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Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Dr Bleddyn Bowen examines the place of space power in modern high-intensity warfare. In doing so, he discusses two competing astro-strategies and their applicability to air forces and the use of air power.[1] Introduction Modern air forces cannot conduct precise and highly coordinated operations without the navigation and communications services provided by satellites. Proven in 1991, America’s space power-enabled military forces decimated Iraq’s massed conventional forces and turned a defeat into a rout as Iraqi troops abandoned their heavy weapons and dispersed. Other military forces have now emulated precision bombing and networked air interception capabilities. Space power integration within the military forces of China and Russia proceeds apace with their precision strike and sophisticated standoff area denial weapons. It is inevitable that space power’s influence on the battlefield, as well as attempts to disrupt or disable satellite operations, will be a significant feature of high-intensity warfare. Deterrence failure would open up space to the trials of space warfare for the first time.[2] Satellite communications, intelligence, and navigation services are essential to the operation of modern warfare in all terrestrial environments, and in particular, enable the combat and logistical effectiveness of fifth-generation air forces. Air power in future wars will be increasingly shaped by the influence of space power upon terrestrial warfare. Two astro-strategies encapsulate competing visions of space warfare: a Space Pearl Harbor and a Reserve strategy. Both centre upon when and where each side wants to unleash a precision-guided munitions (PGM) salvo from and against air and maritime forces as well as fixed bases. Such a PGM salvo is the tip of the spear that a fifth-generation air force provides.[3] Space warfare threatens to blunt or parry this tip that modern military forces have come to rely upon. This article examines these two astro-strategies that influence the employment of airpower. While both astro-strategies centre upon when and where either side wishes to exploit and deny the dispersing effects of space power on the battlefield, modern air forces have a crucial role to play in imposing and denying those dispersing effects of space power and have a critical dependency on space power themselves to function. The Influence of Space Power Space power enables aggressive air forces to reliably shoot what they see promptly and increases the efficiency at which they can operate. This imposes dispersing pressures on the opposing force because of the reliability of precision-strike weapons.[4] Unless the PGM can be intercepted, its launcher destroyed, or its space-based navigation crippled, the targets must hide or scatter. As well as imposing a dispersing influence on enemy forces, dispersion through space services allows friendly deployed forces to remain physically dispersed while retaining a networked ability to concentrate firepower in time and place. The exploitation, denial, and negation of the dispersing effects of space power is a critical operational dynamic for future high-intensity warfare. The hard edge of Western military forces – deep and precise airstrikes conducted at long distances from home – cannot function without space power. Fifth-generation aircraft and the emergence of ever-more autonomous and remotely piloted aircraft increases the reliance of modern air forces on the communications, navigation, and intelligence provided by satellites. In future high-intensity warfare, the practice of air power seems to grow acutely dependent on possessing a command of space.[5] Naturally, then, satellites are logical targets in any future high-intensity conflict as part of a range of options to degrade a PGM salvo capability. Air forces can be a direct counter-space or anti-satellite capable service with the employment of air-launched suborbital-capable missiles and electronic warfare suites. Without space systems, the modernised military forces that have dispersed lose their connectivity and become less effective and vulnerable to any massing and concentration of the opposing force. Early warning of enemy movements and a return to ‘dumb’ weapons make massing against a fifth-generation air force and modern ground forces no longer a suicidal option. This is the reason that space infrastructure is a lucrative target in modern warfare: space power makes vulnerable opponents scatter and hide while allowing smaller forces to stand up to larger massed conventional forces. Attacking the space power that supports this military advantage improves the odds against fifth-generation aircraft and their joint methods of warfare. How and when should an opponent’s space infrastructure be attacked, then? Fears and confidence in the success of a first strike in space warfare, or a ‘Space Pearl Harbor’ may be over-blown but timing a coordinated space warfare campaign with operations on Earth and holding counter-space operations in reserve may be more difficult than anticipated. These opposing views of space warfare in a future great power clash dominate operational-level thought about space warfare. Space Pearl Harbor Strategy The phrase ‘Space Pearl Harbor’ gained traction following the publication of Donald Rumsfeld’s 2001 Space Commission Report. The Commission noted a potential threat to U.S. space systems in the form of a debilitating first strike from a near-peer adversary against its space systems. Striking space systems first is an attractive strategy from China’s point of view because it undermines America’s dependencies in long-range precision-strike capabilities. Reducing the speed and flexibility at which fifth-generation aircraft can be tasked, reducing their weapons accuracies, decreasing the ranges at which they can fire-and-forget, as well as hampering battle damage assessment, can improve the odds of strategic success for the People’s Liberation Army. The incentive to strike American space systems and risking a like-for-like retaliation may seem like a possibly acceptable cost given China’s disproportionately reduced dependence on space power for a Taiwan scenario. Not only has China developed a credible suite of anti-satellite capabilities, but China has also begun to resemble the early stages of the space power-enabled military machine the United States had in 1991. A massed military force is slowly transitioning to a lighter and more lethal-per-platform professional force. Today, both China and America are developing longer-range precision strike and uncrewed weapons to counter increasingly sophisticated air defence and maritime denial systems. These increase the dependency on space power and its dispersing effects on oneself and the enemy. In future high-intensity warfare fifth-generation air forces must consider their dependencies on space systems for various degrees of operational capability as area-denial, and anti-access (A2AD) capabilities increasingly seek to disable and disrupt space communications. A Space Pearl Harbor strategy is increasingly appealing for the United States – not only its potential adversaries. China’s Qu Dian system – its satellite communications, command and control, and intelligence-gathering capabilities – is a potential target for America. China and America may become the first two military powers with competing systems-of-systems and fifth-generation aircraft to fight each other, with space systems providing the backbone for all long-range military capabilities. Both military powers possess reconnaissance-strike complexes, have provided ample targets for each other in orbit and on Earth. A key calculation in the strategies of China and the US with their opposing precision strike complexes is how long naval and airborne forces could operate within one another’s A2AD zones to fire their PGM salvos and retreat to safety. Successful counter space operations – whether through soft kill jamming or hard-kill destruction of satellites – may provide more time for aircraft in an anti-access region as dismantling the space component of A2AD weapons reduces the effectiveness and reliability of a precision-strike complex. However, the United States is also thinking and acting along these lines. China’s ever-increasing space infrastructure provides more targets worth hitting for US and allied ASAT programs, especially as China itself intends to project the dispersing influence of space power-enabled terrestrial strike weapons across the Pacific. There is a strong incentive therefore to an early strike against space systems for both sides to prevent fifth-generation aircraft from being able to reliably intercept enemy fighters and bombard targets on Earth’s surface. Doing so would undermine the opponent’s ability to launch a fully capable PGM salvo which requires reliable celestial lines of communication. Part of China’s A2AD plan for a war in the Pacific may require the targeting of US bases in Guam, the Philippines, and Japan, and is developing longer-range air-launched PGM capabilities to do so. Such deep PGM strikes resemble what Clausewitz called an attack on the enemy’s army in its quarters, which prevents the enemy from assembling at its preferred location and buys significant time for the assailant as the victim spends days assembling at a more rearward, safer, position. Space power’s influence on fifth-generation air forces partly increases the value of the first strike against space systems, especially if it is to prevent an expeditionary force from arriving in theatre before other hostilities begin. A fifth-generation aircraft’s utility in future high-intensity warfare may be determined by what happens in orbit to a degree only glimpsed by fourth-generation aircraft. Losing a space warfare campaign may seriously undermine the long-range strike options available for fifth-generation air forces, as without some space systems aircraft could not even leave an airfield, let alone navigate to a specific target and reliably hit it with one-shot-one-kill reliability. In close combat operations, impaired space support may disable reliable close air support that small and dispersed land units have come to rely upon in Western armed forces. However, this does not mean that a U.S.-China war will inevitably begin in space. For strategists, the discussion of when and how which satellites may be targeted in war is particularly thorny, and has no obvious answer, despite the benefits of striking space systems. Space power is pervasive and diverse in its functions and influences, and space infrastructure may be more resilient or redundant than a first strike strategy may anticipate. Surprise attacks may not produce the strategic results desired, and forces will be needed in reserve. Betting everything on a surprise attack and a debilitating first strike is the other aspect of the Pearl Harbor analogy that seems under-emphasised in such discussion. A surprise attack has no guarantee of success, and there are good reasons why strategists tend not to commit their entire force and war plan to the success of the opening shots. The Space Pearl Harbor strategy has its merits, but it is only one possible astro-strategy. The defender is not always so helpless, and not necessarily so strategically vulnerable to such attacks. Reserve Strategy Beijing must assault Washington’s celestial lines of communication that support the maritime and air forces that Washington must dispatch to aid Taiwan. The consequences of doing so, or failing to do so, results in the dispersing influence of space power being brought to bear on the side that manages to keep using space power and commanding space to a good enough degree. A strike against space systems at the outset of hostilities or manoeuvres may not be necessary or inevitable because of the needs and conditions of the terrestrial campaign. If a terrestrial campaign requires complete surprise, an attack on space systems may give away the terrestrial attack and reduce its effect. Expecting space superiority for an air strike may tempt the opposing force to conduct an opening airstrike without space superiority – much like how Egypt’s land offensive in the 1973 Yom Kippur War took Israel by surprise because they did so without air superiority. A simple incentive to use a reserve strategy is that its timing can be used to increase the terrestrial consequences of the loss of space support at a crucial time. America would have more incentive to wait until its forces are converging on Taiwan when China needs to gather more data from sensors ashore to increase its anti-ship missile hit probabilities – making this the opportune time to disable the Qu Dian system and launch a concerted American space offensive. This is seemingly risky, but if timed well, can create the crucial opening for amphibious reinforcements of the Taiwanese resistance by the US Navy and Air Force. If the Qu Dian system is neutralised too early, workarounds may have been deployed by the time American expeditionary forces arrive in-theatre. The reserve strategy may be useful to as a responsive posture based on when the adversary is about to launch a PGM salvo, and that salvo in itself may be used only when enemy terrestrial forces have concentrated on Earth around a geographical point, such as Taiwan and its surrounding waters. Counterspace operations and point-defence systems can parry the blow of a PGM salvo, or at least deny the one-shot-one-kill potential feared in Chinese A2AD systems. Indeed, the best time to deny Chinese A2AD systems is when the Chinese are counting on them to work at a crucial time of their choosing. This approach, however, may require a risk appetite that is now alien to the leaders of Western air and maritime forces. Space power and air power are not immune to strategic logic. The abstract and absolutist nature of a Space Pearl Harbor assault on space systems is feared and has triggered thought and planning on mitigating the damages of such an attack on both sides. Mitigating the risks of a decisive blow from above in space follows a classic logic of strategy. Space systems may be more resilient than some assume. Terrestrial mitigation measures to parry the blow of a PGM salvo may decrease the need for excessive and pre-emptive counter-space operations. Fifth-generation aircraft may have a significant role as interceptors of long-range A2AD platforms and projectiles to protect the heavy-hitting destroyers and carriers as they approach a point of geographic interest and increase their risks of taking on damage. There may be an incentive not to shoot at or disrupt satellites first if one side thinks they can weather successive rounds of PGM salvos and exhaust the enemy’s supply of PGMs while retaining the ability to meet the objectives of the campaign in the aftermath. Space warfare and astro-strategy in a Taiwan scenario should – in part – be subordinated to the needs of a terrestrial salvo competition, which is itself partly subordinated to the needs of the amphibious Taiwan campaign and its political objectives. Conclusion The proliferation of space power increases its usefulness in warfare. Therefore the payoff of counter-space operations also increases. This proliferation, however, does not necessarily result in reduced strategic stability, as the ‘use-it-or-lose-it’ mentality encouraged by the Space Pearl Harbor astro-strategy is not without its inherent strategic flaws as a surprise attack. Space weapons and anti-satellite operations may be held in reserve to coincide with a critical moment on Earth: joint operations must include space power, but space operations must also embrace the needs of terrestrial warfare. With the advent of fifth-generation air forces and the emergence of remotely piloted or autonomous reconnaissance and combat aircraft, the reliance of air power on space power will only increase. Future high-intensity warfare will witness competing systems-of-systems, and space warfare will play a frontline role as a method of parrying and blunting each side’s precise airborne spear tips as two high technology militaries exploit and impose the dispersing effects of space power. Dr Bleddyn E. Bowen is a Lecturer in International Relations at the School of History, Politics, and International Relations, University of Leicester. Previously, he lectured at King’s College London and Aberystwyth University. Bleddyn is a specialist in space power theory, astro-politics, and space security, and has published in The Journal of Strategic Studies, The British Journal of International Relations, and Astropolitics, frequently contributes to blogs on space warfare, and has featured in the podcasts The Space Show and The Dead Prussian. Amongst other things, Bleddyn is currently working on his research monograph on space power theory and convenes the Astropolitics Collective. [1] This article is based on research presented at the International Studies Association 2017 Annual Convention and will feature in a forthcoming monograph. Bleddyn E. Bowen. ‘Down to Earth: The Influence of Spacepower Upon Future History’, paper presented at ISA Annual Convention, Baltimore, February 2017. [2] Bleddyn E. Bowen, ‘The Art of Space Deterrence’, European Leadership Network, 20 February 2018, https://www.europeanleadershipnetwork.org/commentary/the-art-of-space-deterrence/ [3] Mark Gunzinger and Bryan Clark, Winning the Salvo Competition: Rebalancing America’s Air and Missile Defenses (Washington, D.C.: CBSA, 2016) [4] John B. Sheldon, Reasoning by Strategic Analogy: Classical Strategic Thought and the Foundations of a Theory of Space Power (PhD Thesis, University of Reading, 2005) [5] Bleddyn E. Bowen, ‘From the sea to outer space: The command of space as the foundation of spacepower theory’, Journal of Strategic Studies, First Online, 2017 https://doi.org/10.1080/01402390.2017.1293531 #AirForce #AirPower #Space #technology

