReportingBy J O H N C. F. T I L L S O N

USNS Pollux in Pusanfor Foal Eagle ’98.

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (C

hris

tina

A. H

orne

)

■ R E A D I N E S S R E P O R T I N G

also formed the Senior Readiness Oversight Com-mittee, chaired by the Deputy Secretary and withmembers from the Office of the Secretary, JointStaff, and services, that meets monthly to reviewreports from the Chairman as well as other readi-ness indicators. At the direction of Congress, theOffice of the Deputy Under Secretary of Defensefor Matériel Readiness and Logistics was createdin the Office of the Under Secretary for Acquisi-tion and Technology. Institutionalizing readinessreporting and responsibilities has resulted in en-hanced appreciation of readiness issues in theprogram review process.

Perhaps the most critical problem is that thecurrent system does not measure the capability ofthe Armed Forces to accomplish the missions es-tablished in national security strategy. Instead itfocuses on one or two major theater wars and alimited set of tasks associated with those mis-sions, forcing CINCs, agencies, and services tofocus their reporting on narrow functional areasthat do not address the full range of operationaltasks. For example, reports by CINCs and agen-cies cover eight functional areas that correspondto staff organization. These do not deal withreadiness as it relates to performing specific tasksessential to accomplishing missions. Similarly,service reports focus on six enablers that do notcorrespond to congressionally mandated respon-sibilities (Title 10 functions) that represent keytasks for which all the services are responsible.

Essential elements are not being reported. Forexample, joint and service component headquar-ters, most joint units, and most large units such ascorps, battle groups and fleets, air wings, and num-bered air forces are omitted. Nor do reports cover

critical support facilities such as seaports, supplydepots, and training centers. Overall the systemlacks comprehensiveness and is unable to indicatereadiness to execute strategy.

On one hand, to address the lack of speci-ficity, DOD should collect more data, and on theother, given the amount of the data already re-ported, perhaps it should be reduced. Thisdilemma will demand revamping the system tocollect more information while reporting less.

Starting OverBased on congressional requirements and

the responsibilities of the Secretary of Defense aswell as other DOD components, a readiness re-porting system should be designed that:

■ responds to congressional readiness concerns■ provides readiness information needed to assist

the Secretary of Defense, CJCS, CINCs, agencies, andservices in performing peacetime and warfighting mis-sions

■ revises reporting in the context of efforts totransform the defense establishment to meet the chal-lenges of the 21st century.

To meet these criteria, modernized reportingmust be based upon a systems or process ap-proach. A system represents an organization orgroup of organizations with a common goal. Forexample, a basic operational unit (such as a shipor infantry battalion) is a system that has a com-mon goal to perform a mission essential task as-signed to that unit. A group of operational units(division, battle group, air wing) is a system witha common goal to perform essential tasks as-signed to an organization. A facility (port, train-ing center, hospital) is a system with a commongoal to perform tasks assigned to an installation.Units and organizations with common goals butdifferent chains of command should also be con-sidered a system. The defense transportation sys-tem, for example, includes organizations undervarious components, but it has a common goal oftransporting units and matériel. Readiness is ameasure of the ability of systems to achievegoals—their actual output compared with re-quired output.

The basic steps in a systems approach toreadiness reporting are (1) identifying the systemswhose readiness will be reported, (2) determiningthe output required of the system, (3) identifyingthe parts of each system and collecting the addeddata needed to determine their readiness in termsof output, and (4) requiring the responsibleCINC, agency, or service to report on the readi-ness of their system. This method will provide anassessment for the entire force from individualunits to the National Command Authorities.

62 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Mission rehearsal at Joint Readiness Training Center.

U.S

. Arm

y (R

aym

ond

A. B

arna

rd)

T i l l s o n

The Whole PictureA systems approach gives participants in the

system an opportunity they lack today—to seewhere they fit and how their actions affect thatwhole system. Given this capacity, participantscan make decisions with a complete system inmind. They no longer must focus solely on bitsand pieces of readiness over which they have visi-bility and control.

To conceptualize readiness, the goal must bemeasurable and the determination of readiness

must be based on com-paring the actual capabil-ity with objective goals.The defense transporta-tion system—responsiblefor moving forces andmatériel from a peacetimelocation to other venues

tied to strategy—is a critical system and illustrateshow a new approach to readiness can be devel-oped. Readiness of the transportation system is re-ported in parts because no commanders are subor-dinate to the Secretary, who is responsible forreporting overall readiness. Instead, there are halfa dozen CINCs and three service secretaries whohave some responsibility for reporting on thereadiness of components of the national strategiccapability to move forces, supplies, and equip-ment. It remains for the Secretary and Chairmanto make sense out of a diverse set of reports.

Unfortunately, lacking a measure of how de-ficiencies contribute to readiness systems, the ef-fort to eliminate a defect tends to lead to micro-management or suboptimization in whichresources intended to fix a problem may not pro-mote improvement because both reporting or-ganizations and the Pentagon are stovepiped.They simply lack a comprehensive view of howthe problem under investigation contributes toreadiness. For example, regardless of the capabil-ity of airlift forces, if bases en route or airports ofdebarkation are inadequate, the system can pro-duce no more output than the maximumthroughput of the facilities. If the goal is provid-ing throughput, then the impact of each problemmust be measured in terms of the influence onthe throughput of the system. The fact that thereis a problem as seen by one element of the systemdoes not mean that it necessarily affects the over-all throughput or readiness of the system. Norshould a deficiency be considered without a clearunderstanding of its relation to other systemsthat depend on its capabilities.

When participants attempt to either fix oroptimize that part of an organization or systemfor which they are responsible or can see, theyrisk misusing marginal resources. Using a chain asan analogy, if they fix a link that is already strongin relation to others, they are unlikely to improvethe capability of the system. Looking at the over-all system and measuring its readiness in terms ofits ability to achieve a goal—throughput in thecase of the transportation system—leads to asearch for the weak link that creates a bottleneckor constraint in the system. The marginal dollarshould be spent on the weak link.

Ready for TomorrowThe systems method helps resolve conflict

between current and future readiness. If the Sec-retary, Chairman, CINCs, and services are able tosee an entire system, they may be capable ofidentifying elements that can be improved in thenear term to enhance current readiness. Theymay also be able to identify elements that canonly be improved in the longer term with a mod-ernization or force structure program. Visibility ofthe tradeoffs possible with the systems approachmay also enable better choices about readinesstoday versus readiness tomorrow.

The concepts presented in Joint Vision2020—dominant maneuver, precision engage-ment, and full dimensional protection—are bestseen as operational level systems of systems. Cur-rent assessments cannot determine their readi-ness. Although CINC or service functional areareports may address parts of a system, they do notencompass the entire system to indicate its capa-bility to provide the output required by CINCs.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 63

Unloading C–5 at Sidi Slimane air base,Morocco.

31st

Com

mun

icat

ions

Squ

adro

n (D

elia

A. C

astil

lo)

a systems approach enablesparticipants to see where theyfit and how their actions affectthe whole system

Joint Mission Essential Tasks

Tasks that are essential to the ability to perform assignedmissions are outlined in the joint mission essential task list(JMETL). This list results from mission analysis conducted in

the requirements phase of the joint training systems cycle and pro-vides documentation from which requirements are derived. Amongthe resources available to assist commanders in developing specifictasks are the universal joint task list, JMETLs from commands, mas-ter training guides, and joint doctrine. Common tasks are missionessential tasks drawn from the lists of two or more commands.

Sample JMETJMET: Coordinate Theater-Wide Information Operations (IO)Organization: J-3Conditions

■ flexibility of warfare style (flexible)■ theater intelligence organizations (mature)

Standards■ 90 percent of subordinate plans have integrated command

and control warfare efforts■ 10 days to achieve information superiority

Supporting tasks—identify theater issues and threats■ Conditions

—military style (predictable)■ Standards

—10 hours or less to identify enemy center of gravityCommand-linked tasks—support national and joint task force sur-veillance and reconnaissance requirements

■ Conditions—visibility (high)

■ Standards—90 percent of joint operational area has surveillance coverage.

■ R E A D I N E S S R E P O R T I N G

For example, although the precision engagementsystem of CINCs might include a command, con-trol, and communications subsystem or a logisticsubsystem that can be included in current func-tional area reports, an evaluation might be be-yond the purview of CINCs. The command mightbe unable to determine overall readiness of preci-sion engagement because it would not know thecapability of operational units or capabilities asso-ciated with it and would not see how stovepipesfit in the system. Moreover, no subordinate whoreports to CINCs on the basis of a functional areawould be responsible for ensuring the successfuloperation of the precision engagement system. Insum, the Armed Forces have no adequate yard-stick to evaluate their capacity to acquire futurewarfighting capabilities.

A systems approach offers a better measurefor judging modernization and transformation.

By integrating future operational requirements ina systemic assessment program, DOD will gain agreater appreciation not only for its current capa-bilities but also for emerging competencies.

Integrated ApproachUnderstanding readiness to execute a task re-

quires understanding the readiness of a system de-signed to execute that task. To provide a compre-hensive account of readiness, CINCs report onreadiness to execute items on the joint mission-es-sential task lists (JMETLs) developed for assignedmissions. Supporting CINCs and agencies reporton readiness to execute tasks on the mission es-sential task list associated with support missions.Services report on readiness to execute Title 10functional tasks to meet the needs of supportedCINCs. In each instance, understanding readinessto execute tasks requires understanding the readi-ness of systems that execute the tasks.

Knowing the readiness of large, complex sys-tems is based on an appreciation of the readinessof entities that make up systems. They includeoperational units as well as supporting entities—depots, ports, prepositioned equipment, commu-nications nodes, hospitals, training centers, andinventory control points—that are critical forreadiness. Each must report its readiness to con-duct mission-essential tasks associated with itsrole in the system whose readiness is being re-ported. For example, ports that are nodes in thedefense transportation system are systems whosereadiness can be measured. In this example portsreport readiness to execute mission essential

64 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

F–16s at Kunsan airbase during readinessexercise.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e (J

erry

Mor

rison

)

a systems approach offers a better measure for judgingmodernization and transformation

T i l l s o n

tasks, moving a certain amount of cargo daily.Moreover, other supporting entities are also sys-tems: depots may have engine and radar repairsystems, communications nodes are data trans-mission systems, hospitals are patient care sys-tems, and training centers are unit systems.

Operational units can be treated as systemsof systems. The Army, for example, evaluatestraining readiness in terms of battlefield operat-ing systems, including fires, maneuver, com-mand and control, intelligence, logistics, air de-fense, and mobility and countermobility. Eachoperational unit has a similar mix of systems col-lectively engaged in executing mission essentialtasks. Ships report on the basis of primary mis-sion areas that are essentially systems, such asantisubmarine warfare. The Air Force uses similardescriptors in its reporting.

Every readiness-related entity can report itsstatus in terms of the ability to execute missionessential tasks based on an assessment of the abil-ity of systems to provide output associated withessential tasks. An Army infantry battalion is acase in point. Its headquarters, including mem-bers of the staff and support capabilities, com-prise a command and control system. The scoutplatoon provides an intelligence system. Threemaneuver companies are a maneuver system. Thebattalion report would be based on a comparisonof required levels of personnel, equipment, sup-plies, and training with the level of each battal-ion mission essential task.

More Is LessThis vision of reporting calls for collecting

and manipulating more data than assessments oftoday. This is made possible by the expanded ca-pabilities inherent in DOD information technol-ogy systems, which can capture large amounts of

data from low-level functional activities and makeit available automatically for readiness reports. Forexample, transactions put in personnel databasesor entered in service maintenance databases canbe captured and incorporated. Ultimately, all thestatus data included in readiness reporting mustbe based on this form of unit-level transactiondata. Readiness will be based on each node ofevery system and automatically updated in nearreal time. This capability can reduce readiness re-porting while the data actually collected increases.

Readiness reporting should eventually be-come virtually automatic. Databases will providemost data required by unit reports. Commanderswill be responsible largely for reviewing data toensure accuracy and reporting command assess-ments that differ from objective appraisals. Therewill be permanent web-based applications repre-senting systems that CINCs, agencies, and serv-ices rely on to execute mission essential tasks.The applications will be updated automaticallywith unit data. Intelligent agents will sweep data-bases to find readiness problems and bottlenecksand even identify potential workarounds. Plan-ners will identify tasks for deliberate and crisis re-sponse plans and select units by task and receivenear real-time readiness assessments in response.

A system of systems approach to readiness re-porting offers a coherent and comprehensive basisfor discussing both operational capabilities and re-source allocation. Such a method can increase thecapacity to meet near-term requirements and as-sist the process of transformation. JFQ

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 65

USS Arctic with USS Enterprise offFlorida.

Com

bat C

amer

a, A

tlant

ic (M

artin

Mad

dock

)

■

66 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

T he Chairman initiated the joint train-ing system (JTS) in 1994 to prepare theArmed Forces to fight together and winin a joint environment. Its concepts

are sound. The system will ensure that the mili-tary is ready to meet joint warfighting require-ments. Unfortunately, the system has not beenfollowing the established concepts. It is undisci-plined and executed haphazardly. This mustchange in order to live up to the promise of JointVision 2020.

Guidance and GuidelinesUnder current joint doctrine, the framework

in the joint training system is used by the jointcommunity to identify requirements, developplans, and execute, evaluate, and assess jointtraining events. It is designed to ensure thatforces are prepared to promote peace and stabil-ity and to defeat enemies. It offers an integratedrequirements-based way to align training pro-grams with assigned missions consistent withcommand priorities and resources. The system isguided by five principles: focusing on thewarfighting mission, training as you will fight,using commanders as primary trainers, applyingjoint doctrine, and centralizing planning whiledecentralizing execution.

The joint training system consists of fourphases: identifying requisite capabilities based on

Major Anthony Haugrud, USAF, is serving as a strategic analysis studiesofficer at U.S. Strategic Command; Major Gary C. Lehmann, USMC, is a liaison officer for U.S. Joint Forces Command; and LieutenantCommander Curtis Phillips, USN, is assigned to the Joint InformationOperations Center at U.S. Pacific Command.

Rethinking JointTraining

By A N T H O N Y H A U G R U D, G A R Y C. L E H M A N N, and C U R T I S P H I L L I P S

UH–60As landing onUSS Essex.

U.S

. Nav

y (T

y S

war

z)

H a u g r u d e t a l .

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 67

assigned missions, proceeding through event plan-ning, executing training, and assessing how welltraining is accomplished.

The requirements phase describes what acommand must be capable of doing. Combatantcommands both conduct mission analysis andpublish a joint mission essential task list (JMETL)for subordinate commanders. The list definesmission requirements in terms of tasks that mustbe performed to certain standards and the re-sponsible organizations on all levels throughoutthe force that must be trained to a prescribed fre-quency to meet those tasks and standards. Intheory, these requirements are driving factors be-hind all requirements-based JTS events. Joint ex-ercises provide a medium for joint training andshould be scheduled and conducted to train ex-isting requirements.

The planning phase begins once the com-mand JMETL is approved. Commanders considerwhat training is required and who must betrained, as well as command priorities. CINCs

provide guidance tostaffs to initiate plan-ning and issue objectiveson performance andtraining conditions. Theobjectives form the basisfor building joint train-ing plans, which lead to

exercise and training schedules and the CJCSjoint training master schedule. CINCs also beginto analyze the balance between the resources re-quired (time, funds, personnel, organizations)and those available.

The execution phase is focused on conduct-ing training events, which may take the form ofseminars and workshops or field training andcommand post exercises. All events include plan-ning, preparation, execution, and post-exerciseevaluation. Taken together they frame exercisesand guide them to completion. The post-exerciseevaluation is particularly key because it providesinput to guide future training.

In the assessments phase, commanders seekto determine mission capability from a trainingperspective. Products from the execution phasebecome inputs. The actual assessment is done bycommanders using results from assessment plansoutlined in joint training plans. This phase hasthree purposes: to provide a structure for com-manders to make judgments on command abilityand confidence to accomplish assigned missions,to provide feedback to adjust training shortfalls,and to support external processes related to readi-ness. Though assessments complete the jointtraining cycle, they also begin the next cycle be-cause they drive future training plans.

Reality CheckThe CJCS exercise program is designed to

provide a way to execute the joint requirements-based training cycle. According to a study by theGeneral Accounting Office (GAO) completed in1998 on joint training, the program is not effec-tively scheduled under its priorities and objec-tives. The highest training priority, supportingwarfighting/contingency plans, had the least per-centage of exercises scheduled to support it, whilethe majority supported the second priority, en-gagement. One can argue that engagement re-quirements are paramount and that if done prop-erly they prevent the need to employ trained andready forces for joint combat operations. Yet con-trasting demands of warfighting readiness andthe imperatives of engagement have put greatstress on the system.

There is real friction in that combatant com-manders are responsible for scheduling joint andcombined exercises while services and functionalcomponents are tasked with funding, manning,and executing training. Commanders cannot ig-nore engagement requirements but rather mustuse a system not designed for them. Service andcomponent frustration stems from a lack of defini-tive planning priorities with which to allocate resources to meet warfighting and engagementmissions. The services have no consistent authori-tative guidance on planning. This results in twonecessary but competing programs—training andengagement—grouped under one system designedfor only one purpose. A requirements-basedprocess that provides no realistic consensus onwhat makes a requirement serves neither goal well.

The joint training system is quickly losing itsfocus. The integrity of the system diminishes ascommands move from one phase to the next.The challenge is conducting effective joint train-ing for forces who also must participate in en-gagement activities which have little to do withtraining joint warfighting requirements.

A joint training study by GAO in 1995 of-fered evidence of shortcomings in this phase:

CINC officials said that they seldom test whetherprior problems have been corrected in their exercisesbecause (1) the Joint Staff has not required them to doso and (2) they had insufficient time to analyze pastproblems before planning future exercises. One CINCtraining official stated that joint exercises consistmerely of accomplishing events rather than trainingand that problems identified during prior exercisesmay be “lessons recorded” but not necessarily “les-sons learned.” The views of this official reflect a sys-temic problem in planning joint exercises that sur-faced in a 1990 joint exercise.

the CJCS exercise program isdesigned to provide a way toexecute the joint requirements-based training cycle

■ J O I N T T R A I N I N G

68 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

The lessons learned report noted that playersgenerally had no awareness of joint universal les-sons learned or remedial action projects from pre-vious exercises. The apparent absence of continu-ity or long-term perspective on the part ofexercise planners and players tends to cause need-less repetition and a lack of focus.

Evaluation of the execution phase,which includes training proficiency evaluationsand joint after action reviews, is suspect sincetraining audiences are often based on the forcesmost available to take part rather than those mostin need of the training. These complications im-pact on the final phase of the joint training sys-tem. If finished products from the executionphase are inputs for the assessment, and finished

products from the execution phase are basicallyflawed, the assessments phase is doomed to fail-ure. CINC evaluations of joint training and exer-cise events tend to be both subjective and do notcritically assess force readiness for joint opera-tions. Thus the joint training system has becomea self-sustaining and ineffective process that doesnot resemble its conceptual origins. And it doesnot adequately address joint experiments andother joint activities such as the all-service com-bat identification evaluation team, joint warriorinteroperability demonstration, and advancedconcept technology demonstration.

Doomed to FailureMost joint and combined exercises and en-

gagement activities are locked into schedules

USS Tortuga off Curaçao during exercise.

