Search Results

On behalf of the Board of the Williams Foundation, it saddens me to have to write to our members on the passing of one of Australia's most decorated Air Force officers, Air Marshal David Evans AC, DSO, AFC (Ret'd). As many of you are aware, Air Marshal Evans was a great supporter of the Foundation and a regular attendee to our events. I had a deep respect for him both professionally and personally and he will be missed greatly. Air Marshal Evans' career in the Air Force was remarkable.  Most notably, he served in World War II, as a member of the Australian contingent operating transports in the Berlin Airlift, and in the Vietnam War. He remained active following his RAAF career in Defence, academia, industry and politics. His autobiography,Down to Earth, was published in 2011 and is a fascinating read.  His life and many achievements are probably best highlighted on his David Evans (RAAF Officer)Wikipedia page, which I encourage you to read. Air Marshal Evans' celebration of his life will be held today 15 September 2020 at 1.30 pm and will be live steamed on the following link vimeo.com/455996382.  The legacy.com guest book is also available for signing. Our thoughts are with his family. Best regards, Geoff Brown AO Chair

A short article to link readers to all of the posts submitted in response to ADF Robotics and Autonomous Systems 2040 Call for Submissions. Over the past three months, the teams at Grounded Curiosity, The Central Blue and The Forge have been publishing posts that responded to the Force Exploration Branch’s call for submissions on the topic of Robotics and Autonomous Systems (RAS) in 2040. These submissions will be considered by the working groups that will iterate the Joint RAS Strategy on behalf of VCDF. This article summarises some critical themes across submissions to all three military blog platforms. For the purpose of this summary, ranks and titles have been removed – however, author biographies can be found with each linked article. Gary Waters and Patrick Bigland advocated for successful integration of autonomous systems, including those in virtual environments. Their focus in collaborative autonomy was the warfighter, while acknowledging some of the technical limitations of human control. Jacob Choi furthered the discussion on human-machine teaming, clarifying that robots will no longer be mere tools for soldiers, but teammates. He elaborated that we can take cues from how war animals’ bond with human handlers to provide some feedforward input to the Joint RAS concept. Gareth Rice wrote about the imminent advent of the human-cyborg soldier, starting with the battlefield of the brain. Keirin Joyce clarified that swarming is yet to be fully realised, despite these future systems having ‘started their capability life cycle in the 2010s.’ His primer reinforced the idea of scaling with a challenge to ‘think bold for 2040,’ with Matthew Ader further arguing that automated systems will turn the battlefield into a lethal panopticon. Ader elaborated in a separate article that humanitarian organisations and advocacy groups should also use autonomous systems, such as self-organising swarms of driverless trucks, to serve non-combatants within conflict-affected environments. Zac Rogers raised points for and against Uberisation in the business of war, with a potential model for the Australian Civilian Cyber Corps. Emily Delfina discussed why human control is necessary in autonomous weapons systems (AWS) from a legal, ethical and operational perspective, and the subsequent implications for Artificial Intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML). Paul Grant and Nick Alexander argued that health is ‘no longer a mere enabler’, as the advent of autonomous health agents allows for greater opportunities to exploit, and vulnerabilities susceptible to adversary attack. Their ‘Warfighting health effect in 2040’ submission offered a vivid narrative into what autonomous medical evacuation, security for casualty evacuation, an airborne hospital platform, medical resupply and telehealth support will look like in 2040, threaded together across four vignettes. Jacob Simpson drew attention to the double-edged sword within AI concerning command and control (C2), and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR). Simpson argued that by developing a counter-AI strategy, the ADF could sever an adversary’s trust in their AI-dependent C2 and ISR systems, thereby degrading their decision-making process and improving the ADF’s ability to achieve decision superiority. Kristi Adams highlighted the ethical and operational challenges that advances in biometric identification present to Australia. The relationship between biometrics and security has progressed rapidly from fingerprints, through facial recognition, to include heartbeat identification. AI-enabled, non-cooperative biometric collection and identification promises enhanced security but potentially at the risk of privacy. Nate Streher provided a naval perspective analysing how the action-reaction balance will continue to define technological development in the military. Mine countermeasures (MCM) have been at the forefront of RAS adoption, and this will unlikely change in the future, but, as Streher highlighted, for the all benefits that RAS provide MCM teams, there will continue to be vulnerabilities that can be exploited by a tech-savvy adversary. These submissions represent a wide selection of voices with diverse experiences in uniform and academia. Authors have written to provide their expertise in their respective fields, and in doing so, have supported the Joint RAS Strategy’s consultation process. The Central Blue, Grounded Curiosity and The Forge thank all the contributors for their submissions on behalf of Force Exploration Branch.

2020’s time dilation makes Elon Musk’s comments about the end of the fighter jet era at February’s Air Warfare Symposium seem far more than six months ago, despite the visceral responses they generated at the time. DARPA’s recent third round of its AlphaDogfight Trials not only reminded people of Musk’s remarks, but it also appeared to vindicate them, with the AI achieving a clean sweep over its human competitor. In this article, regular contributor Marija Jovanovich looks beyond the heat and noise that ensued to reflect on what this really means for Air Forces and Air Combat, and, more importantly, what it does not. On 20 August 2020, the US military’s AlphaDogfight challenge reached a fascinating conclusion. The challenge sought to ‘demonstrate the feasibility of developing effective, intelligent autonomous agents capable of defeating adversary aircraft in a dogfight.’ After successive rounds in which several Artificial Intelligence (AI) competitors fought each other, the winning AI, produced by Heron Systems, took on a human pilot, a graduate of the USAF’s elite Weapons School. The finale comprised five rounds of virtual dogfighting. The AI won 5-0. The response to the news was predictable. Those who believe in AI as the panacea rejoiced that the age of crewed fighter jets was over. Those who worship at the altar of air combat called the experiment unfair and its result inadmissible. If the result had been reversed, the same arguments would have been made, just in a different arrangement. This is the harnessing of reason in the pursuit of post-hoc justification of prior belief at play, which Jonathan Haidt discussed at length in The Righteous Mind. As always, the truth lay somewhere in between. The fight was indeed ‘unfair’ – but it was unfair to both sides in different ways. The AI was prevented from ‘learning’ during the trials, while the human pilot was able to learn from each evolution and adapt his tactics accordingly. The AI was also restricted to the performance model of General Dynamics’ F‑16, designed with human physiological limitations in mind. On the other hand, the AI possessed total situational awareness in this fight, something current sensor capabilities only allow in a simulated environment, whereas the human pilot had to search for and maintain visual contact with his opponent. We can debate, and some will for some time yet, whether the ‘unfairness’ inherent in the experiment’s design helped one side more than the other (possible), and even whether it alone was responsible for the result (unlikely). That debate is and will remain unproductive. Instead, what we should do is focus on what this event means, both in the specific and general sense. What does this event tell us about dogfighting specifically?