14 March 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Ian Shields explores the implication of the concepts of time and space for airmen. Using these concepts, Ian explores the differences between the Services concerning culture, technology, and decision-making. Understanding these differences is essential if we are to leverage the advantages of each of the domains in high-intensity warfare. Introduction: Time and space bound all military operations. We are used to the idea of trading time for space, although that is primarily applicable to the land campaign. If we think about the time/space relationship in two campaigns separated by a significant amount of history associated concepts show a great deal of change: The Peloponnesian Wars – campaign duration, the speed of manoeuvre, communication, size of battlefield/weapon ranges. The First Gulf War – campaign duration, the speed of manoeuvre, communication, size of battlefield/weapon ranges. It can be argued that time and space constrains airmen; however, we have a different perception and are better able to exploit both time and space. Nevertheless, before going any further, what do airmen do? In 2010, Colonel Tim Schultz, the then Commandant of the USAF School of Advanced Air and Space Power Studies suggested that airmen ‘project innovative forms of power across traditional boundaries.’ Again, with emphasis, airmen ‘project innovative forms of power beyond traditional barriers.’ The key words here are, ‘project,’ ‘innovative’ and ‘power’ and these are the key to why airmen are different. Given this, this article focusses on four areas: the impact of air power; our cultural differences as airmen compared with soldiers and sailors; the impact of technology; and decision-making before concluding. The Impact of Air Power Looking at the world at the beginning of the Twentieth Century, it was well-ordered, firmly based on the idea of the nation-state that was built on Treaty of Westphalia and the Congress of Vienna. Europe was, by historical standards, relatively peaceful with well-defined and respected boundaries. To alter the balance of power required armies crossing these boundaries which, as we saw in 1914, could have disastrous results. Navies could control trade, impose blockades, and prevent armies moving over stretches of open water but they are themselves constrained by the availability of water; water covers only 70% of the surface of the earth. The events of 17 December 1903 changed all that, although it was not appreciated in those terms at the time (or, arguably, ever since): with 100% of the earth covered by air, boundaries drawn on maps and the constraints of the ocean became far less relevant. Again, airmen project beyond traditional boundaries. While technology did not allow air power to be fully exploited in the First World War, the omens were there. Yes, there was an over-reaction in the 1920s and 1930s with, for example, Stanley Baldwin’s pronouncement that ‘the bomber will always get through,’ but the seeds for air power to exploit time and space in innovative ways began to be appreciated. Cultural Differences When exploring the question of what time and space mean for airmen, it is worth also reflecting what they mean for the soldier and the sailor. Time and space considerations bound both far more than airmen. Take the soldier. Their horizon is limited in both spatial and temporal terms: soldiers may be interested in what is going on over the next hill, but rarely will he or she have to think much further. The modern-day artilleryman may point out the range of his or her weapon systems but compared with the airman they are limited. All too often the soldier’s view is limited to the range of their vision, which is perhaps why he or she may not understand that air power can protect him or her without necessarily being always in sight – or under command. The sailor, by contrast, is far more used to the open horizons of the blue ocean. His or her vision is bounded not by the trench system but by the curvature of the earth. Away from the shore the sailor enjoys a sense of freedom more familiar to the airman and is used to thinking in large distances. Culturally, airmen have more in common with the sailor than the soldier, and it is perhaps not surprising that we have adapted the nautical methods of navigation – speed in knots, distances in nautical miles, latitude and longitude as our geographic reference system rather than units more familiar to a soldier. The sailor, though, is also more bounded than the airman. Not only does the sailor’s domain stop at the shoreline or the river’s edge, but his or her speed across the oceans is, by our standards, slow while, with obvious acknowledgements to submariners, like the soldier he or she is largely constrained to operating in just two dimensions. There is a further cultural divide, which is the way the pace of technology has shaped airmen. For the sailor, he or she has progressed from the sail, through steam to nuclear propulsion over many centuries. For the soldier, the path from bows and arrows, via the musket to today’s weapon systems has been a journey of some half a millennium. In contrast, airmen have moved from the Wright brothers through the jet engine to Sputnik and then on to the Space Shuttle in a short space of time. So, our perception of time, driven by the technology that permits us to operate in the third dimension, is fundamentally different. Airmen even refer to it in our poetry – the definitive High Flight talking of slipping the surly bonds of earth, of wheeling, soaring and swinging high in the sunlit silence and, finally, of reaching out and touching the face of God – sentiments that speak loudly to we who exploit the third dimension and are less constrained by the fourth – time – than our earth- and water-bound brothers. Less I am accused of too many flights of fancy, let me continue with something altogether more concrete, the impact of technology. Impact of Technology Technology allows us to fly and we are inexorably wedded to it as a result. We are at home not just with the advances, but the speed of change: we are adaptable. Technology allows us to challenge the constraints of time and space constantly. We go ever faster, ever further, ever higher to the extent that now it is the human in the cockpit, or in the loop, that becomes the limiting factor with the demands on the human body regarding g-force and life support becoming critical in aircraft such as the Eurofighter Typhoon. The very speed at which our platforms can operate bring new pressures on command, control, and communications, and on the decision-making cycle. So, we can shrink time and exploit it to an ever-greater extent but are we reaching a new plateau with the human body the limiting factor?  If so, we turn again to technology and remove the human from the cockpit – the Remotely Piloted Aerial System (RPAS) – or help with decision-making by more automation. However, is this shrinking or expanding of time? It is both, depending on your viewpoint: it is shrinking because we need less time to undertake actions, or it is expanding because we can achieve more in the same period. Regarding space, we see a similar dichotomy, the shrinking and expanding of the concept of space. As we move further up – and even out of – the atmosphere, we seemingly shrink space – we have access everywhere from our lofty vantage point in orbit, and it is less and less possible to hide from our gaze. At the same time, we are shrinking space as our targeting becomes ever more precise and our discrimination better. Decision Making Perhaps nowhere is our different approach to time and space more starkly illustrated than in the realm of decision-making. It was, after all, John Boyd, an airman – and a fighter pilot to boot – who came up with the OODA loop – a means of getting inside the enemy’s decision-making cycle – that is of exploiting time. While air power offers the politician some advantages – being able to posture from afar, being able to deploy rapidly a potent force but one with only a small footprint – the speed and reach of air power (or, to put it another way, our use and exploitation of time and space) offers him or her specific challenges too; the perils of the hasty decision or the too-long delayed choice. For example, if there is verified intelligence of a hijacked Boeing 747 heading for Canary Wharf but presently over central France, when do you intercept it? These challenges extend ever further down the decision-making process to the commander and, increasingly, to the man or woman in the cockpit: that split-second decision facing the Harrier pilot, Tornado crew or RPAS operator – to drop or not to drop ordnance? However, perhaps the ultimate tyranny (so far in human history at least) of decision-making regarding time and space has been the advent of nuclear weapons. The initial employment of these weapons of mass destruction in 1945 came about because of long and careful decision-making, but with the range of ICBMs and the proliferation of weapons, both time and space have been shrunk as the decision-making cycle becomes ever more compressed with no chance of correcting mistakes. Moreover, remember that for the first 40 years of the nuclear weapon age, it was airmen alone who were responsible for their delivery. Conclusion In this brief article, I have sought to illustrate that we can use time and space – and the relationship between the two – as tools with which to explore air power in a unique way. We can use it to identify differences and similarities with the other domains, and it offers a different means of analysing what it means to be an airman. Time itself has constrained this article to no more than a cornucopia of ideas, and I have explored neither space (as in outer space) nor cyberspace, both domains of increasing importance. Let me offer you three conclusions. First, as airmen, we are more constrained by time and space as we lack permanence and rely on technology to fly at all. Second, as airmen, we are less constrained by time and space because we operate at high-speed, have great reach, are inherently responsive, and have a cultural appreciation of time and space that is unique. Third, new and emerging technologies, as exemplified by fifth-generation air power, will continue to challenge our present perceptions of time, space, and its relationship; the exploitation of both outer space and cyberspace are excellent illustrations of both. To conclude, Francis Fukuyama famously talked about the ‘End of History,’ but perhaps what we are seeing is more an end of TIME and, if not an end then certainly a new appreciation of space. Ian Shields is a retired, senior Royal Air Force officer who has a wealth of experience as an operator, commander, and analyst. After a 32-year career that saw him command a front-line squadron and reach the rank of group captain, he has more recently established himself as a highly respected commentator on defence and security issues, specialising on aerospace matters. Ian holds post-graduate degrees from King’s College, London, and the University of Cambridge. He currently an Associate Lecturer at the University of Cambridge and writes for several academic and journalistic publications on current issues within defence and international relations. #organisationalculture #AirPower #technology #armies #navies

11 March 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Chris McInnes examines the case for the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) to develop a fully integrated expeditionary air wing capability to deal with the challenges offered by high-intensity warfare. In introducing Plan Jericho to the world in 2015, then Chief of the RAAF Air Marshal Geoff Brown argued that the Royal Australian Air Force ‘need[s] to evolve our techniques, tactics and procedures to work as a champion team, not a team of champions.’[1] Brown’s distinction between a champion team and team of champions is a particularly important one for small air forces to consider as they ponder the requirements of high-intensity operations in a changing world. The tempo, complexity, and costs of high-intensity operations will sunder the seams of a team of champions. Small air forces have had mercifully limited experience of this pressure because larger forces, generally the United States Air Force (USAF), have absorbed much of it. For the RAAF, a lacklustre command experience in the Second World War has been followed by niche contributions that operated as part of US-led combat air operations but in isolation from each other in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan.[2] Australian officers have led these contributions and regional coalition operations, such as East Timor in 1999, and gained valuable knowledge as embeds in larger US headquarters. However, as a collective, Australia’s airmen have had little exposure to building a champion team to withstand the pressures of high-intensity warfare. This is why Operation Okra’s air task group is so important. The dispatch of a self-deploying, self-sustaining air task group to the Middle East in September 2014 marked a departure from Australia’s experience of combat air operations. For the first time since the Second World War, Australian air power– the E-7A airborne early warning and control aircraft, KC-30A tankers, F/A-18F fighters, C-130J transports, air base, and enabling elements – contributed to the wider US-led operation as a coherent Australian team. But this team came together despite the lack of a common organisational concept or a well-prepared headquarters to facilitate their integration as an Australian champion team. The aircraft and air bases mentioned above reported to three separate chains of command: Air Task Group 630 commanded the E-7A, KC-30A, and F/A-18 elements while Joint Task Force 633 retained command, as separate units, of the C-130J aircraft and the air base elements in the Middle East. This organisational fragmentation was not helped by the fact that, according to the commander of the initial air task group and now Air Commander Australia Air Vice-Marshal Steve Roberton, the principal headquarters element responsible for integrating the separate capabilities “formed over there; [it] it was not stood up before we deployed. In fact, people hadn’t even met.’ The capabilities of the Air Task Group. An RAAF KC-30A Multi Role Tanker Transport, E-7A Wedgetail and an F/A-18F Super Hornet fly in formation as they transit to the battlespace on Operation Okra [Image Credit: Department of Defence] The friction-induced by ad hoc organisation and an under-prepared headquarters in September 2014 was overcome through the cooperation of quality personnel in stressful but controlled circumstances. These favourable conditions are unlikely to be present in high-intensity operations, and self-inflicted friction will only exacerbate uncontrollable external challenges, delaying and potentially preventing an Australian team of champions becoming a champion team when it matters most. This article argues that invigorating and embedding the concepts and capabilities needed to operate as an expeditionary air wing is critical if Australian air power is to meet Brown’s challenge when it matters most. The article will argue that the wing is the critical expeditionary echelon for small air forces like the RAAF in high-intensity operations, outline why building expeditionary air wings may be difficult for the RAAF and draw upon British and Canadian experiences over the past decade to suggest some ways forward as a means of stimulating broader discussion. First, ‘wing’ in this post means the lowest air power command echelon with the necessary resources – command, flying, maintenance, base services, and other enablers – to generate, apply, and sustain air power autonomously. The core concept of a wing is that it is the collective of multiple capabilities under a single commander that generates air power, not a specific number of aircraft, squadrons, or personnel. This historically-proven concept of a wing is flexible, scalable, and modular; not all wings need the full suite of enabling services, and it is entirely possible to have a wing with no permanent flying units. Importantly, wings can be defined by function or by geography depending on the circumstances – the Australian Air Component in the Middle East formed in 2009 was, in essence, a reorganisation of existing independent units to form a wing. Army personnel would recognise the concept of a wing as a combined arms formation, similar to a brigade. A generic expeditionary air wing organisational structure. [Image credit: Author] The wing is the critical echelon for small air forces precisely because it is the lowest echelon capable of autonomous operations and command, either as part of a coalition force or independently. Even when an air and space operations centre (AOC) is available, the wing is where indispensable but often overlooked tactical planning, integration, and assessment occur to turn the AOC’s higher direction into executable plans. Much of the planning on operations and exercises, such as Red Flag and Diamond Storm – the RAAF Air Warfare Instructor Course’s (AWIC) final exercise – happens at the wing level because it is focused on integrating multiple capabilities to achieve a mission. In operations led by a larger partner, such as Okra, a wing enables a small air force to present a coherent, readily identifiable, force package that reduces integration costs on both sides. In more modest operations in which a small air force may lead a joint or combined force a wing headquarters can provide the command and control core, potentially obviating the need for a separate AOC. This latter point is especially crucial for small air forces whose expeditionary resources may mean a separate AOC is unaffordable and unnecessary, particularly in high-intensity operations that generate substantial homeland defence tasking and thereby limit the assets available for expeditionary operations. High-intensity warfare reinforces the criticality of the wing for small forces because of the need for flexibility, agility, and resilience. When then-Commander US Pacific Air Forces, General Hawk Carlisle, argued for greater distribution of command and control functions that would see ‘the AOR [area of responsibility] […] become a CAOC,’ part of his vision, according to Lieutenant General David Deptula (ret’d) , was that wings would play a ‘role much more integral to a distributed [command and control] system than simply their historical force-provider role.’ Resilience is boosted by reducing air power’s dependence on a single node and allowing operations to continue despite degraded communications. Enhancing command and control capabilities at multiple points increases flexibility because each node is better able to integrate different forces or adapt to new missions. Agility is fostered by supporting concurrent and locally-focused activity across many organisations; USAF exercises indicate this distributed planning model can significantly accelerate the air operations planning process. These rationales are apparent in Britain and Canada who have developed expeditionary air wings since 2006. The two countries have taken different paths, but both have made wings the foundations of their expeditionary forces, with required capabilities plugging into the wing framework as required. Britain has multiple standing expeditionary air wings drawn directly from Royal Air Force (RAF) stations, while Canada maintains two expeditionary wings at any given time. The Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) has a permanent high-readiness expeditionary wing for contingency operations drawn from 2 Wing and one focused on longer-term operations that are drawn from the Air Force’s remaining wings on a rotating basis. An RAF colleague at the Australian Command and Staff College viewed the wing framework as so fundamental to expeditionary air operations that, after a presentation on the initial Okra deployment highlighted that capabilities were deployed without such a framework, he opined that “you Aussies do this air power thing upside down. Is that because you’re from the southern hemisphere?” Australia’s apparently inverted approach to expeditionary air operations stems from a structure that is optimised for managing discrete capabilities rather than producing integrated air power packages. As Air Vice-Marshal (ret’d) Brian Weston has pointed out, the force element group (FEG) construct has many positives, and FEG played a crucial role in ensuring that the team of champions were ready for Operation Okra. However, the capability-defined FEG and their similarly defined subordinate wings mean that no two FEG or wings are alike and no FEG or wing is structured for, or practised in, leading an integrated expeditionary team in combat. The rise of FEG-aligned control centres and divisions in Australia’s standing AOC reinforces this separation because it drives cross-FEG integration up to the AOC (at least in a formal sense).  