Doctrine

Fighting in the atomic age required adjusting doctrine and unit organizational structures to deemphasize massed forces. Gavin’s 1947 book, Airborne Warfare, encouraged many army theorists to envision a redesigned army that relied on mobility, dispersion, and low-yield atomic weapons. The army wanted to present a less enticing target for Soviet nuclear weapons yet be able to mass into larger formations when required for offensive action. The army needed to become a “hypermobile force” that relied on “nomadic tactics and greater mission-type delegation of authority to lower units.” Gavin wrote that “the use, or threatened use, of atomic weapons, has had one immediate effect on our nation’s strategic and tactical thinking—the realization that dispersion must govern all operations of the future.” He was already testing ideas about dispersion in his 82nd Airborne Division, having his paratroopers assemble minutes before takeoff at their jump aircraft from dispersed assembly areas. The idea was to avoid presenting a tempting target for missiles or bombs, believing that Soviet commanders would be selective with when and where they used such expensive weapons. Later, after spending some time studying the effects of atomic technology as a member of the Weapon Systems Evaluation Group, Gavin concluded that “the A-bomb is an excellent tactical weapon” and that “the greater the explosive effect of the atomic bomb, the more effective it will be as a tactical weapon.” The idea was that NATO and Soviet leaders would tacitly agree to limit atomic weapons to low-yield uses, only against military targets. By harnessing a tactical atomic capability, the army would be able to deter Soviet aggression because it could prevent escalation—at least that was the theory.⁴

Gavin was part of multiple studies on the efficacy of tactical atomic weapons while assigned to the Weapon Systems Evaluation Group (WSEG) in the Office of the Secretary of Defense. The most important was perhaps Project VISTA, conducted with the California Institute of Technology. Caltech had an impressive history of rocketry and nuclear physics research and thus served as a natural home for the project. Throughout 1951 and 1952, the WSEG and scientists from Caltech studied how to use American technology against the numerical superiority of Soviet forces. The project’s report, issued in February 1952, argued for the tactical use of atomic weapons as a more effective way to stop a Soviet invasion of Western Europe than strategic bombing. VISTA argued “that nuclear power can be used to offset deficiencies in conventional arms.” Air force leaders were incensed at this report, as it undermined the nature of the Strategic Air Command and massive retaliation and used language befitting flexible response instead. To Gavin, the point of the study was, in essence, to “bring the battle back to the battlefield,” and he segued his efforts with VISTA and the WSEG into the rest of his career.⁵

While commanding the VII Corps in Germany in 1953, Gavin experimented with maneuvering his units on notional atomic battlefields. He concluded that the existing infantry and airborne divisions were insufficient for atomic war. Gavin believed the atomic battlefield would be much broader, deeper, and nonlinear. Any previous conception of a front would now double in length for each division. As Gavin said in one interview, “We are trying to discard old concepts of linear control of the battlefield for one of area control—a problem of controlled dispersion.” This required isolated and dispersed battle groups, yet with more rather than less manpower. While in World War II an American division would hold a ten- to fifteen-mile front, Gavin anticipated that on the atomic battlefield, they might be asked to hold a front double in size and deeper than that any armed force had to contend with to that point. Gavin thus proposed a fundamental reorganization of how the army fights. With a much deeper atomic battlefield, linear defenses were no longer applicable, and units would have to fight as small, dispersed groups, presenting a less-tempting target for enemy atomic weapons.⁶

Soon after becoming chief of staff, Ridgway directed a radical review of the army’s conduct of land warfare. Gavin led the study, and the review found logistics critical. “The key to atomic warfare tactically will be how to keep isolated units alive over long periods, still fighting when they are deeply encircled behind enemy lines,” the group reported. The airborne mafia’s shared experience with resupply by air in World War II reinforced their belief that aerial mobility provided the answer to the logistics, depth, and dispersion necessary in atomic warfare. Communications were also essential, and Gavin realized that battalions would need the amount of communications equipment he had used as a division commander in World War II. Missiles would function as improved artillery, providing the primary means of firepower to divisions, with an atomic capability if needed. As in airborne combat during World War II, dispersion, flexibility, and mobility were the watchwords of the post-Korea army.⁷