[1] In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a fighter pilot. However, I am an aviator whose education, training and experience as a test pilot lend themselves to a detailed understanding of both aircraft and human performance, and the physics and mechanics of dogfights. This perspective allows me to observe the simple reason why a sufficiently advanced machine should beat a human in a dogfight: what unfolds after the merge – that point in time and space when two aircraft in an air-to-air engagement first meet and commence dogfighting – is largely a physics problem. A dogfight is an ‘all-in’ event, so there is no nuanced risk management. It is a mano a mano affair, so there is no intricate human coordination. There is just the physics problem. As such, it is possible for it to be fully described and defined in terms of Newtonian mechanics, although the system of equations would be quite complicated and dynamic. A human pilot, unable to run those calculations explicitly, solves this problem through intuition based on years of training and experience. This intuition can even appear as creativity. However, a sufficiently advanced machine can actually run the calculations without intuition’s margin for error. All things being equal, such a machine should always win. Reducing ACM to a physics problem does not diminish its difficulty or the skills and determination required to execute it well. It is hard and unrelenting, one of the most intense and demanding experiences within aviation. However, at its core, ACM is still a physics problem, as are all of its complicators. For example, if you increase the number of players on either side, the physics problem gets more complicated, but it remains a physics problem. In this context, the result of AlphaDogfight – a post-merge one versus one ACM engagement – was entirely predictable. However, what does this experimental validation of a long-held hunch mean more generally? Perhaps it would be easier, to begin with, what it does not mean. Can AI replace fighter pilots? Not so fast. Even if we take the somewhat premature leap of faith that AI makes a better dogfighting pilot based on this one event, fighter pilots do more than just dogfight. These other roles are not pure physics problems, particularly when they involve target identification, nuanced risk management, coordination with other humans or creative solutions to previously unseen operational problems. Can AI replace pilots and aircrews in general? Not for the foreseeable future. For roles that involve nuanced risk management, coordination with other humans, or creative solutions to previously unseen operational problems, humans in the loop remain a requirement. These roles are many and varied, such as multi-INT ISR and anti-submarine warfare. Moreover, acknowledging human nature, do we really see a time in the near future when people will happily pile onto an aircraft flown only by a computer? So, what does it mean, and where should it take us? I venture that this event should be a catalyst to ask and more widely discuss some critical questions about the future. The shortlist below is by no means exhaustive, and readers should take the opportunity to pose their own questions in the comments for discussion. What jobs better suit humans, and what jobs is AI likely to crush? At the risk of grossly oversimplifying a complex matter, machines excel at tasks that rely on rapid data access and crunching, whereas humans have the edge when it comes to multi-input fusion, nuance, creativity, and relationships. This leads to the obvious question of whether apportioning tasks on that basis might make us a better fighting force? Or is the crucial integrated rather than delineated human-machine teaming? What sacred cows should we slay? ACM has long been the jewel in the crown of fighter pilot culture, but its very nature as a physics problem may make it ideally suited for early transfer to the ‘machine to do’ list – hit the merge and literally go on autopilot. If this does prove to be the case, we cannot afford to allow its status as a sacred cow to impede this development, because our potential adversaries certainly will not. Meanwhile, we should ask ourselves – what other sacred cows are out there? What about the way air forces manage personnel and groom talent? We currently select fighter pilots largely (albeit not exclusively) on their potential to successfully execute ACM. If a currently available, weak AI can execute ACM better than a human expert, is this really the skill set we should be using to identify our ‘best and brightest’ for the future, or should we be shifting our focus?[2] Ultimately, we should not be distracted by what cyber-specialist Jacquelyn Schneider referred to as ‘AI theatre’ in an incisive Twitter thread following this event. AlphaDogfight was satisfying in the same way sporting spectacles are – and was maybe even more so given most sporting spectacles remain on pandemic hiatus. However, there are immediate and profound gains to be made by investing in AI innovation in more mundane and data-heavy areas, such as logistics and medical records management. While perhaps lacking the theatre of AlphaDogfight, these areas offer greater returns on investment and should be where our attention is focused in the near term. The intent of this short article is not to stake out a position, but to begin a conversation. To overstate the significance of the AlphaDogfight result would be a mistake – it is far from ‘end of an era’ material. However, neither should we understate it, nor ignore the opportunity it presents to look beyond the first-order implications for air combat. As the fighter pilot’s fighter pilot, John Boyd, once said, ‘You gotta challenge all assumptions. If you don’t, what is doctrine on day one becomes dogma forever after.’ Nothing about the year 2020 suggests that dogma is something we can afford as we move further into the 21st century. Wing Commander Marija ‘Maz’ Jovanovich is a Royal Australian Air Force aviator. She is a distinguished graduate of both the USAF Test Pilot School and USAF Air War College who is about to assume command of No. 10 Squadron. The views expressed are hers alone and do not reflect the opinion of the Royal Australian Air Force, the Department of Defence, or the Australian Government. [1] Hereafter, I will use the term ‘dogfight’ to refer to post-merge air combat manoeuvring (ACM). [2] Weak AI, also known as narrow AI, refers to AI that focuses on doing one task well, rather than replicating human intelligence.

Who are we? The Central Blue is an online forum designed to promote informed discussion and debate about air power issues affecting Australia. Our scope is broad, covering topics from tactical integration to strategic theory; and from historical lessons to future capabilities. What is the role? You will primarily assist with editing submissions with the guidance of an established editor. You could also expect to help manage correspondence, track tasks, create and curate digital content, or transcribe and conduct interviews for publication. It is a 12-month role with the option to extend or stay. Why be involved? The Central Blue editorial team is passionate about giving a voice to all members of the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), and our sister services, to foster a new generation of air power thinkers who can participate in the national security debate. The contest of ideas is not limited to the senior leaders of the Australian Defence Force. All personnel regardless of rank or specialisation should feel compelled in contributing to the debate and creating a diversity of thought and perspective to provide a clear picture against adversity. If you believe strongly in generating an inclusive culture to develop this intellectual edge, this is the role for you. Who are we looking for? Enthusiastic and dedicated Junior Officers, Enlisted personnel and Australian Public Service (APS) alike are encouraged to apply. While we are predominantly an air-minded team, your service is no barrier. We welcome applications from the Royal Australian Navy, Australian Army, RAAF and APS personnel. What is The Central Blue editorial team offering? In return, as a part of The Central Blue team, you can expect a commitment from the editors to provide mentoring, advice and editorial assistance. You will gain skills which enable you to critically edit and give a voice to other writers who may not feel so confident. You will have access to a broad array of editors from other sites, and writers with significant experience and knowledge. Where & How do you contribute? This role is entirely online! Our editors have been known to contribute from all across the world. You will simply need regular access to the internet. Interested? Please contact us at thecentralblue@gmail.com with the following details: Name: Rank: Current role: Email address (work + personal): Contact Number (mobile): Educational background: Have you written anything before? What are your interests? What are your motivations for joining? Applications close 16 October 2020.

