The daily air-to-air combat in Southeast Asia that, for U. S. pilots, continued for seven years, was a source of mounting professional controversy among fighter pilots, airplane designers, and military planners—the arguments being concerned with the kinds of aircraft required to conduct air warfare. The controversy reached its zenith of heat and emotionalism in the case of the fighters. These sleek, deadly, supersonic hot-rods are the elite of the wild blue yonder. Their chore is to clear the air of enemy fighters, thus permitting the bomb-laden attack aircraft to go about their tasks unmolested.
For many years, the Navy-designed, all-purpose F-4 Phantom has been the mainstay of Air Force, Navy, and Marine Corps fighter forces. The Phantom’s longevity is a direct result of its versatility. Fast enough to catch or elude an enemy, it is rugged enough to withstand combat damage. Most Phantoms do not carry a gun, but their air-to-air missiles and radar make them a superior interceptor. Because it is large, long-range, and rugged, the Phantom does not have the innate maneuverability traditionally expected of a fighter; yet it has enough nimbleness to get by in dogfights with lighter, faster-turning adversaries, and it is big enough to do a respectable job as an attack aircraft or bomb-lugger.
Although it has been produced in more than a dozen versions and is highly sought after for first-line service in the air forces of most of the Free World, its basic design is more than 15 years old, and its replacement is imminent.
Its successors, the U.S.A.F. F-15 and the U. S. Navy F-14 are derived from the same general purpose, multiengine, multimission philosophy which created the Phantom. A large and voluble body of opinion feels that this philosophy is wrong for future fighters and that the next U.S. combat airplane should be a small, highly maneuverable, single-place, "dogfighter” armed only with short range weapons. The best examples of airplanes which typify these two opposing philosophies are the Navy F-14 Tomcat and the U.S.A.F. prototype Light Fighter. The former, now midway through its flight testing phase, is a two-place, twin-engine, variable geometry-winged, Mach 2-plus, carrier-based fighter. It carries a rapid-fire gun, short-range IR Sidewinder missiles, medium-range radar guided Sparrow missiles, and long-range, radar-guided Phoenix missiles. The weapon system which enables the F-14 to deploy these weapon is a very sophisticated one, requiring both a pilot and a naval flight officer for full operation. The airplane can perform its missions in any weather, can carry a respectable load of air-to-ground ordnance, and contain the most modern navigation equipment, defensive avionics equipment, and command and control communications.
The U.S.A.F. Light Fighter prototype program is now in its competition stage, wherein two airplane of each of two designs are being constructed for final evaluation prior to a production decision. One of these designs has a single engine and the other uses a twin installation of a smaller engine. Both are single-place,' highly maneuverable, relatively short-range fighters capable of speeds in the Mach 1.5 to Mach 2 region. The Light Fighter carries only a gun and short-range IR Sidewinder missiles, and the minimum avionics suite to support that system. It has little multimission capability, and almost no capacity to fight in all-weather conditions. Designed to be used in multiple elements, it has only limited utility for autonomous work. It has outstanding visibility, blinding acceleration in the transonic region, a flight control system specially tuned for the high "g” requirements of air combat, and can literally turn on a dime.
These two airplanes, the F-14 and the Light Fighter were both conceived with one goal in mind--achieve and maintain air superiority. Yet, they differ markedly in the methods used to accomplish this goal.
On the idealized mission for the F-14, the enemy' aircraft will be detected by radar, tracked, and identify electronically, and shot down from well beyond visual ranges by a sophisticated air-to-air missile. On the similarly typical Light Fighter mission, the pilot must be told where the enemy aircraft is, must then find him visually, identify him visually, and maneuver his airplane into a position close aboard, where his short- range missiles and guns are most lethal. The F-14 has considerable capabilities in other than the idealized role. It has remarkable agility in a dogfight as a result of its variable sweep wing, its wide range of weapons, its excellent visibility, and its sophisticated weapons system. It can also carry a respectable load of bombs or modern air-to-ground armament. Although the Light Fighter can fly in any weather, has advanced lightweight communications equipment, can carry either external fuel for longer range or a modest load of air-to-ground ordnance, it is not too useful except in its primary role of air-to-air combat in clear skies.
