By the end of the Normandy campaign, all the elements and relationships for the rest of the tactical air war in Europe were in place: forward observers and controllers, occasional airborne controllers, radar strike direction, "on-call" fighter-bombers, armored column cover, night intruders, to name just a few. In only thirty-six months, the Allies had recovered from the disappointment of a BREVITY and BATTLEAXE to orchestrate an unprecedented invasion and breakout. Normandy was neither the victory of a single branch of arms, nor the victory of a single nation. Instead, it is the classic example of complex combined arms, multiservice, coalition warfare. The battlefield triumphs of air power were part and parcel of infantry-artillery-armor assaults on the ground. It was true air-land battle. The effectiveness of the Anglo-American air support at Normandy--and through the collapse of Germany as well--is beyond question, attested to alike by airmen, ground commanders on both sides, soldiers in the field, and prisoners of war. A battalion commander in an armored regiment reported: Our air cover has been excellent and has helped us out of many tight spots. At E1 Boeuf they knocked out eight German Mark V [Panther] and Mark VI [Tiger] tanks that were giving us a great deal of trouble. They also helped us at Tessy-sur-Vire by knocking out tanks. They are on call by any unit down to a platoon, calling through company and battalion, and giving the location of the target. Then the ASPO [Air Support Party Officer] contacts the air cover and gets a strike within a matter of minutes. I have seen the air strike within three minutes after the call was made. We like to know the air is there. We want it all the time. Two other battalion commanders from the same regiment endorsed his remarks. VII Corps's "Lightning Joe" Collins stated that "we could not possibly have gotten as far as we did, as fast as we did, and with as few casualties, without the wonderful air support that we have consistently had." According to Bradley's 12th Army-Group air effectiveness committee, fighter-bombers in particular proved valuable for a number of missions, including operations within striking range of artillery. Only when used against heavily constructed positions such as casemated guns and pillboxes did they prove "not particularly effective." Fighter-bombers were actually more accurate than long-range heavy artillery, specifically the 240mm howitzer and the 8-in gun or howitzer. Armed with 500-lb general purpose and 260-lb fragmentation bombs, fighter-bombers--particularly the rugged P-47--routinely conducted close-in strikes within 300 to 500 yards of friendly troops. Pure bombers were a different matter, however. Mediums (such as the B-25, B-26, and even the A-20 and its successor the Douglas A-26 Invader) were considered as a mixed blessing. While they were not as criticized as the occasionally errant "heavies," commanders felt that they lacked the strong control and communication relationship with medium bomber units that they had with the fighter-bombers. Mediums were also seen as too inflexible: they lacked the quickness, ease of response, and availability of the fighters. Though heavy bombers were devastatingly effective in the COBRA breakthrough, they had inherent disadvantages compared with fighter-bombers, namely the problem of friendly casualties and the need for a large safety area between friendly forces and the target. All of this reinforced a generalized view from the ground that air support could best be delivered by the fighter-bomber. And despite all the brouhaha of the early war years concerning dive bombers, arguments favoring them for battlefield air support had disappeared by the spring of 1945, as had arguments for specialized battlefield attack aircraft. The "attack" airplane was dead; long live the fighter-bomber. Yet, when confronted with dense light antiaircraft fire, fighter- bombers did take losses. IX TAC lost a total of eighty aircraft from July 25 through August 7, 49 percent from flak, 7 percent to enemy aircraft, 24 percent to small-arms fire, and 20 percent from unknown causes. Thus 73 percent--and possibly more nearly 90 percent--of combat losses came from some form of light or heavy ground fire. Undoubtedly the rugged construction and dependability of the P-47's air-cooled engine prevented even further losses, a luxury the liquid-cooled Typhoon lacked. Wolfgang Pickert, a General der Flak-Artillerie in charge of the III Flak Korps, reported that in "fighter-bomber weather . . . the movement of large vehicles during the hours of daylight was practically tantamount to their certain loss." But when light antiaircraft forces were present in sufficient strength (a rarity in Normandy), "fighter-bombers had hardly any successes, or only with heavy losses." III Flak Korps had one regiment in the Falaise pocket during the hectic withdrawal eastward, and by good fortune it had an unlimited supply of ammunition due to its proximity to III Flak Korps ammunition depots. Pickert alleged that the regiment "reported that it had inflicted heavy casualties on the enemy and had put numerous enemy tanks and planes out of action," though this claim does not seem warranted from other accounts. Also, antiflak artillery fire immediately prior to, or during air strikes benefitted Allied close air support operations a reminder of the necessity for air and land forces to work together to achieve victory on the battlefield. Even allowing for some exaggeration and duplicate claims, the sortie claims of the Ninth AF and 2 TAF during the Normandy fighting is most impressive.