The Indo-Pacific region is undergoing profound change resulting in increasing instability and uncertainty. The recent release of the 2020 Defence Strategic Update highlights an increased acceleration of tension within the region, and by extension calls on the Australian Defence Force to be ready to support a range of activities. In this post first time contributor, Natasia Pulford assesses Australia's offshore airbase arrangements, and their suitability for supporting future operations. The primary objective of Allied forces in the Southwest Pacific is to advance our network of airbases deep into the Japanese perimeter. General Henry ‘Hap’ Arnold[1] The geography of the Indo-Pacific region has changed little since World War II, and the tyranny of distance continues to be the key challenge for conventional military forces. Just as General Henry ‘Hap’ Arnold noted during the Second World War, a network of airbases would be a decisive factor in the Pacific. Unsurprisingly, there has been little discussion about a regional airbase strategy in more recent times. Since the end of World War II, the Indo-Pacific has enjoyed relative stability; however, the recently published 2020 Defence Strategic Update asserts that we are in the midst ‘of the most consequential strategic realignment since the Second World War […] complicating our nation’s strategic circumstances.’ Furthermore, the Government has signalled its willingness to utilise the Australian Defence Force to ‘shape Australia’s strategic environment, deter actions against our interests and, when required, respond with credible military force.’ However, Australia’s airbase arrangements in the region have not substantially changed since World War II. The Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) requires a contemporary airbase strategy for the Indo-Pacific region to ensure it can achieve the objectives the Australian Government outlined in its 2020 Defence Strategic Update. This paper discusses Australia’s changing strategic environment and resultant impacts on airbases. It outlines critical considerations for a contemporary airbase strategy, including range, threat, and regional engagement. It concludes by addressing the systemic challenges which currently prohibit a strategic approach. Changing Strategic Environment The Indo-Pacific region is undergoing profound change resulting in increasing instability and uncertainty. The conflation of several macro forces (including threats to human security, major power competition, military modernisation, expanding cyber capabilities and attacks, ‘grey zone’ activities) and the accelerating pace of change is creating a security environment ‘markedly different from the more benign of the past, with greater potential for military miscalculation.’ Ongoing reclamation and militarisation of South China Sea features in the vicinity of crucial shipping routes and initiatives aimed at creating a permanent presence in the South Pacific highlighted the stark realities of the situation to the Australian Government. In response, the 2020 Defence Strategic Update signalled a willingness to project military forces in the region to protect sovereign interests. Force projection is not a new concept for the RAAF; however, noting the increasing military capabilities within the Indo-Pacific region, projecting air power at extended ranges, may be easier said than done. Australia’s network of offshore airbases was established before the current era of great power competition and may not be suited for Air Power operations in the contemporary environment. Australia has two offshore airbases, Cocos-Keeling Island and Christmas Island, which are both located in the Indian Ocean and have some significant limitations. Bergin argues that due to their ‘remoteness and difficulties of resupply,’ they are not likely to be suitable options for significant military operations of the kind envisaged by the Strategic Update and would require hardening to mitigate potential threats. Meanwhile, the RAAF has a long history of conducting operations from Royal Malaysian Air Force - Butterworth under the auspices of the Five Power Defence Arrangements. Existing Government agreements with Malaysia constrain the types of operations conducted at Butterworth. Considering the significant changes in the security environment, any future airbase strategy should first assess the sufficiency of these three locations. Critical Considerations for a Contemporary Airbase Strategy One of the critical limitations of projecting air power from mainland Australia is aircraft range and the vast distances they would be required to cover for an Indo-Pacific operation. In a recent ASPI report Marcus Hellyer highlights the limitations of projecting and sustaining the F-35A using the current force structure. He notes ‘[t]he problem of limited fighter range in the vast Indo-Pacific is a pervasive one […] any operations in the Indo-Pacific will face the same challenges.’ A contemporary airbase strategy could overcome these challenges by establishing a network of offshore airbases which enable manoeuvre and continued presence in the region. Airbase defence and resilience must also be addressed in an airbase strategy to counter threats resulting from military modernisation in the region. Of note, the Center for Strategic and International Studies highlights that ‘China’s numerous and diverse missile arsenal poses a significant threat to allied forces in the Indo-Pacific region.’ The United States has accepted that traditional approaches which involve ‘concentration of personnel and materiel’ at well-established operating locations create logistics synergies but expose critical vulnerabilities for military forces operating in the Indo-pacific. Through wargaming and experimentation, the United States has identified that ‘distributed basing arrangements’ with ‘point defences to bolster the resilience and agility’ of coalition forces are required to maintain credible deterrence. Accordingly, Australia’s airbase strategy must seek to mitigate the risk of attack through hardening, dispersal, and resilience, thereby imposing costs for potential adversaries. As Australia relies heavily on host nation airbase support for operations outside of mainland Australia, collaboration with partners will be an essential aspect of any airbase strategy. Engagement and transparency will not only promote shared goodwill but should seek to reduce miscalculations and improve opportunities for cooperation on infrastructure development in the region. Peter Jennings suggests that airfields such as Momote Airport on Manus Island could be ‘a strategic game-changer as far as north and west as the South China Sea.’ That being the case, Jennings notes that upgrades would be required to support military aircraft operations, which would require the approval of the Papua New Guinea government. Ultimately, regional engagement will be critical for continued access to offshore airbases and any changes to the existing arrangements. Systemic Challenges There are two fundamental systemic challenges which contribute to the lack of an airbase strategy. Firstly, current doctrine and concepts fail to address the role of airbases within manoeuvre warfare adequately. Future operational concepts being developed by the United States Air Force, including agile combat employment, seek to maximise dispersal and manoeuvre of air assets in high threat and contested environments. Additionally, experimentation and wargaming have demonstrated the need for greater focus on basing and logistics to ensure generation of combat missions in contested environments. Similarly, Australian concepts and doctrine need to be updated to reflect the new realities of the strategic situation. Although the second edition of the Operational Air Doctrine Manual discusses the ‘manoeuvrist approach’ and the functions of an airbase, it fails to discuss the role of airbases in manoeuvre warfare. This omission contributes to the lack of recognition of the airbase as a warfighting capability which, as Peter Layton points out, is what makes the airbase unique. Failure to address the role of the airbase in air power doctrine inhibits the development of future airbase concepts and education of air power professionals in the ‘art’ of airbase strategy. There have been some recent developments which signal the beginnings of a shift in mindset about airbases. The first was the publication of the Air Force Strategy 2017 – 2027, which highlighted the need to investigate ‘mobile and fixed’ airbase requirements. Such an intent signals a recognition amongst leadership that a different approach is required. The second development was the publication of Surfing the Digital Wave by Peter Layton which acknowledged the symbiotic relationship between airbases and air power and the traditional fascination with ‘flying machines and those who operate them’ to the detriment of furthering the advancement of airbases. Layton highlights the potential for airbase digitisation which could fundamentally change how we generate air power in the medium to longer-term and the need to view airbases as a system of systems. Both publications position the RAAF to commence a dialogue on the future of air bases in the broader context of a basing strategy and pave the way for updates to doctrine and concepts. The second systemic challenge which must be addressed in an airbase strategy is the existing capability development and acquisition processes. Current processes do not enable a strategic approach to airbase capability management and development of support concepts. The scope of infrastructure development and investment is established during the aircraft acquisition process. It is often constrained to the requirements for a single aircraft type operating from airbases on mainland Australia. Additionally, infrastructure planning for airbases has traditionally prioritised efficiency over resilience, resulting in a concentration of forces on an airbase. Consequently, the lack of an offshore airbase strategy has inhibited the ability to develop comprehensive force protection concepts (through hardening, dispersal, or camouflage) and an assessment of logistics risk. Current business practices optimise planning at the tactical level; however, they fail to address the strategic planning required to ensure the overall network of airbases and associated force protection and logistics will support future warfighting requirements. Conclusion This article argues that the changing strategic environment in the Indo-Pacific necessitates a renewed focus on airbase strategy to ensure that the RAAF is positioned to execute the objectives of the 2020 Defence Strategic Update. The deteriorating security environment in the region has invigorated the Australian Government’s desire to utilise the military, in roles which will span the continuum from competition to conflict, to protect sovereign interests. Existing airbase arrangements pre-date the current great power competition era and therefore require a reassessment of their suitability for the current environment. Of note, regional military modernisation will challenge Australia’s ability to project and sustain air power in the region. Accordingly, airbases should be appropriately ranged for effective employment, and possess the appropriate defense and resilience. Additionally, Australia’s airbase strategy will be dependent on other nations, and therefore early engagement and consultation will be instrumental in avoiding miscommunication and pursuing opportunities for synchronisation of effort. Finally, doctrine and capability management practices should be updated to promote a strategic approach to airbase management and recognition of the role of airbases in manoeuvre warfare. Recent publications have set the stage for a renewed focus on airbases, but further work will be required by the RAAF’s leadership to advocate for processes which support future operational requirements. Ultimately, a contemporary airbase strategy will enhance the delivery of air power effects and underpin response options available to the Australian Government. Group Captain Natasia Pulford has completed 22 years of service in the Royal Australian Air Force, having worked in a diverse range of positions within the Australian Defence Force and the United States military. Her responsibilities have included future concepts and capability development, acquisition, and sustainment of weapon systems (including F-35, KC-30, P-8, C-17, and Caribou), and international logistics. The opinions expressed are hers alone and do not represent the views of the Royal Australian Air Force, the Australian Defence Force, or the Australian Government. [1] Charles Westenhoff, Military Air Power: The CADRE Digest of Air Power Opinions and Thoughts (Alabama, AL: Air University Press, 1990), p. 26.

