thedrifter
01-03-04, 08:50 AM
A Tale of Two (Close Air Support) Missions
by Col Barry M. Ford
‘Before a war military science seems a real science, like astronomy; but after a war it seems more like astrology.’
—Rebecca West,
Journalist, Novelist, and Critic
The reason old salts enjoy boring Devil Pups so much with their sea stories is that most of us have learned a few lessons over the years that either aren’t in the book or, as the quote above suggests, cast doubt on the book’s relevance to combat.
After 25 years in the business, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that Marine Corps doctrine for attack helicopter close air support (CAS) falls more into the astrology category. I believe it is not responsive to the needs of the ground commander and should be revised. As evidence to support my position, I offer the following true sea stories for your consideration. Listen up, there’s a quiz at the end.
Mission 1: General Support, Preplanned CAS, DESERT STORM, Ground Day (G-Day), 1991
We were forward deployed to Lonesome Dove, the DESERT STORM staging area for Marine Light/Attack Helicopter Squadrons 367 (HML/A–367) and 369, when our division of four “Whiskey” Cobras received its mission late the night before G-day. The fragmentary order, passed down from group operations, was sparse on detail and consisted solely of a supported unit, radio frequency/call sign for the forward air controller (FAC), and a rendezvous place and time. Since the squadron had no means of contacting the supported unit for more details, we launched on the biggest mission of our lives knowing little more than that we would be supporting a dawn breaching attack against the Iraqi defensive berms. We briefed, preflighted, launched, and arrived at the rendezvous point before first light—a few minutes early. No one was home.
As we circled looking for the grunts my stomach sank. I feared I was about to experience the ultimate Cobra pilot nightmare. After 15 years of simulated combat, what if they gave a real war, and we couldn’t find it? Eight Cobra pilots checked and rechecked our maps and long-range aid to navigation coordinates, all praying we were at the right place.
A few worried minutes later when the sun came up we could see that we were at the rendezvous point because the sand below us had been torn up by the tracks of hundreds of vehicles, all headed north. The grunts had kicked off their attack early and were already through the breach. Fortunately, they hadn’t needed air support from us after all, because we never got word of the time change.
Mission 2: Fort A.P. Hill, Direct Support for 2d Tanks, 1979
A classmate of mine from The Basic School invited Marine Attack Helicopter Squadron 269 (HMA–269)1 to participate in his training deployment to Fort A.P. Hill. The skipper bought the idea and sent us up with a section of “T (TOW) birds” for the big exercise ending battle.
This was the real deal. Not counting DESERT STORM, there were more Marine tanks and tracks here than I have ever seen in one place before or since. Forces included a full battalion of Marine M60s and supporting tracks and an Army National Guard red team using Soviet tactics and mocked up T–62, ZSU 23–4 (self-propelled antiaircraft gun), and other Soviet equipment. Since we were attached in direct support to the battalion, we launched before daybreak and landed beside the command track to get the commanding officer’s (CO’s) mission brief.
It was the Fulda Gap scenario. We were badly outnumbered, as usual, in a delaying action. The CO laid out the plan in detail, including forward positions, avenues of withdrawal, alternate firing positions, frequencies, code words, contingency plans—the works. We charted it all on our maps and kneeboards, got his approval for our plan of action, and launched.
Working off our maps, we picked out ideal firing points near maximum TOW range (3,750m) behind and with clear lines of fire to our own forward positions. Then we landed, shut down one engine to conserve fuel, monitored the radio, and waited. Some time later, when we heard the coded command to pull back to alternate positions, we cranked up number two, pulled into a hover, and watched through our telescopic sighting units2 as the enemy tanks began to edge out of the woods into 2d Tank Battalion’s recently vacated positions.