No stronger endorsement of the air support in Normandy canbe found than Omar N. Bradley's letter to AAF Commanding General "Hap" Arnold at the end of September 1944. "I cannot say too much for the very close cooperation we have had between Air and Ground," Bradley wrote. "In my opinion, our close cooperation is better than the Germans ever had in their best days." Over the decades, the Normandy invasion and breakout has become the classic example of Second World War combined-arms, mechanized, air-land, coalition warfare. Fortunately, the Allies possessed not merely air superiority, but air supremacy, making victory on the ground that much easier. The Allies had won the critical battle for air supremacy, not over the beachhead, but in several years of air war that had gutted the Luftwaffe. To those inclined to minimize the value of air to the Normandy operation, the final word must come from Eisenhower himself. In June 1944, John S.D. Eisenhower, Ike's son, graduated from West Point--ironically on the same day that Allied forces stormed ashore at Normandy. June 24 found the new lieutenant riding through Normandy with his father, observing the aftermath of the invasion: The roads we traversed were dusty and crowded. Vehicles moved slowly, bumper to bumper. Fresh out of West Point, with all its courses in conventional procedures, l was offended at this jamming up of traffic. It wasn't according to the book. Leaning over Dad's shoulder, l remarked, "You'd never get away with this if you didn't have air supremacy." I received an impatient snort: "If I didn't have air supremacy, l wouldn't be here." |
I am a fan of the P-47 Thunderbolt ever since reading "Gabby" Gabreski's war memoir. Gabreski is the fellow who flew back to England with two engine cylinders shot clean off.
One of Gabby's buddys hit a telephone pole with his wing during a strafing run on an enemy airfield. The telephone pole sheared off. One heck of a thump.
Gabreski radiod the Jug pilot to stay in the plane, and to try for England. He got there fine. So did a great big piece of wood stuck in the wing.
Likely a small telephone pole. Still.
The description of the carnage at the Falaise Pocket reminds me of the losses inflicted on Saddams forces along the "Highway of Death" after the first Gulf War. There has been much hand-wringing over the years over this punishment of the retreating Iraqis, which I have never understood. When beating back invaders, one inflicts losses when one can. The idea is to weaken, and perhaps prevent, the eventual counter-attack.
It was the right thing to do then, it is the right thing to do now. Heaven help us, but if somebody ever inflicts that sort of toll on our forces someday, it will be the right thing for them to do, as well.
Morning.
On this anniversary of D-Day, a Rememberance from College Station, Texas.
Would have been last Wednesday or so, that they started moving unloaded (easily tossed on stormy seas) landing craft to the staging points for loading on 4 June. This against a treacherous lee English shore in some of the worst weather in five decades.
Friday night, while many were out starting their weekends, 62 years ago, armorers were wrestling with live ordinance and ammunition, loading planes in equally execrable weather, only to have to tie the a/c off and sit and wait.
Saturday, fifteen divisions of paratroopers (150K), sat on their green lines or in assembly areas, wet, and cold, and hurried-up-and-waited in 150 or 200# of paratroop gear. Some watched wood and fabric gliders, loaded to design maximums, soaking in the pouring rain.
On the flight lines, in the miserable weather, on a near-moment's notice struggled to keep every "up" aircraft in that state, no matter what.
Were that not enough, there were others with more than enough to worry about. Monte Cassino had only fallen two days ago; the troops in the record mud of Italy that summer knew not how special this longest day would be.
Planes struggled against the conditions to get supplies into CBI just as they had the day before, and the day after.
Embarked at amphibious convoy speed (about 10 knots) were the forces set to land on Saipan. The landings are so close that Saipan has been planned as J-Day and Y-hour; 15 June would see that campaign commenced.
It's about 1600 in Brittany, as I write this, about H+10; the longest day had come and passed for many.
That rather puts how bad a Monday might be in perspective. how many would trade a surly or churlish boss or supervisor for a rifle and bayonet. How many would trade a poorly designed cubical for a landing craft under fire, and an uncertain wade through salt water surf. How many would trade their traffic jams for formation flying with thousands of other aircraft loaded with paratroops, though flak, in the dark.
Yet, those people did, and prevailed. Folks all over the nation built planes and tanks, and guns, and houses, and roads, and all the things people do--to see this day, sixty-two years ago today, through.
In the days before the closing of the Falaise gap, the 2 TAF averaged 1,200 sorties per day. The air war was particularly violent from August 15 through the 21st. Typhoons and Spitfires attacked the roads leading from the gap to the Seine, strafing columns of densely packed vehicles and men. Under repeated attack, some of the columns actually displayed white flags of surrender, but the RAF took "no notice" of this since Allied ground forces were not in the vicinity, and "to cease fire would merely have allowed the enemy to move unmolested to the Seine." Typhoons typically would destroy the vehicles at the head of a road column, then leisurely shoot up the rest of the vehicles with their rockets and cannon. When they finished, Spitfires would dive down to strafe the remains.
Who was not dismayed at George Herbert Walker Bush's premature "end" to the Gulf War of 1990-91?
Saddam Hussein retained his military and remained in power--so as to spare the squeamish and keep within the chalklines of the United Nations mandate and the New World Order.
Yet the war was not won--and Bush went from 91 percent approval rating to distant second place in 1992.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Highway of Death was too cruel--and what of the mass graves of hundreds of thousands?