One of the strengths of Exercise Pitch Black is its airspace and training ranges – notably the Delamere Air Weapons Range, located approximately 350 kilometres south of Darwin. Whilst the RAAF was forced to cancel Exercise Pitch Black 2020 due to restrictions from CoVID-19, the Range is well-positioned to support exercises into the future. Introduction Delamere Air Weapons Range (DEL) from its inception in 1989 through to today, remains a crucial enabler for air power. Located on the South West margin of the Sturt Plateau in the Northern Territory, and a two-hour drive from RAAF Base Tindal, DEL comprises of approximately 2000 square kilometres. The range has three designated airspace training areas and a single 4000-foot unsurfaced runway that can support aircraft up to a C-130 Hercules. Due to its remote locality and state of the art facilities, DEL facilitates several key training objectives for force generation – not only for the Australian Defence Force (ADF) but for regional partners. The highly sought-after and very capable training area attracts several international partners who require the range not only during exercise periods but also for their specific training activities. A History The Wardaman Nation are the traditional custodians of Delamere. Their span of ownership is recognised as far as the south-west of Katherine to Flora River in the North West. European occupation dates back to 1878 where DEL was part of the second oldest pastoral lease, initially known as Glencoe Station, later Delamere Station. The Commonwealth first acquired Delamere in 1989, and in 1991 gazetted as a Defence Practice Area. In 2014, the Defence Practice Area increased in size through the then termed buffer zone in order to accommodate the planned redevelopment and improvements to range capabilities. DEL has recently reopened following an extensive redevelopment with $74 million spent on the new Range Control precinct, accommodation and messing, and a further $254 million spent on the Mobile Threat Training and Emitter System (MTTES) project. MTTES, as part of Project AIR 5349, will provide a live, scalable radio frequency training environment at suitable sites in Australia. MTTES provides high-end support to airborne training, delivering sufficient fidelity, emitter density and training feedback. It will also provide the appropriate management and support, in order to generate the required proficiency levels of RAAF EA-18G aircrew in the execution of Airborne Electronic Attack (AEA) roles during unit, joint and combined training. Exercise Pitch Black Exercise Pitch Black has been a biennial staple for Delamere since 1991, the first year the range was gazetted, providing an opportunity for all exercise participants to utilise the ranges’ first-class capabilities. With steadily increasing numbers of ADF and foreign forces participating in the exercise, all staff and visitors can be comfortably accommodated in modern facilities, utilise several different recreation areas, and enjoy a large mess that never fails to turn out quality meals. DEL offers a variety of training opportunities. The kinetic training conducted at DEL varies on any given day; it could include C-130 Hercules operations with JTAC insertion, to air-delivered weapons drops from Australian or international exercise participants on one of the many kinetic target areas. Targets on DEL have been specially designed to represent a number of real-life scenarios accurately. Targets include an airfield with dispersed facilities or tank formation. The world-class new facilities offer the ability to integrate range staff with exercise planners seamlessly. This enables the monitoring of unexploded ordnance, ground and air movements and communications. Aside from providing an excellent advanced weapon training facility, DEL also provides several other critical effects through updated scoring systems. The range can provide a high-definition video with a live feed to range control, allowing accurate reporting on weapons delivery. Observation towers have also been constructed in order to facilitate safe targeting on the range. Additionally, a permanent electronic warfare capability enables the Air Force to prepare and validate electronic warfare tactics, techniques, and procedures safely and sustainably. Over the last three decades, DEL has proven itself to be Australia’s premier air training area. Through the provision of modern and realistic facilities, it is clear that the range has direct relevance in developing Australian air power into the future and supporting the generation of a superior fighting force. Sergeant Brian Dick is the Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technician at Delamere Air Weapons Range for Air Force Test Ranges Squadron, which is part of the Air Warfare Centre. He is responsible for the detection, identification, field evaluation, rendering safe, recovery and final disposal of unexploded ordnance at Delamere Air Weapons Range. Explosive Ordnance Disposal technicians are a specialisation of the Armament Technician trade.