The controversy is often synthesized into one pitting a defensive against an offensive design philosophy. "A Light Fighter can only defend its base,” say its critics, "whereas the multimission fighter can strike the enemy where it really hurts—in his own back yard.” Although pertinent to the question, this argument covers only one part of the problem. Recent advances in jet engine technology offer miserly fuel-burning rates at cruising powers, and in-flight refueling has become an operational way of life for most tactical airplanes. These factors tend to blunt the sharp differences in range that once applied. Enemy defenses can still be overwhelmed by numbers as well as by electronic defenses, and small, simple airplanes cost less, are more easily maintained, and are more rapidly produced than their large sophisticated brothers.
A more realistic difference for discussion comes from separate views regarding the combat scenarios which may be anticipated. The argument for the all-purpose fighter starts with the geography of air superiority. Most experts agree that the best way to gain air superiority is to destroy the enemy’s fighters on the ground, where they are presumably most vulnerable. To do this, the fight should be fought over the enemy territory. To get there, a long-range, well-equipped, well- defended fighter is required. This implies a large and heavy airplane, long on range and weapons but short on maneuverability. If the enemy’s ability to produce airplanes is modern, he can build smaller, short-range, but highly maneuverable fighter aircraft. Our fighter, encumbered with weight, must rely upon better weapons systems, better training, or better tactics to achieve air superiority. This, in turn, implies more sophistication, perhaps a two-man crew, more complexity and better safety features.
Throughout this argument, the fighting has always taken place over enemy homeland, not over friendly bases. If a scenario is selected which reverses this situation--putting the friendly forces in a defensive posture--the argument for the multimission fighter is based on its better weapons and systems, its longer combat times, and its integration within overall defensive command and control systems. In this traditional air defend posture, its long-range missiles are each an interceptor.
Proponents of the lightweight fighter base their arguments on the fighting itself. They start with the three key segments of any fighter mission: to detect, to identify, and to kill the enemy. Most air battles degenerate into a dogfighting melee, in which all three of these actions must be accomplished by the pilot within a few seconds. The fight takes place anywhere two rival forces can meet, usually in relatively clear air mass conditions. If other than good weather exists, all of the lightweight fighter’s airborne weapons are so degraded that the question of air superiority is not germane, and the battle is merely postponed until better weather prevails. The key to air superiority is the destruction or forced disengagement of the enemy fighters. As long as they exist as a fighting force and are willing to contest friendly attack aircraft in battle, air superiority has not been achieved. When they are destroyed or dissuaded from the contest, air superiority exists. If long-range requirements arise, the Light Fighter uses external drop tanks to get to the fight, jettisons them before it begins, and gets home on fumes or through the aid of a friendly aerial tanker. Fuel reserve requirements are low, since good weather is assumed. Long-range detections are not required since long-range weapons are not carried, and because the radar detection procedure involves a "head-in-the cockpit” philosophy which is anathema to a swivel-necked, eagle-eyed fighter pilot. The dogfighting fighter pilot eschews even the medium-range missiles for the same reasons. Since most missiles have a large minimum range, and since ranges between dogfighting fighters can close at extremely high speeds, an ostensibly capable air-to-air missile can prove totally useless in many close-range situations. In addition, most missiles are aerodynamically controlled flight vehicles, just as airplanes are. They can be outmaneuvered or outsmarted by a competent pilot who knows when how hard to turn to force the missile to miss.
