by John Hackett
On the other hand, he felt confident about his assessment of the enemy’s air objective. In a surge offensive with the initiative, and with an overall advantage in numbers of more than two to one, it was dangerous and misleading to think much in terms of what the enemy’s priorities might be — the Warsaw Pact would probably do everything they could do in the air, and would do it all at once. They would want to neutralize the Allied nuclear strike capability in the theatre; they would aim to ward off interference with the land battle and to establish a tolerable, and if possible favourable, air situation; they would need to protect their own air bases; and they would want to put all the weight of air power they could behind their forces on the ground. The prospect was one of air effort, at every level, of an intensity hitherto never experienced.
In the last fifteen years the development of the Soviet Air Forces had stimulated hard thinking and debate among the Allied air commanders and their staffs. This thinking had reinforced the three classic counters to the threat: offensive counter-air operations against the enemy’s bases; engagement in the air; point and area defence.
There had been general agreement among Allied airmen for many years that the most effective way of countering the Soviet air threat lay in ‘taking it out’ at its point of origin — but this, never an easy task, had become steadily more formidable as Soviet defences had advanced. The airfields would be hardened and very well defended. But major developments in fire-suppression missiles, in precision-guided stand-off munitions, and in airfield-cratering and area-denial weapons gave COMAAFCE cause for sober confidence, though he knew that losses would be high. Great improvements had been made in air-to-air capability since the late seventies. Ground-controlled long-range interceptions would still be possible and necessary, especially in the air defence of the United Kingdom and adjacent areas of sea, but the pressure of geography in Central Europe and the short warning time that this would allow, together with the confusion of electronic counter-measures that would reign in the battle zone, pointed to the need for a less rigid and more general air combat capability. COMAAFCE was well satisfied that the introduction of the F-15s and F-16s to supplement the F-4 Phantoms had gone a long way to meet the requirement. These were not only very potent aircraft, but had once more the agility and manoeuvrability that had marked the earlier generations of fighters. In addition, attention had been focussed on the need for far more SAM and gun defences with a rapid rate of engagement around the air bases, while passive defence measures such as provision of concrete aircraft shelters, command bunkers, and hardened fuel and weapon storage were seen as essentials. Happily, a NATO-wide programme of such improvements had been brought to an advanced state by the spring of 1985.
Turning from the air versus air battle to the central purpose of NATO’s tactical air contribution — intervention in the land battle — COMAAFCE saw two essential roles. First he would have to check the surge of the enemy’s ground offensive by hammering at the ‘choke points’ through which he would have to pass, then blunt the cutting edge of those armoured thrusts that did get through to the Allied area. This role called for an all-weather capability, very high sortie rates, and rapid reaction to army requests in a fluid ground situation. Second, he would have to take the momentum out of the assault by harassing and destroying the succeeding attack waves. He was completely against the so-called ‘panacea targets’ vaguely described in terms like ‘the enemy’s transportation system’. From hard practice and experience with their aircraft and weapons, the airmen were convinced that the best way of destroying armour was by area-denial and cluster weapons dispensing large numbers of bomblets. Fortunately, after the improvement programmes of the eighties they had such munitions in abundance.
On the morning of 3 August, as he mused on the characteristics of air power and the battles his aircrew might soon be fighting, COMAAFCE came back again and again to a major area of uncertainty. Twenty years earlier, as a squadron commander in South-east Asia, he had learned about electronic warfare at first hand, and he knew the sort of influence this could exert on all aspects of air war. The Allies were confident of their technological superiority, and especially so in this direction, but their closed society had enabled the Russians to shroud their electronic warfare methods and developments in such secrecy that positive identification of the best ways of countering them might not be available until hostilities were well under way.
These reflections led to thoughts on the past difference between the US and European (primarily British) approaches to the use of tactical air power. In the seventies the US, with great resources in technology and the experience of the Vietnam War behind them, had stressed the importance of suppressing the defences and of elaborate electronic command and control and communications systems. In the European view, however, this was prodigiously expensive, over-dependent on technology, and dangerously vulnerable to counter-measures. The US had seen tactical air power as a central force for the delivery of massive firepower on clear-cut targets. European airmen, on the other hand, saw it as more important to integrate the tactical air with the land battle, and they thought flexibility would be gained not by close control of aircraft at medium altitudes but from more autonomous and self-reliant procedures with very high sortie rates at very low level.
These divergences sprang naturally from differences in experience and resources, but it had latterly been seen, as in a blinding light, that this diversity in doctrine in fact had a very positive merit in compounding the problems facing the Soviet defences. Moreover, if the Europeans were wrong, they could still ride on the coat-tails of US technology, supplementing the US aerial task forces. And the Americans, realizing that they might be over-dependent on one thesis, started to pay more attention to autonomous and low-level operations as a re-insurance without departing from the main theme for the bulk of their air force.
Finally, as he thought about the human equation, COMAAFCE felt confident that, in the high standards of their training, his air and ground crews, if put to the test, would be second to none. The stringent tactical evaluation test of the NATO air forces over many years of hard practice and training gave him every cause for confidence.