U.S. Navy (Martin Maddock)

AV–8Bs at Joint Readiness TrainingCenter.

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (A

aron

Rob

ert K

ughe

n)

H a u g r u d e t a l .

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 69

with foreign nations through government-to-gov-ernment agreements concluded years in advance.Like multinational operations, these activities re-quire exhaustive coordination with all partici-pants, often resulting in training objectives beingdiluted in order to reach consensus or host-na-tion agreement. The joint training study con-ducted by GAO suggests the problem is pervasive.In that report, the Directorate for OperationalPlans and Interoperability (J-7), Joint Staff, andCINC representatives offered two reasons for con-ducting so little joint training. First, the objec-tives of gaining access to seaports and airstrips,maintaining regional presence, and fostering rela-

tions with foreign militaries have taken prece-dence over training forces for joint operations.Second, since allied and friendly forces have vary-ing levels of operational ability, the complexity oftasks included in exercises with them must fre-quently be matched to the limited capabilities ofthe foreign forces. In some regions, foreign mili-taries are simply not prepared to participate inlarger joint exercises. Training becomes more ademonstration of goodwill than a useful test ofjoint and coalition forces.

Another issue is that many JTF staff trainingexercises are more single service than joint. Theinitial joint manning document for a staff train-ing exercise in fiscal year 2000, for example, fea-tured the following participant percentages:Army, 52; Navy, 5; Marine Corps, 3; Air Force, 27;and special operations forces, 13. This imbalanceviolates the principles of joint doctrine.

Another JTS issue is manning exercise staffs.Far too many participants are not actual JTF bat-tlestaff personnel. As the GAO joint trainingstudy concluded

The lack of adequately trained joint task force staffshas hindered the effectiveness of exercises and opera-tions since 1987. For example, joint universal lessonslearned reports from Reforger exercises in 1987,1988, and 1992, Operations Desert Shield andDesert Storm in 1990–91, and Restore Hope in So-malia in 1992–93 noted that joint task force staffswere not adequately trained prior to deployment tothe theaters of operation, thereby hindering opera-tional effectiveness.

The CJTF–Noble Anvil command brief (“AView from the Top”) in 1999 following operationsin Kosovo noted that the joint task force was not

organized around a pre-designated theater staffand that implications for the future include train-ing, manning, infrastructure, investment require-ments, and exercise regimes.

To meet all competing manpower require-ments, Reservists often augment exercise staffs.The point of staff training should be to trainthose who will be on the JTF staffs in real-worldcontingencies.

Fixing the SystemWith the joint training information manage-

ment system (JTIMS), the electronic and on-lineversion of the joint training system, it is expectedto provide one-stop-shopping for scheduling anddeconflicting resources for joint training events.JTIMS will help alleviate some deficiencies, but itwill fail to cure the fundamental training versusengagement priority issue.

The first issue that should be resolved iseliminating unnecessary exercises that drive upthe operating tempo. The joint training systemshould provide a tool for tracking accomplishedtasks regardless of where they are conducted. Itshould also be flexible enough to allow forcesnot to participate in scheduled joint trainingevents based on their proficiency. Training aforce to accomplish tasks already demonstratedwastes resources.

Proactive leadership is also needed. Theproblems hindering past joint training are likelyto recur without greater Joint Staff program over-sight. Fortunately there are hopeful signs. Effortsby many organizations since 1994 have improvedboth thinking and writing on joint training. Jointtraining publications are constantly being revisedto capture the latest conceptual and technologicaladvances. The Joint Staff issued a revised compre-hensive glossary in 1999 to standardize jointtraining terms and definitions in joint trainingpublications. Recently, the Joint Staff approvedfunds for a JTS specialist at each combatant com-mand to ease the burden of administrative train-ing responsibilities and provide continuity inlong-term JTS expertise. Lastly, the system is be-coming more user-friendly through ongoing de-velopment, testing, distribution, and implemen-tation of the joint training informationmanagement system.

Consideration must also be given to rela-tions among joint training events, experiments,engagement activities, and other requirementsthat do not fall in a previous category. Thereneeds to reach a consensus on dealing with di-verse requirements before the joint training sys-tem can be made flexible enough to includethese related yet different entities. To help bringjoint training and engagement into a commonsystem, the next step is including engagement

training becomes more a demonstration of goodwillthan a useful test of joint and coalition forces

■ J O I N T T R A I N I N G

70 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

activities in the universal joint task list. The JointStaff should analyze CINC engagement strategiesand plans and develop universal engagementtasks. Then the Chairman should require com-manders to establish priorities by event andtask—deciding if exercises are primarily trainingor engagement activities and recognizing thatunrealized training must be accomplished an-other way. The Joint Staff should develop an en-gagement activity scheduling and tracking sys-tem similar (and complementary) to the jointtraining system, or adjust the system to identifyjoint and combined exercise primary focus. Ser-vice budgeteers should then allocate currentjoint exercise funding into joint training andtheater engagement accounts based on identifiedtraining and engagement requirements.

Perhaps most importantly, the services mustbecome more deeply educated about the jointtraining system. Understanding its basics is just thefirst step. Leaders and trainers on all levels mustgrasp the synergy of a holistic combatant com-mand joint and combined exercise environment.The problem is balancing joint warfighting and en-gagement requirements with component training,operational, and maintenance funding constraints.

A generation of joint warfighters is requiredwho realize that the answer to joint trainingproblems is not necessarily new systems of man-aging training and resources but more innovativemethods for employing existing systems. This ap-proach suggests that the military must become alearning organization able to adapt to changingenvironments. The catalyst for that transforma-tion must be education.

Great effort was invested in developing andrefining JTS concepts. The problem with the sys-tem is that reality does not reflect those concepts.The joint force cannot afford to continue to ig-nore problems. Today’s undisciplined execution isa confusing and inefficient mix of actual jointtraining and other training-related and engage-ment-focused events. The indirect result is agrowing, unhealthy rift in relations among theJoint Staff, services, and combatant commands.Attempting to treat only the symptoms will notcure the disease. JFQ

F–16s on flightline atAviano air base.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e (D

ave

Ahl

schw

ede)

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 71

Joint doctrine maintains that theater missiledefense (TMD) is a joint mission, but infact it is just another common mission pur-sued separately by the services. Joint Pub 3-

01.5, Doctrine for Joint Theater Missile Defense,often invokes the term integrate. Although theservices are making progress in vertical integra-tion on all levels, little has been done to harmo-nize efforts horizontally. Service agencies respon-sible for TMD illustrate this divergence. Some

numbered air forces have cells dedicated to at-tack, passive defense, and command, control,communications, computers, and intelligence op-erations, while the Navy contributes to attack op-erations with its air assets and could conduct ac-tive defense with Aegis systems. The Armyoperational lead for TMD is 32d Army Air andMissile Defense Command (AAMDC), which exe-cutes elements: attack operations, active defense,passive defense, and command, control, commu-nications, computers, and intelligence. In sumthe services have formidable capabilities, but theyusually work in spite of each other rather thanMajor Nathan K. Watanabe, USA, and Captain Shannon M. Huffman,

USA, are assigned to the attack operations section, 32d Army Air andMissile Defense Command.

Missile Defense Attack OperationsBy N A T H A N K. W A T A N A B E and S H A N N O N M. H U F F M A N

USS Lake Erieconducting Aegis intercept test.

U.S

. Nav

y

■

with each other. There is a better alternative. Re-cent efforts to improve attack operations in Koreareveal the problems and potential for enhancingtheater missile defense operations.

Forward Missile FightIn support of the offensive counterair mis-

sion, attack operations prevent launch of theatermissiles by destroying every element of the sys-tem, including launch platforms; reconnaissance,surveillance, and target acquisition platforms;command and control nodes; and missile stocksand infrastructure. Attack operations strive todeny or disrupt enemy assets. As the Army propo-nent, 32d AAMDC responds to the Army compo-nent or joint force land component commander(JFLCC) and thus is constrained to this architec-ture in conducting attack operations. Restrictionsrequire any target identified for attack by theAAMDC intelligence and attack operations cell tobe nominated to the Army component deep oper-ations coordination cell for prosecution. Targetscan be categorized into two broad groups basedon their relative mobility and targetability by as-sets assigned by the air tasking order, as eitherpreplanned or immediate targets.

Preplanned targets are engaged by the assetsrequested through the normal air tasking order

development cycle. They are submitted to thedeep operations coordination section and com-pete with other Army target nominations forair/surface delivered attack resources. Preplannedtargets can involve lengthy dwell times, theatermissile production and storage facilities, gar-risons, stationary forward operating bases or for-ward support elements, communications nodes,and countermobility targets (such as bridges andchokepoints). If approved and given a highenough priority by deep operations coordinationcell fire planners, TMD targets are included inthe Army candidate target list. This list is passedto the Army component battlefield coordinationdetachment (BCD) at the joint air operationscenter (JAOC) for coordination and deconflic-tion. The detachment submits lists to the targetdevelopment section and master air attack plan-ning team within the combat plans division ofJAOC, where nominations are combined withthose from other components. Requests are pri-oritized to eventually produce the joint inte-grated prioritized target list, which is the basisfor ultimately assigning aircraft and weapons.

Immediate targets are nominated for use insidethe normal air tasking order planning cycle andmust follow a similar request and approvalprocess. Examples are mobile or perishable targetssuch as launch sites. When identified these targetsare forwarded to the Army fire support element ofthe deep operations coordination cell, which will

72 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Patriot missile site in Korea.

8thC

omm

unic

atio

ns S

quad

ron

(Kev

in P

. Milli

ken

)

W a t a n a b e a n d H u f f m a n

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 73

prioritize and process requests for immediate at-tack. If a request is approved according to validguidance, the target is forwarded to BCD for air-space clearance and the attack unit for executionif possible within service capabilities. If Army as-sets cannot conduct the attack, the request goes toBCD, which passes it to the execution cell inJAOC for tasking to available air assets.

Time sensitive targets are a subset of immedi-ate targets. They are processed using the sameprocedures and architecture as immediate re-quests, though they receive the highest priority. Atime sensitive target requires immediate responsebecause it poses a clear and present danger tofriendly forces or is a highly lucrative but fleetingtarget of opportunity. This definition is broad andvague. Therefore it falls to the theater com-mander or joint task force commander to refineand define attack guidance. Further definitionusually addresses acceptable risks in terms of lossof attack assets, duplication of attack, fratricide,and collateral damage. Regardless of the criteria,time sensitive targets must be clearly designated.Enemy assets that CINCs or JFCs may pick astime sensitive targets usually include transportererector launchers and launch sites. The list is bestkept short to lend emphasis and facilitate thequickest attack.

Systemic LimitationsThere are drawbacks in doctrine. Army forces

usually have little regard for theater ballistic mis-sile threats. Because of their inaccuracy and smallthrow-weight, such missiles are regarded as mili-tarily insignificant or as weapons of terror thatcannot hamper ground operations. In addition,

the primary focus ofthe Army compo-nent deep operationscoordination cell isthe ensuing 72–96hours of the battle.

Its concerns are massing fires and effects to shapesound operations. Though theater ballistic mis-siles may pose a strategic threat to coalition unityor political will, they have little to no direct effecton the battlefield; thus the Army component usu-ally assigns a low targeting priority to attackingthem, resulting in a lack of collection asset priori-tization and limited collection and attack assetavailability, further hindering TMD efforts.

Another obstacle to successful attack opera-tions is the site of the ballistic missile target set.Launch, hide, and transfer locales, forward oper-ating bases, and garrison, storage, and productionfacilities are usually found outside the

JFLCC/Army component command area of re-sponsibility, highlighting another barrier toAAMDC efforts—component jurisdiction. By re-questing an attack against target sets located out-side AORs, JFLCCs must request and coordinatethrough other functional components. This re-quirement slows the attack and must compete forresourcing against another set of priorities—usu-ally those of JFACCs.

Attack operations cross more than just thephysical boundaries of components; they tran-scend operational doctrines that lead to proceduraldisparities. Variations in selection standards, tar-geting criteria, and even sensitive target definitionsoften result in a fracturing of attack operations.

In addition, this system is unwieldy. For ex-ample, an immediate air support request fromAAMDC must be forwarded to the fire support ele-ment of the deep operations coordination cell.Once the request is approved, the target nomina-tion is sent to BCD for clearance. Once cleared,the target passes to the execution cell in JAOC,where assets are identified, coordination is ef-fected, and final approval is given before the task-ing is passed to available aircraft via airborne com-mand and control. By bypassing the deepoperations coordination cell and collocatingAAMDC with BCD and JAOC, a 35-minute processcan be shortened to ten minutes by eliminatingmiddlemen and concurrently seeking airspaceclearance and JAOC coordination and approval.

Duplication of effort in developing targetsand assigning attack assets is another drawback tothe Army method of TMD targeting. This processis simply not a joint, integrated effort. Each com-ponent, notably the Army through AAMDC andthe Air Force through a numbered air force TMDcell, is pursuing the same targets, collecting andanalyzing information and data to identify targetsindependently—resulting in duplicated effortsand wasted resources. Additionally, each servicehas its own system for requesting fire support andair missions, leading to multiple attacks. This isless of a problem for preplanned operations sincethe joint target development/air tasking order de-velopment cycle largely prevents duplication. Butthe challenge is more pronounced when pursuingimmediate targets when time is a factor and re-dundancy of attack is difficult to prevent.

Rethinking the ProcessUsed for attack operations, standard Army

processes are unwieldy and inefficient. A morestreamlined method is needed that places TMDresponsibility under a single executive agent.Such a method exits and is being refined inKorea. Commander in chief, United NationsCommand and Combined Forces Command, hasdesignated a single authority for the conduct of

theater ballistic missiles may pose a strategic threat to coalitionunity or political will

■ M I S S I L E D E F E N S E

TMD operations in the Korean theater of opera-tions—in this case, the Commander, Air Compo-nent Command, and Commanding General, Sev-enth Air Force. In a break with Army tradition,the Commanding General, Eighth U.S. Army,gives up operational control of 32d AAMDC whenSeventh Air Force is in theater, effectively estab-lishing a single focused authority over theatermissile defense on the peninsula

The theater missile defense operations centerfunctions as a staff under the combined forces aircomponent command and is responsible for plan-ning, coordinating, and integrating theater-levelmissile operations. The center is split-based withSeventh Air Force and Republic of Korea air force

elements in theater and32d AAMDC in theUnited States. During ei-ther an exercise or inwartime, 32d AAMDC col-locates in the hardenedtheater air control centerand integrates operations

with the Seventh Air Force cell and Korean airforce personnel at Osan air base. In addition, itdispatches liaison teams to the deep operationscoordination cell of the ground component com-mand, the Eighth U.S. Army rear command post,Combined Unconventional Warfare Task ForceHeadquarters, and other commands.

Joint attack operations is an ongoing ven-ture, beginning with intelligence preparation ofthe battlespace conducted jointly betweenAAMDC and the Seventh Air Force intelligencecell. Information sharing aids the process. Attackstrategy is jointly drafted and approved. Pre-planned and immediate attack mission requestsare developed. AAMDC brings experience as wellas considerable technical capabilities with its in-telligence tools such as the generic area limitationenvironment and all source analysis systems. Italso provides a measure of continuity vis-à-vis theone-year tour lengths of the personnel assignedin Korea. The in-country Seventh Air Force ana-lysts bring enormous Korea-specific knowledgeand access to quick-response Air Force collectionsystems. With these resources, joint intelligenceidentifies the enemy theater missile order of bat-tle, operational patterns and techniques, capabili-ties and weaknesses, likely operating areas, andother exploitable information.

Theater missile targets were developed andnominated solely by the theater missile defenseoperations center—no other agencies in-theaterdevelop them—establishing unity of commandand freeing the other components from this task.

Where possible, targets are serviced by com-mander, air component command (CACC), ap-portioned resources which both the ground andmaritime components appreciate.

Preplanned and immediate missions in Koreaare requested in the same manner as doctrinal tar-geting, but with a twist. Most notably, immediatemissions are requested directly through the air op-erations center execution cell rather than theArmy deep operations coordination cell, resultingin a dramatic decrease in response time. Feweragencies and approvals are required so the target isprocessed and attacked more expeditiously.

Preplanned missions are processed directlythrough the air operations center for inclusion inintegrated tasking orders. But as a special CACCstaff element, the center has no direct targeting re-sponsibility to the ground component commander.Hence TMD attack nominations are submitted toair component command planners in the combatplans squadron, which bypasses the approval of theArmy component command and BCD.

Preplanned missions include both interdic-tion and air alert interdiction missions scheduledon integrated tasking orders. The former arescheduled to attack fixed facilities and infrastruc-ture supporting both current operations and long-term capabilities while countermobility missionsare planned to isolate theater missile operatingareas through aerial mining and attack against keysites and their lines of communication. The latterprovide assets to be retasked to strike lucrativefleeting targets in missions similar in function tocombat air patrols. Procedures for air alert inter-diction vary by theater, but missions are generallygiven a primary target in an associated killbox anda time on target. These missions will usually havea vulnerability or flex time prior to their stationtime during which they can be diverted to attackother (short-dwell) higher-priority targets in theirdesignated killboxes or others nearby.

Immediate attack mission requests in Koreaare also acted on more efficiently. When a timesensitive or immediate target is identified andverified for attack, the request is coordinated withall parties in conjunction with the director ofcombat operations who has overall responsibilityfor the mission. The air interdiction officer tracksair mission availability and weaponry and recom-mends missions for possible divert. After com-mand and control are arranged, the attack orderis passed to airborne controllers to relay to the at-tack aircraft. Special operations and airspace rep-resentatives provide target systems analysis anddeconfliction. A targeting cell checks targetsagainst priorities and collateral effects and ifneeded confirms aircraft scheduling and arrangesfor reattack of original targets by diverted aircraft.The intelligence duty officer and collections

74 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

preplanned missions includeboth interdiction and air alertinterdiction missions scheduledon integrated tasking orders

W a t a n a b e a n d H u f f m a n

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 75

arrange for both real-time confirmation of targetstatus and battle damage assessment while BCDdeconflicts airspace and requests surface-to-sur-face fires when needed.

Future FixesThough theater organization and structure

definitely improve attack operations, they are notthe total solution to theater missile defense or at-tack operation problems.

Prioritization. If the objective is having attackoperations affect the threat prior to launch, thistarget category must be assigned a sufficientlyhigh priority to provide the attack as well as theintelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance re-sources to enable effective identification and ro-bust effort to destroy, disrupt, or delay launch.

Physical dislocation. Perhaps the greatestdrawback of the current organization is physicalseparation. The Seventh Air Force cell conductsits mission in country daily while 32d AAMDC islocated in the United States. Both pursue TMDthrough intelligence preparation of the battlefield

and other pre-hostility efforts. And althoughthere is cooperation and as much informationsharing as possible with available automated systems, it is a feeble substitute for face-to-faceplanning and coordination. The best solution iscollocating the units. Barring this option, thecommands must train together in exercises suchas Ulchi Focus-Lens and Foal Eagle to hone inter-operability and maintain and improve attack op-erations planning.

Combined operations. A key feature of opera-tions is inclusion of Korean national forces. For-eign disclosure restrictions limit the ability to co-ordinate U.S.-Korean theater missile defense. Thelanguage barrier, which affects everything frombriefing deadlines to the prosecution of time sen-sitive targets, is another obstacle. Protocol andmanning, which affect the numbers and ranks ofassigned personnel, also create artificial barriersto effective combined operations.

