This assignment again found Arnold at odds with his superior. On March 10, 1933, nearby Long Beach experienced a 6.4-magnitude earthquake that killed some 115 people and caused $40 million in property damage. In an effort to assist, Arnold authorized the use of Army trucks and supplies and dispatched them to the stricken area. By the organizational command structure of the time, however, use of Army materials for such an effort fell under the authorization of the 9th Corps Area, of which General Malin Craig, located in San Francisco, was in charge. Arnold had inadvertently violated command protocols, and Craig summoned Arnold to his office to explain his actions. Arnold flew up to San Francisco to meet with Craig. As a result of this meeting, Craig came away with a favorable impression of Arnold, forgave him for overstepping his authority, and established a friendly professional relationship with him. Nothing further came of Arnold’s unauthorized use of equipment. What Arnold did not know at the time was that he was establishing a rapport with a future Army chief of staff.
During this assignment, Arnold again made a name for himself as an aviator by leading a flight of newly designed Martin B-10 bombers from Washington, D.C., to Fairbanks, Alaska. This public relations event came on the heels of the airmail debacle that occurred when the Army Air Corps was found woefully deficient in providing scheduled postal services in early 1934. The B-10 mission was designed to counter the Air Corps’s bad publicity resulting from the airmail incident and to publicize its new advanced, all-metal monoplane bomber. Furthermore, the flight was made to display the capability of the service to conduct long-range missions. Though Arnold was named the mission commander well after planning had begun, he understood the logistics required for such an event and ensured the availability of spare parts and other supplies during the operation. On July 19, 1934, ten bombers left Washington, D.C., covering some 800 miles a day; all aircraft arrived at their destination.64 While in Alaska, the flight photographed more than 20,000 miles of wilderness, including Mount McKinley.65 During the deployment, one pilot mishandled the fuel switches on takeoff, causing the bomber’s engines to cut off owing to fuel starvation.66 The powerless plane flew into a lake, where most of the damage came from its partial submersion.67 Because of Arnold’s logistical planning and some very capable mechanics, however, the plane was recovered and quickly made airworthy. All ten B-10s flew back to Washington, D.C., on August 20, to much fanfare. For this mission Arnold received a second Mackay Trophy and the Distinguished Flying Cross.
Arnold in front of a B-10 from his 1934 Alaskan expedition. (Courtesy of the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
Despite the acclaim Arnold received for the 1934 Alaska flight, he was chagrined to find that he had not been selected for promotion to brigadier general. Less than a year later, however, in March 1935, he was promoted to flag rank. Coincidentally, in late 1935 there were a number of changes in Army leadership. General Craig, Arnold’s superior at the time of the Long Beach earthquake, was appointed Army chief of staff, and General Oscar Westover replaced General Benjamin Foulois as chief of the Air Corps. Both incoming generals knew of Arnold’s professional abilities, and he was ordered to Washington to serve as Westover’s deputy. In January 1936 Arnold left March Field for what became his final permanent military posting and one in which he would remain for the next ten years—Washington, D.C.
His tenure as Westover’s assistant lasted only until September 1938, when the Air Corps chief died in a crash of his A-17 aircraft at Burbank, California. The logical replacement for the deceased Air chief was his assistant, Arnold. But Arnold’s appointment as chief was not a fait accompli. Unfounded rumors arose about Arnold’s being a drunkard when stationed in Hawaii. The origins of this rumor are unknown, especially since Arnold was never stationed in Hawaii and drank only sparingly. Despite the rumor, Arnold filled in temporarily as chief of the Air Corps, until he was formally appointed and on October 28 was promoted to major general, a rank commensurate with his new duties.