These structural barriers to integration are reinforced by a cultural one that arises because personnel tend to ‘grow up’ through their own FEG and could reach very senior ranks with limited exposure to ‘other FEG.’ The lack of a ready and rehearsed wing headquarters for Operation Okra stemmed directly from a disaggregated organisation that is optimised for generating individual champions. So how then to build the champion team necessary for high-intensity warfare? As Okra and other operations have demonstrated, almost all the pieces of an Australian expeditionary air wing already exist. The establishment of the Air Warfare Centre (AWC) to champion integration and develop the techniques and procedures for integrated tactics is an important step forward. Much work is already underway through Plan Jericho initiatives, the establishment of an Air Warfare School and AWIC, and integration-focused exercises such as the Diamond series and Northern Shield. Integrated tactics and training courses, however, will count for little in high-intensity operations if they are executed by ad hoc organisations using personnel that have not met and whose usual focus is on managing the routine activities of individual capabilities. The RAAF’s positive steps towards integration must be complemented by efforts to build a collective organisational framework for expeditionary air power and the command and control capabilities at the core of that framework. An expeditionary operating concept and expeditionary headquarters focused on generating, applying, and sustaining integrated air power – a champion team – are essential to complement the disaggregated FEG construct that is so adept at building individual champions. The articulation of a clear expeditionary operations concept with the expeditionary air wing at its heart would appear to be a relatively simple task. In 2016 the RCAF included a chapter in its capstone doctrine articulating how it delivers air power to joint or coalition commanders and in domestic or expeditionary settings. This chapter, which was not present in the 2010 edition, includes an air task force concept with an expeditionary air wing as its central operational element and discusses how these frameworks can be tailored to suit specific circumstances. Publicly available articles build on the doctrine chapter to explain the RCAF’s concept and rationale. The RAF explains expeditionary air wings on its public website and emphasises their central role in projecting British air power around the globe. The RAF declares that ‘the aim of [expeditionary air wings] is to […] generate a readily identifiable structure that is better able to deploy discrete units of agile, scalable, interoperable and capable air power.’ Because of this investment in expeditionary air wings, British air power is expected to: • To achieve greater operational synergy, delivering focused operational effects from the outset of a deployment; • To generate a more cohesive trained audience; • To engender more widely a greater understanding of the capability of air power; • To achieve a more inclusive formation identity. By contrast, Australian air power doctrine, including a 2009 publication focused on command and control, devotes more attention to the workings of the RAAF’s garrison structure than operational considerations and tends to description rather than explication. There is no distinction between expeditionary and domestic organisational considerations; ‘expeditionary’ appears only six times scattered across the 245 pages of the RAAF’s Air Power Manual, usually to describe units or capabilities. Discussion on air power command and control is confined to stating a preference for a senior airman to command air power and describing operational-level headquarters. The reader is left with a sense that the RAAF either does not have a clear idea of how it wants to organise integrated air power for a joint or coalition commander or is reluctant to express a view. This is undoubtedly implicit knowledge for many, but high-intensity warfare is not the time to discover that your implicit knowledge differs from the person next to you. The RAAF should explicitly articulate its force presentation and organisation preferences, similar to the Canadian example. An outline of how future air task groups – centred on expeditionary air wings – would function and be organised, the available options, and the considerations that influence choices is necessary. Expressing a clear view on how to best organise and present an integrated air power team for operations in domestic and expeditionary settings is professional, not parochial. This conceptual framework should be widely accessible, preferably in a public document, to maximise the spread of this concept to Australian airmen and colleagues from other Services, agencies, and countries. A clear, and readily accessible, organisational concept underpins the ability of Australian air power to build a champion team quickly, particularly in the face of the pressure and friction of high-intensity operations. The final element needed to rapidly form a champion team from the RAAF’s tactical champions is the commander and, crucially, staff. Commanding an expeditionary air wing is a problematic and vitally important challenge – particularly in high-intensity operations – that must be addressed by a coherent command crew that is trained and exercised to high levels of proficiency. Developing outstanding individuals to serve as commanders is vital but insufficient; they must be supported by adept staff to enable and execute their command responsibilities. Britain and Canada conduct training and exercises to build the expeditionary air wing headquarters team and equip the personnel in that team with the necessary skills and experience. They do so in a coherent and structured fashion to build teams that endure and are available to form the core of a headquarters for expeditionary operations. As a result, the RAF and RCAF are unlikely to confront the situation encountered by Australia’s air task group in 2014. Generating these headquarters elements is likely to pose the greatest challenge for the RAAF to realise a coherent expeditionary air wing capability. The RAF and RCAF approaches will not transfer easily across because the personnel and capabilities needed to lead an expeditionary air wing must be drawn from multiple FEG, and no current RAAF headquarters aside from the AOC focuses on cross-FEG operational coordination. Current Australian practice for expeditionary air operations – the practice used for Operation Okra – is to nominate a commander for deploying forces, build a headquarters structure, and then endeavour to fill the identified positions with personnel on an individual basis. This ad-hoc approach to structures, processes, and staffing for expeditionary headquarters is how Roberton came to be equipped with a headquarters ‘that formed over there […] [with] people that hadn’t even met.’ There are many options to meet this requirement that require evaluation, but all will come at a cost. If dedicated organisations are not feasible, one approach that may minimise cost is to generate a standardised expeditionary headquarters staff structure and then fill the positions on a contingency basis with personnel from a single RAAF base. Each major base – Amberley, Williamtown, and Edinburgh – has the necessary personnel to form a viable headquarters element and aligning them by base would facilitate team building while reducing the impact on in-garrison duties. Rotating the responsibility around bases would spread the burden further. A standardised construct would enable training to be baselined and increase redundancy by enabling personnel from other bases to more readily supplement deploying teams. A permanent high-readiness wing, similar to the RCAF, could be considered to address short-notice contingencies and build expeditionary command and control expertise. RAAF Base Amberley’s resident air mobility and air base elements provide a sound basis for this high-readiness element. However, the personnel needed belong to multiple FEG and have day jobs. Explicit direction from very senior levels would be necessary to ensure these cross-FEG teams can be formed, trained, exercised, and maintained in the face of competing priorities. These teams could be trained and given experience through a structured series of exercises and activities similar to the RAF and RCAF. They could also be given responsibilities for leading major exercises, such as the Diamond series, Pitch Black, and Talisman Sabre as certification activities. The force generation cycles of key expeditionary air wing elements – such as the headquarters, air base, and communications elements – could be aligned to maximise an expeditionary wing’s coherence upon deployment. This building block approach is similar to the Australian Army’s combat brigade force generation cycle, providing an opportunity to align force generation cycles and enhance readiness across the joint force. Invigorating and embedding expeditionary air wing concepts and headquarters capabilities in Australian air power are essential for the RAAF to turn its team of champions into a champion team. An ability to deploy and fight as an expeditionary air wing from day one is vital for small air forces in high-intensity operations because combat effectiveness, resilience, and flexibility across multi-national forces must be optimised while national control and identity are assured. The RAAF’s history, structure, and culture presents challenges to this task, but there are ways forward, with much good work already underway. Clearly articulating how the RAAF intends to organise expeditionary air elements and building expeditionary leadership teams are the next steps needed to ensure the RAAF’s fifth-generation champions can fight and win as a champion team when it matters most. Wing Commander Chris ‘Guiness’ McInnes is an officer in the Royal Australian Air Force and editor at The Central Blue. The opinions expressed are his alone and do not reflect those of the Royal Australian Air Force, the Australian Defence Force, or the Australian Government. [1] Air Marshal Geoffrey Brown in Royal Australian Air Force, Plan Jericho: Connected – Integrated, (Canberra: Royal Australian Air Force, 2015), p. 1. [2] Alan Stephens described the RAAF’s command and organisational experience in Europe during the Second World War as ‘an institutional disaster’ while he devoted an entire chapter (out of 16 in the book) to ‘The RAAF Command Scandal’ in the South West Pacific, see: Alan Stephens, The Australian Centenary History of Defence – Volume II: The Royal Australian Air Force (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 98, pp. 109-25. Further detail on the RAAF’s command performance in the South West Pacific is available in Norman Ashworth’s fittingly titled two-volume account: Norman Ashworth, How Not to Run an Air Force! The Higher Command of the Royal Australian Air Force during the Second World War – Volume 1 and Narrative (Canberra: Air Power Studies Centre, 2000). #commandandcontrol #RAAF #organisationalculture #FEG #AirForce #C2

Security Forces in #highintensitywar: A Look Back at Airfield Defence for a Future Consideration of the RAAF - Sean Carwardine 07 March 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Sean Carwardine describes the development of Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) airfield defence policy and questions the adequacy of current policy in preparing the Air Force to defend its bases in a #highintensitywar situation. Air power is generated from air bases. Therefore, in a high-intensity conflict, air forces should expect that their adversary will target their bases. Unfortunately, airfield protection in a high-intensity conventional conflict has attracted little attention in the development of the RAAF’s fifth-generation force. This article looks at the history of RAAF airfield defence, and in consideration of lessons learned, will propose critical questions for future tasking, capabilities, equipment, command and control, training, planning, scale, interoperability, and security force influence on the air domain. Since 1929, the RAAF has had a single-service policy towards airfield defence, involving airmen providing low-level anti-aircraft and machine gun ground defence. Past RAAF airfield defence policy worked on the assumption of RAAF involvement in small localised, asymmetric or low-intensity warfare in a joint environment. The policy has developed in the context of operations involving rapidly deployed aircraft operating from forward bases secured by allied nations supplying the bulk of force protection. These bases have been in relatively secure rear-areas of sanctuary, with security focusing only on countering the threat of small incursions. In a modern high-intensity war situation, these sanctuaries may no longer provide a guarantee of safety or security. Accordingly, the RAAF and its airfield defence policy must evolve. RAAF airfield defence policy must consider force protection in a high-threat environment, and possibly without significant assistance from major allies. The RAAF has never been in a position, apart from five months in the Second World War, to provide full airfield defence for its bases in a high-intensity war situation; it has been partly or wholly reliant on allied forces. During the Second World War, RAAF policy focused on the Australian Army providing low to high-level anti-aircraft defence and ground defence outside the wire. Within the wartime RAAF, there was a clear divide between RAAF Headquarters (the RAAF’s administrative command) and RAAF Command (the RAAF’s operational command) as to the workforce and organisation of airfield defence in the RAAF. The former believed small sections of Guards (20-30) could protect RAAF assets with technical airmen acting in the role as a secondary duty (a reactive defence). For RAAF Headquarters there was no requirement for a specific organisation to provide airfield defence. RAAF Command was against this ‘penny pinching’ policy and promoted a ‘RAAF Regiment’ of guards so that specialists focused on protection, and technical airmen focused on keeping aircraft in the air. By 1945, the RAAF had the equivalent of five squadrons worth of guards (1,042 guards) in No. 2 Airfield Defence Squadron of the First Tactical Air Force (First TAF), five squadrons worth in the Northern Command (723 guards), four squadrons worth in Security Guard Unit/No. 1 Airfield Defence Squadron (570 guards) in the North-Western Area Command. Approximately, 1,900 guards (some cross-trained as war dog handlers and guard gunners) were also allocated to every aerodrome, inland fuel storage, radar/radio station, wharf/dock, RAAF chemical warfare storage, bomb and ammunition storage, civilian aerodromes and squadron in southern Australia. In addition to the guards, the Service Police had small units in every capital and small numbers on stations and in some squadrons. These forces provided the full scope of air base defence requirements for the RAAF. At the end of the Second World War, the Australian Chief of the Air Staff (CAS) removed airfield defence from the RAAF, six months before the official disbandment dates. RAAF Service Police strength was also reduced to fewer than 100 airmen across the nation. CAS stated, ‘I am not prepared to agree to any more of these specialised units.’[1] However, senior airmen argued against this. In 1945/46 senior officers such as Air Commodore Frank Bladin (Deputy Chief of the Air Staff), Air Commodore Frederick Scherger (Commander of First TAF), Air Vice-Marshal William Bostock (Air Officer Commanding RAAF Command) and Air Commodore John McCauley supported a proposal for a new airfield defence policy and the formation of an RAAF Regiment as put forward by Wing Commander George Mocatta. Mocatta was Operation Staff Officer – Defence for the RAAF Command Headquarters Allied Air Force, a post which he held since 1942. He was a graduate of the Royal Air Force’s (RAF) Defence Officer course, and in 1944/45 Mocatta had studied the ground defence of airfields by the RAF Regiment in Europe and the Far East. Mocatta’s proposal argued that the formation of a RAAF Regiment would see a reduction to around 2,000 guards and 300 police but would provide a full-time airfield defence force that included a ground fighting force, low level anti-aircraft force, airfield engineers, explosive ordnance disposal, mortars and armoured vehicles. Mocatta’s proposal was not progressed; it stayed in RAAF Headquarters un-actioned until the file was closed in 1949. During the 1950s, under the National Service Scheme, two aerodrome defence squadrons were formed to train reserve airmen as Ground Gunners. Early in the 1950s a total of four Aerodrome Defence Officers, 25 Guards and a small number of Service Police were sent to Japan and Korea to provide squadron guard duty and security. Although low-level ground base air defence was considered a RAAF responsibility, the RAAF provided no ground-based air defence of any type on operations in Korea. Between 1952 and 1955, the Air Staff Policy Memorandum No. 15 RAAF Ground Defence Policy (ASPM 15) highlighted the possibility of a conflict on a global scale against Communist forces. This possibility of high-intensity war would force the RAAF to establish its light anti-aircraft (LAA) defence units, thus releasing the Australian Army from this duty. The policy also raised the possibility of an attack by Communist ground forces, in either large-scale commando style or clandestine attacks. Under ASPM 15 active and passive defence of RAAF assets would be undertaken by six Rifle Squadrons, one Armoured Squadron and three LAA Squadrons of Guards or Ground Gunner reservists. The 1950s saw another push for the formation of a single permanent Airfield Defence Squadron. The idea this time was similar to Mocatta’s 1945 proposal; however, this time the proposal focused on a single peacetime squadron as a nucleus for a war-time RAAF Regiment. Then in the late 1950s, the RAAF Ground Defence Policy Chapter of Air Staff Doctrine listed no requirement for ground defence units and highlighted only the need for a few Ground Defence Officers, Aerodrome Defence Instructors and Guards, with National Service airmen training as Ground Gunners in the reserve. By 1957, the policy of RAAF airfield defence changed in response to the evolving strategic situation. No major global war was foreseen. Therefore, there was no need for RAAF ground defence forces. The policy was that under an inter-service agreement, the Australian Army would provide all active and passive defence for RAAF assets. The only time the RAAF would require its active defence was when units were overseas, operationally deployed away from land forces or in an emergency. RAAF commanders would initiate their ground defence force from airmen within their unit. In the early 1960s the RAAF trained Aircraft Hand/General Duty airmen and RAAF Service Police in infantry tactics to perform airfield defence for duty in Thailand. By 1965 the RAAF created a new mustering for airfield defence and guard duty; the Airfield Defence Guards (ADGs) were formed. Again, the idea of a RAAF Defence Squadron equipped with low-level air defence capability emerged, resulting in the acquisition of eight 40mm Bofors Anti-Aircraft Guns and 140 Oerlikon 20mm cannons for the proposed formation of a peace-time airfield defence squadron.  