It was a turkey shoot. Hovering in the trees over a mile from the frontlines, we would have been undetectable to buttoned up armored vehicles. Our simulated TOWs were fired and would have struck home before the red tanks and ZSUs could have even cleared the tree line to employ their weapons. With the TOW’s 95 percent accuracy rate,3 I’d bet any amount of beer that our 2 Snakes and 16 missiles alone would have destroyed enough of the bad guys to blunt the advance. Synchronized with the massed fires of our own tanks from their alternate firing positions, I don’t see how an enemy force of any size could have maintained cohesion to continue the attack.
The Quiz
According to Marine Corps aviation doctrine, which mission illustrates the most effective, efficient, and responsive use of Marine rotary-wing CAS assets for the supported ground commander?
If you answered, “Mission 2” (as I would), you would be wrong. Mission 2 was direct support, which Marine Corps Warfighting Publication 3–2 (MCWP 3–2), Aviation Operations, defines as “a mission requiring a force to support another specific force and authorizing it to answer directly the supported force’s request for assistance.” According to doctrine, “. . . [t]his support relationship is rarely established by the MAGTF [Marine air-ground task force] commander for aviation units due to the scarcity of fixed-wing and rotary-wing assets.”4 (In my experience, “rarely” is an understatement.) Marine Corps Doctrinal Publication 3 (MCDP 3), Expeditionary Operations, tells us that the MAGTF commander “almost always” establishes general support for the aviation combat element (ACE).5
The Basis of Marine Corps Aviation Doctrine
The Marine Corps’ reliance on general support stems from its philosophy of centralized command and decentralized control.6 It is based on the historically sound7 rationale, that:
Since the availability of aviation assets for mission tasking rarely meets the demand, [general support] allows Marine aviation to fight or to provide support throughout the MAGTF area of operations and allows the most efficient and effective allocation of aircraft to the MAGTF.8
The argument that a ground commander receives the best support from the ACE when it does not directly control ACE assets may sound contradictory, but in general, given the tremendously complex command and control (C2) requirement for aviation and the ground combat element’s (GCE’s) limited C2 assets, it might be the only way a ground commander could get aviation support at all. My issue with the philosophy of general support is not that it doesn’t work for aviation in general, just that it doesn’t work very well the specific mission of rotary-wing CAS.
C2: Why General Support Doesn’t Work for Rotary-Wing CAS
Just as “location, location, location” is the mantra for real estate, communications is the
sine quo non for centralized command of aviation assets. Without adequate communications between the MAGTF, ACE, GCE, and supporting aircraft, general support is unworkable. This is especially true for critical CAS missions because of their complex tasking and control procedures.
There are two types of CAS missions: preplanned and immediate. The tasking procedure for a preplanned mission is complex.9 It begins with a tactical air request from the requesting unit, requires good communications between all units concerned, and ends up with the CAS mission appearing on the daily air tasking order (ATO). The immediate mission tasking procedure is simpler and faster, but it is even more reliant on good communications than the preplanned mission. It ends with the direct air support center (DASC)—on the ground or airborne—communicating the mission directly to the tasked aircraft via radio.10
Preplanned Missions
The huge disconnect between the book and the real world is that Marine Corps aviation doctrine assumes that units and aircraft providing fixed- and rotary-wing CAS have the same communications capabilities and can respond to the same tasking procedures. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In contrast to fixed-wing CAS units that normally operate from established air facilities complete with extensive radio nets and telephones that don’t have to be cranked to ring, attack helicopter squadrons work from the field. Lonesome Dove was a level stretch of sand 2 days before we arrived and soon returned to that condition after we left. Though the air group had limited communications connectivity with the Marine aircraft wing to receive mission taskings, our HML/A communications suite consisted of one FM (frequency modulation) radio, used only to check aircraft in and out with the operations duty officer, and a field phone. In the case of our preplanned breaching support mission (sea story one), the flight leader walked up to group operations—an HML/A rates no vehicles—and hand carried the details back on a yellow canary. I can’t speculate on whether later preplanned missions would have gone better than our first because this was the only preplanned mission our division received for the entire ground war.
continued......
by Col Barry M. Ford
‘Before a war military science seems a real science, like astronomy; but after a war it seems more like astrology.’