The RAF Air Marshal who commanded 2 ATAF was also reviewing the state of his command — and in the main with satisfaction. The improvements in the last few years had been impressive, and nowhere was this more evident than in the RAF elements of his command. In the late 1970s Gordon Lee wrote in the Economist (17 December 1977): ‘Man for man the RAF is the finest air force in NATO, perhaps even in the world. The finest, that is, in the sense of being the best trained and most professionally skilled.’ If members of the RAF, on reading that, had felt, with justification, some pride and even a little complacency, it was short-lived; for in the next few lines he went on to say that the same unstinting praise could not be bestowed on all its aircraft and equipment. In fact, there was nothing wrong with the RAF in those days that money could not put right. Some money had been made available, and rightly the first tranches had gone to the improvements of the UK air defence. But by 1982 substantial improvements had also been made to the RAF in Germany.
At the time much political capital was made of the intention to increase the front-line strength of RAF Germany by 30 per cent. But as an immediate measure the air staff devoted some of the resources to the improvement of current equipment. In this way they had an eye to the likely difficulties of increasing the aircrew numbers. Jaguar and Harrier aircraft were extensively modified and improved; hardened accommodation with filtered air was provided for all airfield personnel. Six regular and six auxiliary squadrons of the Royal Air Force Regiment were raised to increase the level and quality of ground defences of the main air bases and the Harrier force in the field. The air bases and their aircraft throughout 2 ATAF would be a much harder nut to crack than would have been the case five years earlier.
But Air Marshal Broadwood, AOC-in-C 2 ATAF, had one matter on his mind that caused him great anxiety. In the late seventies, for
reasons that have been explained elsewhere (see Chapter 19), the aircrew strength of the RAF had fallen very low. It had not been possible to recover entirely from that situation by 1985 because of the years it takes to turn suitable young men into combat-ready pilots. As a result, the ratio of aircrew to aircraft in RAF Germany in 1985 was still the lowest for any of the national air forces in the Central Region. The essential aggressiveness and skills were there in abundance; the worry was how long they could be maintained in intensive operations with high losses and insufficient rest.
The steadily increasing tension in the Alliance, followed by general mobilization, had given sufficient time for the air forces to reach a full war posture. By midnight on 3 August, 90 per cent of the aircraft of the Allied Air Forces Central Europe (AAFCE) were clocked up on the operations centre tote boards as serviceable, armed, and protected in their concrete aircraft shelters. During the previous week the US bases in continental Europe and the UK had received a continuous stream of reinforcement aircraft flown across the Atlantic. As a USAF general, COMAAFCE was delighted that the American reinforcement of Europe via the Atlantic air bridge had gone so smoothly. All the same, he still had much to ponder. He was well satisfied with the rate of aircraft generation and reinforcement, but the numerical advantage still lay with the Warsaw Pact by something in the order of two to one; and although the Pact could not now achieve tactical surprise, it could still enjoy the great advantage of calling the first shots. Moreover, S ACEUR had ordered that 20 per cent of the nuclear-capable aircraft should be held in reserve. Clearly this had to be done, but it did not help him in the numbers game.
For the previous four days, NATO early warning had been affected by electronic interference from the other side of the German border. This was not unusual. It had been experienced increasingly during the current Warsaw Pact military manoeuvres and the early hours of 4 August showed no change. At 0345 COMAAFCE was woken from a fitful sleep in his command bunker in the Central Region’s war headquarters to be told of threatening developments on the other side of the border. Minutes later he reached his war room where the German Air Force (GAF) general on duty had positive information of a major Warsaw Pact penetration of NATO airspace under cover of heavy ECM. The general on duty reported that he had taken the initial war measures and aircraft were already being scrambled. Within another few minutes, reports of attacks on the Alliance missile belts, air defence radars and air bases began to come in. The war had begun.
Looking back when it was all over, surviving aircrew of both sides agreed that the first hours in the air over the Central Region had been indescribably chaotic. With the exception of a few grey-haired American colonels — veterans of South-east Asia — few-had ever fired a shot in anger or even heard one. The excitement, the danger and the general confusion of the air battle during the course of 4 August all contributed to what seemed utter chaos. Nevertheless, thanks to years of planning and thought there was in fact a coherent pattern underlying what was happening. A preliminary look at the records suggests that at 0800 hours on 4 August there were no less than 3,000 tactical aircraft airborne over the Central Region. Although the full story of the war must await a detailed analysis of combat reports and assessments, it is possible to describe the general trends at least in outline.
The counter-air offensive on Warsaw Pact airfields was launched the instant SACEUR gave authority for Allied aircraft to cross the border. The first aircraft to do so were USAF F-111s and GAF and RAF Tornados, flying at tree-top level from bases in the United Kingdom and West Germany. The effort was concentrated against airfields in East Germany, and a gratifyingly high percentage of the aircraft got to their targets. Confidence in their ability to get through heavy defences at very low level was immediately established among aircrew and commanders alike, and the very high speeds of the attacking aircraft at heights often below sixty metres undoubtedly achieved tactical surprise. The few engagements by Warsaw Pact fighters suggested a lack of confidence at ultra-low level and possibly some shortcomings in their look-down radars. It was also evident that the Russians had not solved the vexing problem of operating missiles and fighter aircraft in the same airspace.