Interestingly, in the files, a staff officer queried this policy asking, ‘who are we going to shoot them at?’[2] The Bofors ultimately went to the Australian Army, and the Oerlikons stayed in storage.[3] The RAAF then introduced the Bloodhound missile defence program, by 1968 the system was outdated, and the project ended. Phan Rang, Vietnam. c.1969. Airfield defence guards of the Australian Quick Reaction Team (QRT) respond to a night incident on the perimeter of Phan Rang air base where No. 2 Squadron RAAF was stationed, under the operational control of the American 35th Tactical Fighter Wing. [Image Credit: USAF via B.E.S. Williamson] Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, RAAF policy on ground defence focused on limited war. Unsurprisingly, the ground defence policy for Vietnam focused on low-intensity warfare with an allocation of a 30-man flight of ADGs. At the time, RAAF Ground Defence policy (AAP 938) highlighted the RAAF’s responsibility to provide its own ground-based air defence units using equipment such as 20mm cannons and surface-to-air missile systems. One paragraph in AAP 938 indicates the RAAF did not have any of these systems and would have to acquire them from Britain, ‘when the war starts’.[4] This raises the concern that in a high-intensity conflict, waiting for equipment would be too late. By 1973, the RAAF officially removed anti-aircraft defence from RAAF capabilities, instead relying on the Australian Army’s ground-based air defence (GBAD) systems or aircraft to provide air defence. The 1980s and 1990s saw separate Rifle Flights of ADGs around the country, undertaking guard duty and exercises. During this period, however, the reformation of No. 2 Airfield Defence Squadron and eventually combined all Rifle Flights into one squadron in one location. Operation Warden, the Australian-led intervention in East Timor in 1999, highlighted the capabilities and the benefits of having a dedicated, air-minded, air force security force in a low-intensity environment. However, having one full time and one partly-staffed reserve unit (No. 1 Airfield Defence Squadron), demonstrated the need for a force protection restructure. In the subsequent shift to the asymmetric conflicts of Iraq and Afghanistan, RAAF security forces have integrated with Australian Army units and law enforcement agencies to protect aircraft in Aircraft Security Operations, protect air force detachments and take responsibility for the defence of international airfield defence duties. This is the basis of airfield defence policy that still defines RAAF Security Force approach. Group Captain Jeremy Parkinson from NATO’s Joint Air Power Competence Centre stated ‘Firstly, because of a lack of understanding of how [Force Protection] is provided, it is all too often seen in capitals and headquarters as little more than a static guarding task and as such is not perceived as contributing to the actual delivery of the mission’.[5] He also stated that commanders have a lack of understanding of how complex and resource intensive force protection is, and one should not assume that the host nation will provide airfield protection for deployed forces.[6] Considering Parkinson’s statement, it is fair to ask: does the current RAAF Security Force structure cater for all air base defence requirements, does it have an absolute, definite intent of potential operational tasking? In a high-intensity conflict in the future, it is likely the Australian Army would deploy a brigade, which would be expected to include GBAD for the field force. The RAAF would deploy an Air Task Group to operate from a coalition airfield. What is unclear is if deploying as part of a coalition force, and with US or NATO units in place, would Australia be required to supply a Security Force Squadron? Would Australian GBAD systems automatically attach to the forward air base as stated in the 2016 White Paper? What capability does a current RAAF Security Force bring to the table? I argue that the RAAF has been guilty of turning a ‘Nelsonian blind eye’ to the need for its own air base defence capability. History shows the RAAF has a lack of understanding of the specialist nature of all air base protection as it has developed a reliance on others, an aversion to committing fully to the airfield defence role and a failure to appropriately resource airfield defence. Are we learning from history, or following it? Some questions need to be asked if the RAAF is to prepare to defend its operating bases in a high-intensity conflict. Does the RAAF insist Australian Army GBAD systems be permanently on every air base or will they be allocated to the RAAF after the start of combat operations? Does the RAAF have dispersed hardened or underground shelters, its own air-minded specialist protection force, or does current policy remain extant and we will rely on allies or host nations for our protection? Analysts will discuss the pros and cons of the Australian Defence Force being a versatile and flexible force that can fight in low and high-intensity conflicts. However, the current legacy RAAF Security Force Squadrons remain established as a ‘small-war’ force, ill-equipped and lacking ground intelligence capabilities to protect air bases, overseas and at home, in a future high-intensity war. Australia needs a RAAF specialist security protection force that is equipped and trained to respond across the spectrum of future conflict scenarios. A fifth-generation air force must be able to defend the bases that generate its air power. Sean Carwardine joined the RAAF in 1986 as an Airfield Defence Guard and retired in 2007. Sean served at No. 2 Airfield Defence Squadron, No. 1 Central Ammunition Depot, RAAF Base Richmond, Australian Defence Force Academy, RAAF Base Amberley, Headquarters Airfield Defence Wing. Sean also served on operations in Indonesia 1992, Timor 1999/2000, Afghanistan 2002 and Iraq 2003/04. Sean has completed a Bachelor of Education (University of Southern Queensland), Master of History (Airfield Defence) and is the final year of a PhD – History and Analysis of Airfield Defence Policy in the RAAF (University of New England). Sean has published two articles on RAAF airfield defence, lectured at RAAF Security and Fire School, Security Forces Squadrons (SECFOR) and SECFOR Conference. [1] National Archives of Australia (NAA), A1196, 15/501/258 PART 2. [2] NAA, A703, 564/8/36 PART 1. [3] NAA, A703, 564/8/2/PART 7. [4] Ibid. [5] Jeremy Parkinson, ‘Developing Future Force Protection Capability (Part 1),’ Transforming Joint Air Power: The Journal of the JAPCC, 18 (2013), pp. 69-73; Idem, ‘Developing Future Force Protection Capability (Part 2),’ Transforming Joint Air Power: The Journal of the JAPCC, 19 (2014), pp. 67-72. [6] Parkinson, ‘Developing Future Force Protection Capability (Part 1),’ p. 72. #airbases #history #organisationalculture #AirPower #AirForce #VietnamWar #Security #lessonslearned

4 March 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. This article is a cross-post from the team at The Strategy Bridge from their Operation Iranian Freedom series and was originally published on 16 February 2016. This is the second post in that series and takes place simultaneously, but from a different perspective, as with the first (11 August 2016) and third (10 June 2016) instalments. This article has been selected as it highlights the use of fiction to contemplate, consider, explore, and engage with strategy and the possibilities of future conflict. When considering the requirements to prepare for and engage in modern #highintensitywar, fiction such as the Operation Iranian Freedom series is a good place to start. Our sincerest gratitude to the authors and the team at The Strategy Bridge for permission to use this post in the #highintensitywar series. It was predictable. The moment U.S. policymakers signed a nuclear deal with Iran, it made future military action inevitable.  What was Iraq in 1991 if not a foreshadowing of this more deadly situation?  United Nations Resolution 687 called for Iraq’s leadership to destroy, remove, or render harmless its chemical and biological weapons as well as all ballistic missiles with a range greater than 150 kilometres.  That resolution, at least in part, set the stage for the series of events leading to Operation Iraqi Freedom. This newer deal created its eastern brother, Operation Iranian Freedom. While there was some hope the nuclear deal would succeed when Iran handed over their enriched uranium to Russia in 2015, it was short lived. The Russians, who played a critical role in the 2015 nuclear deal, were furious when Sweden joined the North Atlantic Treaty Organization in 2022. One year later, the Russian economy, already weakened by increased natural gas and oil exports from U.S. shale, began a precipitous downward spiral when the U.S. Advanced Research Projects Agency-Energy sold technology to European countries that enabled them to essentially end their dependence on Russian-supplied natural gas. In response, Russia returned the enriched uranium to Iran. The regime in Tehran, also reeling from the economic shocks of cheap oil and chafing against an increasingly belligerent U.S. government under the new administration elected in 2024, used this opportunity to reinstate their highly-controversial nuclear program. [Image Credit: The Strategy Bridge] As has been shown throughout modern history, international agreements and strict United Nations resolutions are worthless. This one is no different. Like those before, the Iranians violated the nuclear deal and U.S. policymakers will end up choosing between military force and looking feckless; what politician chooses to appear impotent? And at the end of the day, who is going to get the job done if not the U.S. military? No one else has the resources or capacity. As someone who ends up implementing policy when diplomacy fails, I’d prefer our policymakers to focus on slow, steady, multi-decade campaigns that revolve around non-military solutions, but long-term thinking is not the strength of most diplomatic efforts. Plus, most nations, particularly in the Middle East, only really understand the threat or use of force. While difficult, particularly in the politically contentious times we find ourselves in, politicians could use a few pages out of the books I read at the U.S. Army War College to weave together both military and non-military means.  Admiral J.C. Wylie’s cumulative strategy and George Kennan and Paul Nitze’s efforts against communism come to mind as successful frameworks. But what do I know? I’m just a lowly Marine colonel slaving away in the operations shop of Joint Task Force–Iranian Freedom (JTF-IF).  At least the international hotels in Doha serve alcohol. Preparation for this campaign has been hard, especially for those of us trying to fuse national policy and the brief snatches of guidance from the Pentagon to operational realities on the ground. The last decade’s drawdown of U.S. forces following the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, combined with austere budget cuts, ensured all lobbying efforts to increase military capabilities fell on deaf ears. In contrast, Iranian defensive capabilities, particularly along the Arabian Gulf and Gulf of Oman, have vastly improved. As always, we will be forced to make do with what we have. The only good to come of the debate regarding military action against Iran is that our military leaders have actually implemented most of the lessons learned from Iraq and Afghanistan. Rather than pursuing regime change, which required not only breaking a nation but rebuilding it as well, our strategy is now centred upon the concept of a “substantive punitive raid” or “SPR”, pronounced “spear” for short. The SPR doctrine combines Colin Powell’s concept of overwhelming force (or, more precisely, Clausewitz’s principle of mass at critical points), with the short-duration strike operational concept from U.S. special operations forces. Without the burden of a large occupation force on the ground, there will be no forward operating bases to sustain, fewer convoys to attack, and our military will be employed like a military—not like a police or training force. I’ve never agreed with missions that require our young troops to learn about a foreign culture and train partner forces. Maybe it’s a Marine thing, but I don’t care about 18-year olds understanding culture. I need our 18-year olds prepared to destroy culture. “Train them for high order violence and you can always hold them back by the belt” was the Marine Corps of my early days. Thanks to this ability to eschew “stability operations,” we are truly expeditionary, just as the Corps has largely been since its founding. It’s about time the rest of the U.S. military followed our lead. So far, we’ve gathered a formidable team for the raid—no thanks to the bean counters in the Pentagon or the micromanagement of the politicos on the National Security Council staff. Fifth Fleet naval forces are going to secure the sea-lanes, provide for air superiority, and will play a large role in amphibious operations. U.S. Air Forces Central, with some GCC support, will begin the operation with strategic strikes, secure air superiority, and provide close air support to our troops on the ground. On the ground, we have heavy forces ready to cross the National State of Iraq from their jump off point to the east of Baqubah.  Due to the strengthened relationship with Israel and Jordan in the decade-long fight against the Islamic State (and our substantive infrastructure agreement to overcome Iranian interference in the Arabian Gulf and political issues in Kuwait), our supply lines from Aqaba and Eilat in the Gulf of Aqaba all the way to Baqubah are secure.  Meanwhile, airborne and amphibious forces stand ready across the Arabian Gulf to seize their objectives.  I try not to dwell too much on the fact that my former regiment, 8th Marines, is leading the way in the Gulf. This will be the Corps’ first contested amphibious landing since the Second World War. I know many faces in that regiment, many of whom won’t return home. I hear my old driver, Smitty, is a squad leader now; I hope he’s telling some of our old stories to his men to lighten their mood before the assault. The amphibious assault ship USS Iwo Jima [Image Credit: US Department of Defense] More than anything, I wish I could lead Marines in this campaign. Instead, having given up regimental command six months ago, Army General Brad Silvia requested the Corps allow me to serve here on JTF-IF as his chief of operations. It’s better than working at Headquarters, Marine Corps, I suppose. At least it allows me to work under Major General Bill Friese, an old battalion commander of mine, who is now the JTF-IF J-3. Both Friese and I recognize that sometimes what units on the ground actually need is less interference from us. National Security Council (NSC) requirements may cause us friction, but we’ll do our best to avoid passing it onto the units executing the operation. Damn. Another call from Washington. I’ve given up on fighting back against the NSC going around the chain of command and pestering our staff over tactical minutia.  There’s a reason Friese sends the staffers my way; he doesn’t want to deal with them. I don’t blame him. I almost relish the frustration of constant operational working group meetings; at least they give me time to think without being asked for another nit-noid detail to feed yet another NSC information request. “Evening, Arash.  What’s up?” Phil Walter has served in the military, the intelligence community, and the inter-agency. He blogs at www.philwalter1058.com. Dr Diane Maye is a Visiting Professor at John Cabot University in Rome, Italy. She tweets at @DianeLeighMaye. Nathan Finney is an officer in the United States Army. He tweets @nkfinney. This article does not contain information of an official nature, nor do the views expressed in this article reflect the policy or position of any official organization. #Fiction #Joint #Jointness #organisationalculture