Information and attack processing. Attack oper-ations are hindered by lack of automation. Capa-bilities such as those provided by both the ad-vanced field artillery tactical data system and thetheater battle management core system assist

Intelligence analystsfrom 32d Army Air and Missile DefenseCommand.

1st C

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (J

im V

arhe

gyi)

■ M I S S I L E D E F E N S E

with processing automated targets and both im-mediate and preplanned mission requests. Moreand better capabilities are needed to collate anddisplay the enemy operational picture of theatermissiles, enhance situational awareness offriendly attack asset availability, and furtherstreamline attack operations requests and com-mand and control processes. Targetable intelli-gence must be quickly fed from intelligence andcollection systems to the targeting system. A ca-pability is needed to pass targeting information tothe fire request processing system.

Moreover, situational awareness can be im-proved to enhance attack operations and shouldbe maintained on both air and surface fire sup-port systems; that is, locations of field artilleryunits and attack aircraft (close air support, inter-diction, strategic attack) should be graphically

displayed with unit information. This requires anability to receive, parse, and display the active airtasking order, but allows attack operations per-sonnel to assess availability of assets for diversionor rerole of air assets or attack by the Army tacti-cal missile system.

In general the capabilities required to con-duct attack operations should enable receivingand analyzing targeting intelligence, submittingtarget nominations to the deep operations coordi-nation cell or air operations center, tracking thestatus of preplanned and immediate target nomi-nations, receiving targeting guidance and priori-ties, and maintaining situational awareness forboth air and surface fire support systems. Currentsystems must be improved to both expand capa-bilities and make them more user friendly.

Attack operations, perhaps more than otheraspects of theater missile defense, is a genuinejoint endeavor that requires the integration ofcomponent efforts to defeat threats prior tolaunch. Collaboration or coordination is not suffi-cient to provide the requisite focus of effort. Ide-ally, the expertise resident in the Army Air andMissile Defense Command is best coupled withthe rapid collection and attack capabilities of AirForce theater missile defense cells. Although thissynergy of effort is lacking in most theaters, thejoint and combined theater missile operations cellunder the Combined Forces Air Component Com-mand in Korea is addressing key issues. JFQ

76 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Patriot missile system,Roving Sands ’99.

1st C

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (J

erry

Mor

rison

)

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 77

From Desert Storm to Allied Force, therole of spacepower in the American wayof war has expanded. Other nations alsoacknowledge the merits of spacepower.

According to recent figures, 32 nations as well asmany commercial firms and private consortiahave objects in orbit. India is reportedly develop-ing improved imagery satellites—from 5m to 1mresolution—based on a lesson learned from skir-mishes with Pakistan over Kashmir. Recently onecompany launched Ikonos, a commercial satellitewith 1m resolution, whose images are availableon the Internet.

Spacepower is no longer a preserve of super-powers. Victory will belong to those who best in-tegrate and employ its capabilities on the opera-tional level. But a review of current doctrine andorganization reveals areas in need of improve-ment. Specifically, spacepower should be in-cluded in the basic plan portion of the operationplans and execution paragraph of orders used incrisis action planning. Organizationally, JFCsmust have a director of space and informationoperation forces, similar to a director of mobilityforces under the joint force air component com-mander (JFACC) to integrate strategic and inter-theater airlift, in order to provide unity of effortfor spacepower. Such recommendations will en-able JFCs to fully exploit spacepower in combinedarms teams.

Doctrinal WaterlooThe unified command plan (UCP) has de-

fined the responsibilities of U.S. Space Command(SPACECOM) since 1985. Commander in Chief,Space Command (CINCSPACE), serves as thefocal point for military space operations, includ-ing communications. He is also tasked to “pro-vide military representation to U.S. national,commercial, and international agencies for mat-ters related to military space operations.” Forceenhancement—intelligence, surveillance, and re-connaissance, weather, missile warning, naviga-tion, and communications, the most matureSPACECOM mission areas—notably overlaps in-formation operations. As a result, the unifiedcommand plan assigns information operationsmissions related to computer network attack anddefense to the command.

Despite the expansion of its authority,SPACECOM links to the regional command arestill undeveloped. Joint Pub 0-2, Unified ActionArmed Forces, and Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for JointOperations, state that JFCs may establish func-tional components within JTFs to provide central-ized direction and control of certain functions andoperations. Joint Pub 3-0 also states that a func-tional component is appropriate when forces fromtwo or more services operate in the same dimen-sion or medium. But these documents stop shortof mentioning a space component or task force.

On theater command and control of space-power, the draft of Joint Pub 3-14, Joint Space Oper-ations, stipulates: “A supported CINC/JFC/JTF

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas A. Doyne, USAF, is an action officer on theAir Staff and previously served as deliberate plans officer (J-5) at U.S.Space Command.

SPACEand the Theater Commander’s WarBy T H O M A S A. D O Y N E

■

78 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Monitoring operationsover Iraq.

U.S

. Air

Forc

e (V

ince

Par

ker)

commander should designate a coordinating au-thority for space operations under the JFC (for ex-ample the JFACC).” However, it contains no detailsand only focuses on Annex N (Space Operations)and supporting space plans. In addition, it doesnot relate spacepower to campaign objectives orenemy and friendly centers of gravity.

Both Joint Pub 5-00.2, Joint Task Force Plan-ning Guidance and Procedures, and CJCSM 3122.03,Joint Operations Planning and Execution Systems,Volume 2, treat spacepower within the context ofjoint force. In particular, the former incorporatesspace in planning responsibilities of the J-2 (intel-

ligence), J-3 (opera-tions), J-5 (planning),and J-6 (communica-tions) staff elements. Butemphasis on spacepowerdiminishes as CJCSM3122.03 and AFSC Pub 1apply joint doctrine to

campaign design and operational plan/order de-velopment. For example, the former publicationprovides the format for Annex N, which is at-tached to operation plans but provides little guid-ance on incorporating spacepower into the basicplan. While Joint Pub 5.00-2 tasks intelligencestaffs with preparing estimates of enemy space ca-pabilities, CJCSM 3122.02 does not mentionspace in discussing areas of interest. CJCSM3122.02 and AFSC Pub 1 highlight phasing cam-paigns and orienting them on attacking centers

of gravity while protecting one’s own. But theydo not provide planners with structural or analyt-ical frameworks for incorporating spacepowerinto campaigns.

Pertinent doctrine is found in Air Force doc-trine documents (AFDDs) 1, Air Force Basic Doc-trine, 2, Organization and Employment of Aerospace-power, and AFDD 2-2, Space Operations. The firstlogically links air and space operations in spite ofdifferences and asserts that airpower and space-power “share the advantage of three-dimensionalmaneuver” and therefore are governed by thesame tenets. Thus centralized control and decen-tralized execution apply to spacepower just asthey do to airpower. “It is a basic principle of airand space doctrine that command and control ofair and space forces be centralized under one offi-cer—an airman.” In this scenario an airman is onewho appreciates and knows how to employ thefull scope of aerospace capabilities. However,AFDD 1 does recognize that space forces differfrom most air forces because they are global. Thusit acknowledges that SPACECOM has operationalcontrol over them, just as U.S. TransportationCommand (TRANSCOM) retains control overstrategic airlift.

The global nature of space presents a doctri-nal dilemma. On one hand, the Air Force holdsthat a single commander should control both airand space forces for the theater command; but onthe other, it acknowledges that SPACECOM, andnot an air commander in theater, has operationalcontrol of space forces. This dilemma exists on alllevels of Air Force doctrine.

AFDD 1 recognizes that the nature of spaceforces differentiates them from air forces and pre-vents transferring operational control to JFCs.However, the February 2000 edition of AFDD 2states that “the responsibility of integrating spaceforces into the joint effort is normally delegatedto the JFACC.” When authorized by CINCSPACE,JFACC requests and coordinates employment ofAir Force space assets through the commander ofthe Air Force component of SPACECOM, whoprovides space support through the aerospace op-erations center, which develops supporting plansfor JFACC and establishes a daily space taskingorder to control Air Force space assets.

AFFD 2 provides guidance for writing theJoint Aerospace Operation Plan, which stressesidentifying enemy centers of gravity and vulnera-bilities. It recommends that information onforces not assigned, such as SPACECOM elements,be entered in the friendly forces paragraph. Itdoes specify that the paragraph on aerospace op-erations “should consider land, sea, air, space,special operations, and multinational” capabili-ties by the phase of a campaign. The pub doesnot address what happens when JFACC is not the

the Air Force holds that a singlecommander should controlboth air and space forces forthe theater command

D o y n e

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 79

Athena II lifting satellite into space.

30th

Com

mun

icat

ions

Squ

adro

n (C

herie

Thu

rlby)

Who’s Who in Orbit (2001)

Launcher/operator Payloads

Arab Satellite Communications Organization 7

Argentina 5Asia Satellite Telecom Company

(Hong Kong) 3Australia 7Brazil 10Canada 17Chile 1China 33China/Brazil 1Czech Republic 4Denmark 1Egypt 2European Space Agency 29European Telecom Satellite

Organization 19France 31France/Germany 2Germany 18Globalstar (San Jose, California) 52India 21Indonesia 9International Maritime Organization 9International Space Station 1International Telecommunications

Satellite Organization 56Iridium Satellite LLC (Tempe, Arizona) 85Israel 3Italy 12Japan 67Luxembourg 11Malaysia 3Mexico 6North Atlantic Treaty Organization 8Norway 3Orbcomm LLC (Dulles, Virginia) 35Philippines 2Portugal 1Russia 1,329Saudi Arabia 2Saudi Arabia/France 1Sea Launch Company

(Long Beach, California) 1Singapore/Taiwan 1South Africa 1South Korea 7Spain 6Sweden 10Taiwan 1Thailand 4Turkey 4United Arab Emirates 1United Kingdom 21United States 766

Total 2,729

Source: Air Force Magazine (Space Almanac).

air expeditionary force commander, nor does itconsider the fact that the Air Force space com-mander does not exercise operational controlover Army, Navy, national, commercial, or inter-national satellite systems and cannot task them.

AFDD 2-2, Space Operations, articulates opera-tional doctrine. Like its parent documents, it ac-knowledges that SPACECOM has operational con-trol of space forces. However, it does touch onnon-Air Force assets, stating that “flexibility andinnovation on the part of the commander” are re-quired to maximize effectiveness.

Spacepower is provided by many agencies,making synchronized support for warfighters dif-

ficult. Today command andcontrol of space forces is pro-vided to regional CINCs or des-ignated JFCs by support teamswho deploy to their respectiveareas within JTFs. Coordinatingteams can be difficult. SPACE-COM liaison officers serve withthe national space community,the Defense Information Sys-

tems Agency (DISA), and unified commands. Itdevelops and issues mission type orders to com-ponents to coordinate and synchronize supportfor JTFs. It also provides coordination copies oforders to the national space community andDISA to help synchronize operations.

Doctrinal and Organizational SolutionsCurrent doctrine should be revised. Space-

power contributions to the overall campaign planmust be stated in the basic plan section of the op-eration plan and not simply relegated to Annex N

and supporting plans. Spacepower must be inte-grated into operation plans and orders in thethree following paragraphs: (1) situation—explain-ing that enemy and friendly centers of gravityanalysis must include spacepower, (2) execution—indicating how spacepower contributes to accom-plishing each phase of an operation, and (3) com-mand and control—detailing the roles of military,civilian, and commercial satellite communica-tions in command and control. Revising the basicguidance in both plans and orders will give spaceoperations the proper emphasis.

Since doctrine is oriented on attackingenemy centers of gravity while guarding one’sown, planners need an analytical device to linkspacepower to centers if spacepower is integratedinto the operation plan and order paragraphs.Every CINCSPACE since the mid-1990s has cham-pioned the idea of spacepower as a center of grav-ity, yet many planners have difficulty in treatingit as vital because space systems do not shoot bul-lets or drop bombs. Planners need a simple wayof linking spacepower to centers of gravity. Onesolution is using a planning methodology knownas center of gravity-critical capability-critical re-quirement-critical vulnerability analysis.1

Three ModelsSound doctrine and planning need proper

organization for successful campaign execution.Structural changes are required to complementthe integration of spacepower into the 5-para-graph format of operation plans as well as variousorders used for crisis action planning. Joint doc-trine gives JFCs the flexibility to organize JTFs byservice or function, component, or task force. Theunified command plan entrusts responsibility toCINCSPACE as the single focal point of militaryspace operations for regional CINCs. Future com-mand and control of space forces must leverageSPACECOM responsibility to provide global cen-tralized control.

Three possible models might be applied tothe problem of command and control, beginningwith the Air Force approach. Under this modelthe chain of command for space forces functionswith JFACC as the single JTF focal point. The ad-vantages are congruence with Air Force doctrineand unity of command, but there are disadvan-tages in implementation. The typical JFACC hasno space experience and limited training. Jointaerospace operations centers (JAOCs) are designedto plan and execute the air campaign via the airtasking order. Consequently, the Air Force hasbeen staffing the center with space experts andthus has no need to man and equip the sup-ported staff of a unified command or another

■ S P A C E A N D T H E A T E R W A R

80 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

the unified command planentrusts responsibility toCINCSPACE as the singlefocal point of militaryspace operations

The Chairman briefingreporters on AlliedForce.

DO

D (R

.D. W

ard

)

D o y n e

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 81

functional or servicecomponent operationscenter in the same way.Unfortunately, the de-mand for space expertsoutstrips the supply.Lastly, this model willrequire CINCSPACE todelegate UCP missionsto a component (Four-

teenth Air Force), which effectively places it overArmy and Navy components. Fourteenth AirForce normally has operational control for onlyAir Force space systems such as the global posi-tioning and defense support program. It is also re-sponsible for much of the space surveillance mis-sion and launch ranges at both Vandenberg AirForce Base and Cape Canaveral Air Station. Whilemaking JFACC the single operational focal pointfor spacepower will provide unity of command,using the Fourteenth Air Force as the centralcommand center would place too heavy a work-load on a single functional component.

Another option is forming a joint space oper-ations component or joint space operations taskforce to provide unity of command to space forceswithin JTF by providing a single focal point forspace support. This command and control archi-tecture is congruent with joint doctrine and givesreachback to SPACECOM for centralized controlfor space systems. The main disadvantage of aspace component/task force commander is opera-tional control. The global nature of space systemsprevents transferring control of assets to JTFs.Other questions about such an organization relateto physical residence of this task force in theaterand support requirements. The answers will havean impact on JTF time phase deployment databaseflow and limited transportation resources.

A third option is establishing a director ofspace and information operations forces based onthe command and control model of TRANSCOM,a functional command with a global mission that

Tactical satellite dur-ing Joint Guardian.

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (E

ric H

ughe

s)

Processing informationon USS Philippine Sea.

U.S

. Nav

y (R

enso

Am

ariz

)

supports unified commands. The command dele-gates operational control of strategic airlift to theAir Force air mobility command tanker airliftercontrol center (TACC) while intra-theater airliftcomes under the operational control of the jointairborne communications center. Interface is pro-vided by the director of mobility forces, normallya senior officer with both airlift and in-theater ex-perience. The director is responsible for all inter-and intra-theater airlift issues and works forJFACC. Located in his division is the air mobilityelement, a forward-deployed element of TACCproviding reachback for support and commandand control. This arrangement can act as a modelfor theater-space command and control. It hasthe same advantages as the component com-mander model—unity of command, reachback toSPACECOM, and congruence with joint doctrinewhile resolving the operational control issue.

The director of space and information opera-tions forces must be the senior professional in thefield within theater, regardless of service. But theposition is likely to be held by an Air Force officersince that service owns and operates the majorityof space systems and has the largest space opera-tions career field. This model would more effec-tively use space support teams and simplifyreachback to SPACECOM. The director can be lo-cated in JAOC or a joint operations center (JOC),minimizing the impact on the data base. Locatingthe director within JAOC under JFACC parallelsthe mobility forces model and will conform to AirForce doctrine. Putting the position in JOC willsimplify interfacing with JFCs and utilize joint

space support team and information operationscell workspaces. The location should be dictatedby the situation.

As in the case of strategic lift resources, satel-lites traverse between theaters, but the cargo is in-formation (hence the linkage between space-power and information operation). Whereasairlifters create an air bridge between bases in theUnited States and JTFs, space operators establish aspace bridge that carries information required forbattlespace awareness and information superior-ity. The director will provide campaign planningand coordination to ensure responsive centralizedcontrol of space forces via CINCSPACE to bringdecentralized execution of spacepower by JTFs.

Spacepower must be incorporated into cam-paign planning and conduct. Joint Pub 5-00.2,draft Joint Pub 3-14, CJCSM 3122.02, and AFSCPub 1 must be updated to state that spacepowermust be integrated into operation plans as wellas situation, execution, and command and con-trol paragraphs of orders used in crisis actionplanning. Spacepower must be part of JFC intelli-gence preparation of the battlespace. With toolssuch as the gravity-critical capability-critical re-quirement-critical vulnerability model, campaignplanners must establish the relationship betweenspacepower and centers of gravity for combat ef-fectiveness and then apply the operational art tospacepower by integrating it into every phase ofa campaign. Joint and service doctrine should beupdated to establish a director of space and infor-mation operation forces. Whether situated in ajoint operations center or joint aerospace opera-tions center, the director will provide unity of ef-fort for the planning and execution of space-power throughout the campaign. These doctrinaland organizational changes will enable theUnited States to achieve and maintain space su-periority to exploit spacepower on the opera-tional level. This is essential for the Armed Forcesin attaining victory over space-savvy enemies. JFQ

N O T E

1 Joe Strange, Centers of Gravity and Critical Vulnera-bilities: Building on the Clausewitzian Foundation So ThatWe Can All Speak the Same Language, 2d Edition (Quan-tico, Va.: Marine Corps University, 1996), p. 3.

■ S P A C E A N D T H E A T E R W A R

82 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Bomb damage assessment,Desert Fox.

DO

D

T he use of both Army and Air Force hel-icopters from ships during contingencyoperations in Grenada, Panama, Soma-lia, and Haiti suggests that helicopters

of all services should be capable of operatingfrom naval vessels. But daunting incompatibili-ties exist between helicopters and ships fromwhich they operate. Although the safe execution

of past operations speaks well of the skill of thesquadrons and ships involved, failing to resolveincompatibilities belies a serious dysfunction: theinability to address lessons learned to improvejoint operations.

Understanding joint shipboard helicopteroperations enables planners to efficiently preparefor the future. Such operations are likely to beshort fused, highly visible, and dynamic in termsof the type and scale of missions. Consideringjoint shipboard helicopter operations in supportof Uphold Democracy in Haiti and Earnest Willin the Persian Gulf is illustrative.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 83

Major General Geoffrey C. Lambert, USA, directs the Center forOperations, Plans, and Policy at U.S. Special Operations Command andLieutenant Commander Mark M. Huber, USN, serves as an air allocationsofficer at U.S. Special Operations Command.

Joint ShipboardHelicopter OperationsBy G E O F F R E Y C. L A M B E R T and M A R K M. H U B E R

U.S. Navy (Alisha M. Clay)

CH–53 landing on USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.