The army’s collective experience in Korea suggested that Communist forces’ “combatant manpower” would be “the real tactical hurdle.” How to make up for the manpower disadvantage seemed the critical question to answer. Gavin’s vision of the nuclear battlefield provided a ready-made answer for how to stop the supposed Soviet steamroller. Missile-delivered nuclear weapons could function as a much-improved artillery system that, unlike an aerial-delivered atomic weapon, could function in all kinds of weather. The 1954 keystone manual, FM 100–5, Operations, instructed commanders to use atomic munitions as “additional firepower of larger magnitude to complement other available fire support for maneuvering forces.” Army leaders also learned from Korea that future wars would have limited political objectives, rendering strategic atomic strikes unlikely. These leaders soon came to believe that limited nuclear warfare could be used to prevent a war from spiraling into general nuclear war. At the same time, low-yield nuclear weapons might deter Soviet aggression while offsetting their numerical advantage.⁸

Korea also reinforced that positional warfare would lead to a stalemate. Maneuver remained essential to victory. The depth of a future atomic battlefield would be enormous, perhaps hundreds of miles. Defense of such an area would require “scores, perhaps hundreds, of widely separated battle groups, relatively small in size but possessed of great mobility and tremendous firepower from conventional as well as atomic weapons.” Moreover, as Gavin had learned commanding paratroopers in the previous decade, “the individual foot soldier in an atomic war must also possess far more initiative and self-reliance than in the past.” Other officers also realized the value of mobility in atomic war. In the military journal Armor, Brig. Gen. Paul Disney wrote, “Mobility becomes the decisive factor in atomic warfare.” Exercise Sage Brush, a multidivisional training exercise involving more than one hundred thousand soldiers conducted in Louisiana between October 31 and December 15, 1955, revealed the importance of battlefield mobility in a limited atomic war. Army forces would still seek to maneuver on a limited atomic battlefield to gain the upper hand and destroy the enemy army, it was assumed, as armies had done for millennia.⁹

Atomic firepower also enticed those looking for an easy alternative to sweeping maneuvers. Col. George C. Reinhardt and Lt. Col. William R. Kintner asserted that the frontal assault “would henceforth become the cheapest route after atomic weapons open the way.” The idea was that dispersed battle groups would use nuclear firepower to blast a gap in the enemy front before beginning movement. These units would then mass and thrust through the gap created to exploit the enemy’s rear area in a deep operation. This approach simplified coordination and emphasized exploitation rather than maneuver. The army at the time saw it as a revolutionary change in doctrine and set about to hone atomic skills among infantry formations at Fort Benning. However, the essentials were born in World War I, where many attacks included preparatory artillery barrages to reduce enemy defenses, followed by rapid advances to exploit the breach. In that regard, the emphasis on exploitation and attacking the enemy rear resembled German late-war Stroßtruppen tactics and combined-arms warfare in World War II. These leaders believed that low-yield battlefield nuclear weapons would accomplish what required millions of rounds of artillery ammunition in World War I France.¹⁰

The 1954 FM 100–5, Operations, prioritized division-level combined-arms operations. It was an update of the 1949 edition, with the addition of atomic warfare, which appears seventy-one times in the manual. Concepts of offensive operations remained unchanged and were predicated on ground offensives as in World War II and Korea, not on the latest thinking on atomic warfare, and the manual outright ignored general war. Despite its reference to atomic warfare, no change was noted in how the army should fight, only that atomic weapons provided more firepower alongside conventional munitions. “The integration of atomic weapons into tactical operations does not change tactical doctrine for the employment of firepower heretofore mentioned,” the manual stated. It continued, “The planning and execution of offensive operations will continue to be based on the integration of fire and maneuver. Decisive results are obtained when a maneuvering force promptly exploits the destruction and psychological effects of atomic weapons.” Officers placed importance on the atomic weapon to deliver the devastating firepower necessary to allow maneuver: “Speed, dispersion, flexibility—those keynotes of our whole era will take over the battlefield,” wrote Col. Theodore C. Mataxis and Lt. Col. Seymour L. Goldberg in 1958. “Offensive tactics,” they continued, “will be based on the atomic weapon; masses of atomic firepower will replace massed manpower in the attack.” Firepower was beginning to outpace maneuver in both capabilities and emphasis in army thinking.¹¹

Regarding defensive operations, dispersion continued to rule the day in depth and width between units. Like paratroopers operating behind the enemy lines in World War II, dispersion provided protection because small units were less-tempting targets. In the atomic age, this made them less vulnerable to missiles or other expensive weaponry, at least theoretically. No longer would units use assembly areas to mass before movement and attack. The difficulty lay in the theoretical instant massing of units in the moments after an atomic blast. As argued by atomic warfare proponents, the 1954 doctrine posited age-old defensive techniques, including positional and linear defenses, that were now obsolete. As outlined in FM 100–5, mobile defense seemed more useful insofar as it included forward “islands of resistance” that would slow attackers long enough so that they could be destroyed by mobile elements “at a favorable location.” These islands of resistance were to be widely separated, using key terrain, and fight “an essentially independent battle.” A further concept, the layered defense, envisioned a division area held by successive layers of battle groups, dispersed yet close enough to canalize and harass the enemy before counterattacking.¹²