—Rebecca West,
Journalist, Novelist, and Critic
The reason old salts enjoy boring Devil Pups so much with their sea stories is that most of us have learned a few lessons over the years that either aren’t in the book or, as the quote above suggests, cast doubt on the book’s relevance to combat.
After 25 years in the business, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that Marine Corps doctrine for attack helicopter close air support (CAS) falls more into the astrology category. I believe it is not responsive to the needs of the ground commander and should be revised. As evidence to support my position, I offer the following true sea stories for your consideration. Listen up, there’s a quiz at the end.
Mission 1: General Support, Preplanned CAS, DESERT STORM, Ground Day (G-Day), 1991
We were forward deployed to Lonesome Dove, the DESERT STORM staging area for Marine Light/Attack Helicopter Squadrons 367 (HML/A–367) and 369, when our division of four “Whiskey” Cobras received its mission late the night before G-day. The fragmentary order, passed down from group operations, was sparse on detail and consisted solely of a supported unit, radio frequency/call sign for the forward air controller (FAC), and a rendezvous place and time. Since the squadron had no means of contacting the supported unit for more details, we launched on the biggest mission of our lives knowing little more than that we would be supporting a dawn breaching attack against the Iraqi defensive berms. We briefed, preflighted, launched, and arrived at the rendezvous point before first light—a few minutes early. No one was home.
As we circled looking for the grunts my stomach sank. I feared I was about to experience the ultimate Cobra pilot nightmare. After 15 years of simulated combat, what if they gave a real war, and we couldn’t find it? Eight Cobra pilots checked and rechecked our maps and long-range aid to navigation coordinates, all praying we were at the right place.
A few worried minutes later when the sun came up we could see that we were at the rendezvous point because the sand below us had been torn up by the tracks of hundreds of vehicles, all headed north. The grunts had kicked off their attack early and were already through the breach. Fortunately, they hadn’t needed air support from us after all, because we never got word of the time change.
Mission 2: Fort A.P. Hill, Direct Support for 2d Tanks, 1979
A classmate of mine from The Basic School invited Marine Attack Helicopter Squadron 269 (HMA–269)1 to participate in his training deployment to Fort A.P. Hill. The skipper bought the idea and sent us up with a section of “T (TOW) birds” for the big exercise ending battle.
This was the real deal. Not counting DESERT STORM, there were more Marine tanks and tracks here than I have ever seen in one place before or since. Forces included a full battalion of Marine M60s and supporting tracks and an Army National Guard red team using Soviet tactics and mocked up T–62, ZSU 23–4 (self-propelled antiaircraft gun), and other Soviet equipment. Since we were attached in direct support to the battalion, we launched before daybreak and landed beside the command track to get the commanding officer’s (CO’s) mission brief.
It was the Fulda Gap scenario. We were badly outnumbered, as usual, in a delaying action. The CO laid out the plan in detail, including forward positions, avenues of withdrawal, alternate firing positions, frequencies, code words, contingency plans—the works. We charted it all on our maps and kneeboards, got his approval for our plan of action, and launched.
Working off our maps, we picked out ideal firing points near maximum TOW range (3,750m) behind and with clear lines of fire to our own forward positions. Then we landed, shut down one engine to conserve fuel, monitored the radio, and waited. Some time later, when we heard the coded command to pull back to alternate positions, we cranked up number two, pulled into a hover, and watched through our telescopic sighting units2 as the enemy tanks began to edge out of the woods into 2d Tank Battalion’s recently vacated positions.