■ J O I N T H E L I C O P T E R O P E R A T I O N S

Operational NecessityThe Navy facilitated the application of mili-

tary power in Haiti by embarking Army aviationunits aboard USS America and USS Dwight D.Eisenhower. The former embarked Joint SpecialOperations Task Force 188 with 2,200 personnel.Special operations aviation units flew MH–53s,MH–47s, UH–60s, and light observation helicop-ters from USS America for more than a month tosupport Uphold Democracy. Meanwhile, conven-tional Army helicopter units flew personnel from10th Mountain Division ashore to Port-au-Princefrom USS Dwight D. Eisenhower.

In Uphold Democracy, special operations andconventional aviation units were required to con-duct operations on short notice. Issues of interop-erability could only be raised in the time that ittook for carriers to transit from the east coast ofthe United States to assigned stations off Haiti.

Even though many aviators had never flownfrom ships before embarking in the carriers, theywere now tasked to conduct large-scale joint ship-board helicopter operations.

Not all joint shipboard helicopter operationsare major efforts, nor are they always conductedfrom large carrier flight decks. Earnest Will is anexample. Deploying Army special operations heli-copters to the Persian Gulf in 1987 was not only a

much lesser effort but involved ships (such asfrigates and destroyers) with much smaller avia-tion facilities. Though deployment lead time waslonger than in Uphold Democracy, equipmentcompatibility and operational procedures issueshad to be addressed after, not before, the arrivalof helicopters aboard various ships. Earnest Willwas a case of highly innovative teamwork by theArmy and Navy. The payoff was evident when thehelicopters caught Iran Ajr laying mines in inter-national waters and attacked it.

In Earnest Will, though they were proficientin shipboard operations, neither the Navy norMarine Corps could provide helicopters andcrews for night, low-level countermine operationsthat might involve engaging small boats. Whileless proficient at shipboard operations, the Armyhad rotary-wing aircraft for such missions andcrews trained to operate in a low-level environ-ment with night vision devices. Thus Earnest Willestablished that joint solutions to new problemsare often the answer and that interoperability iskey to winning on the asymmetric battlefield.

Uphold Democracy and Earnest Will revealthat future contingency operations are unlikely toprovide adequate time for preparation and that

84 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Army helicopters on USS Enterprise,Uphold Democracy.

U.S

. Nav

y

L a m b e r t a n d H u b e r

ship crews and aviation personnel must overcomeequipment compatibility issues quickly to estab-lish operational procedures for all participants.

Experience suggests that future JFCs mayseize the opportunity to employ the same assetsin other useful mission profiles to increase com-bat effectiveness. Thus joint planners must grasp

the general characteris-tics of joint shipboardhelicopter operationsand the means to ap-preciate the realities in-herent in the employ-ment of Army and Air

Force helicopters from Navy ships. Otherwise,joint commanders may decide in crisis out ofalignment with actual capability.

Flawed by DesignNot all commanders and planners have ship-

board or helicopter aviation experience, whichcan lead to the notion that joint shipboard heli-copter operations are nothing more than helicop-ters taking off from and landing on ships. But thechallenges are many and can be broadly catego-rized as material and nonmaterial.

Material challenges are primarily related toaircraft and ordnance. Both Army and Air Forcehelicopters often lack features that facilitate ship-board operations and that are considered essen-tial by the Navy and Marine Corps. Their absencedoes not necessarily preclude using helicopters atsea, but it will diminish the efficiency of shipsconducting flight operations; more troubling, theabsence of certain equipment may lead to majorsafety hazards. A rotor brake, for example, simplystops the movement of helicopter blades morequickly after engine shutdown than when they

are allowed to coast down. A Navy SH–60 heli-copter with a rotor brake stops blades within50–80 seconds but more quickly if necessary. De-pending on wind conditions, an Army UH–60without a brake may take up to five minutes towindmill to a stop. At low RPMs, helicopter rotorblades are prone to flap up and down, creating ahazard to equipment and personnel and, at theleast, placing stress on rotor head componentswhich can cause damage. The blades are also sus-ceptible to flapping in turbulent winds com-monly produced at flight quarters. As a resulthelicopters without rotor brakes pose a shipboardhazard that routinely endures for relatively longperiods of time.

Rotor brakes are not the only concern. Shipscannot make turns during the disengagement orshut down of helicopter blades because turns ex-acerbate winds that make low-RPM blades vulner-able to flapping. Being unable to maneuver im-pacts on the ability to transit from one place toanother in a timely fashion and can make shipsmore assailable to attack. Minutes and secondscount when maneuvering large ships, and the ab-sence of a simple device such as a rotor brakecould have profound consequences.

The lack of blade spread/fold systems onArmy and Air Force helicopters is more onerous.Again, both Navy and Marine helicopters haveautomatic blade spread/fold systems, which inthe case of folding systems quickly reduces thesize of helicopters for storage on flight decks.Navy SH–60s can fold their blades in two min-utes. Manually folding the blades of ArmyUH–60s can take up to 30 minutes. Because a shipmust maneuver to keep winds within prescribedlimits for blade fold operations, its capability todo so expeditiously or defensively is restricted. Inaddition, helicopters with blades spread on flightdecks keep that location from being used to ei-ther launch or recover aircraft. In the case offixed-wing operations from carriers, many Armyhelicopters could not be started or shut downwithin the time constraints presented by a nor-mal carrier cycle for flight operations, makingfixed- and rotary-wing operations mutually exclu-sive. This inability to conduct simultaneous fixed-and rotary-wing operations tremendously limitsthe flexibility of joint force commanders.

Ordnance also poses vexing challenges. Itmakes little sense to operate Army or Air Forcehelicopters from Navy vessels if they cannotlaunch with the proper complement of defensiveand offensive ordnance. But not all Army and AirForce ordnance is certified for storage aboardships. Even when ordnance is certified, handling

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 85

Army and Air Force helicoptersoften lack features that are considered essential by the Navy

CH–46 on USS Tarawa,West Pacific Operation.

U.S

. Nav

y (B

rade

n P.

O’B

rien

)

■ J O I N T H E L I C O P T E R O P E R A T I O N S

and loading may be problematic. The Army 2.75inch rocket is a case in point. Naval proceduresrequire mounting pre-loaded rocket pods on air-craft so pods do not have to be replenished withrockets manually. The Navy method keeps rocketssafe from exposure to electromagnetic interfer-ence or accidental firing. But mounting pods onAH–6s invalidates boresight alignment and de-grades their accuracy. Replacing pods poses a hardchoice: conducting boresight alignment witheach reload or accepting some degree of inaccu-racy. In either case, uploading rocket pods is moretime-consuming than inserting new rockets in apod attached to an aircraft—even without bore-sight alignment. Barring changes in existing pro-tocol for reloading rockets, JFCs must accept mis-sion degradation. One obvious alternativesolution is finding ways to certify Army proce-dures for manually reloading rockets.

Even though Army and Air Force helicopterhardware issues impact on their capabilities onceembarked, avionics challenges are also worth not-ing. First, some aircraft do not have navigational

equipment to facilitate find-ing and recovering aboardships, especially at night orin poor weather. Second,many Army and Air Forcehelicopter avionics and flightcontrol systems are not de-

signed to operate within the intensive electro-magnetic environment of ships. Often helicopterscannot land in close proximity to ship emittersbecause of interference or radar hazards. Conse-quently, JFCs find themselves on the horns of adilemma. They may elect to secure some shipemitters, such as navigation or air defense radarsthat may be crucial to safety, to launch and re-cover helicopters. Alternately, they can acceptlimits while conducting flight operations, such asrestricting the spots on deck that can be used, tokeep radar systems operating. Either choicemeans compromise in the overall capability ofthe joint force.

People ProblemsNonmaterial challenges—aircrew as well as

ship crew procedures—are significant as well. Fa-miliarity with shipboard operations among Armyand Air Force helicopter aircrew and support per-sonnel varies considerably. Special operations avi-ation units are most accustomed to operationsaboard vessels; some personnel are as familiarwith the shipboard environment as naval pilots.On the other hand, conventional units with virtu-ally no shipboard experience are periodically

tasked to train and operate from ships. Likewise,Navy experience with Army and Air Force aviationvaries widely. Some ship crews are well versedwith challenges of supporting non-naval helicop-ters; others may have no experience whatsoever.

Repositioning aircraft on deck appears to bea simple procedure conducted countless timesdaily on large aviation ships. In fact, it is rife withdanger unless done by trained professionals. Air-craft weighing tens of thousands of pounds areroutinely maneuvered within inches of the edgeof decks and one another on a surface that is slickwith rain and grease, not to mention pitchingand rolling motion. Mishaps involving aircraftrunning over people or even slipping overboardoffer common and vivid testimony to hazards ofmoving aircraft on deck. Flight deck personnelsafely effect aircraft movement because they as-siduously follow procedures. Introducing air-frames that were not designed for flight decks re-quires careful management of elevated risks.

The AH–6 is a prime example. Navy and Ma-rine aircraft are moved on large decks by tow barscoupled to tractors. Tow points on AH–6s were de-signed for winch and cable systems, not tow barsand tractors. Consequently, the only way to moveaircraft on ships requires six people to push it, amethod that presents many more hazards afloatthan ashore. Furthermore, Navy flight deck per-sonnel are not trained to perform the procedure.Thus they must rely on Army squadron membersto move aircraft. This cumbersome situation coulddisrupt the flow of flight operations, especially incases of unexpected aircraft movements.

Lack of familiarity with Army and Air Forcehelicopters presents added challenges. Flight deckpersonnel are well acquainted with associatedhazards and fire-fighting and rescue proceduresfor naval aircraft operating from ships. The samecan’t be said of Army and Air Force helicopters.AH–64s, for instance, create particular hazards forflight deck personnel who might be required toextract incapacitated pilots from cockpits. Cock-pit windows can be jettisoned by explosivecharges to expedite pilot egress. Without knowl-edge of this feature and procedures for gaining ac-cess to cockpits, Navy flight deck personnel couldbe injured trying to remove pilots from aircraftthat are on fire or have crashed on deck.

Army and Air Force pilots with little experi-ence of embarked operations have much to learnin order to operate from ships and all the more sowhen functioning with Navy or Marine aircraft.When conducting cyclic flight operations, aircraftcarriers routinely launch and recover up to fortyaircraft at a time, making airspace deconflictioncritical. Army and Air Force pilots must quicklybe familiarized with launch and recovery proce-dures to avoid interfering with flight operations.

86 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Navy flight deck personnelmust rely on Army squadronmembers to move aircraft

L a m b e r t a n d H u b e r

Moreover, shipboardconditions do not alwaysfavor launch or recoveryprocedures used by Army pi-lots. When flight deck spotsare limited, pilots accus-tomed to launching many

aircraft simultaneously may have to wait to cycleaircraft on the same spots for launch over a longperiod before rendezvousing and advancing tomission objectives. The inability to launch simul-taneously can significantly reduce the radius of ac-tion, a critical consideration for joint planners.

Finally, simply bringing Navy and Army orAir Force units together can strain planning pro-cedures and execution. Typically, ship companiesare unfamiliar with the embarking Army and AirForce unit organization and structure and viceversa. Confusion results as each organization en-deavors to learn the other’s functional counter-parts. Until these relationships are understood,coordination suffers, diminishing joint planningeffectiveness.

Changing CourseRecognizing that lessons from joint ship-

board helicopter operations did not lead tochanges in tactics, techniques, and procedures,the Office of the Secretary of Defense establisheda test and evaluation program in 1998. Desig-nated the joint shipboard helicopter integrationprocess (JSHIP) and located at Naval Air StationPatuxent River, it is innovative in accomplishingits mission and ultimately in providing more op-tions to commanders.

Some of the most ambitious program tests in-volve ship-helicopter combinations most likely tobe used in joint operations. Compatibility issuesare identified and tests are performed. After data isevaluated, legacy products and recommendedchanges to improve future operations result.

There have been positive developments: im-proved ordnance handling procedures; changesto simultaneously launching multiple helicoptersfrom large amphibious ships; training packages toprepare aviation units to embark more easily; andelectromagnetic vulnerability software designedto represent transmitter stand-off distances. Ulti-mately this process will result in a revision of

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 87

UH–60A landing onboard USS Peleliu.

U.S

. Nav

y (E

rin A

. Zoc

co)

Briefing on proceduresfor Army helicopters.

U.S

. Nav

y (E

rin A

. Zoc

co)

■ J O I N T H E L I C O P T E R O P E R A T I O N S

Joint Pub 3-04.1, Joint Tactics, Techniques, and Pro-cedures for Shipboard Helicopter Operations.

Though sea tests are the most visible mani-festation of ongoing efforts, work in other areasalso has promise. The program recognizes thatcrew training is enhanced by flight simulatorsthat more accurately replicate the shipboard envi-ronment. Toward that end, data has been col-lected to develop simulation software that notonly reproduces turbulent airflow encounteredaround ship structures but replicates pitch androll. The result will be flight simulations to pre-pare helicopter crews to operate in a joint ship-board environment.

Reasonable ExpectationsIt is unreasonable to expect Army and Air

Force helicopters to operate with the same easeon ships as their Navy and Marine Corps counter-parts. Even with unlimited resources and time,the current program could not accomplish thatresult. In any case, the cost would be enormous.And although joint shipboard helicopter opera-tions have become more commonplace, they arestill too infrequent to justify higher spending.The cost of retrofitting even a fraction of existingArmy and Air Force helicopter fleets with rotorbrakes and automatic blade fold and spread sys-tems is prohibitive, much like the cost of certify-ing Army ordnance for shipboard storage.

Realistically, joint planners must make opera-tional compromises in dispatching Army and AirForce helicopters to fly off ships. Nevertheless, im-provements should be made. With a five-year char-ter and total budget of $25 million, the currentprogram is on track to provide JFCs with greateradvancements than the resources devoted to it.

But can joint shipboard helicopter opera-tions be enhanced if deliberate integration effortsno longer exists? Sadly, the answer is no. At theleast, as the services acquire new classes of ships,aircraft models, and ordnance, the interoperabil-ity issues of today will appear. Unless Army andAir Force rotary-wing aircraft are designed withshipboard operations in mind—an expensive andunrealistic proposition—the same challenges willarise. Joint shipboard helicopter operations aredynamic in terms of mission type and scale, char-acteristics that are likely to endure. A conclusionthat one must reach, given the dynamic nature ofsuch operations, is that an enduring organizationis needed to address emerging challenges.Nonetheless, if this process in its present formceases to exist altogether at the end of its charter,some organization may become the main reposi-tory of the program legacy products. Otherwise,tools that deliver enormous operational advan-tages to joint warfighters will be lost.

One logical repository for legacy productsand home for a reorganized and smaller JSHIPstaff is U.S. Joint Forces Command. But it wouldbe naïve to propose that this command or anyother organization should assume responsibilitieslike these without sufficient resources.

Joint commanders will lead more joint ship-board helicopter operations in the future. Theseefforts will be short-fused and highly visible, butvariable or unpredictable in both their missionand scale. They will be demanding because of in-teroperability challenges presented by hardwareand procedural differences among the services. Byinitiating test and evaluation efforts for JSHIP, theDepartment of Defense realizes that lessons canbe learned and that joint shipboard helicopteroperations can be improved to provide greateroperational flexibility and reliable options.

Joint shipboard helicopter integration willallow for improvements to a degree, and for atime. But additional steps must be taken to en-sure that those improvements are available tojoint force commanders in the future. JFQ

88 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

HH–60 during DesertRescue VII.

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

(Sea

n M

. Wor

rell)

Modern precision firepower does notdetermine combat against either anentrenched enemy willing to acceptlosses or one skilled in camouflage,

concealment, and deception. In Vietnam, the Per-sian Gulf, and Kosovo, liberal use of expensiveprecision weapons produced important resultsbut still left the national leadership the unpalat-able choice of accepting the terms of bombingalone or running up a butcher’s bill by sending introops to root out an enemy.

The time is right for a new operational con-cept that blends proven strategic principles of thepast with the tactical revolution advanced by pre-cision weapons and mobility. This idea involvesforcing enemies from foxholes by seizing politi-cally and materially vital areas, thus confrontingthem with a choice of their own—do nothingand lose or engage superior precision firepower.

The time has come to fight with fires. Thisconcept combines maneuver and fire warfare.Maneuver warfare puts boots on the ground toseize or threaten centers of gravity in the rear,then precision fires destroy enemy forces duringthe inevitable counterattack. The destabilizing ef-fect of invasion acts as a forcing function. An

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 89

Major Guy R. Hooper, USAF, is director of Global Hawk assessment teamat Edwards Air Force Base and Michael L. McDaniel is an assistantprogram manager for U–1/U–6 aircraft at Naval Air Systems Command.

Fighting with FiresBy G U Y R. H O O P E R and M I C H A E L L. M c D A N I E L

B–2 during training exercise.

305th

Com

mun

icat

ions

Squ

adro

n (G

ary

Ell)

■ F I G H T I N G W I T H F I R E S

enemy is compelled to react against an immedi-ate threat to political control, yet it is exactly thisreaction that exposes it to destruction from pre-cisely targeted fire. Critical to strategists, fightingwith fires answers the basic question of whoseside time is on.

Harnessing the RevolutionOperational fires, attacking targets deep in-

side enemy territory with airpower, missiles, andlong-range artillery to support theater-wide cam-paign objectives, have revolutionized modernwar. A century ago, battlefields were a few acresin size, and forces not engaged eye-to-eye exertedlittle direct influence. Today the area can be thou-sands of square miles, and it is routine to attempt

to win not just battles, but campaigns, by strikingtargets deep within an enemy’s rear.

The revolution in operational fire has not ledto a revolution in operational art. Operationalfires have proven deadly against troops and vehi-cles in the open but have been nearly worthlessagainst entrenched forces. Artillery barrages onthe Somme, B–17 pickle-barrel bombing in WorldWar II, B–52 strikes in Vietnam, and cruise missileattacks in Kosovo did not win the war againstdug-in or concealed troops. Operational fireshave only been slightly more effective againstmobile or time sensitive targets.

Somewhat paradoxically—and in the face ofcontrary evidence—operational art has raised thebar for precision firepower, expecting it to compela political result by the efficient reduction of acarefully tuned not too hot, not too cold targetlist. Air strikes may cut off reinforcements, androcket barrages may keep enemy heads down, butultimately the United States counts on firepowerto break the morale of enemy populations, whotheoretically and somewhat vaguely sponta-neously rise up and depose their own leadershipto settle the conflict.

90 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Jumping near Avianoair base.

30th

Com

mun

icat

ions

Squ

adro

n (J

enni

fer

C. W

allis

)

F/A–18C delivering direct attack munitions.

U.S

. Nav

y

H o o p e r a n d M c D a n i e l

This has not occurred since World War I. In-stead, populations tend to dig in and endure.Thus the Army believes with justification thatground forces ultimately settle conflicts by terri-torial battles. In its view, humble infantrymen

are far from obsolete.The proponents of land-power are generally cor-rect, but unfortunatelyare afflicted by specifics.Ground forces havepoor strategic mobility.

Light infantry can be moved readily, but any sortof mechanized forces involve shipping largenumbers of heavy armored vehicles, a sluggishprocess at best. Second, and more critically,ground assaults entail a high price because sol-diers can’t execute bloodless warfare. Policymak-ers fearful of losses and possible collapse of pub-lic support are unwilling to rely on groundattacks as their first option.