Sustaining men and equipment on a dynamic battlefield provided another problem for atomic theorists. In 1958, Maj. Gen. Hamilton Howze wrote that an “increased use of air line of communication” was necessary to keep atomic units supplied on dispersed islands of resistance. Howze had been an armor and cavalry officer but by the mid-1950s had become a member of the airborne mafia. Frank Moorman, signal officer for the 82nd Airborne and later the XVIII Airborne Corps during World War II, recognized the need to create logistical units that reflected his airborne experience, “closely knit, well-trained, [and] hard-hitting,” that operated with great flexibility for atomic warfare. Aerial resupply seemed promising in an atomic environment. Gavin thought twenty thousand airplanes for the army alone might not be enough and that for every one combat airplane, fifty more would be doing logistical work. Though the success of aerial resupply in Bastogne and the monumental achievement that was the Berlin airlift gave hope, the reality was that an airfield within a battle group’s “island of resistance” earmarked for resupply would make a tempting target for Soviet nuclear munitions. Likewise, air-dropping supplies made transports easy targets for antiaircraft guns and surface-to-air missiles. Supply depots and ports were also determined to be probable enemy nuclear targets. The pentomic army never solved the sustainment issue before its abandonment in the early 1960s.¹³

One reason for the ultimate failure of the various developments of the 1950s was that the army never codified its atomic doctrine. In November 1951, the service published Field Manual 100–31, Tactical Use of Atomic Weapons, but these concepts never made it into its most important manual, FM 100–5, Operations. Army doctrine continued to emphasize infantry attacks at a deliberate pace, supported by tanks and heavy artillery. The army did not produce a new edition of FM 100–5 between 1954 and 1962, only supplements in 1956 and 1958 that did not address organizational changes. The Command and General Staff College submitted a draft manuscript to Continental Army Command (CONARC) in 1958, but it was returned with the comment that it needed to be fully revised.¹⁴ This is despite Ridgway stating in an October 1954 interview that nuclear weapons compelled a change in tactics. Yet Ridgway maintained that fire and maneuver were still paramount, that the details of execution, distances to move, and explosive yield of firepower had changed.¹⁵

Instead of official doctrine, the army’s unofficial doctrine—articles in the pages of professional journals such as Military Review, Army, Army Combat Forces Journal, alongside the writings and speeches of leaders—gave a good idea of what the army wanted its force to do on a nuclear battlefield. Even without official doctrine, the army rolled along, developed equipment for the atomic battlefield, and reorganized its divisions to meet its perceptions of limited nuclear war. The service was busy defining the parameters of limited nuclear exchanges. Taylor argued that small nuclear weapons would help the country avoid a general nuclear war, and units utilizing such weapons “had to fight independently, not linearly, and be expendable in the larger scheme if struck by a nuclear blast.” Everything written about how to fight on an atomic battlefield was theoretical, tested only in exercises in the United States and Europe, with no means of real-world execution. Mataxis and Goldberg’s book Nuclear Tactics: Weapons and Firepower in the Pentomic Division, Battle Group, and Company (1958) was still not official doctrine but called on leaders at all echelons to understand “atomic weapons” and to not treat them as a “specialized subject to be dealt with only by the staff officers or bulging-browed specialists.”¹⁶

Taylor also believed that the army had to be dually capable—ready to fight in both conventional or atomic conflict—a nod to the immense flexibility required by both commanders and soldiers. Instead, units were never well prepared for anything other than nuclear war—even as the realization increased that the next war would not be nuclear. The secretary of the army agreed and declared that the army had achieved a dual-capable force ready for “all-out or limited war.” Many officers were, naturally, displeased with his idea of a dual-capable force. One retired officer wrote that instead of providing a solution, the army only provided “those three stout words: dispersion, mobility, and flexibility.” Some argued for the use of nuclear weapons in any conflict, while others argued for the opposite, and the debate played out in Army magazine.¹⁷