Days after Westover’s death, President Roosevelt, alarmed by the results of the Munich Conference in September 1938, where Neville Chamberlain appeased Hitler over control of the Czech Sudetenland, called a meeting at the White House with both his military and civilian advisers. As Arnold filled in for the recently deceased Air chief, the president expressed his concern about America’s lack of military preparedness and addressed the issue of an expansion of the military, especially the Air Corps.68 Roosevelt asked for an assessment of foreign air forces, and Arnold responded with numbers that illustrated the weakness of the U.S. air fleet in comparison with other nations. Alarmed by these numbers and the relative size of foreign air forces, Roosevelt proposed that the Air Corps grow to 10,000 aircraft, a far cry from the 1940 budget’s allocation.69 Possessing a greater understanding of the requirements for fielding a large air fleet than the president, Arnold warned Roosevelt, “The strength of an air force cannot be measured in terms of airplanes only … other things are essential—production capacity of planes, of pilots, of mechanics, and bases from which to operate. A sound training program is essential to provide replacements.”70
With war looming on the horizon, Arnold agreed that the Air Corps needed to expand. The small American Air Corps was no match for the air forces of some European nations, and the only modern airframes the United States possessed were a few precious early-model B-17 bombers.71 Though the B-17 was an impressive aircraft for its day and showed promise as a long-range weapon, most Air Corps purchases during this time focused on shorter-range, ground support aircraft. Furthermore, the budget for 1940 provided the Air Corps with only 178 new airplanes.72 In 1940 the Air Corps had a total of 5,054 airplanes, of which only 2,500 were combat designs.73 The monumental task of expanding and modernizing the fledgling Air Corps into an armada capable of fighting a global war fell directly on Arnold’s shoulders.
Focused on the expansion of the Air Corps, Arnold understood that the growth of the service also required extensive cooperation with various elements of the civilian sector. To modernize the air fleet, the Air Corps needed to leverage civilian scientists, engineers, and designers. Aircraft manufacturers would need to improve, and substantially increase, the number and size of factories and facilities, as well as the rates of production. Furthermore, the Air Corps would have to use civilian facilities, airports, and instructors to increase military training capacities. Before America’s entry into the war, the Air Corps produced approximately 750 pilots a year, but to support the entire war effort it needed as many as 100,000 trained aviators.74 These tasks needed to be done at a time when the country was not yet at war and the funding floodgates had yet to be opened. Before American participation in the war, Arnold worked at a feverish pace, setting up training programs, working with congressional leaders on legislation, and reorganizing the Air Corps for the upcoming hostilities.75
General Arnold as chief of staff, Army Air Forces. (Courtesy of the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
Aside from the difficulties of getting American industry on board with the development of a larger, more advanced Air Corps, Arnold was faced with an equally daunting political obstacle. Despite America’s isolationist leaning during the early years of World War II, President Roosevelt was interested in supporting those countries that stood against Nazi Germany, specifically France and Great Britain. Toward this end, Roosevelt concerned himself with selling aircraft and engines to foreign countries that were standing against the German threat and therefore needed the weapons more urgently than the United States. This larger political objective, however, contradicted the directive to build up and modernize the Air Corps. How could Arnold build up the U.S. air fleet while America was sending its newest designs and engines overseas?
This issue came to a head in March 1940, when Arnold testified before the House Military Affairs Committee, stating that the production of aircraft for foreign air forces was adversely affecting the Air Corps’s modernization and growth program.76 This issue of foreign support was also complicated
by the inquiry into the death of a French national who in January had crashed in an early experimental version of the Douglas A-20 attack bomber in California. The deceased French aviator’s presence in a U.S. aircraft was an apparent violation of the Neutrality Acts of the 1930s. After Arnold’s congressional testimony regarding these incidents, the Air chief was chastised by Roosevelt during a March 12 meeting at the White House. As Arnold put it, “He [Roosevelt] expressed dissatisfaction with the manner in which questions had been answered in the past, particularly by the War Department witnesses. And then looking directly at me, he said there were places to which officers who did not ‘play ball’ might be sent—such as Guam.”77 When he got home that night, Arnold told Bee to be ready to pack their belongings.78
Arnold avoided exile to Guam, but his apparent break with the president over his intent to provide matériel and support to Allied nations made him persona non grata within the Roosevelt administration, and he was not invited back to the White House for months. Resolute in his concerns, Arnold told newly appointed Secretary of War Henry Stimson that giving priority to aircraft and engine production for Great Britain meant that the Air Corps could not meet its expansion schedules.79 Eventually, Roosevelt began to appreciate the burden his policy had placed on the Air Force, and in December Arnold was once again invited to the White House. Roosevelt requested that Arnold arrive early, before the start of a small dinner party, so that the two men could meet privately. Once they met, the president asked Arnold if he could fix Hap an “old-fashioned” cocktail. To this offer Arnold replied, “Thanks, Mr. President, I haven’t had one for about 20 years, but I assure you I’ll enjoy this one with you tremendously.”80 Thereafter, whatever reservations Roosevelt had about Arnold were forgotten, and by the time of the Pearl Harbor attack, Arnold had become a trusted confidant within Roosevelt’s war council.81 Indicative of the president’s trust was Arnold’s promotion to lieutenant general a year later, on December 15, 1941.