28 February 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Dr Brian Laslie discusses the introduction of Exercise Red Flag by the United States Air Force (USAF) as a response to the Service’s experience of high-intensity warfare during the Vietnam War. This article illustrates the importance of realistic training scenarios as a critical tool in honing the preparation of air forces for the challenges they might meet in the future. In November 1975, the USAF began an exercise designed to prepare its pilots to face the realities of combat in a simulated, and yet very realistic, training exercise. Since that first exercise, the USAF has continued to train its pilots for air combat under the Red Flag banner. I recently travelled to discuss the exercise’s origins with a squadron preparing to head to the Nellis ranges in early 2018. The unit wanted me to discuss how Red Flag got started, but perhaps more importantly, why the exercise is the single most important military training event for USAF aircrews, sister service air components, and allied air forces, today. No matter what statistical, empirical, or subjective measurement you use, the American experience in the Vietnam War was not a good one. This was no less true for the USAF than the other branches of the US military. Pilots and senior leaders were less than impressed with their results during combat. The most significant critique came from the line pilots who felt they went into combat ill-prepared to face the enemy. Issues such as how to attack surface-to-air missile (SAM) sites, what an incoming MiG might look like, how to fight that MiG once it was identified, and the proper altitude to get through anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) were not priorities for pilot preparation before the war. In addition to these threats, pilots had to contend with working with complex and sometimes unreliable radar and missile systems all while engaged in high-intensity, manoeuvring aerial combat. In short, American pilots were not properly trained for combat. After the Vietnam War ended, the USAF set about righting these problems through a massive overhaul of existing training paradigms. The changes made in the wake of the Vietnam War fundamentally altered the USAF’s way of war. As the conflict in Vietnam progressed, the USAF commissioned a series of reports to study every aerial engagement with an enemy aircraft. The so-called Red Baron reports captured the problems in painful detail. Fighter aircraft had to contest with densely-packed SAM sites, enemy MiGs, and a very potent AAA threat. Although AAA was by far the most common cause of aircraft damage and loss, dealing with the SAMs and MiGs was perhaps more stressful as the latter, in particular, would seemingly come out of nowhere. One of the major findings from the reports was that American pilots often did not know enemy MiG aircraft were present until they fired. According to a later RAND study, MiGs were 100 times more likely to close to dogfighting proximity than initially anticipated. To deal with this MiG threat, US fighter pilots had only two options: engage or attempt to escape. If the American pilot did enter into a dogfight, odds were this was the first time he had ever fought against a dissimilar aircraft. An F-4 pilot, for example, might have trained against other F-4s, but he had never practised combat against anything resembling an enemy aircraft. Since North Vietnamese pilots were known to fly using Soviet tactics, the USAF was forced to reconsider its approach. If USAF pilots fared so poorly against Soviet-trained pilots, how would they fare against the Soviets themselves? In 1972, the USAF took a step towards crafting a better answer to that question by creating dedicated Aggressor Squadrons, pilots trained specifically to emulate the Soviet style of aerial warfare. The mission of the newly created 64th and 65th Aggressor squadrons was to be a ‘professional adversary force conducting a program of intense dissimilar air combat training’ to teach Air Force pilots how to engage and destroy Soviet fighters. One fighter pilot said: In 1972, when the Aggressors were formed, and DACT [Dissimilar Air Combat Training] became a word you could say openly the biggest deficiency we had in air-to-air capability was human performance. Our tactical BFM [Basic Fighter Maneuvers] skills were weak […] by 1975 DACT and four Aggressor squadrons equipped with new F-5Es were the hottest game in town. Moreover, what did those Aggressors do? They taught BFM…Even as Soviet tactics simulation quickly grew as an Aggressor mission, BFM was still the heart of every debriefing. The Aggressor squadrons travelled from base to base and introduced fighter squadrons to combat with the Soviet Air Force. Aggressor pilots were often hand-picked for a specific skill set. After arriving at Nellis, they underwent an indoctrination process into the history, culture, and training of the Soviet fighter pilot. They also had the opportunity to get hands-on with Soviet equipment. When flying, Aggressors used Soviet tactics to an extent, typically to ‘the merge’ or the point where the fighters became locked in a visual, turning dogfight. At that point, the ‘gloves came off.’ The creation of the Aggressor squadrons was a significant step forward for American pilots, but it still was not enough. Since a USAF pilot in Vietnam had an exponentially better survival rate after completing ten combat missions, Pentagon planners needed a way to expose junior pilots to those first ten missions under safer conditions. Red Flag was the answer. An F-16C Aggressor from the United States Air Force prepares for another Red Flag sortie from Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada. [Image Credit: Department of Defence] Red Flag was the creation of Lieutenant Colonel Richard ‘Moody’ Suter.[1] Although the ‘iron majors’ provided Red Flag with its intellectual underpinnings and conducted the brunt of the leg-work necessary to get the exercise started. Suter and the other action officers enjoyed great support from Tactical Air Command (TAC) and senior USAF leaders in the Pentagon. When Suter pitched Red Flag to TAC Commander General Robert Dixon, the General loved the idea at once and set about making it a reality. This was no small feat considering Dixon’s reputation for being tough on staff officers and his reputation as the ‘Tidewater Alligator.’ General George Brown, the Chief of Staff of the USAF (CSAF), enthusiastically supported the exercise as well and told Dixon to get it going. The following CSAF, General David Jones also supported the exercise. The Air Staff’s intelligence directorate created a new intelligence unit solely to support Red Flag and began work to move Soviet equipment, including MiG fighters, to Nellis to provide a ‘hands on’ approach to fighting Soviet machinery. Overall, this lightning-quick response led to the first Red Flag taking place only four months after Suter’s initial pitch to TAC. Red Flag was designed to combine ‘good basic fighter skills’ with ‘realistic threat employment’ to enhance pilot proficiency and readiness for future combat operations. Red Flag I began in November 1975. The primary unit was the 49th Tactical Fighter Wing flying F-4s. Support elements included OV-10s, F-105s, and CH-53s. Red Flag II in early 1976 had increased support elements, and Red Flag III was larger still, seeing the first participation of the new F-15 and the first-night operations as participants flew nearly 1,000 sorties. These early Red Flags drew tremendous praise from participants and requests for more aggressors and more threats, so subsequent exercises increased in size and scope. By the late 1970s, units from the US Pacific Air Forces and the USAF in Europe were travelling to Nellis to take part. Throughout the 1980s Red Flags became increasingly realistic and, by extension, more difficult for the participating aircrews. As technology advanced, so did the exercise. Gone were the days of tape-recording a mission, and in were the days of the Red Flag Mission Debriefing System, Air Combat Maneuvering Instrumentation, and Nellis Air Combat Training System. Allied nations began taking part as well, and by the end of the 1980s, more than 30 countries had flown in or observed a Red Flag, meaning foreign aircraft were just as likely to be seen in the skies over southern Nevada as American ones. Red Flag expansion continued through the during the 1980s. The April 86 Tactical Analysis Bulletin focused on improvement to existing training methods: Acknowledging and defining the increased capabilities and advances in Soviet technology is the first step in improving our own training programs. Even today, a typical Red Flag runs for two weeks with two ‘goes’ each day. Individual squadron briefs follow a mass brief before aircrew step to their aircraft. As the exercise goes on, the missions get progressively harder, forcing pilots and mission planners to work together to accomplish their objectives. Each Red Flag has a mix of fighter and bomber aircraft along with supporting electronic attack, aerial refuelling, airborne battle management, surveillance, and cargo aircraft. Sister service and foreign participation also occur on a regular basis, letting all experience the realities of air-to-air and air-to-ground combat across the joint and combined force. They learn the ‘golden rules’ of BFM lost before Vietnam: ‘lose sight, lose fight,’ manoeuvring in relation to the adversary, and nose position of their aircraft versus energy. They learn: BFM is used by the pilot to place himself in a piece of sky from which he can launch lethal ordnance, or to keep from becoming a star on the side of somebody else’s jet. From start to finish, Red Flag prepares pilots to conduct air operations as part of a larger force. Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait offered the perfect opportunity for USAF operators to employ the tactics and doctrine they had been perfecting for the previous decade and a half. Red Flag, Prized Eagle, and numerous other large force employment exercises had prepared American airmen well for the enemy they were going to face in combat, primarily on night one, of Operation Desert Storm. While technological marvels such as the F-117 had a direct impact on combat operations and an even larger one on the American media and public, it was the pilots in the multi-role fighters, bombers, and special operations aircraft who ensured air superiority and thus unhindered freedom of manoeuvre for the land component forces. With an estimated 44 kills during Desert Storm, American pilots demonstrated they were unmatched when it came to aerial combat. The training changes employed by the USAF after Vietnam went a long way in allowing American pilots to engage and destroy the enemy even when their technology came up short or rules of engagement prohibited them from employing their weapons beyond visual range. As one American fighter pilot said of his time in Desert Storm, ‘[T]he Red Flag experience prepared me for combat operations.’ Two dogfights, one from Vietnam and one from Desert Storm, capture the impact of Red Flag. In April 1965, a two-ship of F-4s engaged 4 MiG-17s in a protracted dogfight that ended in a ‘probable kill’ of one MiG-17. In total the F-4s attempted to fire six missiles: two did not guide, three motors did not fire, one hung on the rails, and a MiG successfully evaded the one missile that both fired and tracked. In a similar case, on 19 January 1991, two F-15s engaged two MiG-25s. One F-15 fired two AIM-7s and two AIM-9s, the other fired one AIM-9 and one AIM-7 for a total of six missiles, but, in this case, two confirmed kills. These two air engagements indicate that if technology and weapons were similar, then there must be another explanatory factor in success during Desert Storm. That factor was the training revolution. The link between training exercises and real-world events can be somewhat subjective, but numerous pilots interviewed said their participation at Red Flag was of fundamental importance as they entered combat. One MiG-killer of Desert Storm went so far as to say that the primary difference between himself and his opponent was that he had been in hundreds of dogfights at Red Flag. USAF success continued throughout the 1990s in the skies over the Balkans where American pilots continued to show just how well their training prepared them to face the enemy. Even as this article is published, Red Flag 18-1 has recently finished. Beyond that, those trained at numerous Red Flag exercises are, even now, plying their trade in the skies over Syria and Iraq, performing close air support, combat air patrols, and interdiction missions. These men and women have a distinct training advantage not only over their current enemy but against any aerial or ground opponent they might face. Although created forty years ago this year, Red Flag remains enormously crucial in training aircrews for combat. Red Flag and the Aggressors still provide a realistic threat environment, and the exercise continues to expand with the inclusion of non-kinetic, cyber, and other threat replications. The most recent Red Flag went ‘virtual’ to increase the size and complexity of the threats faced by the flyers. Red Flag remains the single most complex and comprehensive training exercise in the world, and it provides a combat edge to participants that other countries simply cannot or do not replicate. Dr Brian Laslie is a US Air Force Historian and currently the Deputy Command Historian at North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) and United States Northern Command (USNORTHCOM). He is also an Assistant Editor of From Balloons to Drones. A 2001 graduate of The Citadel and a historian of air power studies, he received his Masters’ from Auburn University Montgomery in 2006 and his PhD from Kansas State University in 2013. He is the author of Architect of Air Power: General Laurence S. Kuter and the Birth of the US Air Force (2017) and The Air Force Way of War (2015). The latter book was selected for the Chief of Staff of the Air Force’s 2016 professional reading list and the 2017 RAF Chief of the Air Staff’s reading list. He can be found on Twitter at @BrianLaslie. [1] On the development of Red Flag, see: Brian D. Laslie, The Air Force Way of War: U.S. Tactics and Training after Vietnam (Lexington, KT: The University Press of Kentucky, 2015). #Training #RAAF #history #organisationalculture #AirPower #AirForce #Innovation #VietnamWar

25 February 2018 Editorial Note: Between February and April 2018, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones, will be publishing a series of articles that examine the requirements of high-intensity warfare in the 21st Century. These articles provide the intellectual underpinnings to a seminar on high-intensity warfare being held on 22 March by the Williams Foundation in Canberra, Australia. In this article, Tyson Wetzel examines the enduring legacy of Operation Bolo, an operation during the Vietnam War that was designed as a response to the increasing losses being incurred by the United States Air Force (USAF) in the mid-1960s. Deliberately planned fighter sweep went just as we hoped. The MiGs came up; the MiGs were aggressive. We tangled. They lost.[1] - Colonel Robin Olds, 3 January 1967 By the end of 1966, USAF fighter pilots were incredibly frustrated by rising aircraft and aircrew losses, restrictive rules of engagement (ROE) and North Vietnam People’s Air Force’s (NPAF) ‘hit-and-run’ tactics. The pilots were looking for an opportunity to seize the initiative and strike the premier NPAF fighter, the MiG-21. The NPAF was extremely careful with their limited number of MiG-21s, launching them only when their air defence network determined slow and non-manoeuvrable fighter-bombers were conducting unescorted strikes in North Vietnam.[2] Colonel Robin Olds, Commander of the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing ‘Wolfpack,’ at Ubon Royal Thai Air Force Base, devised a plan to dupe the NPAF into believing his F-4 Phantom IIs were a large formation of unescorted F-105 Thunderchiefs, which he believed would draw out the MiG-21s. On 2 January 1967, Olds and his Wolfpack executed Operation Bolo and destroyed seven NPAF MiG-21s with no friendly losses. The plan was elaborate, and successful execution relied on deception, predictive and actionable intelligence, and a well-integrated force package. These factors ensured Bolo was a triumphant success and have enduring applicability for air power theorists and air campaign planners preparing for future high-intensity conflict. The Strategic Environment before Bolo Two significant factors shaped the American prosecution of the air war over Vietnam in 1966. First, to reduce the risk of escalation, US ROEs at the time of Bolo did not allow strikes on critical North Vietnamese airfields. The result was that MiGs could not be destroyed on the ground; they had to be destroyed in the air.[3] The second factor was the rapidly improving North Vietnamese air defence system, which included air defence artillery, surface-to-air missiles (SAMs), and MiG-17 and MiG-21 fighter aircraft. The combination of surface and airborne threats was taking a heavy toll on US aircraft. By the end of 1966, 455 US aircraft had been lost to enemy action, and USAF leaders wanted to take action to address the losses.[4] The airborne threat to US aircraft increased dramatically when the NPAF began receiving the MiG-21 in 1965. The MiG-21 retained the manoeuvrability of its predecessors the MiG-15/-17/-19, but it was capable of supersonic flight and was the first Soviet aircraft capable of carrying an infrared-guided air-to-air missile, the K-13 (NATO Designator: AA-2 ATOLL). Intelligence estimates at the time of Bolo put the NPAF MiG-21 inventory at only 16 airframes. To preserve these precious assets, the North Vietnamese only scrambled these aircraft to attack bomb-laden fighter-bombers such as the F-105. According to Walter Boyne, the MiG-21 tactics were very effective: The MiG-21s’ rear attacks with Atoll missiles were achieving North Vietnamese goals by causing the F-105 formations to jettison their bombs before reaching their targets.[5] MiG-21 attacks on F-105s resulted in failed missions causing multiple strike packages to be sent to re-attack high-priority targets in a dense threat environment. Olds was increasingly concerned with the MiG-21 attacks on the fighter-bombers, and the inability of the F-4 escorts to find and kill the MiG-21s in the air: As we entered the winter of 1966, the MiGs began increased efforts to harass U.S. strike forces […] It became imperative for U.S. forces to bring counteraction to bear on the MiG fighter threat.[6] Unfortunately, Olds did not see any plan to deal with the threat at the tactical, individual fighter wings, or operational level, 7th Air Force. Olds expressed his frustration with the inaction in an oral history interview two years after the mission: ‘There was no concerted effort really to do anything about the MiGs.’[7] Olds decided to take the lead in developing a plan to take the fight to the MiG-21s. The Mission Olds is often given credit as the sole mastermind behind Bolo, but others deserve credit for playing critical roles in the development and refinement of the plan. In early December 1966, Olds began discussing the MiG-21 problem with one of his most gifted fighter pilots, Captain J.B. Stone. Stone laid out the foundation for the plan that would eventually be adopted; using a ruse to make the North Vietnamese launch their MiG-21s against what they believed were fighter-bombers. Colonel Robin Olds (left) and Captain John Stone after Operation Bolo. [Image Credit: U.S. Air Force] Olds enthusiastically embraced the plan and decided to take the plan to his boss, Lieutenant General William Momyer, Commander of 7th Air Force. Momyer also enthusiastically supported the plan and identified his Operations Officer, Brigadier General Don Smith, as his dedicated liaison for the plan. Momyer and Smith shepherded the plan from the start to ensure Olds and his planners were given all available resources and support.[8] According to Olds, Bolo ‘wouldn’t have been possible’ without ‘Momyer’s courage in doing this, probably in spite of a lot of opposition.’[9] Olds is rightly given credit for a bold and brilliantly designed and executed plan, but the success of the mission would not have been possible without significant support from his subordinates and superiors. On 2 January 1967, 56 F-4s launched in waves of eight aircraft into Northern Vietnam to execute Bolo. The mission worked as it was designed, despite heavy cloud cover in the target area that threatened to keep the MiGs on the ground. Believing they were engaging F-105s, the MiG-21s took the bait; the results were disastrous for them. According to USAF records, Olds and his Wolfpack destroyed seven MiG-21s in less than 15 minutes with no damage to any US aircraft.