If the scenario is changed to a defensive posture, the Light Fighter is deployed in swarms, under initial ground radar control. Because the plane is relatively inexpensive, there will be many in the inventory. Because it is simple and easy to maintain, most of these will be ready to fly all the time. If the weather is very poor, the enemy attack won’t be effective. Weather conditions are always relative anyway. There can be heavy clouds and rain at low altitude, but clear skies above, or there can be multiple layers of clouds, between which Light Fighter weapons can be effective. For night work, the same arguments pertain. If the Light Fighter can be directed into a visual range, it can be effective.
Light Fighter advocates aver that Vietnam has not tested their theories to any significant degree. The F-104, used sparingly in the early days of the war, was never available in sufficient numbers to provide a fair test. The F-5 "Freedom Fighter,” on evaluation, proved too small a plane for the ranges and speeds required. The Middle East War of 1967, they claim, was a more realistic test for the concept, and was won by the French-built Mirage, a Light Fighter, and by vastly better trained Israeli fighter pilots. However, if past history is the ultimate test, the lightweight fighter concept is probably the loser.
Although the Battle of Britain was largely won by Spitfires and Hurricanes, air superiority over the continent was won by the Allies through the use of long- range escort fighters, through weight of numbers of fighters and through the willingness of the Allies to accept high bomber losses. In the Pacific, air superiority was gained and maintained by naval forces equipped with long-range, multimission fighters. The early attrition of experienced enemy pilots and the pinching-off of oil supply pipelines were also major factors.
In the Korean war, the F-86 and MiG-15 were fairly well matched, but Allied pilots had superior training, which proved the deciding factor. The F-86 was a Light Fighter by U.S. standards, but was distinctly a heavyweight in comparison with the short-legged MiG.
In Vietnamese skies, the multimission F-4 Phantom reigns supreme over MiG-i7s and MiG-2is.
In combat, fighter forces rely heavily on both the individual proficiency of each pilot and the air discipline among leaders, wingmen, divisions, and flights. Proficiency and discipline are the products of training as well as pilot selection. Initial flight training takes a lot of time, and requires a lot of money plus a continuing residual base of combat experience in the instructor corps. Training within the first-line operational squadron is the toughest job for any fighter skipper. He is allocated a fixed number of airplanes, people, ground training facilities, and maintenance equipment. He schedules these under constraints of maintenance requirements, manhours available, available dollars for fuel and spare parts, weather conditions, and morale. His goal is to bring all flight crews to full proficiency in all assigned missions. Poor maintenance, an accident, or an unexpected turnover of personnel can wreak havoc with his careful plans. If he is lucky, as well as smart, he can get his squadron up to speed for combat. Then his problem is to maintain this fine edge, since pilots can go stale or suffer slumps like Willie Mays or Fran Tarkenton. The only men who can really understand all the fighter skipper’s problems are the coaches of professional athletic teams. Just as in the bigtime athletics, when the squadron is high, the skipper is a genius. But, when the team starts losing, the manager gets fired. While this may not seem fair to the man, it usually is best for the team. The transcendent difference, of course, is that a losing athletic team loses only jobs and money. In a fighter squadron, the stakes are higher—literally, life or death.
Training and proficiency requirements impact heavily on the Light Fighter issue because it is easier, faster, and cheaper to train a single pilot for dogfighting in sunny skies than it is to train two men to perform well across a broad spectrum of all-weather intercepts, clear-air dogfights, and air-to-ground weapons delivery tactics. Any ill-trained Phantom crew can be jacks of all trades but masters of none. A Light Fighter pilot may never learn how to fly instruments properly, but who cares, since he rarely sticks his nose into the weather?