Another important relationship during the war years was his association with his friend from his days in the Philippines, General George C. Marshall, who had become Army chief of staff. Marshall placed great faith and trust in Arnold, and he too became an advocate for an independent air force after the war was over. Marshall fully empowered Arnold and stated, “I tried to give Arnold all the power I could, I tried to make him as nearly as I could Chief of Staff of the Air without any restraint.”82 In return, Arnold held Marshall in the highest esteem; as he told Eaker, “If George Marshall ever took a position contrary to mine, I would know I was wrong.”83 By February 1942 Arnold was a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. His presence as a full-fledged member of the Joint Chiefs was not welcomed by everyone, however, especially within the Navy. Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) Admiral Ernest J. King and his staff never fully accepted Arnold as a member of the Joint Chiefs. This snub came about largely because the CNO’s head of Naval Aviation, Admiral John Tower, was not himself a full member.84
Throughout much of the prewar period and then during the war itself, Arnold set himself a hurried pace for a fifty-four-year-old man. He worked seven days a week, and for the duration of the war he expected much of the same from his staff, installing phones in their homes so he could reach them at any time.85 According to his personal pilot, Gene Bebee, “His [Arnold’s] idea of a good time was to work all day in the office, and he’d probably come in from the last conference with the Secretary … then we’d rush out to Bolling Field, jump in a plane and fly all night to LA … arrive in the morning, visit five aircraft factories and then go to someone’s house for dinner that night.”86 Bee, too, had a busy schedule, as Arnold appointed her head of the Air Force Relief Society, a charitable organization assisting the families of Air Force personnel.87 Their collective frantic pace was to exact a toll on Arnold’s health and on their marriage.
In addition to his role in building a large, modern air force once America was engaged in the war, Arnold had a hand in the conduct of the global air war. Though he was not necessarily overseeing day-to-day operation of combat units, his influence was felt in air campaigns conducted on all American fronts. In this role Arnold held great sway in the manner in which airpower was employed, as many of the men conducting the air war were his friends and colleagues. More important, he held their professional destinies in his hands. If an air commander was not producing the results expected, Arnold had no compunction about addressing the subordinate’s failings or even relieving him of command. He was often impatient with subordinates because he was focused on making the most out of the Army Air Force’s efforts. Thus, even friends and close associates were not exempt from his wrath.
Indicative of this characteristic is a quotation from his longtime associate Carl Spaatz, who, when finally assigned overseas during World War II, told his wife not to worry: “I’ll be home in six months, by that time Hap will fire me.”88 In fact, in late 1942, when Arnold was disappointed in the number of B-17s Spaatz had dispatched in bombing raids over Europe, he wrote to his friend a rather pointed inquiry: “It is believed that some powerful reason must obtain which limits your heavy-bomber operations to an apparent average of less than one per week. Weather conditions alone are not believed the cause, nor the preparation of some of the two hundred heavy bombers under your control … request full information on the subject.”89
When Arnold’s longtime subordinate and coauthor, Ira Eaker, failed to produce the expected results with the Eighth Air Force in 1943, the Air chief sent a number of messages venting his frustration. To these messages Eaker finally retorted, “I shall always accept gladly and in the proper spirit, any advice, council, or criticism from you. I do not feel, however, that my past service which has come under your observation indicates that I am a horse which needs to be ridden with spurs.”90 Several air commanders from various theaters of war would suffer the wrath of Arnold’s displeasure over the course of the conflict.