Future challengers to the United States willknow how to counter its strength and exploitweaknesses inherent in large-scale deployment ofheavy forces or precision weapons. Mobility, thehumble spade, and the well-constructed decoymay have proven enough of a match for hightech weapons to convince an enemy that it mightsurvive combat against the Armed Forces.

Asymmetric ResponsesThe fleet-in-being principle has been

adopted by small nations in confrontations withgreat powers. The idea of such a fleet is simple:keep a viable fighting force together and occupyenemy assets with the threat of a sortie. Since thisforce can choose the time and place of attack, itsenemy must keep an equal or superior force inbattle position continually as a counterweight.Considering the need to rest and refit this mask-ing force, an enemy can tie up a force twice itssize. This has made the fleet-in-being a favoritestrategy of weak naval forces for centuries.

Recently this classic naval stratagem has beenadapted to conflict on land. Enemies have learnedthat Americans are strong on bombing and weakin mobile logistics and the willingness to absorbcasualties. They have come to realize that byavoiding bombs and preserving their assets, theUnited States will take months to transport strongground forces to the theater and may never workup the will to commit that force to battle.

Countering this strategy is not easy, but itcan be achieved. The weakness of the fleet-in-being is that minor fleets cannot control the seas.A nation that needs to use the seas must fightwhenever it is challenged. And it is this fact, suit-ably transposed to the land environment, whichis key. Fighting with fires is based on the simpleproposition of grabbing something an enemycan’t afford to lose, then annihilating its forceswith operational fires when it tries to reclaim it.

Naval strategists have long acknowledgedthat winning control of the seas and exercisingday-to-day control demand different types ofships. Winning control involves either defeatingor threatening to defeat an enemy in a pitchedbattle. This demands large, powerful vessels—ships of the line, battleships, and carriers. On theother hand, exercising control demands smaller,more numerous forces, such as frigates and cruis-ers—ships able to both stop enemy shipping anddefeat opposing commerce raiders, but not in-tended to take part in a fleet action.

The same principles apply to warfare onland. Historically, heavy units such as infantry,cavalry, and artillery fight and win battles. But it

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 91

winning control of the seas andexercising day-to-day controldemand different types of ships

Launching missilefrom USS PhilippineSea, Allied Force.

U.S

. Nav

y (R

enso

Am

ariz

)

■ F I G H T I N G W I T H F I R E S

is light, small units that exercisecontrol over conquered territory: atroop of light cavalry on horseback,a regiment of light fighters, or evenan infantry squad in a fighting ve-hicle. The petit guerre for exercisingcontrol remains the same.

Thus the concept of fightingwith fires calls for deploying aground force powerful enough toexercise control over land that anenemy cannot concede, yet distantenough that an enemy cannot sim-

ply turn around in its foxholes and fight butmust instead redeploy its forces. When an enemycomes out and starts moving toward the groundforce, it is defeated in detail.

Limits and LimitationsIt is worth mentioning what fighting with

fires is not. First, it is not a recipe for dumpingground forces into the midst of an enemy army.The concept calls for inserting a force into an areawith light defenses, with a good killing zone be-

tween the ground element and enemy main body.Like frigates in the age of sail, the fighting withfires ground force is not put in place to fightmajor battles. And like frigates, its primary job istaking the objective in a swift operation. It mustbe equipped to conduct a seizure operation, but itcannot be expected to fight an extended pitchedbattle in the process. But unlike frigates, the fight-ing with fires force is the equivalent of a ship-of-the-line in formation. With adequate communica-tions, precision fires can be targeted at a superiorenemy during an unexpected encounter.

Second, fighting with fires is not close airsupport operating under a different name. Thelatter provides air strikes on the battlefield to sup-port ground forces engaged in a pitched battle.Fighting with fires wipes an enemy out before itcloses with the land force with sufficient forces todislodge it. This is a distinction that may be re-duced in practice. The ground commander maybe best placed to direct fires, so the result may use

92 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

26th

Mar

ine

Exp

editi

onar

y U

nit,

Com

bat C

amer

a (R

ick

T. O

’Con

nor)

Looking through TOW missile launcher.

Readying F–117A forSouthern Watch.

1stC

omba

t Cam

era

Squ

adro

n (G

reg

L. D

avis

)

H o o p e r a n d M c D a n i e l

a concept similar to close air support. More likely,however, a covering force will protect insertedtroops while massive fire is directed by the jointforce air component commander against themain enemy responses.

Third, fighting with fires is not an interdic-tion strategy. Classical interdiction strategy callsfor taking out bridges and other transportationchokepoints to isolate the battlefield and preventan enemy from bringing up reinforcements.Fighting with fires may use interdiction to chan-nel the foe onto the killing ground, but the in-tent is cut an enemy down, not to cut an enemyoff. With this approach, chokepoints are places tofind targets rather than targets in themselves.However, interdiction could be achieved as abyproduct of the main operation.

Concepts and CriteriaOne key to fighting with fires is picking

ground targets. Most nations have a handful ofmajor cities, each ofwhich is a high-valuepolitical and industrialtarget. Over the cen-turies laying siege tocapitals has proven oneof the best ways to com-

pel an enemy to fight or yield. Other potentialtargets for seizure are moderate-value, low-popu-lation areas, especially areas disaffected from cen-tral governments. Seizing high-traffic choke-points is also useful. Blocking key mountainpasses, stretches of rivers, or road networks mightlead to economic collapse. Finally, there is the po-tential for flushing an enemy out into the open

not by seizing any particular objective, but sim-ply through presence in the rear. It has long beenacknowledged that movement creates doubt forone’s enemies and opportunities for oneself.

No new operational art evolves withoutforce structure implications. Several aspects ofcombined arms warfare for a fighting with firesapproach warrant consideration. The conceptwill not work without a ground element. A coali-tion approach offers one solution. Instead ofusing American troops, forces of local allies, oreven an internal opposition movement can beemployed to seize and hold ground while theUnited States provides operational fires that de-stroy enemy combat forces, though for maxi-mum flexibility the Nation should maintain itsown ground insertion capability.

Fighting with fires also has consequences forresearch, development, and procurement. Majorrequirements include:

Lighter ground forces. Some progress has beenmade in this arena over the last few years, butmuch of the focus has been on trying to equiprapidly deployed American troops to fight inurban environments. Opponents of lighter forceshave noted that while light infantry equippedwith light armored vehicles may be fine forpeacekeeping or counterinsurgency, they will notlast long against armored forces. The number onepriority must be to find the right balance betweenorganic firepower and mobility for ground forces.

All-weather operational fire capability. TheUnited States can deliver operational fires atnight or in poor weather. But the challenge is in-troducing this capability across the joint force.

Saturation reconnaissance capabilities. Fightingwith fires requires that an enemy be both de-tected and destroyed before it can engage friendlyground forces. This implies reconnaissance sys-tems with a genuine saturation capability. Con-tinuous support is essential. Systems like theRQ–4 Global Hawk UAV can provide such cover-age and will be needed in future operations.

Fire management. Fighting with fires demandsnot only fast reconnaissance, but flexible opera-tional firepower. And this depends on fire man-agement, the ability to put ordnance on the righttarget at the precise moment that an attack willachieve maximum effect. The Armed Forces havethe capability to send mobile target locations tostrike aircraft in flight, and tests show that im-agery can be sent with target coordinates. Un-manned weapons such as Tactical Tomahawk willhave a similar real-time update capability in thenear future.

Target management. Solving this problem isthe greatest need and hinges on eliminating intel-ligence stovepipes and ensuring real-time retask-ing of operational fire assets. Procedures involve

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 93

several aspects of a fighting with fires approach will not work without a ground element

Dismounting on assault course at Fort Hood.

Fort

Hoo

d TS

C–E

IDC

(Joh

n B

yerly

)

■ F I G H T I N G W I T H F I R E S

extensive imagery analysis to support strike plan-ning cells for the joint force air component com-mander, which plugs targets into the air taskingorder for the next day. Such a process is not suffi-ciently responsive for new operational concepts.A new system is needed in which imagery (by sat-uration reconnaissance) is fed to fire controllers,who can quickly call on ready operational fires.Future campaigns will demand artillery-like time-lines for operational fire support.

High-speed logistics. Rapid insertion of aground force will demand a lot of logistical sup-port preferably not shackled to airfields. This mayrequire special transport. Perhaps the true answeris an amphibious transport aircraft, capable of ex-ploiting rivers and lakes as runways to deliverequipment where it is most needed.

Overload suppression of enemy air defense andelectronic warfare capability. Logistics are quitelikely to be conducted over an air bridge. Thesupply effort must be resilient in the face of

enemy air defenses. In Kosovo, the Serbs adopteda fleet-in-being strategy with an air defense net,never turning the whole thing on at one timeand thus preserving their assets to fight anotherday. It worked, so the U.S. military is likely to seethis approach again. As a counter, an air and elec-tronic blockade capability is needed. Instead oflaunching a handful of planes to fly defense sup-pression and jamming missions for the few min-utes of an air strike, a joint task force will needplatforms that can loiter over the battlefield untilenemy defense radars are either turned on or firesurface-to-air missiles—and then instantly replywith jamming, antiradiation weapons, and firemissions. Unmanned combat aerial vehicles maybe part of the solution.

Air supremacy. Logistic and firepower supportmust not be vulnerable to air intercept. The fu-ture airspace is going to be hostile with sensitivenetted defenses and highly lethal fighters. Fight-ing with fires puts a premium on dominating theskies. The F–22 program is the only effort to com-bine necessary qualities in a single platformwhich can ensure air dominance.

Non-lethal weapons. Various non-lethal capa-bilities will be required to minimize collateraldamage and civilian casualties. This will allowcommanders to focus on military forces and re-duce concerns over the civilian populace.

Redundant secure communications. To thefighting with fires force, physical encirclement isfar less threatening than interdicting communica-tion. Without communications, operations willbecome extremely high risk.

Extraction. The fighting with fires force mustdisengage and withdraw as effectively as it is in-serted. Under no circumstances must the force beleft hostage to an enemy.

Joint concept of operations. Forces can comefrom the Army or Marine Corps, depending onthe circumstances. Firepower can come from anyservice. Communications, terminology, and fireprocedures must be transparent. Jointness is es-sential. No service can provide the capabilities toensure effective employment. Not only is a multi-service approach crucial, but the integration ofsystems will have to be fully operational from theopening moment of the campaign.

Precision warfare is an inadequate basis forthe future. Simply dropping more bombs will notsolve the problem. Fighting with fires provides anew operational dimension that can stymie potential asymmetric responses such as the fleet-in-being strategy. But to realize this concept theNation must make investments to place a moreagile and lethal force on the battlefield. JFQ

94 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Conducting check with USS Boxer.

U.S

. Nav

y (E

ric L

ogsd

on)

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 95

com

men

tary

The regional commands devote consid-erable effort to shaping their securityenvironments. U.S. Pacific Command reports that its most likely and time-

consuming missions fall short of war: civic ac-tion, disaster relief, humanitarian, and peace op-erations. Such noncombat efforts, thoughchallenging, pay off in many ways. A report bythe Center for International Development andConflict Management at the University of Mary-land showed that armed conflicts within andamong states fell by nearly half since the early

1990s. This decline is attributed to conflict man-agement practices and international support forpeace building.

Clearly, conflict prevention is a safer andcheaper approach than setting up refugee campsand rebuilding infrastructures. Eliminating thecauses of hostility is even more desirable in lightof asymmetrical threats and the consequences ofattacks on U.S. citizens and allies. As DeputySecretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz has said, “itis very important to have an active strategy . . .the goal is to keep wars as small and as far awayas possible.”

Prediction and PreventionCombatant commands seek a more effective

and efficient way of shaping. Increasingly theyface complicated geopolitical situations with fewer

New Instruments forWar and PeaceBy J O S E P H J. E A S H I I I

Joseph J. Eash III is Deputy Under Secretary of Defense for AdvancedTechnology and previously worked as principal research engineer atGeorgia Tech Research Institute.

AP

/Wor

ld W

ide

Pho

tos

(Say

yid

Azi

m)

Dutch peacekeepers inEritrea.

assets than during the Cold War. There is no ac-tionable framework to assess potential for crises oridentify means of preventing them. There may behelp on the way. A recent study by the Presiden-tial Committee of Advisors on Science and Tech-nology concluded that “scientific research canclarify causes of deadly conflict.” This researchstems from the new social sciences, where toolslike agent-based programs can simulate nonlinearsocietal activities beyond merely economic con-siderations. Moreover, information technologiesare offering new life to forecasting instability. TheDefense Advanced Research Projects Agency at-tempted to develop a model-based forecasting sys-tem during the early 1970s. It failed because of aprimitive information and computer system. Thetechnologies of today may succeed.

There is growing interest in forecasting. Aworkshop organized by U.S. Pacific Commandstudied methodologies developed by the Centerfor Army Analysis, Joint Warfighting and Analy-sis Center, and National Ground IntelligenceCenter—each showing promise for predicting in-

stability. Another enabler ofinstability forecasting is theavailability of data. Morethan ever before, nationaland international organiza-tions have collected data onthe causes of instability, par-ticularly intrastate conflict.

This and other data that may be collected will fa-cilitate detailed empirical examinations. Thesecould verify conflict theories and enable the de-sign and testing of preventive strategies.

International attention to conflict preven-tion is considerable and growing. To a large ex-tent it is motivated by humanitarian concerns.Most casualties in conflicts are not military but

civilian. At the start of the 20th century nonmili-tary casualties accounted for some 50 percent ofwar-related deaths but by the end of the centuryhad increased to 75 percent. Another motivationis the desire for a stable international order. In-trastate conflicts have interstate consequences, asseen by the exodus of refugees from Somalia,Haiti, Rwanda, and the former Yugoslavia. Evenlocal politics are affected by transnational issuesthat swamp traditional governmental structures.In addition, the international business commu-nity, which once had little involvement in con-flicts other than providing aid, today regards con-flict prevention as a high priority for long-termdevelopment and profitability.

Illuminating the Shadow of WarInternational organizations are not only col-

lecting data on the causes of instability but aredemonstrating the possibility of forecasting thecauses themselves. Two efforts are noteworthy.Social and Economic Policies to Prevent Complex Hu-manitarian Emergencies, cosponsored by the U.N.World Institute for Development Economics Re-search and Queen Elizabeth House at OxfordUniversity, captured data on complex humani-tarian emergencies from 1980 to 1995. The sec-ond, Economic Causes of Civil Conflict and TheirImplications for Policy, was compiled by re-searchers at the World Bank and examined 73civil wars between 1965 and 1999 and collecteddetails on 47. The studies provide insights intothe causes of instability and have reached eithersimilar or complementary conclusions. The U.N.report “debunks . . . common beliefs in the recur-rent literature in this area,” while Paul Collierhas observed that the results of the World Bankresearch “are so counterintuitive . . . social scien-tists should be distrustful of the loud public dis-course on conflict.” Together, they question theinevitability of conflict.

“A key theme of the research is that conflictin the late 20th century cannot be explained as aninevitable resurgence of tribal tensions,” reportsthe United Nations. Rather, the likely causes aremultiple, with political and economic factorsplaying the largest roles. In each case, the factorsinteract in varying ways. Events can trigger un-derlying tensions by exposing the inability of thegovernment to maintain order or by creating afocal point for the mobilization of rebelliousforces. These studies demonstrate that muchmore is known about the conditions that inspireconflict than those that make it actionable.

96 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

■

com

men

tary

business regards conflictprevention as a high priorityfor long-term developmentand profitability

U.S

. Nav

y (J

im H

amps

hire

)Training Nigerians forpeace operations.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 97

E a s h

com

men

tary

Both reports indicate that even though de-clining economic conditions such as slow growthand low income contribute to the likelihood ofconflict, they may not be the cause of it them-selves. It may be precipitated by natural disastersas well as government practices. In the 1980s,droughts in Zimbabwe, followed by state closureof shops and suspension of services, created con-ditions for violence. External factors may con-tribute to instability. Expatriates often fund con-flicts in their native countries. External debtcombined with falling living standards during the1980s increased potential for conflict in Yu-goslavia. Collier also states that “Countries with a

substantial share of their [gross domestic product(GDP)] coming from the export of primary com-modities are radically more at risk.” He calculatesthat a nation with a commodity export compris-ing 26 percent of GDP has a 23 percent greaterrisk of conflict than those with no commodity ex-ports. Worsening trade terms can hurt a nationwith such dependency, as seen in oil-reliant Nige-ria. Also, a commodity may be the primary goal ofcorrupt officials and rebels, as were diamond areasin Sierra Leone.

Economic stagnation is not always a suffi-cient cause for internal conflict, however, as seenin the lack of violence in Tanzania in the 1980sand Cuba in the early 1990s. Social compositionmay also contribute. According to Collier, riskdoubles for states with a dominant culturalgroup that can gain control and cause discrimi-nation against minorities. Ethnically diversestates are safer largely because of the difficultyfor rebel groups to recruit a viable force in fac-tional societies.

Inequities between groups can also be a con-tributing factor, according to the U.N. report. Theproblem stems from uneven access to economicopportunities: land, education, or governmentservices. The greatest grievance is an unequal ac-cess to political power. In Haiti, the Congo, and

U.N. relief arriving inEast Timor.

U.S

. Mar

ine

Cor

ps (B

ryce

Pip

er)

AP

/Wor

ld W

ide

Pho

tos

(Vis

ar K

ryez

iu)

Albanian rebels southeast of Pristina.

elsewhere political power has enabled economicpower. Such inequities, particularly in a decliningeconomy, sharpen group identities and create afactionalism that can be exploited.

History also matters. Some societies in whichgroups have complaints lack the tradition of set-tling political differences through violence. How-ever, the U.N. report states that the history of vio-lence greatly “heightens the likelihood of a

complex humanitarianemergency.” One suchcase is Haiti, which hasexperienced 12 success-ful coups since 1956.But immediately after

hostilities, there is a 40 percent chance of anotherconflict, Collier reports, which falls only 1 per-cent with each year of peace, a significant factorif the mission is peacekeeping.

“Conflicts are more likely to be generated byresource wealth than resource poverty,” adds theU.N. report. It is the “very wealth that the envi-ronment offers and the potential for private andgroup accumulation that drives conflict.” Thusunrest does not seem to involve the “rage of thepoor,” as Collier puts it, but more often the “rageof the rich.”

In a worsening economy, ruling elites maymake a greater effort to maintain their position,as described in the report: “In order to maintainincomes of the ruling elite as the economy de-clines, corruption has to become more gross.”

Moreover, elites may take desperate actionsagainst threats to their political and economicpower. A study of 17 complex humanitarianemergencies showed that governments usuallyinitiated violence, as occurred in Rwanda, Bu-rundi, Uganda, and Haiti.

Leaders on all sides may seek to build sup-port within the population—and herein often liesa major misperception. “Historic animosities havebeen exploited to enhance mobilization,” notesthe report by the United Nations. “A sense ofgrievance is deliberately generated,” writes Col-lier. Depending on the nation in question, leadersmay capitalize on grievances among ethnic, reli-gious, or clan groups. Grievance is how many un-derstand the cause of conflict. A downward spiralwill likely ensue. Internal conflict usually leads toa crisis of state legitimacy. The U.N. report pointsout, “There is also a key interaction between statelegitimacy and economic performance.” As theeconomy declines, so do public revenues. This re-duces the capacity to fund defense and makesrebel predation easier. A bad economy also boostsrecruitment from the unemployed.