“ The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” Alan Kay Innovation within a military environment demands much of its aspiring innovators. It demands audacity, agility, conviction, diplomacy, flexibility, friction, passion, teamwork, tenacity, and vision to name a few of the often unspoken and high costs to successfully achieve it. This is a story about Major General William “Billy” Mitchell and his innovator’s journey through the trough of sorrow. In 1916, US Army signals officer Billy Mitchell undertook pilot training with the Curtiss Flying School as he was too old and senior in rank for aviation training as prescribed in law. The considerable personal cost to then Major Billy Mitchell was roughly equivalent to a year’s salary. Aviation was in its infancy with less than 15 years since the first powered flights of Richard Pearse and the Wright Brothers. At this time, the industrial scale slaughter of WWI had already been raging for two years and seen technological disruption of the sea domain in the form of German U-Boat submarines. They not only disrupted trade between the then neutral United States with European Allies, but a single German U-Boat (U-21) was successful in disrupting 18 obsolete Pre-dreadnaught era battleships from providing close support to the Gallipoli Campaign by sinking two of them. It is an early modern era example of Anti-Access/Area Denial (A2/AD). By war’s end, 11 million tons of shipping was destroyed by Axis submarines. But it was the emergence of the air domain that saw the greatest technological revolution. Airplanes and airships were initially used as observation and surveillance platforms but then quickly adapted to provide air dominance (close air support and even strategic bombing). While Billy Mitchell was in transit to France to observe the conflict, the United States declared war on Germany. Mitchell quickly set up an Aviation Section within Army from which he collaborated extensively with British and French aviation commanders. This allowed him to inform the soon to arrive American Expeditionary Force (AEF). Preparing for US AEF air operations provided him with vital experience that he used to plan and lead one of the first ever coordinated air and land domain offensives. By war’s end, he was in command of all US AEF air combat units as acting Brigadier, Chief of Air Service, US Army. Unlike most who believed that WWI was the war to end wars, Mitchell fervently believed the new air domain would play an overwhelmingly critical factor in future conflict. He believed floating air bases would be essential in the defence of the country, a view which clashed severely with the US Navy who had disestablished their own Naval Aeronautics immediately following the war. Mitchell passionately urged the development of naval aviation due to the growing obsolescence of the existing naval surface combatant fleet. He assured the navy that he could develop the capability to destroy battleships from the air, however, his vision and domain expertise was denounced by the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, and future US President, Franklin Roosevelt. Despite the strong public criticism of Mitchell and his vision of future air conflict, he tenaciously persisted. Mitchell relentlessly pushed for military aviation innovations such as superchargers, aerial torpedoes, and bomb sights while shamelessly promoting regular breakthroughs in aviation speed, altitude, and distance records. This aggressive approach often came at the high cost of damaging relationships with his superiors. He instigated a series of joint Army-Navy exercises called Project B, to test the ability of Army planes to sink Navy battleships. These tests infuriated the Navy due to their highly politicised and public nature. The strict rules of engagement for the test included inspections in between individual bombs dropped on captured or surrendered German warships used as targets, as well a limit on the maximum weight of bombs dropped. In clear violation of these rules, the German battleship Ostfriesland was quickly and decisively sunk by a flight of four aerial bombers carrying far heavier bombs then was allowed. While it was an overwhelming success that gained Mitchell many kudos from the public, his approach earned him significant internal criticism. Mitchell was inevitably charged with insubordination for unrelated public comments he made against the military after several fatal aviation accidents. Convicted but lightly punished, Mitchell retired immediately following his court martial and continued to try and shape developments in the fast evolving air domain in the interwar years, albeit in a position of greatly reduced capacity to influence. He died in 1936. In April of 1942, a mere four months after the surprise Japanese air raid on Pearl Harbor, which Mitchell predicted, a US joint services force punched deep across the Japanese dominated Pacific Ocean. This was at the behest of President Franklin Roosevelt, who had clashed so harshly with Mitchell’s vision two decades earlier when Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Unexpectedly detected by the Japanese Imperial Navy, 300km and 10 hours short of the scheduled H-Hour, the force immediately launched all sixteen Army B25 medium bombers off the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Hornet. It was an audacious and unprecedented joint services raid, led by a former aide of Mitchell’s, achieving a massive propaganda blow against the Axis and a much needed morale victory at a time when the Allies were entirely on the back foot in the global fight. The land based B25 bomber had just entered service mere months before the US entered the war and the raid itself is worthy of its own tactical innovation story. It was the only US combat aircraft named in memory of a person, – aptly named the B25 Mitchell. The air domain, as envisioned by Major General (posthumously reinstated) William “Billy” Mitchell two decades prior, was ultimately dominated by the Allies and played a decisive factor in WWII victory. This was largely due to the trail he blazed two decades earlier, setting the innovation narrative in the air domain at the cost of burning his career to a cinder. By their nature, innovation stories demand a “lessons learned” – Be audacious and tenacious. Convey your conviction, display your passion, and share your innovation vision. But always remember it’s possible to be both absolutely right, while also being completely wrong. Diplomacy and EQ are your best tools to mitigate this risk. Build bridges towards those with opposing viewpoints. Extinguish friction points using diplomacy and flexibility. Build a network of allies with peers and mentors who can support you when you are wrong… And you will be wrong. Because if you’re not wrong sometimes, you’re not trying hard enough to innovate. Don’t be like Billy Mitchell and burn your career through insubordination, a lack of diplomacy, and a lack of team work with peers and mentors. Be like Billy Mitchell because we must be ready for the next H-Hour. If history is anything to go by, it will arrive early and unexpectedly. This article originally appeared on The Cove, an online professional development network for the Australian Army. Chris Elles is a member of the New Zealand Army (Reserve) who is focused on developing innovative training. He is currently serving as a Company Weapons Sergeant in 2/4 RNZIR and as a member of the Aumangea Assessment Program Training Team. He is also a small business entrepreneur and an alumnus of Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. #history #Innovation #leadership

This is the second in a series of posts by Brian Weston describing the Royal Australian Air Force’s (RAAF) organisational evolution since the Second World War.  The first post examined the RAAF prior to, and during, the Second World War. This post describes the creation of Area Commands as the initial organisational structure for the post-war RAAF. The RAAF’s introduction of the operational air group structure in the South West Pacific theatre during World War 2 was a step in the evolution of Australian air power. It was therefore not surprising that the RAAF included the notion of an operational air group in its postwar plan, which was for a force of 16 squadrons organised into five ‘home defence’ area commands,and a ‘mobile task force’ comprising fighter, bomber, and transport wings, and a reconnaissance squadron, including an operational wing headquarters and organic maintenance support. But with government prioritising a massive post-war demobilisation, which saw the RAAF downsize from 191,337 personnel in August 1945 to 7,897 personnel at the end of 1948, the RAAF had neither the resources nor personnel to implement its plans. The RAAF mobile task force remained unfunded, with the organisational concept of five area commands becoming the basis of post-war air force organisation. In 1952, the RAAF signalled a small departure from its Royal Air Force (RAF) heritage by designating its ‘stations’ as ‘bases’; stations being a RAF term. But subsequently, and perhaps with a touch of irony, it was a RAF officer who went on to implement fundamental change in RAAF post-war organisation. Air Marshal Sir Donald Hardman, a RAF officer of high regard, was appointed Chief of Air Staff of the RAAF following the 12-year tenure of Sir George Jones, and it was Hardman who set about organising the RAAF on a functional basis, rather than on a geographic basis; the change taking place on October 1, 1953. The changes, which coincided with the abolition of Air Force Headquarters and the establishment of the Department of Air, saw the five area commands folded into a Home Command under one operational commander. Two further functional commands were established, Training Command and Maintenance Command, which were soon merged into a single command, Support Command. Later, Home Command was retitled Operational Command. But the organisational concept of the World War 2 operational air group had been lost as, at base level, the principle of functional command had not been followed through. On Operational Command bases the mobile wings and squadrons of the RAAF reported to the officers commanding (OCs) of their respective bases. The RAAF attempted to rectify this by titling the officer commanding as a Formation Officer Commanding, such as OC RAAF Williamtown rather than as a Base Officer Commanding, such as OC RAAF Base Williamtown. But with fighter squadrons at Butterworth and Williamtown, and maritime squadrons at Townsville and Richmond, all reporting through different ‘formation officers commanding’, it was clear there was no single commander oversighting either the RAAF fighter force or the RAAF maritime force. A further command discontinuity occurred when a flying squadron deployed, the command chain switched from the officer commanding of the squadron’s home base to the officer commanding the squadron’s deployment base – ‘chopped’ in the jargon of the day. For example, if No 1 Squadron deployed from Amberley to Darwin, the Commanding Officer of 1 Squadron (CO 1SQN) would report to Air Officer Commanding Operational Command through OC RAAF Darwin, not OC RAAF Amberley. This could result in CO 1SQN reporting through a commander who may not have flown a jet aircraft, let alone an F-111C. In an attempt to simplify command chains and save resources, the RAAF also disestablished its operational wings, with commanding officers of flying squadrons reporting directly to formation OCs. But the group captain, who was previously the Wing Officer Commanding, and his staff, remained on base and morphed into the Air Staff Officer (ASO). As a staff officer, the ASO reported to the formation OC but, as a staff officer, he had no command authority. The RAAF now had a ‘staff versus command’ issue, as ASOs, officers generally of group captain rank, were effectively interposed between formation OCs and the squadron COs. ASOs and squadron COs worked through this staff versus command issue in various ways. But with formation OCs delegating differing degrees of authority to their respective ASOs, clarity of command and command accountability issues at base level were not uncommon. The introduction of functional chains of command by Sir Donald Hardman was a seminal change in RAAF organisation, although the principle of functional command did not fully flow down to RAAF bases and operational units until the concept of the Force Element Group was introduced This article was first published in the November 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 #ColdWar #history #AirForce #Organisation