In devising its doctrine, the army also ignored the effects of radiation on its troops, expecting maneuvering forces to drive right through ground zero of a blast site if necessary. Dr. Douglas Lindsey, an army physician writing after Exercise Desert Rock VI, chided soldiers over their “bugaboo of radiation,” which he believed stemmed from their “fear of sterility.” Known for keeping a cigar in his mouth while commanding six MASH units in the Korean War, Lindsey was notoriously fast and loose regarding risk. The effects of radiation, he claimed, did not extend beyond fifteen hundred meters from ground zero. Meanwhile, maneuvering units had sat buttoned up and facing away from a thirty-kiloton atomic blast three thousand meters away during that exercise. Within minutes, they were advancing across the desert in pristine formation, only to turn away from ground zero at nine hundred meters when their radiation meters indicated dangerous levels of contamination. A later test in 1957 during Desert Rock VII featured a company of 82nd Airborne Division paratroopers lying on the ground forty-nine hundred yards from the detonation of an eleven-kiloton nuclear weapon on the top of a five-hundred-foot tower. The shock wave knocked the helmets off some of the troopers, who following the blast conducted an infiltration obstacle course to “test their ability to act efficiently in nuclear warfare.” During Exercise Carte Blanche in Germany in June 1955, exercise umpires assessed that those nuclear attacks would have resulted in two million dead before radiation played a role. On the other hand, during Sage Brush, umpires failed to assess fallout casualties, which resulted in the indiscriminate use of notional atomic weapons.¹⁸

The army continued throughout the decade to refine how it wanted to fight on the nuclear battlefield. Americans have long preferred new technology and the overwhelming use of firepower on the battlefield; however, these atomic ideas were rooted in pure theory. Despite attempting to nest limited atomic war within the requirements of national strategy, leaders’ conceptual thinking was insufficient for the intellectual demands of a hypothetical war. It would take equipment development and a reorganization of divisions to begin to put theory into practice. The doctrine was but one leg of the tripod of adaptation in the era.¹⁹

Technology

If doctrine is theoretical, then developing nuclear weapons for the army’s inventory served as empirical evidence of the service’s direction. Naturally, diving into the realm of weapon types whose only use had provided bomber enthusiasts an argument for the primacy of their arm was fraught with strife. The Key West Agreement of 1948 laid out the roles and missions of the services in the wake of the National Defense Act passed the previous year and the creation of the Air Force as its branch. In addition to outlining roles and missions concerning airlift, the Key West Agreement—amended in 1954—also gave the army a vague role in air defense. Thinking of atomic weapons as powerful artillery also fueled the development of guided and unguided surface-to-surface missiles. The focus on atomic missile and rocket technology, however, stymied growth and development in other areas as the army developed equipment to appease the secretary of defense and an atomic-enamored public to create a land force capable and relevant on an atomic battlefield. So, in 1950, the secretary of the army Frank Pace told the West Point graduating class that “the Army must depend to a great extent on intensive scientific research and development” to help offset enemy numerical advantages, setting the stage for a decade of targeted innovation. Shortly after becoming chief of staff, Taylor had learned of Secretary of Defense Wilson’s priorities, ordering the army, in Taylor’s words, to “substitute requests for ‘newfangled’ items with public appeal instead of the prosaic accouterments of the foot soldier.”²⁰ Missiles and atomic weapons were the wave of the future and promised increased range, accuracy, reliability, and destructive capability.

Before it developed guided missiles, however, the army employed an atomic cannon. The M-65, 280mm artillery gun was a World War II design retrofitted for atomic ammunition beginning in 1947. Unveiled in October 1952 at Aberdeen Proving Ground, the gun fired a nuclear round for the first time in May 1953 and was featured in Eisenhower’s inaugural parade. Nicknamed “Atomic Annie,” the cannon could fire an eight-hundred-pound atomic shell almost fifteen miles, with roughly the same destructive power as the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. By October 1953, the first M-65-equipped unit arrived in Europe, the equipment floating up the Rhine River, visibly signaling to the Soviet Union the US Army’s intention to defend Western Europe with any means necessary. The gun helped fuel the debates about roles and missions during the era; according to the chief of research and development, Maj. Gen. K. D. Nichols, “the Air Force did not set about the development of their [battlefield nuclear] capability until we started the 280-millimeter gun.” Atomic Annie was the army’s announcement that it intended to pursue atomic munitions.²¹

The gun, however, was obsolete almost as soon as it was fielded. It was slow, restricted to roads, and weighed eighty-three tons, which severely limited the number of bridges it could use. Like atomic doctrine, the gun was reminiscent of First World War ideas, specifically heavy rail-mounted artillery. The behemoth required not one but two tractors—one to push and one to pull the unwieldy cannon. Its paltry range was insufficient to strike deep into the enemy’s rear. The range, speed, and mobility needed for atomic warfare were not found in the M-65. It was ill-suited to the fluid, amorphous atomic battlefield conjured up in the minds of army thinkers. Missiles provided a more enticing option.