New Research AgendaAlthough by no means complete, research

carried out to date accomplishes several things. Itgoes a long way towards clarifying the causes ofconflict and countering popular misperceptions.Moreover, it reveals the possibility of collabora-tion across the international scientific commu-nity, the closest thing to a global endeavor. Thiscould yield data on aggressive behavior, inter-group relations, ethnocentrism, mutual accom-modation, and conflict resolution. This researchmight also indicate that improvements in theory,identifying as well as relating the cause of con-flict, may make it possible to develop a predic-tive model to enable a more reliable assessmentof conflict.

No model completely explains the cause ofconflict or offers a solution for all eventualities.However, any viable model would have signifi-cance for the Armed Forces. As analysts from U.S.Pacific Command indicate, “Finding an appropri-ate yardstick to measure instability . . . couldgreatly assist military planners and operators intheir work to prevent future conflict.”

Also, a predictive model could help combat-ant commands working with the Department ofState and other agencies prepare for prevention.Analytical modeling could enable them to decidewhen forces are most needed, so assets could bemore effectively employed. It would also aid intailoring forces to the situation. If causes of con-flict became known, forces could then train forthe necessary functions to prevent it. This modelcould provide a venue for decisionmakers to work

98 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

■ N E W I N S T R U M E N T S

com

men

tary

no model completely explains the cause of conflict or provides a solution for all eventualities

55th

Sig

nal C

ompa

ny (W

illiam

Mon

toya

)

Soldiers controllingSerb crowd in Kosovo.

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 99

E a s h

com

men

tary

together and assist them in understanding the im-pact of their actions on conflict prevention.

Moreover, a predictive model might providea more comprehensive approach to preventionthat takes advantage of national strengths otherthan military force. The lessons from Afghanistanto Rwanda are that piecemeal assistance does notwork. This model might help define the role offorces and guide performance relative to other na-tions and nongovernmental organizations.

If science can help, so can technology. Itmight provide new shaping tools for prevention.Once causes are better understood, informationtechnologies can find data to help detect changesin a nation and provide early warning of impend-ing threats. Modeling and simulation based onsound research can explore ways of changing con-ditions in countries susceptible to internal conflict.

The potential inherent in this approach canbe found in interactive and distributed learningsimulations such as synthetic environments fornational security estimates and crisis managementworkshops developed by the Institute for DefenseAnalyses. Participants must make decisions on al-most every aspect of national development or re-construction, including health, education, invest-ments, and budget. Simulation can teacheconomics without lectures and also illustrate theeffects of short-term opportunistic decisions and

the benefits of sustained development. Represen-tatives of Georgia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Mon-tenegro have used this method.

One way of contemplating the future is dis-cerning the fundamental causes of current trendsto anticipate their impact. It is also the best wayto prevent conflict in an increasingly shrinkingand interconnected world. How that is donegreatly depends on scientific research. The causesof war must be disclosed by hard data that only ascientific inquiry can produce, not on mere per-ceptions. That data has been collected and mayserve as the basis for a future international coop-erative effort. Research can ensure a more effi-cient use of shaping tools in conflict prevention.It may also provide the Armed Forces with moreeffective tools to shape the security environment,contributing to a more focused and advancedwarning of instability. This would give combatantcommanders time as well as insights on whereand how to use forces. Such instruments couldlead to a more active approach to national secu-rity and a more peaceful environment. JFQ

AP

/Wor

ld W

ide

Pho

tos

(Pet

er S

mer

don)

Planting maize inNorth Korea.

100 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Admiral Forrest Percival Sherman(1896–1951)

Chief of Naval Operations

■ O F C H I E F S A N D C H A I R M E N

VITA

Born in Merrimack, New Hampshire; graduated from Naval Academy (1917); served in Atlantic and Mediter-ranean in World War I; USS Reid (1920); commanded USS Barry (1921); USS Florida (1921–22); flight training,Pensacola (1922); fighting squadron 2, USS Aroostook (1923–24); flight instructor, Pensacola (1924–26); NavalWar College (1926–27); USS Lexington and USS Saratoga (1931–32); commanded fighting squadron 1

(1932–33); director, aviation ordnance section, Bureau of Ordnance (1933–36); USS Ranger (1936–37); staff positions(1937–40); war plans division, Office of the Chief of Naval Operations(1940–42); commanded USS Wasp (1942); chief of staff to Admiral JohnTowers (1943); deputy chief of staff to Admiral Chester Nimitz(1943–45); commanded carrier division 1 (1945–47); commander ofnaval forces in Mediterranean (1948–49); Chief of Naval Operations(1949–51); died at Naples, Italy.

Unification of operational command of forces,including air, in each theater and area is conducive to the most effective conduct ofwar. It is essential to the defense of key positions in time of peace. . . . It should provide for joint training in peace as well asin war. On the other hand, unification or centralization of administration in any head-quarters is usually prejudicial to its effective-ness in the conduct of war. Preoccupationwith administrative matters prevents concen-tration on operations.

Operational command can be unifiedcompletely and adequately in Washington andin the field, in peace and war, irrespective ofthe administrative organization of the nationaldefense into one, two, or three departments.Joint staffs have been and can be formedeffectively under any departmental system.

In Washington, unity of operational com-mand can be and should be achieved underthe President by the Joint Chiefs of Staff andtheir numerous subordinate agencies.

— From statement by Forrest P. Sherman before the Military Affairs Committee(November 30, 1945)

Nav

al H

isto

rical

Cen

ter

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 101

T H E J O I N T W O R L D ■

The total number of waivers for cate-gories C and D granted for officers servingin the same paygrade during a fiscal yearmay not exceed 10 percent of total offi-cers in that paygrade selected for the jointspecialty in that fiscal year. Services canopt not to make selections from categoryC or D officers. In addition, JSOs must beapproved by the Secretary of Defense. JFQ

Doctrine

LOGISTICS AND JFCsKnowledge of joint, combined, and

multinational logistics took a step for-ward with the appearance of Joint Publi-cation 4-0, Doctrine for Logistics Support ofJoint Operations, in April 2000. While theArmed Forces have conducted myriadmissions around the world since theCold War, few have capitalized on thevirtues of joint, combined, and multina-tional logistic applications.

The executive summary of thisrevised pub states that logistics is thefoundation of combat power. Frequentmention is made of the importance ofusing deliberate logistic planning toreduce improvisation and emergencymeasures. An argument is made through-out for a focus on seamless deployment,distribution, and sustainment. Efforts oflogisticians on the strategic, operational,and tactical levels must form an inte-grated system connecting the nationaleconomy to fighting forces. An argumentis also made throughout for a logisticfocus on seamless deployment, distribu-tion, and sustainment. In addition torevised and expanded chapters onauthorities and responsibilities, princi-ples and considerations, planning, andtheater logistics, the pub provides a newchapter on contractors in-theater, reflect-ing the reality that contractor support tojoint operations is significant. The man-ual provides a useful overview of plan-ning considerations in integrating con-tractor support within the theater logisticframework.

This joint publication could wellbecome a classic in the field. All combat-ant commanders and senior logisticiansshould have copies on their shelves.While the defense establishment haspraised the advantages of joint, com-bined, and multinational logistics, opera-tionally many have not accepted them.Nevertheless, this superb pub is a majorcontribution to the literature. JFQ

Education

ON TARGETEach service has developed its own

doctrine and methodology on targeting.With the revision of FM 6-20-10, Tactics,Techniques, and Procedures for the TargetingProcess, the Army and Marine Corps usethe decide, detect, deliver, and assessapproach. But Navy and Air Force derivetarget methodology from the air taskingorder (ATO) cycle. As the services con-tinue to conduct a range of joint opera-tions, targeting problems occur on boththe operational and strategic level.

To address such problems the JointTargeting School in Virginia Beach offerscourses for intelligence, operations, andplanning officers, warrant officers, andnoncommissioned officers assigned tounified commands or JTF staffs. Forartillerymen, the curriculum is gearedtoward fire supporters at corps/divisionfire support elements, deep operationscoordination cells, battlefield coordina-tion elements, and joint staffs. Theschool offers four courses of instruction.

■ joint targeting staff—three-weekcourse on the six-step joint targetingcycle (determining objectives and guid-ance, developing targets, conductingweaponeering, applying weapon-targetmatch to the force, executing the plan,and assessing the effects)

■ joint targeting application—two-week course on the weaponeering stepwhich covers air-to-surface and surface-to-surface methodologies for matchingweapons to targets

■ joint battle damage assessment—one-week course on combat assessmentwhich looks at concepts and theory asso-ciated with combat assessment and func-tions of battle damage assessment cellson the operational or JTF level

■ mobile training teams—one-weekversion of targeting course on joint tar-geting process for both unified com-mands and eligible JTF staffs.

For details, call (757) 492–0276/DSN 492–0276; Fax (757) 492–0280/DSN 492–0280; or see the school Website at http://www.jts.damneck.navy.smil.mil. JFQ

Organization

TURNING PURPLETo become a joint specialty officer

(JSO) one must complete Phase I and IIof the program for joint education (PJE)at the National War College or the Indus-trial College of the Armed Forces, or bothPhase I PJE at (1) a senior-level profes-sional military education (PME) institu-tion (U.S. Army War College, College ofNaval Warfare, Marine Corps War Col-lege, or Air War College), (2) an interme-diate-level PME institution (U.S. ArmyCommand and General Staff College,College of Naval Command and Staff,Marine Corps Command and Staff Col-lege, or Air Command and Staff College),(3) a selected foreign war college or fel-lowship program, or (4) a nonresidentPME program (U.S. Army War College,U.S. Army Command and General StaffCollege, Naval War College, or Air ForceCommand and Staff College) and Phase IIPJE at Joint Forces Staff College.

Officers designated as JSOs alsomust complete a joint duty assignment(JDA). Joint duty credit can only beearned from JDAs posted on the jointduty assignment list. Tour lengths aretwo years for general/flag officers andthree years for O5 and O6 (except fortwo-year tours for some overseas assign-ments) and critical occupation specialties(COS) in initial JDA. Moreover, aspirantsmust be selected by a JSO selectionboard. Nominees fall into one of four eli-gibility categories:

■ category A—officers who completePJE before completing a full JDA or COSofficers who complete a full joint dutytour (36 months) before finishing PJErequirements

■ category B—COS officers whocomplete joint duty under COS-takeoutprovisions (24 months) and who haveterminated PJE either before or after theyfulfilled JDA. COS officers are exemptfrom the sequence requirement whichspecifies, for other officers, that PJE mustbe concluded before JDA completion

■ category C—non-COS officers whohave completed full JDA before they fin-ish PJE; requires a sequence waiver forJSO designation

■ category D—officers who havecompleted two joint tours in lieu of PJE;requires an education waiver for JSO des-ignation.

102 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

On the Web

merlnmilitary education and research library network

http://merln.ndu.eduThe Military Education Research Library Network (MERLN) provides

access to military education libraries in the United States and abroad.

MERLN offers the combined resources of the largest and most

comprehensive collections of military information in the world by

providing access to library holdings and electronic resources of

participating institutions.

htt

p:/

/mer

ln.n

du

.ed

u MERLN North America

• Air University Library

• Combined Arms Research Library

• Joint Forces Staff College Library

• Marine Corps University Library

• National Defense University Library

• Naval Postgraduate School Library

• Naval War College Library

• U.S. Air Force Academy Library

• U.S. Army Military History Institute

• U.S. Army War College Library

• U.S. Coast Guard Academy Library

• U.S. Military Academy Library

• U.S. Naval Academy Library

International MERLN Affiliates

• Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies

• Center for Hemispheric Defense Studies

• Center for the Study of Chinese Military Affairs

• MERLN Europe

• MERLN [International Fellows]

2227 JtWrld Pgs 9/7/01 8:56 AM Page 102

O F F T H E S H E L F ■

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 103

Casimir A. Yost is director of the Institutefor the Study of Diplomacy in the EdmundA. Walsh School of Foreign Service atGeorgetown University.

Richard Solomon, president of theU.S. Institute of Peace, sets his study inhistorical context, identifying sources ofChinese negotiating style and phases inthe evolution of bilateral relations. Hepoints out that “the Chinese emphasizeto foreigners the importance of beingtreated with equality and with fullrespect for their sovereignty and nationalindependence.” In this matter, as inother aspects of their national character,they are not unique; however, they areeven more effective in turning pride intomaking their opposite numbers appear tobe supplicants. This manipulation is rein-forced by a Chinese preference to negoti-ate on home turf.

The new edition of Chinese Negotiat-ing Behavior also includes an essay by vet-eran China watcher Chas. Freeman, whonotes that while the book has enduringvalue, things have changed. Nationalpolitics are less constraining and negotia-tors have vastly more sources of informa-tion. Today there are more bureaucraticplayers, including representatives of thePeople’s Liberation Army. Nonetheless,the Chinese remain hampered by fre-quently ineffective interactions in thediplomatic milieu, particularly in com-municating with legislators, media, andinterest groups.

China has gained experience deal-ing with America and has adapted. Forexample, Freeman argues that they haveconcluded “that most Americans expectto reach agreement at a price or on termsroughly midway between those askedand those offered.” As a result, althoughthey eschew salami tactics, he maintainsthat they have “gotten pretty good atsalami-slicing themselves.”

prove useful to conflict managers, gov-ernmental and nongovernmental offi-cials, et al.

The project will publish studies onJapan and Germany in 2001. The coun-try studies that have appeared so farexamine cases where negotiators exhibitidentifiable styles. All three nations havehad intense relationships with theUnited States since World War II. More-over, arms control and proliferationissues have been central to Americaninteraction at the negotiating table indealing with the People’s Republic ofChina, Russia, and North Korea.

Chinese Negotiating Behavior is not anew work. It originated as a classifiedRAND study in 1983 and covers theperiod 1967–84. Despite the passage oftime and the evolution of bilateral rela-tions, Chinese behavior retains character-istics laid out in the RAND study, includ-ing identifiable stages. The first involvescultivating ties and agreement on Chinese-initiated principles. That is fol-lowed by an assessment stage in whichthe negotiators seek to have interlocutorsto present their positions. Pressure maybe applied to turn counterparts into sup-plicants. A third stage—known as theend game—can come quickly because theChinese feel nothing more can be gainedthrough negotiations. The implementa-tion phase of the agreement can involveChinese backtracking.

The author offers common senseguidelines for bargaining with Beijing. Insum, enter discussions well prepared, bepatient, and know the bottom line whilerecognizing that the Chinese will seek toplay on supposed friendships to getcounterparts to relax their stance.

NEGOTIATING THEPOST-COLD WARWORLDA Review Essay by

CASIMIR A. YOST

International negotiations are oftenregarded as the province of diplomats

and official trade representatives, butthey can also engage military officers.Like other negotiators, those in uniformwill benefit from the growing body ofscholarship being published by the U.S.Institute of Peace (USIP) in its cross-cul-tural negotiation project. Thus far threegeneric and three country studies haveappeared, with more in the queue. Thecountry studies are Chinese NegotiatingBehavior: Pursuing Interests Through OldFriends by Richard Solomon, RussianNegotiating Behavior: Continuity and Tran-sition by Jerrold Schecter, and Negotiatingon the Edge: North Korean NegotiatingBehavior by Scott Snyder. The premise ofthe books in the series is that “cultureand institutional differences significantlyshape negotiating behavior.” In timeUSIP intends to bring out titles that will

Chinese Negotiating Behavior:Pursuing Interests Through Old

Friendsby Richard H. Solomon

Washington: United States Institute ofPeace Press, 1999.

224 pp. $14.95[ISBN 1–878379–86–0]

Russian Negotiating Behavior:Continuity and Transition

by Jerrold L. SchecterWashington: United States Institute of

Peace Press, 1998. 256 pp. $14.95

[ISBN 1–878379–78–X]

Negotiating on the Edge: NorthKorean Negotiating Behavior

by Scott SnyderWashington: United States Institute of

Peace Press, 1999.236 pp. $17.50

[ISBN 1–878379–94–1]

Negotiating at Panmunjom, July 1953.

DO

D

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

Russian Negotiating Behavior depictsa nation perched between old styleSoviet diplomacy and a quest for a newapproach. On balance, “psychologicalconditioning behavior patterns and per-sonal style of those raised under the Bol-shevik code continue to dominate Russ-ian negotiating culture.” Moreover,“Russian nationalism has replacedMarxist-Leninism as an ideological driv-ing force in foreign policy decisionmak-ing.” (The same can be said of China.)“The role of authority, the avoidance ofrisk, and the necessity for control arevital to understanding Russian negotiat-ing behavior.”

Russians deeply resent the loss ofsuperpower status and the triumph oftheir rivals. At the same time, they recog-nize the potential gains—particularlyfinancial—of interaction with the West.Complicating the achievement of thosebenefits is the pluralism of their societyand government. Since the foreign min-istry is not necessarily the lead agency innegotiations, the bureaucracy cannot becounted on to deliver on any deal.

Jerrold Schecter traces the stages ofRussian negotiation that closely mirrorbargaining by the Soviet Union. The Rus-sians begin with cautious prepositioningby which negotiators cultivate relation-ships with counterparts. Their openingmoves can be aimed at bringing oppos-ing positions out in the open. Moreover,Russian negotiators want to look good athome and are likely operating undertight instructions. Their opening positionis usually extreme. The next period canbe long as Russians probe for weaknesses.Once satisfied that there is no more togain they move rapidly to a conclusion.

The author closes by saying, “Onlynegotiators who understand the culturaland emotional baggage their Russiancounterparts are carrying can hope to beeffective and achieve their goals.” Based

on this observation he offers specificadvise: be sensitive, but not oversensitive,to Russian problems; treat Russian coun-terparts with respect; stand tall and main-tain dignity; insist on agreed rules (forexample, leave nothing to goodwill orunwritten agreements); use incentives,especially financial, for cooperation; andimplement problem-solving mechanismsearly. While these pointers reflect com-mon sense, they do not preclude dealingwith negotiators who cannot—as opposedto will not—deliver on commitments.

The author of Negotiating on theEdge: North Korean Negotiating Behaviorhad the task of analyzing negotiations onwhich there is little known or published.Moreover, the decision process inPyongyang is more opaque than in Bei-jing or Moscow. Korean behavior hasroots in a Marxist-Leninist state imposedon a Confucian society with a revolu-tionary, anticolonial heritage.

Scott Snyder claims that “NorthKorea’s negotiating style and objectiveshave conformed to a consistent and all-too predictable pattern.” Negotiatorstypically begin with a firm position,move to a period of give and take, thenfinish with hard bargaining. Compro-mise usually comes in informal venues,not in formal meetings. “The most dis-tinctive characteristic . . . is brinkman-ship, a negotiating tactic closely relatedto crisis diplomacy.” Crisis is used toshape and affect agendas. Moreover, theimplementation process of agreementsmay be contentious.

The book offers some guidelines: donot expect progress until the leadershipin Pyongyang is persuaded that everyalternative has been explored, do notconfuse rhetoric with reality, resist NorthKorean attempts to seek weaknesses onyour team, expect crisis tactics, signal

negotiating objectives but do not overin-vest in them, and be patient.