This is the first in a series of posts by Brian Weston describing the Royal Australian Air Force’s (RAAF) organisational evolution since the Second World War.  The first post examines the RAAF prior to, and during, the Second World War. My recent posts focused on the aeroplane and its evolution from airborne platform to airborne weapons system, an evolution which has seen lessening incremental gains in platform performance but huge leaps in weapons system capability. Unsurprisingly, these advances in the combat capability of airborne platforms have become the focus of much interest, and often debate. But there is much more to air combat power than just airborne platforms and systems, with even the seemingly mundane subject of organisation becoming a discriminating combat factor between air forces. As one of the world’s oldest air forces, the RAAF has some interesting history in how it has organised its elements of air power. Initially, as a very small air force, developing within the sphere of influence of the British Empire, the RAAF simply took what was Royal Air Force (RAF) organisational policy and adopted it as RAAF policy. It was a practical option, especially in its first 20 years when the fledgling air force was under-resourced and struggling for institutional survival. It also allowed Sir Richard Williams, the founding father of the RAAF, to allocate what resources he could secure from government to the building of several stations – as the RAF called its bases – upon which Australia’s small air force could consolidate and develop. What a shrewd move that was, for when World War 2 came the RAAF was able to use its combination of ‘area commands’ and ‘stations’ as the foundation upon which it could execute its prodigious expansion; not so much as a combat air force but as a training air force, a role determined by government which fed Australian airmen into RAF combat organisations in Britain and North Africa. When the Japanese entered the Second World War with ferocity and success, the RAAF had to evolve its organisational model into something more appropriate for combat operations in the vast theatre of the South West Pacific Area. But the speed of events in the Pacific war quickly overtook the capacity of the RAAF and, given Australia’s dire military situation, the Curtin government soon handed over the command of all Australian combat operations in the South West Pacific to General Douglas MacArthur, with RAAF combat units falling under the operational command of General George Kenney, United States Army Air Force (USAAF). RAAF combat units were grouped into a command called RAAF Command, commanded by Air Vice- Marshal William Bostock who reported to General Kenney, Commander USAAF 5th Air Force. But Kenney had underlying concerns about the organisation of units within RAAF Command, especially their leadership, mobility, coordination, flexibility and effectiveness. It was therefore not surprising when the RAAF established No 9 Operational Group on 1 September 1942 [Editors note: This date has been amended from the original post]. The Group, organised on a functional basis, then located on Goodenough Island, comprised two operational wings, one works wing, and one radio location (radar) wing. Air Commodore Joe Hewitt was appointed commander of No 9 Operational Group with a charter to better coordinate and concentrate the assets of the group to meet the demands of the theatre. It was noteworthy the change substantially reflected USAAF practice. A second operational group, No 10 Operational Group, under the command of Air Commodore Frederick Scherger, was soon formed. In November 1943, No 10 Operational Group evolved into the RAAF First Tactical Air Force (No 1 TAF);  an operational entity still smaller than a USAAF ‘numbered air force’, but nevertheless a large, powerful and mobile fighting air force. These seemingly minor World War 2 organisational changes were significant changes in RAAF organisational policy for three reasons. First, the South West Pacific theatre provided the main opportunities for senior RAAF officers to command large air operational entities as, in the European and North African theatres where RAAF personnel were dispersed among RAF operational entities, few senior RAAF officers were granted command at levels higher than that of a squadron commanding officer – a tactical level command. Second, the South West Pacific theatre exposed senior RAAF officers to the functional operational command model employed by the USAAF. Third, the performance of RAAF commanders in the South West Pacific generally demonstrated the RAAF had within its ranks officers with the ability to command large aggregate groupings of operational units. Given General MacArthur generally chose not to use Australian operational units in his advance to the Philippines, the RAAF did not have too many more opportunities to gain further experience at the operational level of war. Hence, the decision to structure RAAF tactical units into operational groups in the South West Pacific was a significant milestone in RAAF organisational policy in that it added to the depth of experience the RAAF was gaining as it matured into a more credible and more powerful air force. The question was; how would the RAAF translate this operational experience into the post-war air force. This article was first published in the October 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 #AirPower #C2 #leadership #lessonslearned

Peter Layton’s series on other peoples’ air power has included an examination of Islamic State’s use of unmanned aircraft and the employment of air power in the Ukraine campaign. In this third post, Dr Layton considers the varied influences on China’s approach to air power and it’s focus on multi-domain ‘firepower warfare’. In late October President Xi Jinping’s “Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era” was written into the Chinese Communist Party’s Constitution.  In some respects Chinese airpower follows a similar dictum. Ideas from beyond China are considered, modified and adapted to meet Chinese needs. In this, the People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF) long-term development owes much to Soviet and later Russian support, doctrine and arms sales.  In some decades though such assistance has vanished initially through ideological differences and more lately over fighter aircraft intellectual property theft (the J-11 saga). In these periods, the PLAAF has needed to develop primarily using indigenous resources and in broad terms, this is where the Service finds itself today – albeit a contract for 24 Su-35s was signed with Russia in November 2015 with deliveries now underway. Having only limited access to the latest technical innovations within the global arms market puts the Chinese military aerospace industry and its PLAAF customer at some disadvantage.  Even the US finds being able to obtain foreign advanced technology important in the design and manufacture of new aircraft – the F-35 being the latest example.  China’s isolation is however eased somewhat by access to global commercial aviation developments and by cyber espionage. American thinking has also been highly influential even if more indirectly than Soviet and Russian assistance. In early 2000, after various American-led air operations in Iraq and the Former Yugoslavia, USAF-style airpower appeared the sine qua non of victory. Accordingly, the Chinese government – in reality the Communist Party – determined that an extensive but focussed long-term modernisation of the by-then almost obsolete PLAAF was essential. Supported by breathtaking national economic growth, this modernisation program continues apace aiming to make the PLAAF into a ‘strategic air force’. Indeed in 2014 President Xi Jinping declared that the country must “accelerate [its] construction of a powerful people’s air force… in order to support the realization of the China dream and the dream of a strong military”. Today’s newly “powerful people’s air force” has a well-defined mission articulated in China’s 2015 Military Strategy White Paper, a document broadly similar to Australian Defence White Papers but considerably shorter and without detail on force structure development plans. China’s White Paper determined that major wars were unlikely however, localized conflicts were possible with the most worrying being any occurring on China’s periphery. Both sides in these local wars were assumed to employ high technology systems and extensive information warfare over an extended, non-linear battlefield of considerable depth. The big buzzword was the rather clunky ‘informationization’, a term to stress that modern wars involved the extensive use of information technology. For “winning informationized local wars”, the White Paper directed that military operations should be based on active defence concepts that integrated defensive and offensive means. To fight the anticipated short-duration, high-intensity local conflicts, the PLAAF has acquired a multi-role air combat fighter force, airborne early warning and control aircraft, an extensive land-based radar network, a modern surface to air missile force, and an appropriate communications infrastructure. This may sound a rather American-like mirror-image force structure. There are however, some noteworthy differences that combine Soviet influences, modern Russian thinking and shrewd Chinese assessments. Firstly, the PLAAF’s land-based Surface-to-Air Missiles (SAMs) systems are an important element in the extended air superiority battle, rather than just being for home airbase defence.  