It was a turkey shoot. Hovering in the trees over a mile from the frontlines, we would have been undetectable to buttoned up armored vehicles. Our simulated TOWs were fired and would have struck home before the red tanks and ZSUs could have even cleared the tree line to employ their weapons. With the TOW’s 95 percent accuracy rate,3 I’d bet any amount of beer that our 2 Snakes and 16 missiles alone would have destroyed enough of the bad guys to blunt the advance. Synchronized with the massed fires of our own tanks from their alternate firing positions, I don’t see how an enemy force of any size could have maintained cohesion to continue the attack.
The Quiz
According to Marine Corps aviation doctrine, which mission illustrates the most effective, efficient, and responsive use of Marine rotary-wing CAS assets for the supported ground commander?
If you answered, “Mission 2” (as I would), you would be wrong. Mission 2 was direct support, which Marine Corps Warfighting Publication 3–2 (MCWP 3–2), Aviation Operations, defines as “a mission requiring a force to support another specific force and authorizing it to answer directly the supported force’s request for assistance.” According to doctrine, “. . . [t]his support relationship is rarely established by the MAGTF [Marine air-ground task force] commander for aviation units due to the scarcity of fixed-wing and rotary-wing assets.”4 (In my experience, “rarely” is an understatement.) Marine Corps Doctrinal Publication 3 (MCDP 3), Expeditionary Operations, tells us that the MAGTF commander “almost always” establishes general support for the aviation combat element (ACE).5
The Basis of Marine Corps Aviation Doctrine
The Marine Corps’ reliance on general support stems from its philosophy of centralized command and decentralized control.6 It is based on the historically sound7 rationale, that:
Since the availability of aviation assets for mission tasking rarely meets the demand, [general support] allows Marine aviation to fight or to provide support throughout the MAGTF area of operations and allows the most efficient and effective allocation of aircraft to the MAGTF.8
The argument that a ground commander receives the best support from the ACE when it does not directly control ACE assets may sound contradictory, but in general, given the tremendously complex command and control (C2) requirement for aviation and the ground combat element’s (GCE’s) limited C2 assets, it might be the only way a ground commander could get aviation support at all. My issue with the philosophy of general support is not that it doesn’t work for aviation in general, just that it doesn’t work very well the specific mission of rotary-wing CAS.
C2: Why General Support Doesn’t Work for Rotary-Wing CAS
Just as “location, location, location” is the mantra for real estate, communications is the
sine quo non for centralized command of aviation assets. Without adequate communications between the MAGTF, ACE, GCE, and supporting aircraft, general support is unworkable. This is especially true for critical CAS missions because of their complex tasking and control procedures.
There are two types of CAS missions: preplanned and immediate. The tasking procedure for a preplanned mission is complex.9 It begins with a tactical air request from the requesting unit, requires good communications between all units concerned, and ends up with the CAS mission appearing on the daily air tasking order (ATO). The immediate mission tasking procedure is simpler and faster, but it is even more reliant on good communications than the preplanned mission. It ends with the direct air support center (DASC)—on the ground or airborne—communicating the mission directly to the tasked aircraft via radio.10
Preplanned Missions
The huge disconnect between the book and the real world is that Marine Corps aviation doctrine assumes that units and aircraft providing fixed- and rotary-wing CAS have the same communications capabilities and can respond to the same tasking procedures. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In contrast to fixed-wing CAS units that normally operate from established air facilities complete with extensive radio nets and telephones that don’t have to be cranked to ring, attack helicopter squadrons work from the field. Lonesome Dove was a level stretch of sand 2 days before we arrived and soon returned to that condition after we left. Though the air group had limited communications connectivity with the Marine aircraft wing to receive mission taskings, our HML/A communications suite consisted of one FM (frequency modulation) radio, used only to check aircraft in and out with the operations duty officer, and a field phone. In the case of our preplanned breaching support mission (sea story one), the flight leader walked up to group operations—an HML/A rates no vehicles—and hand carried the details back on a yellow canary. I can’t speculate on whether later preplanned missions would have gone better than our first because this was the only preplanned mission our division received for the entire ground war.
continued......