China, Russia, and North Koreashare the legacy of Lenin but each has aspecial cultural base. None has a stronglegal tradition. And all three nationshave had ambivalent experiences withthe West—the United States in particu-lar—and each has a basic suspicion ofWashington. In some cases, necessityrather than desire has driven each tonegotiate. The authors all note theimportance attached to being taken seri-ously by American counterparts andbeing accorded respect. Thus it is not sur-prising that there are common featuresin descriptions of styles offered bySolomon, Schecter, and Snyder. Russian,Chinese, and North Korean negotiatorstraditionally have acted on short leadsheld by watchful superiors at home. Theyare given limited flexibility. Each tendsto respond to American initiatives ratherthan putting forward their own solu-tions. By contrast with some counter-parts, Russia, China, and North Korea arenot described as hurrying negotiations,at least in the opening and middlephases. All three countries place greatimportance on the initial “getting toknow you” phase, reflecting the substan-tial weight placed on the personaldimension of the interaction, particularlyby Asian cultures.

On American styles of negotiation,another book in the series, Negotiatingacross Cultures: International Communica-tion in an Interdependent World, by Ray-mond Cohen, contrasts low and highcontext communication. Cohen arguesthat “one is associated with the predomi-nantly verbal and explicit, or low-con-text, communication style of the UnitedStates which is infused with the can-do,problem-solving spirit, assumes a processof given-and-take, and is strongly influ-enced by Anglo-Saxon legal habits.” Thealternate model, high context communi-cation, “declines to view the immediateissue in isolation; lays particular stress onlong-term and effective aspects of therelationship between the parties; is pre-occupied with considerations of symbol-ism, status, and face; and draws onhighly developed communication strate-gies for evading confrontation.”

Americans enter negotiations withpredispositions. They normally believethat both sides can benefit. They expectto compromise and split the difference.They bring lawyers to the table and aremuch focused on the particulars. They arenaturally in a hurry. They want to quicklyget to a deal and expect a vigorous and

104 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

JFQLook for

Joint Force Quarterly on the Joint Doctrine Web site

http://www.dtic.mil/doctrine/jel/jfq_pubs/index.htm

O F F T H E S H E L F ■

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 105

reexamined command, tactics, opera-tional efficiency, combined arms doc-trine, and myriad other topics. Indeed,virtually no area of World War I scholar-ship has been left unchallenged. Theresult is a greater appreciation of theimmense problems of fighting on theWestern Front, the importance of coali-tion warfare, and the scope and range ofAllied tactical and doctrinal innovation.Indeed, most recent evaluations of theoperational ability of the British andCommonwealth forces in the latter halfof the war are quite favorable. Not sur-prisingly, the new scholarship has con-tributed to a reappraisal of American contributions and raised some troublingquestions about Pershing and dysfunc-tional AEF tactics and overall battlefieldperformance.

Soissons, 1918 is a significantreassessment of the American effort onthe Western Front. Written by two sol-dier-scholars, it examines the first majorAEF offensive operation. Anticipating arenewed enemy offensive on the Aisne-Marne salient, General Ferdinand Fochordered a spoiling counterattack on avulnerable German flank. He selectedTenth Army, commanded by GeneralCharles Mangin, which included 1st and2d Divisions, to attack toward Soissons.In the battle of July 18–22, the Ameri-cans broke through the German lines butcould not sustain the attack. By the timethe divisions were pulled out of the linethey had lost 13,000 dead. Although theydid not take Soissons, Johnson and Hill-man argue that the offensive unhingedthe enemy attack and disrupted Germanlong-term strategy.

This book can be appreciated as aprecise day-by-day narrative of the fivedays of combat. Chronologically organ-ized chapters follow regiments, brigades,and divisions. Extensive quotes from par-ticipants provide insights into the hard-ships and confusion. The authors are par-ticularly effective in reconcilingconflicting accounts and reconstructingevents. They also provide an astute anddetailed analysis of AEF command fromthe corps to regimental level. Althoughthe Allies had developed a complicatedand centralized system of command andcontrol, inexperienced American troopslacked the training and willingness toimplement it. Pershing claimed that AEFcommand would be decentralized but inpractice insisted on centralized direction.The result was that AEF command in facthad the inflexibility of the Allies but lit-tle of their efficiency. Pershing added tothe problem by insisting that his com-manders both demonstrate drive and get

direct given and take. Americans seenegotiations leading to a defined settle-ment while others may be more inter-ested in what evolves after the agreement.

Not all negotiators fit this pattern.Max Kampelman, one of America’s mostdistinguished and effective negotiators,explicitly rejects salami tactics. He is leg-endary for refusing to be rushed into adeal or settle for a bad one. When acounterpart complained that Moscowwas making all the concessions, heremarked “I considered their beginningposition totally off the wall, but that itwas impossible for the U.S. position to beequally excessive because [the Ameri-cans] were required to go through com-plex interagency negotiations before theycame to a beginning position.” As aresult, the U.S. approach can sometimesappear bizarre to the other side.

Does culture matter? Cohen con-tends that it can “complicate, prolong,and even frustrate particular negotiationswhere there otherwise exists an identifi-able basis for cooperation.” But culture isnot the entire answer. Chinese, Russian,and North Korean negotiators have a mixof backgrounds, traditional and commu-nist. It is not clear where one begins andthe other leaves off. Moreover, particu-larly in the cases of China and Russia,experience in negotiating across culturaldivides has rubbed off. Freeman observesthat China adopts a different style withJapan than with America. North Koreadeals very differently with South Koreathan with the United States.

These books suggest that U.S. nego-tiators would do well not to focus theirpreparations on substance alone. Theymust be aware of larger geopoliticalissues and how specific exchanges fit,understanding that achievable deals maynot be desirable deals. They must alsoappreciate that the mindsets andapproaches their counterparts bring tothe table are based on unique historiesand cultures. Recognizing differences ishelpful in reaching an outcome thatserves national interests. American offi-cials must envision how their approachmay be interpreted across the table andaffect outcomes. In such matters, thisseries of recent books offers negotiatorsvaluable advise. JFQ

DOUGHBOYS INBATTLEA Book Review by

BRIAN M. LINN

Until recently most accounts of WorldWar I fell into a rather predictable

mold. The focus was on the high com-mand or the individual soldier in thetrench with little consideration of eventsin between. European scholarship, partic-ularly in Britain, was dominated by bitterdisagreement over leadership, casualties,and the horror of combat. Critics assailedbrass hats for their stupidity, callousness,and chateau generalship. Efforts todescribe battles and campaigns oftendegenerated into descriptions of rats,mustard gas, and futile charges againstmachine gun nests. For the most part,Americans have escaped this historicaldebate, in part because there was littlechallenge to the interpretation of eventsreported by General John Pershing andhis supporters immediately after the war.This version held that despite resistancefrom the Allies and the War Department,Pershing shaped the American Expedi-tionary Force (AEF) into an effective,aggressive organization that carried theoffensive in the final months of 1918.Heroic doughboys such as Sergeant AlvinYork reinvigorated the Allies and deci-sively snatched victory from the Ger-mans. Perhaps because it was such a sat-isfying myth—proving both militaryprowess and intellectual and moral supe-riority over Europe—this uncriticalemphasis on Pershing and AEF excep-tionalism continued for decades. DouglasJohnson, a research professor in theStrategic Studies Institute at the U.S.Army War College, and the late RolfeHillman, an accomplished writer andmilitary authority, break from this uncrit-ical mold in Soissons, 1918.

In recent years, scholars havereturned to documents on the war and

Soissons, 1918 by Douglas V. Johnson II and

Rolfe E. Hillman, Jr.College Station: Texas A&M Press, 1999.

213 pp. $29.95[ISBN 0–89096–893–4]

Brian M. Linn is professor of history atTexas A&M University.

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

results regardless of the tactical situation.That led to a command climate perme-ated by fear in which officers oftenbecame victims of the uncertainties andambitions of their superiors. Onevignette is the sad tale of the relief ofColonel Conrad S. Babcock of the 28th

Infantry, whose reputation was damagedby his division commander’s ruthless-ness, animosity, and ignorance.

The authors argue that Soissons was“a confused mess . . . a complete mix-upof men and organizations” but also a keytransition for the American ExpeditionaryForce. The battle revealed not only a lackof American preparedness, but how rap-idly AEF units adjusted. Like an increas-ing number of American historians, theauthors recognize the skill and ability ofthe Allies. They give full credit to theFrench command, particularly to Foch’sability to see the German vulnerability onthe Soissons flank and Mangin’s ruthlessdrive. They discuss the usually overlookedbut crucial role of tanks and detail theintricacies of coordinating World War Ibattles. They criticize Pershing on severalcounts but are sympathetic to the greatburdens he shouldered. Ultimately, thedoughboys and leathernecks paid a highprice for their victory, partly because ofinexperience and lack of training. Theyattacked in tight formations, did not usesupport weapons, and also failed to coor-dinate infantry and artillery. Americans atSoissons were a force in transition, thevictims of rapid expansion, untested com-manders, inadequate training, and dys-functional doctrine. That they fared aswell as they did may be the most tellingargument in favor of Pershing’s methods.

Soissons, 1918, while advancing ourknowledge of the American effort inWorld War I, raises questions on the abil-ity of militaries to learn from mistakes intime to avoid repeating them. Moreover,it addresses the issue of putting drivingleaders in charge of untrained and inex-perienced troops. Placing soldiers inharm’s way without adequate prepara-tions always leads to disasters. This bookdeserves a careful reading. JFQ

PREPARING FOR THENEXT WARA Book Review by

JOHN F. ANTAL

The military is undergoing a transfor-mation. To adapt to the international

environment and maintain full spectrumovermatch on battlefields of the future,doctrine is being reconceptualized. Thisis a daunting task for any organization,let alone one with global responsibilities.However, this is not the first transforma-tion the Armed Forces have undergone,nor will it be the last.

Army reform and reorganizationafter World War I, an effort of the WarDepartment, was profound. WilliamOdom has captured the essence of thatinterwar effort in a new book, After theTrenches: The Transformation of U.S. ArmyDoctrine, 1918–1939. It is must readingfor those interested in the relationship oftransformation to doctrine, organization,and technology.

Without effective doctrine acting asa rudder, military institutions can’t meetoperational, organizational, and informa-tional requirements to steer a coursethrough strife. Lacking relevant, well-practiced doctrine a force can flounder.War is a constant struggle of action andcounteraction between two thinking ene-mies. Doctrine must change to meet thethreat. Thus reliable doctrine is difficultto produce in peacetime and even moreso if future dangers are unclear or nonex-istent. Doctrine must close the gapbetween theory and reality in peace aswell as for conflicts yet to come.

The challenges facing the Army in1919 were quite profound. Its previousmethods of warfare were overturned fol-lowing four years of observing the Euro-pean conflict, and then participating init. Doughboys went to war with leaderswhose military expertise was largely gar-nered from the Indian and Spanish

American Wars. Armed with revolversand sabers and sporting campaign hats,the Army ended the Great War in metalhelmets and gas masks, and armed withmachine guns, rapid firing artillery, com-bat aircraft, and armored vehicles.

After the Armistice, the lessonslearned were used to revise doctrinal ten-ants to match changing strategic, opera-tional, and tactical conditions. Odomholds that the lessons of World War Iwere rigorously studied and captured infield service regulations in 1923, butthen something went terribly wrong.True to its tradition, the Army was largelydisbanded, retaining only a small corpsof professional soldiers from 1919 to1939. Manpower and matériel shortagesled to a rapid decline in the quality ofArmy doctrine. Meanwhile, warfareevolved. Germany continued to studyand advance the lessons of the GreatWar, improve on methods and weapons,and in spite of disadvantages transformdoctrine and training. Odom explainsthe less deliberate evolution of U.S. Armydoctrine throughout this period andtraces the intellectual life of a service try-ing to find its way, detailing the infight-ing and bureaucratic strife resulting fromlack of resources and focus.

Guided by John Pershing, HughDrum, George Lynch, Frank Parker, andLesley McNair, the Army attempted tobalance technology and the humandimension of war but came up short.Rapid development of combat methodschanged doctrine from one “built oninfantry-artillery coordination to onebased on a highly mobile combined armsteam.” Doctrine did not keep pace. Withfew troops, little matériel, miserly fund-ing, and no maneuvers conductedbetween 1919 and 1939, it is not surpris-ing that the Army was unprepared forglobal conflict. Hassles in the WarDepartment, friction between branches,and an inept doctrinal developmentprocess combined to create an atmos-phere so bad that the service failed tocoordinate a combined arms doctrine upto the eve of World War II. Then, withGerman victories in Poland, Norway, andFrance providing a blueprint, the Armyraced to catch up. In a few brief years ithad its own breakthrough, cranking outmanual after manual and then revisingthem almost before the ink was dry. Ini-tial experience in combat demonstratedthat even this doctrine was still flawedboth conceptually and in practice. It tookmany battles for the Americans to learnthe art of war.

106 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

After the Trenches: TheTransformation of U.S. Army

Doctrine, 1918–1939by William O. Odom

College Station: Texas A&M UniversityPress, 1999.

288 pp. $44.95[ISBN 0–89096–838–1]

Colonel John F. Antal, USA, is commanderof 16th Cavalry Regiment.

O F F T H E S H E L F ■

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 107

Despite constraints, questionableleadership, and stifling oversight, MACSOG managed to cobble together avaluable adjunct to the war. Its opera-tions were nowhere more successful thanin interdicting the Ho Chi Minh Trail,the supply line used to infiltrate troopsand supplies to South Vietnam throughLaos. It is worth pondering the conse-quences if such operations had beenaggressively pursued earlier in the con-flict in Southeast Asia.

Readers are likely to draw two criti-cal conclusions from this book. TheLaotian panhandle, the communist routesouth and the geographic linchpin ofNorth Vietnamese strategy, was ceded toHanoi by the Kennedy administrationthrough a major diplomatic blunder in1962. This argument is persuasivelymade by Norman Hannah in The Key toFailure: Laos and the Vietnam War, whichappeared in 1987. Shultz’s treatmentadds to the story—he was given access torecently declassified material that linkspolicies made in Washington and opera-tions conducted in Indochina.

The other conclusion is more tacti-cal in nature but perhaps more applicableto contemporary affairs. Readers mayassume that once an attempt to subvert atotalitarian regime through support of aresistance movement fails, the next bestpolicy alternative is making the regimebelieve that it is being threatened inter-nally. To a certain extent, that is whatthe United States did in North Vietnamin the late 1960s. Autocrats are almostalways paranoid and prone to expendscarce resources and energy to counterinternal security dangers at the expenseof external aggression. Unfortunately,America did not follow through and thisstratagem was needlessly ceded away.

The Secret War Against Hanoi exposesthe implications of pursuing nationalstrategy while limiting the use of force.There are lessons for military plannersand policymakers. JFQ

After the Trenches concludes that thebiggest reason doctrine lagged was aninstitutional inability to maintain a well-coordinated doctrine developmentprocess. Thus the events described in thisbook offer an important cautionary talefor doctrine writers. Complex systemstoday require an intricate procurementprocess measured in years, often decades.Doctrine speeds procurement along thefastest route. The challenge in interwaryears is to develop and test doctrineusing debate, experimentation, andwargaming to increase the odds that newsystems will prove themselves under fire.

As Odom contends, “an organiza-tion dedicated to monitoring and accom-modating change is the most importantelement in successful modernization.This organization must address weapons,organizations, and doctrine to avoid thesame calamity that befell the Army from1919 to 1939.” The Armed Forces mustovercome similar demands today. Morethan a decade after the Cold War, themilitary must be transformed to becomethe objective force to fight and wintomorrow’s wars. After the Trenchesshould be included on the reading list ofthose officers and civilians who mustcontemplate future forces. JFQ

IN THE SHADOW OF HANOIA Book Review by

ROD PASCHALL

The only problem with the book underreview is its title. While Richard

Shultz, director of the International Secu-rity Studies Program in the FletcherSchool of Law and Diplomacy at TuftsUniversity, has certainly covered covertactivities by America during the VietnamWar, he has done far more. This workdetails operations in Laos and Cambodiaand provides highly useful insights andjudgments on why the United States andits allies fared so poorly during the 1960sand 1970s. The author offers a thoroughaccount of the failures and triumphs in along and ruinous war.

The Secret War Against Hanoi offers arange of operational and tactical detailsto engage the professional officer andserious reader of military history whileoffering the policymakers of today a richmenu of politico-military lessons. Shultzdetails intelligence operations, reconnais-sance missions, cross-border raids, targetidentification actions, prisoner-snatchingincursions, deception plans, and psycho-logical and political warfare. Based on awealth of both declassified documentsand interviews with officers who ran theMilitary Assistance Command Studiesand Observation Group (MACSOG), aswell as senior officials who directed thewar, this book is the first definitive andcomprehensive account of the covert warin Indochina. The author weaves a webof Kennedy and Johnson administrationmissteps and explains why most clandes-tine activities were doomed to failure orreduced to modest success by officials inWashington who crippled them throughdelays and self-imposed geographical oroperational limitations.

The Secret War against Hanoi:Kennedy’s and Johnson’s Use of

Spies, Saboteurs, and CovertWarriors in North Vietnam

by Richard H. Shultz, Jr.New York: HarperCollins, 1999.

408 pp. $27.50[ISBN 0–06–019454–5]

Colonel Rod Paschall, USA (Ret.), is theeditor of Military History Quarterly.

Missing an issue?Copies of back numbers of JFQ areavailable in limited quantities toboth members of the Armed Forcesand to public institutions. Pleasesend requests to the Editor at theaddress orFAX numberlisted on themasthead.

The Secret War AgainstHanoiwas the subject of a recent JFQ book lecture by the author which was held at the National Defense University on December 9, 1999, and televised by C-SPAN [see video 154101].

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

BLUEPRINT FORSTRATEGICTHOUGHTA Book Review by

HAROLD R. WINTON

Colin Gray is known for his contribu-tions on strategic studies and defense

policy. Modern Strategy is intended as amagnum opus and addresses threeimportant issues. The first is that theunderlying logic of strategy as the use (orthreat of the use) of force to further polit-ical purpose is immutable though it ismanifest in rich and varied forms. Thesecond is that strategy has 17 enduringelements that can be grouped in threerubrics: people and politics, preparationfor war, and war proper. The third is thatOn War by Clausewitz, from which Gray derives the construct for his logic,remains the touchstone for strategicthought despite the limits of time and circumstance.

Modern Strategy is simultaneously anambitious, flawed, and important book.Its ambition is evident in the author’sattempt to establish a paradigm forstrategic understanding to endure overtime: “I am capturing the whole natureof strategy for all periods.” It is also evi-dent in the breadth of subjects addressed:strategic culture, guerrilla war, terrorism,nuclear deterrence, and conduct of oper-ations in the dimensions of land, sea, air,space, and cyberspace warfare.

But the book is flawed in importantrespects. The basic tasks of any theoreti-cal work are defining the field underinvestigation, categorizing its elements,and explaining relations among the ele-ments. Gray gets high marks on the first.His definition of strategy is useful andconsistent but his categories are confus-ing and, save for two, his explanations ofthem are less than rigorous. When onedivides a phenomenon into categoriesfor investigation, the categories shouldmeet the test of comprehensiveness and

mutual exclusiveness. That is, takentogether they should cover the field withlittle overlap. Two theorists who accom-plished this task were Clausewitz, whosebasic elements of war were reason, vio-lence, and chance, and J.F.C. Fuller,whose elements were the mental, moral,and physical dimensions of war. Two cat-egories outlined by Gray, preparation forwar and war proper, are mutually exclu-sive; but the third, people and politics,overlaps the others significantly. To avoidcategorization errors, Gray could haveidentified the strategic environment asthe third element to differentiate it frompreparation for both war and war proper,although that would have requiredrethinking subelements included underall three categories.