After attending the Casablanca Conference in January 1943, where the Army Air Force and Great Britain’s Royal Air Force established the foundation for the Combined Bomber Offensive in Europe, Arnold continued his travels and flew to China to consult with Chiang Kai-shek on Sino-American efforts against the Japanese. On his trip over the Himalayas, however, he came close to becoming a casualty of war himself. He and several other general officers flew over the mountain range, referred to as “the hump,” at night to the Chinese airfield at Kunming. The crew of the plane assured Arnold that they were familiar with the 525-mile flight path, which was to take about three hours.91 Flying in the rarefied air for the first time, however, the navigator suffered from hypoxia (lack of oxygen in the bloodstream) and became disoriented.92 The radio operator could not locate the navigation beacon from Kunming and found only other Chinese and, ironically, Japanese radio aids.93 The aircraft had consumed enough fuel to have already passed the point of no return, and they were forced to carry on, the risk of crashing in the mountainous terrain growing each minute. Eventually the pilot located the beacon and realized they had overflown Kunming, and they landed six hours after takeoff with only a few gallons of fuel left.94 The next day Arnold dryly remarked to the pilot, “I think we ought to plan our trips better.”95
Following his arrival back in the United States on February 28, Arnold attended a White House meeting and returned to his Fort Myer home to relax. Once at home, however, he complained of chest pains and the post’s duty doctor was called to his residence. After arguing with the doctor, a young captain who ignored Arnold’s protestations that he required no further medical attention, Arnold eventually acquiesced and went by ambulance to Walter Reed Army Hospital.96 Diagnosed with coronary thrombosis, he grudgingly took a few weeks’ leave in Florida to recover. Army regulations at the time required a medical retirement for those suffering from a coronary condition. The issue regarding Arnold’s health and his remaining on active duty went all the way up to Marshall and eventually to the president. Since doctors had given Arnold a good prognosis for reco
very, Roosevelt overrode the Army regulation and kept the Air chief on the active list.97 After this episode, however, Marshall kept abreast of Arnold’s medical condition on a regular basis. Despite his heart ailment, in March 1943 Arnold was promoted to full general.
Nevertheless, this was not Arnold’s only coronary incident but, rather, only the first of many. Two months later, in May, when preparing for the Trident Conference, Arnold suffered yet another attack. This time his heart rate rose to 160 beats per minute, and he was again taken to Walter Reed and forced to take a vacation.98 In a letter to Marshall regarding his absence from the upcoming conference, Arnold wrote, “This is one hell of a time for this to happen. My engine started turning over at 160 when it should have been doing 74 to 76. For this I am sorry.”99 After a few weeks of rest, he returned to work and resumed his normal duties. Despite this serious medical condition, Arnold did his best to hide this ailment from members of his staff.100
If 1943 was a hard year for Arnold medically, it was also a dark year for the strategic bombing campaign in Europe. Disastrous raids against the ball-bearing factories in Schweinfurt in both August and October were less than effective, and the Air Force’s high loss rates, about 20 percent for just these two raids, were a sobering reality.101 For October 1943 alone the Eighth Air Force in England experienced an overall loss rate of 9 percent.102 Statistically speaking, U.S. aircrews could not expect to complete their assigned tour of twenty-five missions successfully. Though Arnold was sending airplanes and aircrews to Europe as fast as he could, the losses the Eighth Air Force experienced shook Arnold and his belief in daylight strategic bombing. According to Secretary Stimson, “Hap was having a hell of a time hanging on [to the concept of daylight bombing]…. I can’t document it, but I think he was beginning to worry about it because the attrition rate was too high.”103
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