A major pitfall in measuring one fighter aircraft against another is the "one-on-one” type evaluation so beloved by deskbound military bureaucrats. In this miniaturized war game, one fighter is compared against another on an individual performance basis. The evaluation can be done from charts and tables which recite each airplane’s flight characteristics under myriad conditions. If the charts and tables are correct, and if appropriate points are chosen from within a nebulous "dogfighting arena,” the evaluation presumably shows which contestant performs better. A more refined version of this testing is to chart the hypothetical flight paths of the two planes through a "typical” one-on-one dogfight. At appropriate points in the flight, an experienced pilot selects the type of maneuver he would use for that situation. The pilot can play both sides of the fight, or two pilots can be used. When a computer is also tied into the game to provide a plotting scheme showing a three-dimensional picture, when a record is kept of the plots, and when gun and missile-firing envelopes are also fed into the computations, reams of data come pouring forth. After analysis, the probable "winner” and "loser” can be declared. It’s a lot of fun, if you like pinball machines.
The next stage of sophistication in one-on-one evaluations is even more fun. In this one, two cockpits are built inside large individual plastic hemispheres. Lenses, projectors, a high-speed computer, and TV cameras viewing respective models of the airplanes are used to generate in each sphere a moving image of the opponent’s airplane. One pilot mans each cockpit complete with flight gear, helmets, "g” suits, oxygen masks—the whole bit. As he "flies” his airplane, the other airplane moves away or toward him just as it does in reality. After a warmup, in which the pilots feel out their "real-but-make-believe” airplanes, the fight is started and away they go-round and round, up and down, swirling, stalling, sometimes spinning and crashing, always trying to get into a firing position on the opponent. The quality and training of the respective pilots come into play, since they are now "in the loop.” Inside the spheres, they grunt and groan, sweat and swear, swivel and stretch, horsing the airplanes around the mythical sky in unusually realistic but mock combat. Fights can be started and stopped at the flick of a computer switch for training purposes or for fascinating, heated debates about who did to whom. Reams of data are available, and results are truly "real time,” i.e., the winner and loser are determined on scene, not at the Happy Hour in the officers club.
The penultimate type of one-on-one evaluation requires the real airplanes, actually flown by test pilots but within range of a battery of highly accurate ground radars. This is an expensive method, but with good data recording, it can provide the most realistic kind of evaluation in near-real-time terms.
Yet, with all these schemes for measuring competing airplanes, the results are not worth much more than a good intuitive opinion of an old, bold fighter pilot. The major drawback to any one-on-one evaluation device is simply that fighter planes rarely fight one-on-one battles in real combat. When skies are clear and sunny, two fighters are better than one, perhaps four are better than two, eight better than four, and so on. Tactics are all-important. A slashing attack out of the sun, or up through an undercast can spell success for a plane which would be duck soup in tight turns. An attack on one enemy might put his wingman in an ideal firing position on the attacker. Running away from a fight may appear cowardly at one instant, yet may provide the separation and speed needed for a high, tight turn back into the opponent, or it may lead the enemy into an ambush.
In poor weather, or in black night skies, a highly maneuverable, but non-radar-equipped dogfighter plays blind man’s buff, while a heavy, slow-turning, multiengined, multi-place all-weather fighter can find the quarry on radar, track him automatically, and zap him from the dark with impunity.
Geography is another major factor. Fighters and fighter pilots, like other animals, are greatly influenced by their territorial imperatives. The tiger, a fearsome defender of his own lair, can become a mewing pussycat as he tiptoes home after a long prowl through enemy territory. But even for the most tigerish, the get-home fuel requirements may dictate only a fast pass or two before a hasty retreat.
For all of these reasons, then, can we agree that one-on-one evaluations are only useful to a limited degree? Simulators, particularly the manned, real-time variety, are invaluable training tools, since they build experience and self-confidence into a pilot at a fraction of the expense and time of actual flying. They are even more useful in experimenting with new tactical concepts, with refining older ones, and with evaluating minor, but significant changes in control systems or airplane configurations. Like any computer, the simulation results are only as good as the input data. Obtaining and entering good performance data on U.S. aircraft is a tough chore in itself. With enemy aircraft, particularly of the new, seldom-seen variety which makes up the future threat, the input data is intelligent guesswork at best.