It can be argued that categorization,while interesting to students of theory isnot important. But the challenge inorganizing the concepts underscores aglaring deficiency in Modern Strategy, itsfailure to explain. Two caveats to thiscriticism are that Gray does, in variouscontexts, provide explanations for rela-tions between force and political purposeand demonstrates fairly conclusively thatthe needs of strategic practice had a pro-found influence on strategic theory. Butthe exposition on the 17 elements doesnot explain their interaction but simplyreveals that they are vital elements ofstrategy. One learns that military opera-tions are critical, but nowhere is actual

empirical evidence offered on how and ifstrategy should shape operational designor whether operational parameters affectstrategic choice. The core of any theory isits ability to lay bare the dynamics ofrelationships among elements of a givenphenomenon. Even if Gray’s categorieswere not elegantly composed, he had theopportunity to explore what he judged tobe the most important of the relationsamong his elements of strategy. Thisopportunity was largely missed.

Modern Strategy is an importantwork. The first reason is the intrinsic sig-nificance of the subject. The worldremains a dangerous place. Good strategyis still needed and bad strategy can ruinthe destiny of whole peoples. The book isalso valuable because its most importantargument is accurate: there is an essentiallogic to strategy that is neglected only atgreat peril. As an adjunct to this debate,the work is also significant because itpoints back to Clausewitz. Gray is bal-anced in assessing the insightful Pruss-ian, clearly recognizing the temporal andgeographic limitations under which heworked, yet giving due credit to his prob-ing intellect and reminding us that muchin On War is still of value. In a day whenmany enthusiasts are trumpeting thateverything under the sun is new, this is auseful corrective. But if an appeal to oldideas is one reason to value this book, itsgreat modernity is another. JFQ

108 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

Modern Strategyby Colin Gray

Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.412 pp. $29.95

[ISBN 0–19–87825–19]

Lieutenant Colonel Harold R. Winton, USA(Ret.), teaches in the School of AdvancedAirpower Studies at Air University.

Institute for National Strategic StudiesNational Defense University

Topical Symposium“National Security in the Global Era”September 20–21, 2001

Joint Operations SymposiumNovember 7–8, 2001

For more information contact:National Defense UniversityATTN: Conference Directorate300 Fifth Avenue (Bldg. 62)Fort Lesley J. McNairWashington, D.C. 20319–5066Telephone: (202) 685–3857 / DSN 325–3857Fax: (202) 685–3866 / DSN 325–3866e-mail: NDU–CONF@ndu.edu

http://www.ndu.edu/inss/symposia/symposia.html

O F F T H E S H E L F ■

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 109

operations. In 1993 ACOM was trans-formed from a naval into a genuinelyjoint command. Its subordinate com-mands produced entry plans for Haiti, abridge plan among them, relatedoptions, and troop lists to accompanyeach plan. Using worldwide communica-tions systems and computer simulationprograms, frequent command exercisesenabled commanders and planners tobecome familiar with one another. Theresultant team spirit facilitated theeleventh hour switch on September 19,1994 from invasion to peaceful entry.

Uphold Democracy also highlightedthe limited use of the military in complexcontingency operations. From the outsetof the Haitian crisis, two Chairmen andcommanders understood that armedentry was only the initial challenge.

INTERVENTION INHAITIA Book Review by

RONALD H. COLE

The Persian Gulf War represented thelast conventional military operation

conducted by the Armed Forces in the20th century. During the 1990s theUnited States participated in many peaceand humanitarian operations includingIraq (Provide Comfort), Somalia (EasternExit and Provide Hope), Bangladesh (SeaAngel), Bosnia-Herzegovina (Deny Flightand Joint Endeavor), and Haiti (UpholdDemocracy). In Upholding Democracy: TheUnited States Military Campaign in Haiti,1994–1997, John Ballard has produced acomprehensive account of that last oper-ation, in which he served with the jointanalysis and assessment team under U.S.Atlantic Command (ACOM).

Ballard interviewed many key plan-ners of Uphold Democracy including twomarines who had been assigned to theJoint Staff at the time, General JohnSheehan and Colonel Robert Garner. Healso used countless published sources.One he did not consult is Invasion, Inter-vention, “Intervasion”: A Concise History ofthe U.S. Army in Operation Uphold Democ-racy, another comprehensive treatmentof the operation. Published by threemembers of the faculty at the U.S. ArmyCommand and General Staff College,Walter Kretchik, Robert Baumann, andJohn Fishel, this work overlaps UpholdingDemocracy in both sources and themes.But unlike Upholding Democracy, it coversthe operation in Haiti primarily from ajoint task force (JTF) perspective—withless political and strategic analysis butwith important details about activities onthe operational level.

Aside from some triumphal languageand pedantic asides, Ballard’s account isreadable and valuable for the depth andclarity of its analysis. After a survey ofHaitian history, he considers the plan-ning for forced and permissive entry, ini-tial operations by JTF 180, follow-on sta-bility and political-military operations byJTF 190, and ensuing U.N. missions. Inhis concluding chapter, he presents somelessons learned on flexible planning,command and control, joint interoper-ability, media relations, managing transi-tions between forces, theater strategiccoordination, joint training, interagencycoordination, and “mission success.”

Upholding Democracy documentsprogress in improving jointness. Underthe Goldwater-Nichols Act, the enhancedpowers of the Chairman and unifiedcommanders significantly bolstered joint

Upholding Democracy: The United States Military

Campaign in Haiti, 1994–1997by John R. Ballard

Westport, Connecticut: PraegerPublishers, 1998.292 pp. $62.95

[ISBN: 0–275–96237–7]

Ronald H. Cole serves in the Joint HistoryOffice and is coauthor of Roles of FederalMilitary Forces in Domestic Disorders,1878–1945.

Providing security atPort-au-Prince airport,Uphold Democracy.

U.S

. A

ir Fo

rce

(Val

Gem

pis

)

■ O F F T H E S H E L F

There were also political, economic, andsocial aspects of the operation known asnationbuilding. The military worked withother agencies, international organiza-tions, and Haitian authorities to rebuildsecurity and justice systems, establish amodern transportation and communica-tions infrastructure, and privatize ineffi-cient state-run industries.

Not surprisingly, Haitian elites pre-ferred the status quo, which preservedtheir monopoly on land and wealth, aproblem neither military planners norcivilian officials sufficiently considered.The Armed Forces focused on what theydo best, entering a country in strength toremove threats and bring temporary sta-bility. The peaceful disposition of theHaitian military and partial disarmamentof paramilitary units were significant

achievements, but they did not assuresuccess of democracy and free enterprise.As Ballard notes, even after four years ofU.S. military protection, civilian organiza-tions proved unable to reform or removeHaitian elites who blocked political andeconomic reform. Today foreign firms arereluctant to invest in Haiti, economicconditions are worsening, the democraticregime seems unwilling to take action,and Haitians are again migrating by boatsfor a better life elsewhere.

For these reasons, the talk of mis-sion success in Upholding Democracy ringshollow:

Just as the [multinational force] metall objectives assigned to it, the U.N. missionin Haiti completed its tasks in superb fash-ion prior to its planned mission end date.Although U.N. efforts continued into 1998,there is no doubt that the application of

multinational and U.N. military and civiliansupport accomplished the tasks assigned.The effects of the anti-Aristide coup of 1991were corrected, and Haiti was returned to thepath of democratic advancement.

One can recall claims by GeneralWilliam Westmoreland, later echoed byColonel Harry Summers, that Americantroops never lost a battle in Vietnam. Butassuming that assertion, tactical successesmean little if they don’t add up to strate-gic victory. Similarly, achievements bythe Armed Forces during Uphold Democ-racy created a chance for progress inHaiti. No matter how competently thecivilian and military communitiesaccomplished the tasks assigned, theclaim of overall success in that troubledcountry remains premature. JFQ

110 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

OnlineNational Defense University PressSince its founding, NDU Press has published the work of faculty, staff, andstudents of the National Defense University as well as members of otherprofessional military education institutions and research analysts fromacross the United States and abroad. Many of these works are availableonline at http://www.ndu.edu/inss/press/ndup5.html

Strategic Forum seriesOver 180 four-page briefs on defense and foreign policy issues can be found athttp://www.ndu.edu/inss/strforum/h6.html

McNair Paper seriesFor more than 60 monographs of interest to the national security community, go to http://www.ndu.edu/inss/macnair/macnain.html

NDU Press booksA range of titles on national strategy, defense studies,and military affairs are available at http://www.ndu.edu/inss/books/books.html

Winter 2000–01 / JFQ 111

AttentionAir Force Personnel!

Joint Force Quarterly is no longer distributed directly by the Air Force to its units and activities. Subscriptions must be ordered online by contacting Air Force Publishing at http://afpubs.hq.af.mil and entering JFQin > Short Title Search under > Keyword Search and then clicking > GO! Follow instructions on submitting AF Form 1846.

Have you missed an issue?The following back issues of the journal can be ordered online.Issue 20 (Autumn/Winter 98–99): Articles on joint experimentation, future

campaigning, interagency operations, close air support at Kasserine Pass,airpower and the Army-Navy maneuvers of 1925.

Issue 21 (Spring 99): JFQ Forum on NATO at fifty (Washington summit), plusjoint fires and service competencies, William Owens on jointness, specialoperations, non-lethal weapons.

Issue 22 (Summer 99): Essays on military innovation and contributions byColin Gray on strategy, airpower in the interwar years, joint doctrine and theKosovo campaign, air support and counterinsurgency in Malaya.

Issue 23 (Autumn/Winter 99–00): Focus on space, joint theater air and missiledefense, technology and transformation, Vietnam, unified commands.

Issue 24 (Spring 00): JFQ Forum on the Greater Middle East, plus interagencyoperations, theater engagement, rethinking two war strategies, joint educa-tion, military advisors.

Issue 25 (Summer 00): JFQ Forum on transformation—an international perspec-tive, and joint experimentation, Williamson Murray on innovation duringthe interwar years, morality and the air war in Kosovo, complete text of JointVision 2020.

Customer service is available from the Air Force Distribution Center at (410) 687–3330/

DSN 584–4529/4729/4829 [OCONUS: 312–4529/4729/4829], by Fax at DSN 584–4629

[OCONUS: 312–4629], or via e-mail at afpdc-service@pentagon.af.mil. Overseas, contact

PACAF order desk (Hickam AFB): call (808) 449–5509/DSN 449–5509 [OCONUS: 315–5509],

Fax at (808) 449–8207/DSN 315–8207 [OCONUS: 315–8207], or via e-mail at 15cs.scspd

@hickam.af.mil; USAFE service/order desk (Ramstein AB): call (011–49) 6371–47–2184/

DSN 480–2184, Fax at (011 49) 6371–47–7481/DSN or via e-mail css.scbpe@ramstein.af.mil.

Note: Every general officer in the active and Reserve components of the Air Force and every

student at the Air War College and Air Command and Staff College receive distribution of

the journal directly from the printer (see page 112). JFQ

■ A N O T E T O R E A D E R S A N D C O N T R I B U T O R S

DISTRIBUTION: JFQ is distributed to the field and fleet through servicechannels. Individuals and organizations interested in receiving the journal on a regularbasis should make their requirements known through command channels. Anycorrections in shipping instructions for service distribution should be directed to theappropriate activity listed below.

■ ARMY—To order, write U.S. Army Publications Distribution Center, ATTN:Customer Service, 1655 Woodson Street, St. Louis, Missouri 63114–6181 (citing Misc.Publication 71–1); call (314) 263–7305 [extension 4]/DSN 693–7305 [extension 4]; orcontact U.S. Army Publishing Agency Home Page on the Internet at www.usapa.army.mil and select: (1) Publications Ordering and Subscription System, (2) PublicationsOrdering System > (Modify 12–Series Subscriptions), (3) Subscription Add/Change/Delete > Submit a Subscription (DA Form 12–9–R), and complete the orderunder (4) Subscription Changes by entering > Account Number and > ZIP Codefollowed by both First 2 Digits and Last 4 Digits of the Initial Distribution Number (IDN) > 05 0042 and then indicate desired number of copies > Quantity.

■ NAVY—Contact the Navy Inventory Control Point, Customer Service ListMaintenance (Code 3343.09), 700 Robbins Avenue, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania19111–5098; requests may be sent by Fax to (215) 697–5914 (include SNDL, UIC,and full address).

■ MARINE CORPS—For one-time distribution of an individual issue write toMarine Corps Logistics Base (Code 876), 814 Radford Boulevard, Albany, Georgia31704–1128; request by Fax at (912) 439–5839 /DSN 567–5839. To be placed onstandard distribution contact Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps (Code ARDE), FederalBuilding No. 2 (Room 1302), Navy Annex, Washington, D.C. 20380; request by Fax at(703) 614–2951/DSN 224–2951.

■ AIR FORCE—To order, contact Air Force Publishing online at http://afpubs.hq.af.mil and enter JFQ in > Short Title Search under > Keyword Search and thenclick > GO! for a list of current and back issues on hand and follow instructions onsubmitting AF Form 1846. Customer service is available from the Air ForceDistribution Center at (410) 687–3330/DSN 584–4529/4729/4829 [OCONUS:312–4529/4729/4829], by Fax at DSN 584–4629 [OCONUS: 312–4629], or via e-mailat afpdc-service@pentagon.af.mil. Overseas, contact PACAF Order Desk (HickamAFB): call (808) 449–5509/DSN 449–5509 [OCONUS: 315–5509], Fax at (808)449–8207/DSN 315–8207 [OCONUS: 315–8207], or via e-mail at 15cs.scspd@hickam.af.mil; USAFE Service/Order Desk (Ramstein AB): call (011–49) 6371–47–2184/DSN 480–2184, Fax at (011 49) 6371–47–7481/DSN or via e-mail css.scbpe@ramstein.af.mil.

■ COAST GUARD—Contact Headquarters, U.S. Coast Guard, ATTN: DefenseOperations Division, 2100 2d Street, S.W., Washington, D.C. 20593–0001.

In addition to service channels, bulk distribution is made directly to defenseagencies, the Joint Staff, unified commands, service colleges, and other activities.Changes in shipping instructions should be communicated to the Editor (see schedule below).

SUBSCRIPTIONS: JFQ is available by subscription from the Government Print-ing Office. To order for one year, cite: Joint Force Quarterly (JFQ) on the order and mailwith a check for $25.00 ($31.25 foreign) or provide a VISA or MasterCard accountnumber with expiration date to the Superintendent of Documents, P.O. Box 371954,Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15250–7954, or Fax the order to: (202) 512–2233.

Individual copies may be purchased through GPO bookstores nationwide for$12.75 each.

CONTRIBUTIONS: JFQ welcomes submissions from members of the ArmedForces as well as from both defense analysts and academic specialists from thiscountry and abroad, including foreign military officers and civilians. There is norequired length for contributions, but manuscripts of 3,000 to 5,000 words areappropriate. Other submissions, however, to include letters, commentary, and briefessays are invited. Reproductions of supporting material (such as maps and photos)should be submitted with manuscripts; do not send originals. Unsolicited bookreviews are generally not accepted for publication.

All submissions to JFQ must be accompanied by a covering letter which statesthat the manuscript has not been previously published and is not being submittedsimultaneously to any other journal. In addition, the letter must include the author’s fullname (including military grade, service/component, and assignment if applicable), acomplete postal address (with Zip code), and a work telephone number. Neitherfacsimile nor e-mail manuscripts will be accepted as formal submissions.

All unsolicited manuscripts are reviewed, a process which may take two to threemonths. To facilitate review, provide two copies of the manuscript together with a briefsummary. Place personal or biographical data on a separate sheet of paper and do notidentify the author (or authors) in the body of the text. Follow any accepted style guidein preparing the manuscript, but endnotes rather than footnotes should always beused. Both the manuscript and endnotes should be typed in double-space with one-inch margins. All manuscripts should be paginated. If possible submit the manuscripton a disk together with the typescript version. While disks in various formats can beprocessed, WordPerfect is preferred (disks will not be returned unless requested).

JFQ reserves the right to edit contributions to meet space limitations andconform to the journal’s style and format. Proofs of articles accepted for publication arenot normally returned to authors for review.

Unless evidence of prior clearance is provided, all manuscripts selected forpublication which are contributed by members of the U.S. Armed Forces or employeesof the Federal Government are forwarded to the Office of the Assistant Secretary ofDefense for Public Affairs to undergo security review. No honorarium or other form ofpayment is authorized for the publication of articles submitted by servicemembers orU.S. Government employees.

Information on the submission of contributions is available by contacting (202) 685–4220 / DSN 325–4220, Fax: (202) 685–4219 / DSN 325–4219, or writing tothe Editor, Joint Force Quarterly, ATTN: NDU–NSS–JFQ, 300 Fifth Avenue (Bldg. 62),Fort Lesley J. McNair, Washington, D.C. 20319–5066. JFQ

DISTRIBUTION SCHEDULEA total of 35,000 copies of Joint Force Quarterly is distributed worldwide. Of this number, more than 18,500 copies are sent directly to the five services for breakdown and delivery to subordinate commands, units, bases, etc. Bulk shipments are made as follows:

copies

Office of the Secretary of Defense 400Joint Staff and Joint Activities 700Services

Army 4,000Navy 6,500Marine Corps 1,500Air Force 6,500Coast Guard 125

Unified CommandsU.S. European Command 275U.S. Pacific Command 275

U.S. Forces Korea 75U.S. Forces Japan 50Alaskan Command 25

copiesPME Institutions

U.S. Army War College 600U.S. Army Command and General

Staff College (including the School of Advanced Military Studies) 1,525

Naval War College (both resident and nonresident programs) 1,750

Naval Postgraduate School 300Marine Corps War College and Marine

Corps Command and Staff College 400Air War College 450Air Command and Staff College

(including the School of Advanced Airpower Studies) 900

copiesU.S. Joint Forces Command 150U.S. Southern Command 150U.S. Central Command 275U.S. Strategic Command 275U.S. Space Command 150U.S. Special Operations Command 150U.S. Transportation Command 100

Defense AgenciesDefense Information Systems Agency 125Defense Intelligence Agency 150Defense Logistics Agency 150Defense Threat Reduction Agency 25National Imagery and Mapping Agency 25National Security Agency 25

In addition to the above, approximately 3,500 copies of JFQ are distributed to general/flag rank officers and members of Congress; service doctrine centers;U.S. and foreign military attachés; and selected educational institutions, journals, and libraries in this country and abroad.

112 JFQ / Winter 2000–01

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

JFQJ

OI

NT

F

OR

CE

Q

UA

RT

ER

LY

WIN

TE

R 2

000–0

1 / N

UM

BE

R27

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

0001W i n t e rJFQJ O I N T F O R C E Q U A R T E R L Y

Published for theChairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

by the Institute for National Strategic StudiesNational Defense University

Washington, D.C.

coming next . . .

remembering the forgotten warplus

force structure in an interwar period,negotiating missile defense,

joint experimentation,and more in the Spring/Summer 2001 issue of JFQ

The PersianGulf War—Ten Years After

Principles ofJointness

Naval Innovation

Japanese Self-Defense Forces

Missile DefenseAttack Operations