China has acquired Russian SA-10 and SA-20 SAMs and developed the indigenous HQ-9; these have a range of some 200km with work underway to extend the HQ-9’s engagement envelope.  In late 2014, China purchased Russia’s new S-400 system for delivery by 2020; this leading edge system has a range of some 400 km.  Such long range SAM systems allow engaging aircraft flying at high altitude well offshore, including those operating above 10,000ft across Taiwan. In this it seems curious that Russia’s marked reticence on military aircraft sales since the mid-2000 has not extended to selling advanced SAM systems.  Some hold that that by the time China copies the complex S-400 system, Russia will already have the more advanced S-500 model in service. The implication is that China remains committed to building a numerically large, very-long-range SAM force with an indigenous system appearing in the late 2020s. Secondly, an important target set for the long range SAMs is the combat support aircraft that USAF and other coalition air packages rely upon.  These combat support aircraft include the ‘Iron Triad’ aircraft (E-3 Sentry Airborne Warning And Control System, E-8C Joint Surveillance Target Attack Radar System and RC-135V/W Rivet Joint aircraft) as well as the tankers without which shorter-range fast jets could not join the battle.   In this regard, China’s new long-range J-20 stealth fighters now entering service are considered to have engaging hostile combat support aircraft as a primary mission.  The aim of the long-range SAMs and J-20 fleet is not so much to shoot hostile combat support aircraft down as much as to push them so far away from where Chinese forces are operating that they cannot undertake their normal support functions. Thirdly, in Chinese thinking ballistic rockets and cruise missiles are important to helping achieve air superiority through being used to suppress enemy air defences by attacking air battle command centres, air defence radars, SAM systems and parked fighter aircraft.  Such missiles are considered very hard to defend against, especially if used in large numbers, and offering a higher likelihood of success in the early stages of a campaign than manned aircraft raids. Automation then substitutes in a way for needing to field highly trained aircrew. In this, the importance China places on missile warfare is evident in having a dedicated Service: the PLA Rocket Force (PLARF). Lastly, Chinese airpower is an integral element of joint “firepower warfare”.  Under this rubric, coordinated manned aircraft, ballistic rocket, cruise missile and information (EW and cyber) attacks would be undertaken in a closely timed sequence that overwhelms the defences.  The primary aim is to create favourable battlespace conditions and in particular realise the “Three Superiorities”: information dominance, air superiority, and sea superiority. Achievement of the three superiorities will, it is thought, lead directly to war termination on China’s terms as the adversary will realise the futility of continuing the fight.  Victory will be achieved to a significant degree through air power. Douhet and Trenchard would be pleased that in East Asia their aspirations remain in play albeit with Chinese characteristics. Dr Peter Layton is a Visiting Fellow at the Griffith Asia Institute at Griffith University. #SAM #Doctrine #information #Strategy #technology #missiles #cyber

Peter Layton continues his analysis of other peoples’ air power. In this post, he looks at Russia’s use of alternative means to deny the air domain to others while exploiting the third dimension for Russia’s own purposes. His first post in this series, looking at Islamic State’s air power, is here. Say ‘air superiority’ and people instinctively think of highly manoeuvrable aircraft, silk-scarfed fighter pilots, the Battle of Britain and perhaps Top Gun. That is all somewhat last century though.  Manned aircraft are no longer always essential to either gain air superiority or even exploit it, as Russian combat operations in the Donbas region of eastern Ukraine demonstrate.  Here a kind of air power different to our normal expectations is being employed. While Russia quickly seized Crimea in February 2014, the Donbas proved more problematic.  Ukrainian land forces gradually recaptured lost territory supported by the Ukrainian air force. In mid-June though Russia pushed back, introducing various types of man-portable air defence systems (MANPADS – mainly SA-18) and radar-guided surface-to-air missile (SAM) systems (mainly SA-11).  The MANPADS were used in Ukrainian territory principally by proxy forces while the radar-guided SAMs crossed the border occasionally, were employed and then quickly returned back to Russian territory. This shoot-and-scoot tactic seems to have shot down a high-flying An-26, a Mig-29, a Su-25 and an Su-24M together with Malaysian Airlines MH-17. Overall, ten military helicopters (five Mi-8 and five Mi-24) and eight military fixed wing aircraft (An-30B, An-26, Il-76, two MiG-29s, two Su-25s and an Su-24M) were shot down. Some 89 personnel were killed with the greatest loss of life being the Il-76 shoot-down that killed 58. By the end of August, Russia had gained control of the air over the battlefield almost solely through using SAMs, rendering the Ukrainian air force ineffective and allowing Russian land forces to freely manoeuvre. Russia exploited this air superiority exclusively using drones.  Russia has deployed some 14 different types of drones ranging from high-altitude surveillance UAVs flying along the border to small quadcopters.  Of particular note is that Russian tactical drones in the Donbas are closely integrated with artillery and rocket units.  Artillery has a prominent place in Russian military doctrine. Whereas for Western forces, artillery supports manoeuvre, for Russian forces, manoeuvre supports artillery – which then finishes off the engagement. Some 85% of the Ukrainian land force casualties have been caused by Russian artillery and rocket attacks. An American observer noted that in one attack: “in a three minute period… a Russian fire strike wiped out two mechanized [Ukrainian] battalions with a combination of top-attack munitions and thermobaric warheads.” Ukrainian forces consider that if a drone flies overhead and locates them, a Russian area attack from mobile artillery and multiple launch rocket systems can be expected within 10-15 minutes.  Exploiting this fear, the Russians often fly multiple drones at varying altitudes; if one draws fire this can highlight the location of the Ukrainian forces to other drones. Russian tactical drones are vulnerable to hostile fire such as from 14.5mm machine guns, but have proven difficult to engage with a rare loss acceptable given their generally low cost.  Apart from intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) missions, and artillery fall adjusting, some drones are also reportedly used for signals intelligence and electronic jamming. Russia’s use of electronic warfare (EW) in the Donbas differs from Western approaches that sees EW mainly as an adjunct to kinetic attacks.  Russia considers EW “an important part of their offensive and defensive arsenal” and is closely integrated with air and land forces to allow multi-domain attacks Some Russian EW systems are used to geo-locate electronic signals emanating from Ukrainian land forces (or mobile phones) and pass this targeting data onto command centers, allowing mass artillery and rocket attacks. Other EW systems undertake wide area jamming preventing dispersed Ukrainian forces either communicating using radios or accessing GPS signals for navigation.  Other systems intercept Ukrainian transmissions to collect useful intelligence information.  Still others jam the electrical fuses used in Ukrainian artillery shells preventing these exploding.  Lastly, mobile phones are exploited with text messages sent to local communities just prior to an attack to create confusion and panic, while the defending Ukrainian soldiers receive personal SMSs calling on them to surrender. There are some implications from all this. Firstly, SAMs alone can achieve air superiority through inflicting a steady rate of attrition. Russian forces use an interlocking network of diverse SAM systems where each compensates for technical or tactical weaknesses in others.  This may seem a problem only for fourth generation aircraft as fifth generation stealth aircraft today can confidently penetrate walls of intertwined SAM systems.  USAF however sees this capability noticeably eroding over the next decade. Secondly, battlefields may not be clear fire zones.  Many wars have had territorial sanctuaries where friendly forces cannot engage hostile units.  In the Donbas case, the SAM batteries can be within Russian territory but their engagement envelopes can reach well into Ukrainian territory albeit only against high-flying aircraft.  Honouring the potential threat can force friendly aircraft down low into MANPADS zones, prevent persistent surveillance of hostile ground units and push back combat enabler aircraft. Thirdly, providing close air support for friendly land forces in the face of SAM and EW threats may be challenging. It may be difficult to maintain adequate air-ground communication links, particularly if ground forces fear any transmissions will shortly lead to an artillery and rocket attack.  Air assets may need to be allowed to engage identified targets independently of nearby ground units.  On the other hand, close air support without good ground intelligence may require aircraft to loiter while building up a comprehensive picture.  Loitering inside a SAM envelope may need some adroitness, including for fifth generation aircraft without all-round stealth. Fourthly, drones have some ability to undertake several manned aircraft missions. In addition to ISR and EW tasks, Russian hexa-copter drones have dropped small incendiaries onto fuel and munitions depots. These attacks have occasionally included accompanying hexa-copters dropping fragmentation grenades to dissuade friendly fire fighting efforts.  Such attacks can be effective. In July 2017 a drone dropped a ZMG-1 thermite grenade on a vulnerable part of the Balakliya munitions storage facility causing continuing sympathetic detonations and some one billion dollars worth of damage. A similar attack at Svatovo in October 2015 destroyed some 3,000 tons of explosives. Lastly, the use of drones rather than manned aircraft to support Russian land forces suggests that Russia perceives using drones as being in some way less provocative, and thereby lowering the possibly of conflict escalation.  In future gray zone conflicts – like the Donbas – drones may be the initial aircraft of choice. Dr Peter Layton is a Visiting Fellow at the Griffith Asia Institute at Griffith University.