"Reliability” has always been one of the more highly prized attributes of men and machines. Thus, one might suppose that the Light Fighter—which needs only air in its tires, ammo in its guns, JP in its tank, a quick preflight and an occasional overhaul—would be far more reliable than the sophisticated aircraft and weapon system that requires a bank of ground support and test equipment, as well as an army of highly trained technicians, to perform. But, of course, the man who prefers the simple, reliable weapon, with the fewest moving parts, may want to swap his billy club for something more sophisticated when confronted by an enraged elephant.
No, complexity and reliability are not antonyms. Complexity in itself is neither evil nor undesirable. A 1973 Ford is far more sophisticated than a 1919 Model T, yet in today’s traffic, the Model T is only an historic relic. The key to user acceptance of a weapons system lies more in its reliability of operation than in its complexity, sophistication, or maintenance requirements. The wrath of the fighter pilot who has seen his missile go "stupid” in the heat of battle is an awesome thing to behold. Woe unto the maintenance crew chief who must bear the brunt of the ire! In aviation weaponry, the gun is still considered essential for any new fighter, simply because it almost always fires when the trigger is pulled. The design of most past Soviet fighters reflects far more emphasis in engineering and performance trade-offs for reliability than is evident in comparable U.S. designs. In very recent years, however, the Soviets appear to be trying harder for sophistication and performance. The pros and cons of the complexity argument seem to bedevil their planners equally as much as they plague ours.
There is no clear-cut dividing line on the issue of reliability. There are, however, fairly well-defined extremes which must be avoided. The ill-fated F-111B, the Navy version of the TFX, represented one of them and the F-5 another. The avoidance is best obtained through establishing rational design goals very early in the development phase of any fighter, through dogged resistance to untested "improvements” and modifications to that design, and through long, arduous, costly, and painful testing of the design prior to large scale production.
All of these words are easy to write and easy to honor in principle. The real chore for the military planner, for the aircraft designer, and for the testing authorities comes in the nitty-gritty of the everyday world where "everybody wants to get into the act” on a developing design. This is the area where the best intentions can turn a good lightweight fighter into a sluggish middleweight, and where a good compact, reliable all-weather interceptor can become a maintenance nightmare for a dedicated ground crew.
Psychology can play an overwhelming role in air-to- air combat. Fighter pilots have a long and well-earned reputation as extroverted types. Supreme self-confidence is mandatory, since the fighter pilot must fly the airplane right up to the outer limits of its performance envelope to get the kill. He must be willing to stake his life on his own flying ability, not only in combat, but in daily training for those fleeting moments of actual and very individual testing in war. With time and experience, and a lot of training, the fighter pilot builds his own very personal level of confidence.
In combat, this assurance helps him to outsmart, outbluff, or overwhelm an opponent with a surprise tactic. If he loses this unquestioned belief in his own ability, or in that of his airplane, he is immediately' disadvantaged. Within a squadron, self-confidence, the lack of it, is extremely infectious, and can make or break the combat effectiveness of the entire command. This explains why fighter pilots consider themselves the elite of all airmen, and why other pilots, who understand some of the subtleties of a fighter pilot's psyche, tend to treat them with humor, patience, forebearance, and a touch of disdain—and rarely approve of a sister marrying one of them. It also helps to explain why many stick-and-throttle types never really accept the concept of a multimission fighter. They become so accustomed to total reliance on their own expertise as a pilot that they rebel at the idea of radars, computers, missiles, and a second crewman in the back seat. The psychological point is very germane to the Light Fighter issue today, simply because some pilots of F-4 Phantoms feel they could do better in a dogfight with a single-engine, single-place, radarless, hot-rod minifighter. The feeling has sometimes reached the infectious stage within squadrons, and becomes evident in the willingness of the squadron to fly the Phantoms in combat when the weapons system for the radar-guided missiles is known to be faulty.