It is not yet possible to make a quantitative assessment of the effectiveness of the counter-air offensive; but sufficient is known to say with certainty that, maintained as it was around the clock, it very seriously hindered the Warsaw Pact in achieving its main air objectives.
On the morning of 4 August, after consulting CINCENT and the ATAF and Army Group commanders, COMAAFCE allotted a major air effort to armed reconnaissance and interdiction of the battlefield approaches as soon as the main enemy thrust lines were identified. All the Jaguars, Harriers and AlphaJets in 2 ATAF were dedicated to this role, and in 4 ATAF the AlphaJets and US A-10s were similarly tasked. The French tactical air forces were mainly employed to the south in the 4 ATAF area, but only, on the orders of their government, in support of forces under French command.
When, later, the enemy’s main effort was identified as being in the north, and the war in the south began to stabilize, COMAAFCE progressively switched a proportion of 4 ATAF aircraft to operations in the NORTHAG-2 ATAF area; by the evening of 13 August 30 per cent of 4 ATAF offensive air support potential had been transferred to 2 ATAF. The crunch point in the Central Region air war was approaching.
At this point it can be seen that three factors had a decisive influence on air activity in support of the land battle. First, the weather throughout the region was uniformly good and the picture was only occasionally obscured by dawn mist and the odd rain shower; visibility, for the most part, was excellent, and the smoke and dust thrown up by the massive Soviet mechanized forces could be spotted from as far as thirty kilometres away. This was a wonderful help to the Harrier, Jaguar and A-10 crews. Second, as our land forces were pushed back, Allied pilots found themselves fighting over very familiar ground and the reaction time to army requests for support was thereby reduced.
A combination of these factors did much to offset the enemy’s superior numbers. But these operations were not carried out so effectively without grievous loss. By 11 August the Harrier and Jaguar forces of the RAF had been reduced by 50 per cent, and by 13 August the steady attrition of NATO aircraft had reached the point where COMAAFCE was seriously worried as to whether he would be able to keep up the pace. If they paused, the enemy might have time to recover his balance and redeploy his air power forward and closer to the FEBA (forward edge of the battle area), as it shifted westward. In the event, three things came to COMAAFCE’s aid. First was SACEUR’s decision to commit his reserves; second was his rejection of persistent requests for nuclear action. This prompted COMAAFCE to seek approval for using the aircraft hitherto held back for nuclear strike, to which SACEUR agreed with the proviso that 5 per cent must still be retained. Third was the imminent safe arrival of the CAVALRY convoys. At COMAAFCE’s request, SACEUR then asked SACLANT to transfer to him the latter’s Tornado and Buccaneer aircraft. This was immediately agreed, and on the night of 13 August all these aircraft, further augmented by F-111 reinforcements from the United States and the Italian and American reserves from 5 ATAF waiting in Spain and France, ravaged the Warsaw Pact supply columns and dumps across the length and breadth of the North German plain. This sudden stepping up of the conflict with fresh crews and more aircraft can be said to have regained the air initiative for NATO.
As far as air-to-air battles were concerned, over 10,000 air-to-air engagements were registered over, and to the west of, the battle area in the first seven days. As COMAAFCE had predicted, the Warsaw Pact threw their mass of aircraft into battle in successive waves and — like the Allies — they supported their operations with every kind of electronic measure. Although the enemy’s air offensive achieved successes and caused moments of great concern at the War Headquarters of Allied Command Europe, it can now be seen that it never succeeded in gaining complete domination of the air.
NATO’s main contribution to the defensiv
e air battle over the Central Region was in the operation of F-4 Phantoms, F-15s and F-16s. A long-standing debate between the British and Americans concerning deployment of air defences had been solved by the adoption of a concept of defence in depth. Thus the first fighter barrier was deployed forward of the NATO missile belts to cover the ground forces; this was allotted to the American, Dutch and Belgian F-16s. Behind the missile belt, RAF Phantoms and American F-15s flew combat patrols to complement the rear area point defences. The air defence of France remained a national responsibility.
In the early days of the war, the enemy’s ECM and its assault on the NATO radar stations seriously degraded the Alliance’s capability for close-controlled interception. But the weather favoured the defence, with good visibility beneath the cloud layer at around 3,000 metres. The inability, or reluctance, of the Warsaw Pact pilots to fly quite low enough offered the defending fighters many skyline sightings as enemy aircraft crossed ridges and hills. The Russians’ strong suit was their numerical superiority and not surprisingly they wanted to preserve it — so in the main their preferred tactics on interception were to evade. On balance, their air combat skills were shown up as inferior to those of the NATO pilots.