[10] Though the seven kills may not seem a significant number, it was nearly half of the NPAF inventory. Four days later, two more MiG-21s were destroyed when they attacked what they believed were unarmed reconnaissance aircraft, but in actuality were more of Olds’ F-4 pilots.[11] The devastation wrought by Bolo, combined with two additional aircraft lost on 6 January led the NPAF to remove the MiG-21 from combat while they re-equipped, and evaluated the causes and their response to recent aircraft losses.[12] Bolo played a significant role in the US re-acquiring air superiority during the beginning of 1967. The Role of Deception in Bolo Deception was central to the successful execution of the Bolo plan. The F-4s had to disguise themselves as lumbering F-105s to bait the MiG-21s into an aerial engagement. According to J. Alfred Phelps, the purpose of the deception plan was to create beneficial conditions for an aerial engagement: The ultimate objective was to deceive and lure the MiG air defense force into a reactive posture and, once they were airborne, seek them out, engage, pursue, and destroy them.[13] To trick the North Vietnamese air defence system, the F-4s used F-105 callsigns, formations, speed, aerial refuelling tracks, mission routing, and electronic countermeasure (jamming) pods. The deception caused mass confusion among the NPAF MiG-21 pilots. Terry Mays explained the success of the ploy: The North Vietnamese fell for the ruse and launched MiG-21 fighters to intercept what they thought were F-105s streaking along ‘Thud Ridge’ […] As the MiG-21 pilots maneuvered through the clouds and entered the open sky, expecting to attack F-105s, they found themselves in the midst of F-4s.[14] MiG-21 pilots had avoided the US’ premier air-to-air fighter, the F-4, so seeing a wall of Phantoms was a shock to the NPAF pilots and ground controllers. Airborne intelligence collectors were able to capture the shock of the NPAF air defence force. In 2014, Joseph Trevithick analysed recently declassified intercepts from the mission, which showed the near-panic of North Vietnamese pilots upon realising they had been duped: When Olds’ strike team started its attack, the C-130s picked up enemy pilots shocked to find that ‘the sky is full of F-4s,’ according to the declassified report. ‘Where are the F-105s? You briefed us to expect F-105s!’ ‘I’d like to come down now,’ another Vietnamese pilot reportedly declared.[15] The North Vietnamese were not prepared to face the F-4s, nor able to quickly react to the changing operational environment in time to save many of their MiG-21s. The expert application of deception is one of the most important lessons to be learned from Bolo; aerial combat is not merely about the fastest jet, the missile with the longest range, or the best pilot. The use of deception can mitigate a tactical disadvantage or maximise a tactical advantage in the air. The use of deception is rarely a critical aspect of modern aerial combat plans, as US air planners often rely on overwhelming numerical or technological superiority. However, as nations like Russia and China develop and deploy large numbers of advanced fighters and air defence systems, the US cannot continue to rely on numerical or technological advantages. The use of a well-developed deception plan can once again tip the balance in aerial combat, as Olds and his Wolfpack proved in Bolo. A Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-21PF in the Southeast Asia War Gallery at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force. [Image Credit: U.S. Air Force] The Role of Intelligence in Planning and Execution of Bolo Intelligence played a crucial role in both the planning and execution of Bolo. Olds knew that to develop a complete plan for the operation, he needed an accurate intelligence assessment of how the enemy would react to the ruse. According to Olds, ‘it was crucial to accurately predict the capabilities and possible reaction of the MiGs.’[16] The support of Momyer and Smith opened the doors to closely guarded intelligence, including signals intelligence (SIGINT) intercepts of NPAF fighter missions. This intelligence shaped the predictive assessment the intelligence analysts provided to Olds. He continued: Intelligence gave us some highly probable MiG tactics. The MiGs were usually in the air anytime strike aircraft were in the area. Typically, they were airborne approximately ten to fifteen minutes prior to the strike, about the time the Thuds crossed the Black River.[17] Olds and Stone used the predictive assessments to determine the number and time spacing of the F-4 formations. The mission also relied on timely and accurate intelligence during execution. Olds believed real-time relay of SIGINT collection was vital to the mission’s success: Most critical to the success of BOLO, we had to have clear, real-time intelligence from USAF monitoring stations listening in to VPAF transmissions—no more of the bullshit of keeping essential knowledge secret from the strike force. VPAF transmissions had been monitored and translated but never shared down the line. It was sensitive, but it was imperative to have this intel for BOLO.[18] Olds and Stone ensured airborne and ground-based SIGINT collectors were included and integrated into the mission so that the force package would receive real-time intelligence updates. Trevithick used declassified Bolo reports to illuminate how important real-time SIGINT collection was to the mission: Another key—and previously unknown—element of the top secret plan involved deploying signal-snooping aircraft to keep track of the MiGs. The special C-130B-IIs would listen in on enemy radio chatter and feed information straight to American pilots throughout the mission.[19] Two of these specially modified C-130s, known as SILVER DAWN aircraft, were airborne during the mission providing real-time collection to the force package. The use of predictive intelligence to help refine the plan and the use of real-time intelligence collect was nearly revolutionary because of the classification walls that prevented much intelligence, specifically SIGINT, from being shared with tactical operators. Such barriers have come down in the decades since Bolo, but air planners still struggle with the integration of intelligence into mission planning and execution. The Role of Force Packaging in Bolo Bolo included detailed planning and integration among a host of platforms, both airborne and on the ground. Each had a critical role to play to ensure the maximum lethality and survivability of the force. 48 F-4Cs were designated to conduct the aerial sweep mission to find and kill enemy MiGs. They were supported by 24 F-105F IRON HAND aircraft designed to suppress enemy air defences to protect the force package from SAMs. Eight F-104Cs were tasked with the protection of the fighters as they egressed the sweep area. Twenty-five KC-135 aerial refuelling tankers were needed to support the huge strike package. Combat support aircraft including the RC-121 BIG EYE battle management aircraft, EB-66 jamming aircraft, C-130 airborne command post and SILVER DAWN SIGINT platforms, combat search and rescue aircraft, ground control intercept sites, and the ground-based SIGINT stations all participated in the mission.[20] Planning to integrate each of the platforms and its capabilities was complex, and Olds spent days travelling the theatre briefing operators on the plan. The Bolo package foreshadowed the massive force packages that would become prevalent in Operation Desert Storm and all other air campaigns since. In addition to multiple fighter types executing various mission sets, combat support aircraft provided the updated air picture, collected real-time intelligence, executed command and control, jamming, and aerial refuelling. These aircraft were force multipliers in the mission, and the roles and importance of similar platforms have continued to expand over the past five decades. Bolo was an early and clear example of the effectiveness of a complete and fully integrated force package. This is one of the lessons of Bolo that air planners have absorbed, and force packaging is now a daily part of air operations. Conclusion Bolo was not only the highlight of the larger Rolling Thunder air campaign; it was the most successful US fighter operation of the war.[21] Despite the mission being executed more than fifty years ago, there are critical lessons about mission planning and execution that can be used in the development of aerial missions and air campaigns today. Historian Jon Latimer summed up the primary takeaway from Bolo: U.S. Air Force pilots demonstrated over Hanoi in 1967 that lure tactics can also work well in the higher reaches of technology. So it was that Operation BOLO, a small but unusually successful part of the Rolling Thunder bombing program, succeeded in claiming seven North Vietnamese MiGs within 15 minutes, without losing a single American aircraft.[22] The shrewd use of deception allowed the US fighters to engage their adversary at the time, place, and in the manner of their choosing. Additionally, the use of intelligence before and during the mission was vital to the success of the operation. The utilisation of predictive intelligence in mission planning allowed the Bolo planners to optimise the F-4’s survivability and lethality against the MiG-21. The timely dissemination of SIGINT was unheard of at the time, but Bolo showed the importance of real-time intelligence updates to the operational environment. Finally, the integration and coordination of airborne and ground-based elements in a massive and diverse force package was a significant contributor to the overall success of the mission. Bolo made better use of deception, intelligence, both predictive and real-time updates, and force packaging than any air operation of the Vietnam War up to that point. In this era of ‘near-peer’ threats, including the development and deployment of fifth-Generation aircraft, modern long-range SAMs, and advanced electronic warfare, the US and its allies cannot rely solely on numerical or even technological superiority to win future air conflicts. Air power theorists and operators need to think through problems, evaluating the operational environment and the adversary and build plans that leverage and maximise their comparative advantages while mitigating risk and minimising the adversary’s comparative advantages. Air planners and tacticians should study these aspects of Bolo and consider incorporating tactics similar to those of Olds and his Wolfpack in the planning and development of future air operations in a high-intensity conflict. Tyson Wetzel is a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force, an intelligence officer, a graduate of the United States Air Force Weapons School where he was also an instructor, and the US Marine Corps Command and Staff College. Tyson has deployed multiple times in support of Operations Iraqi Freedom, Enduring Freedom, New Dawn, and Noble Eagle. He is currently assigned to the Joint Staff at the Pentagon. He tweets @gorillawetzel. [1] Robin Olds, interview with Armed Forces Network, 3 January 1967. Clip shown on Dogfights: Air Ambush. History Channel, 10 November 2006. [2] Walter J. Boyne, Beyond the Wild Blue: A History of the U.S. Air Force (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2010), pp. 162. [3] Jon Latimer, ‘Operation Bolo: Phantom ambush over North Vietnam,’ Vietnam, 15:3 (2002), pp. 38. [4] Latimer, ‘Operation Bolo,’ pp. 37. [5] Boyne, Beyond the Wild Blue, pp. 162. [6] Robin Olds, Christina Olds and Ed Rasimus, Fighter Pilot: The Memoirs of Legendary Ace Robin Olds (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2010), pp. 262-3. [7] Robin Olds, U.S. Air Force Oral History. Project Corona Harvest Collection. Operation Bolo Briefing (listed as Interview #222). Maxwell AFB: Office of Air Force History, 29 Sep 1967, pp. 8. [8] Olds, Fighter Pilot, pp. 269-71. [9] Olds, Project Corona Harvest. Operation Bolo Briefing, pp. 68 [10] Frank F. Futrell, William H. Greenhalgh, Carl Grubb, Gerard E. Hasselwander, Robert F. Jakob, and Charles A. Ravenstein. Aces and Aerial Victories: The United States Air Force in Southeast Asia, 1965-1973 (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, Headquarters US Air Force, 1976), p. 21. [11] Olds, Project Corona Harvest. Operation Bolo Briefing, pp. 65. [12] Terry M. Mays, ‘Gunfighting Over North Vietnam,’ Vietnam, 20:6 (2008), p. 47. [13] J. Alfred Phelps, Chappie: America’s First Black Four-Star General: The Life and Times of Daniel James, Jr (Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1992), pp. 225. [14] Mays, ‘Gunfighting Over North Vietnam,’ p. 47. [15] Joseph Trevithick, ‘Spies Helped the USAF Shoot Down a Third of North Vietnam’s MiG-21s,’ WarIsBoring.com, 30 Dec 2014. [16] Olds, Fighter Pilot, pp. 273. [17] Ibid, pp. 272. [18] Ibid, pp. 275-6. [19] Trevithick, ‘Spies Helped the USAF Shoot Down a Third of North Vietnam’s MiG-21s.’ [20] Multiple sources were used to determine all the components of the force package: Olds, Fighter Pilot, pp. 274-6; Latimer, ‘Operation Bolo,’ pp. 38-39; Boyne, Beyond the Wild Blue, pp. 163. [21] Phelps, Chappie, pp. 229. [22] Latimer, ‘Operation Bolo,’ pp. 35. #Training #history #organisationalculture #Strategy #AirPower #AirForce #AirSuperiority #VietnamWar

18 February 2018 During 2017, a major war on the Korean Peninsula became a distinct possibility. As the rhetoric over North Korea’s nuclear program heated up, the preparedness of Western militaries to engage in a major war, and the likely cost of such a conflict became regular features in the news cycle. This has had the effect of transforming discussions of a major state-on-state war in Asia away from abstract, Thucydides-inspired notions of a China-United States conflict, to the uncomfortably realistic prospect of a preventative strike against North Korea precipitating full-scale war. The discussion and analysis that has occurred in the media in light of these growing tensions have raised public awareness of the potential costs of a modern state-on-state conflict. The West’s experience of conflict since the end of the Cold War has created unrealistic expectations within the general population as to the realities of modern conventional high-intensity warfare. This is not to trivialise the deaths that have occurred in these low-intensity conflicts, every death in war is a tragedy; however, the level of attrition that the West should expect from a modern state-on-state conflict in Europe, the Middle East, or Asia will likely be on a scale unseen since the Second World War. Concerning the prospect of war on the Korean peninsula, General Joseph Dunford, Chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, has remarked that: Many people have talked about military options with words like ‘unimaginable’ […] I would probably shift that slightly and say it would be horrific, and it would be a loss of life unlike any we have experienced in our lifetimes, and I mean anyone who’s been alive since World War II has never seen the loss of life that could occur if there’s a conflict on the Korean Peninsula. The requirements for engaging in a high-intensity conflict against a capable and committed state actor will challenge Western militaries. For airmen, in particular, assuring the use of the air domain – an air force’s prime responsibility – has not been seriously challenged since the Vietnam War. However, there is a realisation that circumstances are changing, and, as Air Chief Marshal Sir Stephen Hillier, Chief of the Air Staff of the Royal Air Force, pointed out in 2017: [t]he long-expected – by airmen at least – challenge has arrived to the air power supremacy we have enjoyed for the last couple of decades. We will now have to fight – and fight hard – to achieve and maintain control of the air and space. The need for airmen to re-engage conceptually with the possibilities and requirements of high-intensity warfare has led the Sir Richard Williams Foundation to run a seminar on ‘The Requirements for High-Intensity Warfare’ on 22 March 2018 in Canberra, Australia. The seminar will draw together senior officers from around the world, as well as leading academics, to discuss the past, present, and future of high-intensity warfare. Although it is likely the presenters will raise more questions than they will answer, the presence of so many senior leaders at the podium and in the audience will hopefully give impetus to the intellectual, conceptual, and organisational changes that the possibility of high-intensity warfare requires. Unfortunately, not everyone will be able to attend the seminar, and summaries can never fully capture the presentations or the follow-up discussions that occur during the breaks. Moreover, not every topic of interest can be covered in a single day. Accordingly, in the lead-up to the seminar, The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones are publishing a series of articles that will bring the discussion of the requirements of high-intensity warfare to a broader audience. By running this as a collaborative series, we hope to engage a broader audience in this debate that must be had. However, more importantly, this collaboration has allowed us to diversify the perspectives that can be brought to bear on the issue. This diversity of perspective has been made possible by contributors from around the world and from different backgrounds putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboards) to provide their views. Moreover, these views matter. Although the seminar will bring together a number of high power individuals, they do not have the monopoly on ideas. High-intensity warfare is a complex challenge for militaries irrespective of their size and operational experience. By contributing to the discussions, the contributors to this series are an essential addition to the seminar. Twice a week over the next six weeks (possibly more as more potential contributors become engaged in the discussion) The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones will simultaneously run posts that explore different aspects of the topic of high-intensity warfare. Topics will include: Historical examples of high-intensity air warfare The future of war Training and education for a changing paradigm Cultural change in light of a changing operational focus Organisational requirements for high-intensity operations Logistics support to high-intensity operations Use of fiction to frame the future battlespace As with the seminar itself, we expect that our contributors will raise more questions than they answer. However, unlike the seminar, it is the nature of our articles to encourage ongoing debate and discussion. As such, we ask our readers to be engaged, challenge our contributors, test their assumptions and take their arguments further. Through comments and additional contributions (see here on how to contribute) it is the hope of the editors of both The Central Blue and From Balloons to Drones that this series will support and encourage a deeper and more nuanced understanding of what high-intensity warfare will mean for modern military forces and how we can best prepare for its challenges. To reinforce the relevance of the topic to which we now shift our focus, it is worth quoting from a recent (27 January 2018) special report from The Economist: [p]owerful, long-term shifts in geopolitics and the proliferation of new technologies are eroding the extraordinary military dominance that America and its allies have enjoyed. Conflict on a scale and intensity not seen since the second world war is once again plausible. The world is not prepared. #Training #commandandcontrol #RAAF #history #Army #Strategy #AirPower #technology #Joint #AirForce #Jointness #Fiction