Because the reliability issue varies significantly with each individual fighter design, because one-on-one evaluations give dubious answers, because pilot training and the psychology of the battle can inject major determining factors, and because history provides alternatives, the light fighter argument defies easy or accurate resolution. Times are also changing for the United States in today’s world. Long-accepted solutions to old problems may not solve the new ones. Total reliance for fighters on the multimission concept is no more of a panacea than total production of hot-rod minifighters. Cost differentials, as well as possible production rates, are weighing more and more heavily on the question. The expanding nature of the threat toward both a highly sophisticated, Mach 3 Foxbat and toward forward deployment, through much of the world, of larger numbers of unsophisticated MiG-21s is of immediate concern. The changing role of the U.S. military is also very pertinent. Will the experience of Vietnam and the developing Nixon Doctrine mark a watershed for a new era of American isolation? If so, what is the role of offensively-oriented tactical air power in the national military strategy?
For all the Services these questions are critical to the structuring of future air weapons. Many experts view the naval concept for the 1980s overwhelmingly in terms of potential combat at sea against Soviet naval forces and shipping, with only peripheral concern for the projection of military power ashore. The same opinion holds for a Marine Corps limited to small-scale police actions, the safeguarding of vital U.S. interests in some foreign lands, and the evacuation of U.S. nationals from anarchic situations. The future role of the large nuclear-powered, attack aircraft carrier is also questioned, not so much for its usefulness in combat as for its initial cost. If the U.S. Navy is to fight its future battles only against a modern Soviet Navy, what balance of air, surface, and subsurface forces is appropriate? And what about jet V/STOL?1 The AV-8 Harrier, admittedly the "Tin Lizzie" of the V/STOL era is presently in Marine Corps Aviation and the R.A.F. Should the funds for development of a Light Fighter be spent instead for a high-performance airplane which could launch and land with the ease of a helicopter on any ship at sea? Another developmental program of dramatic impact on future naval forces is the surface effects ship which promises to achieve 80- to 100-knot speeds in large warships.2 Mating of the jet V/STOL with the SES offers new potentials for surface naval forces whose speed and draft provides a high degree of immunity to submarines and missiles. An interceptor for use against long-range enemy bombers seems a firm requirement, but is an additional simple fighter also required, or is the latter appropriate only to land-based U.S.A.F., NATO or SEATO missions?
While these questions seem far afield from the controversies of Navy fighter pilots over the size and weight of their airplanes, they are nevertheless overriding issues. Although many pundits cite irrefutable evidence for various future U. S. strategies, and many visionaries claim that V/STOL fighters and SES ships are just around the corner, it seems safer to conclude that the issues have not yet been resolved, that the technologies have not yet been developed, and that neither may be for a decade or more. During this period, the prudent military policy should cover all bets insofar as defense dollars permit.
In practical terms, a realistic compromise between dollars, development, and requirements for tactical fighters might include the Navy’s F-14, the U.S.A.F. Light Fighter, and a strong development program for a good V/STOL fighter. All three airplanes could be used in Navy, Air Force, and Marine roles.
1 See G. G. O’Rourke, "The Wondrous World of Jct/VSTOL,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, November 1972, pp. 33-41.
2 See M. J. Hanley, "A 60-Knot Landing Force,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, March 1967, pp. 46-55. See also T. F. Connolly, "Of Fighters and Facts,” Ibid, July 1972, p. 113.
Captain O’Rourke has commanded the USS Independence (CVA-62), and the USS Wrangell (AE-12). He served for two years as Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, Sixth Fleet. He is a Naval Academy graduate and holds an M.A. from Stanford University. He commanded several fighter squadrons in the early days of the F-4 Phantom, served at the Naval Air Test Center at Patuxent River, and with VMF (AW)513 during the Korean War. He is the author of a book on the F-4 Phantom and several articles on aviation subjects. He is presently serving on the staff of the Chief of Naval Operations (OP-05W).