Much ink has been spilled on the challenge posed to Western militaries’ traditional control of the air domain. In this post, Peter Layton poses a number of questions about the impact of other people’s air power. Only states have air forces and only states apply air power.  Or so we mostly think, even if it’s not actually completely true. There was a Biafran air force during the Nigerian civil war and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam staged air strikes in the Sri Lankan civil war.  Nevertheless these were arguably oddities across our 100 years or so of air power history. Times have now changed. The sudden emergence of low-cost, small, commercial-off-the-shelf drones has empowered armed non-state actors. They can now operate their own miniature air forces and apply air power in some roles as the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) has convincingly demonstrated. For an armed non-state group, ISIS is particularly bureaucratic. Unsurprisingly then its adoption of air power has followed a path seemingly familiar to how most air forces have embraced new technology.  ISIS first became interested in drones in 2013 (so before ISIS’s formal establishment), then acquired various types of rotary and fixed wing drones, trialed these to determine the most useful kinds, and finally formed a specialist drone unit.  ISIS then bought in bulk (mainly DJI Phantom quadcopters) and begun modifying these in mass – and the weapons they carried – to optimise them so as to best meet ISIS’s operational requirements.  Given all this, its then no shock to learn that ISIS’s drone operators have to submit standardised drone usage reports after every mission for post-flight analysis by superior headquarters. With the group facing annihilation across Iraq and Syria, the recent battle of Mosul is probably the high water mark of ISIS drone operations with its intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance, and ground attack missions particularly worthy of note. ISIS makes great use of Suicide Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices (SVBIED): a vehicle loaded with explosives detonated when the driver runs the vehicle into a designated target such as tanks, Humvees, and static checkpoints.  ISIS developed effective tactics that integrated these SVBIEDs with drone missions.  The drones provided real-time reconnaissance video that was used to guide the SVBIEDs through narrow side streets that avoided checkpoints and defensive roadblocks ensuring they survived long enough to attack their selected targets. The quadcopter high-definition video imagery of the attack was then quickly uploaded to the Internet for propaganda purposes. Friendly forces responded to these tactics by launching air strikes against the on-ground ISIS drone controllers. To counter this, ISIS then began using mobile drone controllers who moved around the city using motorcycles. ISIS’s major drone innovation during the Mosul battle, however, was its use of weaponised drones.  ISIS customized Phantom quadcopter drones to carry and drop small munitions such as grenades or mortar shells, themselves also modified by adding fins to stabilize their fall.  The drones, in being designed to use high-definition cameras, can be hovered overhead a stationary target and provide a fully stabilized platform for accurate weapons delivery albeit freefall. To gain an appreciation of this it is useful to see video of it in action. Armed drone attacks began in late 2016. By February 2017 some 70 drones were reported airborne in one 24-hour period with 12 armed drones counted overhead simultaneously at one time.  While each attack caused only limited damage, the persistent harassment day and night by the so-called ‘killer bees’ adversely impacted morale. At one point the offensive to retake Mosul almost stalled.  With his units advising and supporting Iraqi forces at this time, United States Special Operations Command’s General Raymond Thomas, noted of this period that the: “most daunting problem was [that ISIS]…for a time, enjoyed tactical superiority in the airspace under our conventional air superiority in the form of commercially available drones and…our only available response was small arms fire.” There are some implications from all this. Firstly, ISIS has now proved the use of consumer drones in combat. In future irregular wars, it would be wise to assume the armed non-state groups will try to emulate ISIS.  Western forces have not faced a hostile air environment since Korea but they might soon albeit not in the kind of wars or ways they might have expected. Secondly, ISIS attacked tactical targets. In-theatre air force bases may in future be subjected to surveillance by drones and possibly strikes. Such surveillance could make hostile ground force attacks much more effective (as ISIS did in capturing a Syrian airbase in Raqqah) while strikes even if using fairly minuscule weapons could disable parked aircraft. Thirdly, don’t be dismayed – perhaps. Consumer drones can be readily countered and there is a growing industry devising new and exotic ways of doing just that ranging from laser cannons to trained eagles. Trouble is these defensive systems are short range and so considerable numbers may need deploying to provide coverage across an operational area.  Moreover, some are warning that drones are becoming more autonomous – making defensive jamming less effective – and using multi-vehicle control, allowing swarming attacks.  Massed attacks using autonomous drones would be readily detectable but hard to defeat, an airbase under attack might be overwhelmed. Fourthly, there are important capability development lessons here. The fifth generation air force supporting Mosul operations could not deny the air to pop-up drones.  An unexpected threat arose that undercut the splendidly high-technology air forces orbiting overhead – well not quite, the United States Air Force’s (USAF) Reaper drones were useful and forced ISIS to institute its motorcyle countermeasures. This has resonances with a current internal debate about whether USAF should force structure for likely or unlikely wars (also see here). People knew ISIS’s drones were coming but the focus was on other longer-term issues until Mosul reached a crisis point.  Judgments on whether to win today’s wars or worry about tomorrow’s can have important consequences. Lastly, the age of hostile consumer drones has arrived raising questions about how our fifth generation air force should respond.  Some see an Air Force role in killing drones while others might argue it’s solely a matter for Army.  Is control of the air in future irregular wars a new single service responsibility or are there more efficacious joint ways to counter this emerging threat?  Over to you. Dr Peter Layton is a Visiting Fellow at the Griffith Asia Institute at Griffith University. An alternative version of this post appeared on The Interpreter. #AirPower