14 February 2018 In this final post in his four-part series exploring the history of Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) organisational structures, Brian Weston describes the evolution of the RAAF’s Force Element Groups (FEG). Though the introduction of new capabilities, the transfer of helicopters to Army, and the evolving operational environment have led to changes in  FEG composition, over the past 30 years, the FEG as the defining organisational concept underpinning RAAF air power has remained unchanged. The RAAF formalised the organisation of its operational units into Force Element Groups (FEGs) on 1 June 1988. The new FEGs were Tactical Fighter Group (TFG), which included the supporting air direction units of the Air Defence Ground Environment (ADGE), Strike Reconnaissance Group (SRG); Maritime Patrol Group (MPG); Air Lift Group (ALG); Tactical Transport Group (TTG); and Air Operational Support Group (AOSG). The TTG was short-lived, disbanding in February 1991 after the RAAF helicopter capability was transferred to the Army and with Caribou capability folded into the ALG. The development of the Jindalee over-the-horizon radar at the Joint Facility, Alice Springs also had implications for the RAAF ADGE as it added a new dimension to Australia’s wide-area surveillance capabilities. Accordingly, the RAAF stood up No 1 Radar Surveillance Unit (1RSU), headquartered at Mt Everard, near Alice Springs, on 1 July 1992 and assigned the unit to No 41 Wing (the RAAF’s air defence wing). Subsequently, the decision to re-shape the RAAF ‘air defence’ capability more towards an ‘air battle management’ capability had further organisational implications. Firstly, all ADF air traffic control services, including those at Army and Navy airfields, were amalgamated within a reformed No 44 Wing (air traffic control wing) and secondly, both Nos 41 and 44 Wings were spun-out of the TFG in 1996, into a new Surveillance and Control Group (SCG). By 1997 the Defence Efficiency Review and the follow-on Defence Reform Program had begun to impact on the RAAF by transferring much of the individual FEGs’ maintenance and organic support capabilities to contractors, reducing some FEGs to a group consisting of only one wing, with an obviously unsatisfactory ‘one-group-commanding-one-wing’ command chain. This was the case for SRG and MPG. Another issue was that at SRG, new air defence capabilities, especially the increasing availability of look-down radars, had eroded the ability of the F-111C to exploit terrain masking during its final approach to a target. It was becoming apparent that in future, the F-111C and F/A-18A forces would need to cooperate tactically to ensure F-111C survivability against improving air defences, hence the establishment of the Air Combat Group (ACG). But the long-standing silos that segregated the RAAF tactical fighter and strategic strike capabilities, a situation going well back to the ‘fighter’ and ‘bomber’ heritages of both capabilities, was a significant institutional barrier to ‘fighter/bomber’ cooperation. That cultural ‘fighter/bomber’ segregation was a concern to then Chief of Air Force Air Marshal Errol McCormack. With a Sabre and Canberra background, experience participating in the first F-111C cohort (1968), time flying the RF-4C on exchange with the USAF, and his time as OC No 82 Wing flying the F-111C, McCormack had plenty of pertinent advice to offer Air Commodore John Quaife of his posting as the first commander ACG. After spending 12 months planning the merger of the TFG and SRG, Quaife took up his post as CDR ACG in January 2002, commanding Nos 78, 81 and 82 Wings. The formation of ACG was accompanied by further development in the new SCG when, in 1999 1RSU moved to Edinburgh as a precursor to controlling not only the Alice Springs over-the-horizon radar but also the new over-the-horizon radars at Laverton, Western Australia and Longreach, Queensland. Those radars came online in mid-2003, completing the Jindalee Operational Radar Network (JORN). Further developments followed which brought the existence of the short-lived SCG to an end when it was merged with MPG, a group which had been reduced to oversight of one wing – No 92 Wing flying the AP-3C. The SCG-MPG merger saw the establishment, on 30 March 2004, of Surveillance and Response Group (a new SRG), and with the impending introduction of the RAAF’s airborne early warning and control capability, the E-7A Wedgetail, SRG, headquartered at Williamtown, became a FEG of considerable capability, fully justifying the appointment of a commander of air commodore rank. SRG reached maturation on 1 January 2006 when No 42 Wing (airborne early warning and control wing) was reformed flying the Wedgetail, joining Nos 41, 44 and 92 Wings in SRG. In contrast, ALG saw a long period of organisational stability as it continued its 24/7 role of air transport operations, with some improved capability when No 37 Squadron traded its 1966 vintage C-130E Hercules for the much-improved C-130J in 1999. AOSG, headquartered at Edinburgh, also continued unchanged but not so the Operational Support Group (OSG) at Townsville, where the RAAF strove to retain some of its organic expeditionary support capability, so unthinkingly stripped by the crude and blunt Defence reviews of the 1990s. Certainly, the 20 years to 2007 saw much organisational change, but it was re-assuring the RAAF was still able to retain an operational organisation, in keeping with the principles of functional force element groups, first trialled in 1987. This article was first published in the January 2018 issue of Australian Aviation. Air Vice-Marshal Brian Weston (Ret’d) was Commander of the Tactical Fighter Group from July 1990 to July 1993. He is currently a board member of the Sir Richard Williams Foundation. #AirForce #FEG #organisationalculture #RAAF

11 February 2018 In his previous two posts, Brian Weston has described the changes in the RAAF’s organisational structure from formation until the end of the Second World War, and the post-war formation of area commands. In the third instalment of this four-part series, he explains the formation of the Force Element Groups (FEGs) which remain the defining organisational feature of today’s RAAF. The previous two posts in this series outlined the evolution of RAAF organisational policy up to 1986, with the observation that although the RAAF proclaimed to organise itself on a functional basis, that organisational functionality was disrupted by the reality that ‘RAAF Formation Officers Commanding’ were geographically limited ‘RAAF Base Officers Commanding’. So unless all the assets of an air capability were co-located, such as the maritime patrol units at RAAF Base Edinburgh, the singular oversight of an air force capability by a dedicated commander was difficult. For instance, when Mirage squadrons were resident at Williamtown, Butterworth and Darwin, the three squadrons reported through different command chains, through their respective OCs at Williamtown, Butterworth and Darwin. Similarly, the RAAF air support squadrons of Chinook, Iroquois and Caribou were spread across Fairbairn, Richmond, Amberley and Townsville with command chains through four different OCs. These command arrangements meant there was no single appointment responsible for the oversight of either the tactical fighter force or the tactical transport force until the various command chains came together at the level of the AOC, Operational Command. This was a serious organisational deficiency and it took some years to carry the argument that ‘unity of command’ over all the assets of a specific air capability was more important than ‘unity of command’ over all the units located on a particular base. After some years of discussion, especially at the tactical and operational levels, the Chief of Air Staff (as the Chief of Air Force was then known) Air Marshal ‘Jake’ Newham decided to transition the Air Force to a fully functional operational organisation. He determined, with effect from February 2 1987, that RAAF operational units would
 be organised into ‘force element groups’ (or FEGs). Newham, with his strong operational background, including tours as staff officer operations and senior air staff officer at Operational Command, was well placed to decide this issue, although initially he introduced the new arrangements on a ‘trial basis’, to give time to win over doubters. But it was obvious there would
 be no going back, and the FEG structure was formalised in June 1988. In brief, like-roled operational units would be grouped together under one commander. For the fighter capability, all fighter units together with the operational fighter training units were grouped into the Tactical Fighter Group (TFG), and with air defence and air superiority operations being dependent on air surveillance and direction,
the supporting air surveillance and direction units of the Air Defence Ground Environment (ADGE) were also included in the TFG. OC RAAF Williamtown became Commander TFG, commanding units located
at Williamtown, Tindal, Darwin, Amberley and Pearce. The Strike Reconnaissance Group (SRG) incorporated the strike/reconnaissance F-111C squadrons, together with F-111C operational training. The Maritime Patrol Group (MPG) incorporated the maritime P-3C Orion squadrons together with the P-3C operational training units. OC RAAF Amberley and OC RAAF Edinburgh became Commander SRG and Commander MPG respectively. OC RAAF Richmond became Commander Air Lift Group (ALG), gaining authority over the Fairbairn-based VIP squadron while losing command of the Richmond-based Caribou tactical transport squadron. Critical to the 24/7 operations of
 the ALG, was the Air Movements Coordination Centre and the RAAF high frequency radio network through which command and control of deployed air lift and maritime patrol aircraft was effected. A significant change was the establishment of the Tactical Transport Group (TTG) comprising the Iroquois/Black Hawk, Chinook and Caribou squadrons, resident at Fairbairn, Richmond, Amberley and Townsville. In hindsight, as all these units were in the business of ‘air support’, especially air support of the Army, this FEG might have been better titled the Air Support Group, with its command elevated to an air commodore, rather than a group captain. Both measures would have emphasised the importance the RAAF placed on air support operations. The FEG commanders also gained command over the operational/intermediate level maintenance units, such as the 400 series maintenance wings, supporting each FEG; and the reorganisation resolved the ambiguity about the authority of the Air Staff Officer by abolishing the appointment, and returning to the practice of grouping some squadrons into wings under the command of an ‘OC’, generally of group captain rank. Two of these wings, No 81 Wing (F/A-18A) and No 82 Wing (F-111C), were also given roles as deployable tactical headquarters which provided the Air Force with options for the command and control of deployed air operations. The 1987/1988 FEG reorganisation, heralded by the formation of No 9 Operational Group in 1942, was a seminal event in RAAF history, and while the FEGs have since been reshaped as the capabilities of the Air Force evolved, the Air Force became a more capable combat force because of its more focused, accountable and effective operational organisation. This article was first published in the December 2017 issue of Australian Aviation. Air Vice-Marshal Brian Weston (Ret’d) was Commander of the Tactical Fighter Group from July 1990 to July 1993.  He is currently a board member of the Sir Richard Williams Foundation. #commandandcontrol #RAAF #history #organisationalculture #FEG #AirForce

In the second Central Blue debrief, we talk with former Chief of Air Force Air Marshal Errol McCormack (Retd.) about his Air Force career, which spanned Konfrontasi to the Australian-led intervention in East Timor. During his 39 year career in the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), Air Marshal McCormack observed the significant changes that shaped the Cold War Air Force, and which still offer lessons to today’s airmen. Air Marshal Errol McCormack AO (Retd.) served in the RAAF for 39 years, retiring as Chief of Air Force in 2001. Following a distinguished career, he is now, among other things, Deputy Chair of the Board of the Sir Richard Williams Foundation. At the end of 2017, Air Marshal McCormack sat down with The Central Blue to reflect on his experience in Air Force spanning junior officer tours of Vietnam, progression in the ranks of the peacetime force, and leading Air Force during the Australian-led intervention in East Timor. This post summarises the highlights of the discussion and draws out lessons on organisational change, capability transition, and developing an educated workforce that have relevance for today’s Air Force. From flying club to developing a professional work force Air Marshal McCormack joined the Air Force as a direct entry pilot in 1962. For the first ten years of his career, Air Marshal McCormack was either on operations or training for operations. After graduating pilot’s course and converting onto the Sabre fighter aircraft in 1963, he was posted to Butterworth, Malaysia (a RAAF base at the time). He was soon conducting operations as part of Australia’s response to the Indonesian Konfrontasi.   This rapid transition from training to operations gave Air Marshal McCormack an early insight into the state of the Air Force’s training and categorisation scheme. When I joined, and we went to Malaysia, our categorisation scheme was virtually non-existent. Three of us arrived in Butterworth into Nos 3 and 77 Squadrons, and they said “Right, six months to go from Category D to Category C.” Two days later, Confrontation started “You’re qualified, you’re on alert”. And we never did a cat[egorisation] scheme. It was on-the-job training. And so we were sitting alert at Butterworth; I had a couple of scrambles. The problem was not just the lack of a categorisation system, but the culture and attitude within the organisation towards developing what we would now call technical mastery.  During the early years, Air Marshal McCormack learned a number of lessons about the differences between flying and fighting a fighter jet, mainly because, for the first few decades of the post-World War II period, the RAAF seemed to overlook or ignore the importance of tactical thinking, development, and instruction One that sticks in my mind is that we (No 3 Squadron) deployed to Singapore, to Tengah, and the aim was to actually have fights with the Hunters, No 20 Squadron Royal Air Force, which were based there. When we got back from having our arses thrashed, the flight commander got into us for not understanding the areas that the Hunter and the Sabre had their relative advantages. But we had never been told anything about that, never had anything like that in a cat scheme. Today you would say that you are deficient in your training if you don’t look at that sort of thing. So, we were very much an aero-club in many ways. This was not a new problem, in fact it was a problem that Australian airmen faced during the Korean War. I used to fly with guys that had been in Korea, and I get the impression that it was done much the same as we were doing it [in Butterworth and Ubon, Thailand]. They got a couple of Meteors shot down [in Korea] and they decided that they weren’t going to go into the air-to-air game, but did they really go into theatre thinking they could go and play with the MiGs? If they had stayed at a certain level, could they have out-performed the MiG? I don’t know, but that is the sort of thing they were missing. We used to bounce RF-101s, F-102s, F-4, F-105 Thunderchiefs in Thailand, but there was never any briefs about where you should do it and what you should do. The influence of the United States Air Force (USAF) appears to have played an important role in increasing the professionalism of the RAAF during the early 1970s, though this may have been taken to extremes in some areas. I know Les Fisher [Chief of Air Force 1994-1998] told me that the first time the maritime world started getting professional was when they got the P-3 and got the USN publications. The same sort of thing was happening with the F-111. People were coming back from the States with the publications. They went overboard, and went to centralised maintenance and that sort of thing, but I think Les was right that until we started working with the Americans, we didn’t think about those sort of things. We were pretty unprofessional in many things we did. We had a good time. The professionalism of our airmen today is a far cry from the ‘flying club’ days that defined Air Marshal McCormack’s early years as a fighter pilot; however, we should not take this for granted. A decline in professionalism and combat focus in the Air Force was observed in the aftermath of World War I and World War II; we need to ensure we guard against similar declining standards as our forces return from the extended period of operations in the Middle East Region. The maintenance of high standards and combat focus requires constant attention and maintenance – proficiency in air warfare atrophies rapidly and is difficult to regain. The need for critical thought in implementing policies The USAF’s influence on the RAAF during the 1960s and 1970s was, in most respects, positive. The experiences gained by Australian airmen working with their American counterparts and the improved access to publications led to the development of a more educated workforce, but it also led to a centralised maintenance system, an organisational structure described negatively by Air Marshal McCormack. He explained that centralised maintenance came about as an ‘operational economy measure’, but it was clear at the junior officer level that it didn’t work tactically. In separating maintenance from the flying squadron, there was not enough operational flexibility. In attempting to make maintenance flexible, there was a detrimental effect on manpower and esprit de corps – there was no integration and poor morale. Air Marshal McCormack experienced the negative impact of centralised maintenance during his time with No 1 Squadron flying F-111 in the 1970s and contrasted it with his experience flying the Sabre with No 3 Squadron in the 1960s. Strategic Air Command (SAC) brought in centralised maintenance as an operational economy measure.  Now, if you think what SAC did, it would say: “you, in that aeroplane, next month, will do this sortie.” They tried to bring this centralised maintenance system in to Australia, in tactical squadrons. It doesn’t work. And so, we [No 1 Squadron] used to deploy with a bunch of airmen, who would be given to us by 482 Squadron [the centralised maintenance squadron supporting F-111 operations]. Now they’d work their butt off for us, but we couldn’t reward them when we came back and send them on leave; they went back into the factory. So, from manpower, from an esprit de corps, from all those sorts of things we’d had at 3 Squadron, where we’d have hangar parties, and get together with the troops, and the gunnies would work their butts off to get us airborne, so we’d give them extra time off and all that sort of things that I saw as a pilot officer, I couldn’t do it. When I was commanding officer (CO) 1 Squadron at the time, under centralised maintenance, we had 20 people. You’ve got the aircrew, admin staff, that’s it. It was so frustrating, because you’d have to deploy for an exercise. So, you are trying to work the crews up to get everything going. And CO 482 Squadron would say “no, we’re down to two aircraft.” But what he was doing was husbanding the aircraft so that the day we deployed he had more than enough aeroplanes to deploy. So, it was a stuffed up system that we had to work around. The argument against centralised maintenance finally prevailed and the RAAF eventually returned to squadron-level maintenance, but that took time. When asked what drove the shift of maintenance back to the flying squadrons, Air Marshal McCormack noted that: It was the case of guys who were affected by it getting senior enough to actually push the case. Part of the problem at the time was that the RAAF lacked the mechanisms that enabled and encouraged critical thinking and discussion on the organisational and operational concepts that the Service employed. This resulted in the RAAF becoming, as then-CAF Air Marshal Ray Funnell observed in 1988, ‘intellectual beachcombers who comb the beach for interesting-looking bits and pieces that wash in from abroad.’ What was needed was a greater emphasis not only on education but on encouraging the critical discussion of ideas. This is one of the main reasons behind the creation of the RAAF’s Air Power Development Centre (originally known as the Air Power Studies Centre) in 1989, and, more recently, the establishment of the Williams Foundation and the subsequent creation of the Central Blue as an outlet for serving members to engage in critical discussion on the past, present and future of air power. Although progress has been made, there is still much that needs to be done. I think Air Force is lagging in its ability to contribute to the public discussion on air power. But I feel proud of the fact that Williams is making some impact. We’ve been aiming at the middle-ranked people, squadron leaders and wing commanders. We get them along to the seminars, like the one we just had on electronic warfare, and they say “jeez, I hadn’t thought about that”. And they are the ones that write the papers that then make the difference. So that’s where we are aiming. We still need Air Force to identify to us the areas where they have questions, challenges, and indeed problems. We can then expose that area to more people, get them thinking about it, and help address it. But one of the problems that has to be overcome is encouraging and motivating Air Force’s middle-ranking officers and senior non-commissioned officers to engage in critical discussion to ensure that we identify potential issues with the way in which Air Force develops, manages, and employs air power. It is an issue that The Central Blue editors are seeking to address through their own efforts in promoting serving members to think and write on the issues that they see as important. When asked what was needed to get airmen writing and contributing to the discussion, Air Marshal McCormack simply stated: We’ve got to prove to them that they are not going to be hung out to dry. I think the only way you can do that is get some people to write and engage in the discussion, people see it, that there is no retribution. But the problem won’t be solved in the short-term, I think it is a long-term learning process. The question of the Force Element Groups and their role in Air Force One area where Air Marshal McCormack noted that there was a need for Air Force to be better in its ability to criticise itself is in determining the optimal shape of the future force. He used the example of Force Element Groups (FEGs), and stated that we should be asking the question “What do you want from them?”. Air Marshal McCormack suggested that, as an organisation, we should be asking if the FEG structure is appropriate, and then developing an organisational response to that question. But the FEGs have become such a dominant and entrenched aspect of Air Force that it is difficult to imagine any other organisational structure in place. The evolution of FEGs is an excellent example of how one solution might be appropriate for a specific time or operational context; however, the FEGs have led to a number of unintended consequences, most notably the stove-piping of careers to align with internal FEG dynamics. As circumstances and requirements have changed and evolved, it raises the question of how the FEG structure should evolve to meet the needs of today’s Air Force. Do you know why FEGs were formed? We picked up the RAF system of the officer commanding (OC) base was the master of all he surveyed. And we had helicopters at Townsville, Amberley, Sale. But the OC Amberley who had F-111s, Canberras and helicopters, was apparently an “expert on helicopters.” Because he owned them, he’d fly them, and all those sorts of things. And it was the helicopter people that wrote in and said this is crazy. We’ve got 9 Squadron [Amberley-based Iroquois squadron] doing this, we’ve got 5 Squadron [Fairbairn-based Iroquois squadron] doing this, there’s no coordination between the two, we need to come under a central command. And that was when Westmore [Air Commodore Ian Westmore, OC Amberley in 1986] took that idea and Air Command agreed, well it was the Operational Command in those days, and then the FEGs came in. But it was because of this RAF system of whatever was on the base you owned. Now, the FEG system was good for the standardisation for various elements, and of course you need it now with Amberley and Williamtown [two bases that are home to the RAAF’s Super Hornet and Hornet fleets]. You need it, if you let them go off on their own, you can imagine we could go back to the old aero-club days of having a good time, without someone looking over your shoulder. Although this system worked well at the time in response to the problems that were then being faced, it was not long before the system became entrenched and difficult to adapt and evolve in response to changes that were occurring. One of the questions that Air Force is now facing is how does this structure work for a new style of platform that has a multitude of capabilities that must be integrated and cannot be operated in isolation. During his tenure as CAF, Air Marshal McCormack began the first reorganisation of the FEGs with the formation of Air Combat Group (ACG) through the merging of Tactical Fighter Group (TFG), responsible for the RAAF’s F/A-18 Hornet operations, and Strike Reconnaissance Group (SRG), responsible for the F-111s. ACG was formed in 2002, the year after Air Marshal McCormack retired. I was the first OC of the re-formed 82WG, under Strike Reconnaissance Group. And the reason I formed Air Combat Group as chief was because of my problems as OC 82WG trying to get the fighter world to actually work with and not against us. They wanted to be red ir all the time, and they would get the F-111s to just go off and do strike. But wait a minute, we are going to have to work together on ops. The only way to get past this was put the Hornet and the F-111s together. We have to ask the question: what’s the best solution for the organisation? My direction to John Quaife [who led the Air Combat Group formation project] was: this is the solution, now come up with how we get there. Unless you’ve got people in positions of power, you’ll just muddle along. During the time when the ACG-merger was being planned, Air Marshal McCormack identified that other changes needed to be made, but there was concern that Air Force could not absorb such massive changes occurring simultaneously. Regarding the merger of Maritime Patrol Group (MPG), responsible for P-3 Orion operations, and Surveillance and Control Group (SCG), responsible for the RAAF’s air surveillance and control capabilities, into Surveillance and Response Group (the new SRG) that occurred in 2004, Air Marshal McCormack noted: The only reason I didn’t pull 92 Wing [P-3 Wing] out of MPG when I started the ACG project, was because the system wouldn’t have been able to handle the merger of TFG and [old] SRG [to form ACG] at the same time as a change to the surveillance groups was coming. I said that was a bridge too far, so we will leave that for other people to do. The solution to managing the organisational inertia that would need to be overcome in any re-evaluation of Air Force’s organisational structure, according to Air Marshal McCormack is a cultural change program, one that would rectify the stove-piping that occurs in FEGs. This includes the regular movement of personnel across FEGs to prevent stovepipes from becoming too powerful. We are already starting to see this occur in Air Force with command positions in operational wings being filled by people with backgrounds outside of the wing they are now commanding. This may be an early indicator that organisation change may be more easily achieved in the future. Technical and strategic masters as Chief of Air Force The final question posed to Air Marshal McCormack was one most CAFs have been asked in many different forums: Does CAF need to be a pilot? In any organisation, if the boss doesn’t have domain knowledge you are heading for a failure. Since I have been working in industry a few companies almost went broke, because the managing director at the head didn’t have the domain knowledge of what they were all about. I suggest for an air force the necessary domain knowledge is of ‘air combat operations’. The follow-up question, which remained unasked, is: what how will changes in the application of air power into the future redefine the requirements of domain knowledge in the future force? The answer to that question may redefine the next generation of Air Force leadership. #Training #PME #RAAF #history #organisationalculture #FEG #Joint #AirForce #Jointness #leadership

#DEFAus17 is the key event for the Australian Defence Entrepreneurs Forum (DEF), affiliated with the US and UK branches as well as the Kiwi Defence Innovation Centre of Excellence. DEF-Aus is a network of serving military personnel who debate future concepts and progress ideas to tangible action. In this post, Brent Moloney summarises the key ideas he took away from #DEFAus17, and how it has motivated him to drive change in Defence. “We need bottom-up innovation, top-down is too conservative.” Alastair MacGibbon, DEFAUS17 Keynote speaker Defence Entrepreneurs Forum Australia 2017 (#DEFAUS17) was for me, and many others, an entirely new experience filled with a mixture of young and less-young eager minds with burgeoning potential. A beautiful place, where a crowd of junior leaders were revved-up by the backing of their commanders and schooled by experts from various avant-garde positions in their respective industries. After sufficient motivation and insights into the future, junior Australian Defence Force (ADF) and Australian Public Service (APS) leaders pitched their ideas to a primed audience and a panel with the requisite influence to initiate change. It is a forward thinking few days where new ideas can bypass the quagmire of traditional rank structure allowing juniors to connect with and inspire senior leaders. Think of the reality TV show Shark Tank, replace the venture capitalists with senior and influential Defence members and the over-dramatic American entrepreneurs with highly motivated junior Defence leaders attempting to improve the way we fight and serve the nation. As a fresh Officer Training School graduate, wide-eyed and intrigued, without an idea of my own to pitch, I was determined to learn something from someone and improve myself based on whatever I was to hear. To quote the silver-tongued South Central Los Angeles-based poet, O’Shea Jackson Sr. aka Ice Cube, I was “down for whatever”. The below is a much condensed version of the events, from which I learned much and which prompted me to explore an issue that I’ve experienced and believe needs improvement in Defence. The pitches and the pitchers: Solomon Birch – Gamifying Individual Readiness – Winner, Best Idea Annie Collins, Chrisafina Rick, Steve Funnell – Military Mindfulness App Cliff Brown and Matthew van der Vloet – Joint Education Capability Captain Chandra and Captain Moses, Army – REBOA Training in the ADF using artificial environment simulations David Caligari – Land Force Insights Nicola Bilton and Joyce Mau – Rapid 3D Imaging LEUT/Dr Ashley Wallin – Obesity in the ADF CAPT Jay Douglas – Digital Vuee Tuee Harry Wagner and Zac Tucker – Electrifying the Force LT Ben May – 360 Degree Reporting for Field Forces Chris Elles – Blockchain David Ashmore, Geoff McMillan, Bryan Masters – Plugging the Gap Anthony Hogan and Carl Bird – Military ethics education playing cards Chris Elles, Rob Morris and Luke Morton – Innovating for a winning edge Richard Thapthimthong (@RichieTTT) – Developing character The invited speakers – follow the links to watch the videos on the Grounded Curiosity website: #FutureFight Mr Alastair MacGibbon (@macgibbon) – Special Adviser to the Prime Minister on Cyber Security Cyber threat is one of the biggest threats to Australia Policy, repetition and lethargy in technological change has increased our risk of cyber-attack – case in point: 2016/17 Census hack. World is losing trust in governmental processes. Conservative military organisations need innovation, which will often be met with a brick wall – be sure to push back. Professor Genevieve Bell (@feraldata) – Reading the Future: how we think about security 20 billion-coming connected technology = 20 billion hackable bits of technology. Example: Robotic vacuum cleaners currently on the market will map out your home – what is to stop that data being put up for sale? Nothing. If everything is connected, everything is collected, and therefore everything is hackable. Data is always retrospective and it is always partial. Kerstin Oberprieler – (@kerstinoberprie) – Gamification Higher purpose, creativity, mastery, ownership, autonomy – just some of the individual benefits of the gamification process. Game mechanics already exist in our life: rewards programs encourage you to come back for more rewards – eg drink 5 coffees to get 1 free, at school you must pass an exam to ‘level up’. Building on these basic mechanics in favour of fun will nudge behaviour. #InnovationatWar Lieutenant Colonel Claire O’Neill (@clareoneill) – Innovation for the Profession of Arms We need to use the innovative opportunities in the various contexts in global confrontation. Marrying the what with the who – who do we need to be to fight our future conflicts? Resilient, adaptive, innovative, flexible people. Colonel Ian Langford (@ianlangford) – How We (Might) Fight: A discussion on the Australian way of war War is fighting, fighting is killing – Clausewitz Strategy requires 3 thinking points: geography, political ideology, economy (the means to make war). Innovation is great, applying innovation is what matters. Agility is key to success in a dynamic world. Speed is the new currency. Dr. Deane-Peter Baker (@DPBEthics) – The Ethics of Military Innovation: Some Principles Based on the Slaughterbots video: designed to scare and deter Fighting in cities is our biggest future challenge. Banning autonomous weapons will make no difference to the future of warfare, because machines can be created by anyone relatively inexpensively. There will be no way to stop someone who wants to make an automated weapon. There are always  countermeasures. #PracticalInnovation Group Captain Jerome Reid – Plan Jericho: Pragmatic Innovation for Military Strength – aka Air Force’s biggest disrupter Air Force will have the newest aircraft, but without Plan Jericho, they are just new aircraft and not better integrated capabilities. Ask game changing questions and look outside the box to find answers. Air Force is introducing a Certificate in Design Thinking – for those looking to improve. #Innovation Phil Hayes-St Clair – (@philhsc) – Ten reasons why entrepreneur s win Work hard + ship imperfection (send out your product even if you think it isn’t perfect and be embarrassed early to ensure the product is not just for you but for your customers. Be prepared for critical feedback.) + be organised + use judgement (but not just your own!) Stephan Wildenberg and Colin de Vries – Development MoD Netherlands – Future Logistics Their logistics department supplies their entire defence force. Sent a 3D printer to their forces in the field, which allows designs to be made anywhere in the world and sent to the 3D printer on site for immediate use. Augmented Reality – a heads up display (HUD) that allows the wearer to perform multiple tasks (e.g. a medical 9-liner request, video conference with your commander in the field etc) and see useful information in real time directly in front of your eyes (eg a casualty’s vital signs). LT Connor Love and LT COL Dan Wilson (@dan_wilson227) – USAPAC Greenbook If you start with something bad, leave it behind. Older people can sometimes recognise patterns a bit better because they’ve seen them over the years, how do we get that ability to younger leaders – OODA Loop perhaps? If you have the ‘answer’ use feedback and experience to prove it to someone else. No one cares about your idea – you need to convince them. #LearnandAdapt Professor Dan Marston – Learn and adapt but still lose… “We are turning our backs on our experiences already…that is extremely dangerous.” All wars offer important lessons, however, ideas and strategies will be cherry picked, removing context. What we are missing: robust debate and forethought about the next war If we do not learn from conflict and debate these points, we’re in trouble when the next war arrives. Interested in getting involved with DEFAUS in 2018? Follow @DEF_Aus and https://www.facebook.com/defaustralia for more inspiration, innovation and professional debate. #Robotics #organisationalculture #Army #technology #Joint #AirForce #Innovation #Jointness