When the army embarked on its missile programs, it worked in three areas: space, air defense, and tactical firepower. Surface-to-air missiles were viewed as defensive weapons, while surface-to-surface missiles found a primary purpose in offensive warfare, supporting ground forces. Throughout the decade, army leaders also envisioned placing a satellite in orbit to enhance communications platforms. When the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, Gavin was at Redstone Arsenal with the rocket scientist Werner von Braun, discussing Soviet rocket technology. Gavin predicted a launch within the next three weeks, only to learn of the Soviet accomplishment at dinner. When Explorer I achieved orbit using a modified army Jupiter-C rocket known as Juno-1 on February 1, 1958, it met raucous support from both houses of Congress, salvaging the nation’s pride four months after Sputnik.²²

The army’s second major rocketry foray came in the form of surface-to-air missiles. While not especially relevant to limited atomic ground warfare, this foray was led by Gavin and centered on the Army’s interpretation of the Key West Agreement, under which it was authorized “to organize, train, and equip air defense units.” The army consequently developed the Nike and Hawk families of surface-to-air missiles, which frustrated the Air Force. The contentious issue was remedied by Secretary Wilson’s 1956 amendment to the Key West Agreement, which clarified roles and missions regarding aviation. It gave the army responsibility for “land-based surface-to-air missile systems for point defense” while assigning the air force responsibility for “area defense.” This meant that the army was responsible for defending specific sites, while the air force was responsible for maintaining a broader, networked air defense system. Air force leaders were convinced that the army was trying to take over the entirety of the aerial defense mission, including defending air bases, and would “wind up with an honest-to-goodness air defense mission.” Air defense was integral to the army during this period but is outside the scope of this chapter’s focus on land warfare.²³

Gavin was among the army’s most enthusiastic proponents of long-range missile technology. He believed that missiles could provide the fire support needed on deep airborne assaults, and when he became chief of research and development, missile technology became the top priority. Surface-to-surface long-range missiles offered more “bang for the buck” on the atomic battlefield of the future. Instead of expending thousands of rounds of ammunition, with the right guided missile a commander could destroy massing enemy reserves or blast a hole in a defensive front from hundreds of miles away, protecting his force at the same time. Missiles were also reliable and controlled by their service. Army leaders lacked faith in the ability of air force jets to support their ground operations. World War II and Korea had convinced army leaders that tactical close air support would be spotty in the next war, something all too obvious with the air force’s institutional focus on the Strategic Air Command. Taylor spoke to commanders at Fort Bliss, Texas, in 1956, telling them that “we haven’t had close effective tactical air support; we cannot expect to have it in the future. The high-performance air force planes are flying away from us; they have left the battlefield.” Surface-to-surface missiles promised to remedy that problem.²⁴

Missile advocates viewed them as the opening salvos of the next war. In 1947, Gavin wrote that “what was Pearl Harbor in 1941, followed in six months by an amphibious effort at Midway, will, in the future, be a missile barrage followed in six minutes or six hours by an airborne attack.” He reiterated this in his 1958 book, stating that “the pattern of future attacks seemed to be emerging as a combined airborne-nuclear assault, using tactical weapons,” something he felt received little reception in the air force despite the need for that service to deliver both arms and men. The air force considered that long-range missiles, if not a bomber replacement, were another form of strategic bombing and therefore the responsibility of the air component of the services, a view with which Wilson concurred in 1954.²⁵

Missiles were mobile weapons that could complement field artillery, something that might maneuver with their amorphous battle groups to provide “a substantial improvement in ground combat effectiveness.” In May 1947, the army fired its first surface-to-surface ballistic guided missile, Corporal E, at a range of 62.5 miles. By 1951, the army had already begun the development of a 450-mile ballistic missile. Throughout the period, the army developed three types of atomic missiles: surface-to-surface guided missiles such as the shorter-range Corporal or Redstone; intermediate-range ballistic missiles (IRBMs) like Jupiter; and shorter-range fire-and-forget projectiles for field commanders in tactical scenarios, like the Honest John, the Little John, and the Davy Crockett. These tactical missiles provided the most salient example of the army’s attempts to adapt modern atomic technology to land warfare, to provide accurate and devastating supporting fire for ground commanders at all echelons. Gavin reiterated this view of missiles as improved firepower, writing, “For missiles are modern artillery and tactical nuclear warheads are modern conventional firepower.”²⁶

IRBMs became a matter of high priority for Gavin, who saw the technology as essential for obtaining adequate funds. He “personally recommended to General Ridgway in March of 1955 that the IRBM program be undertaken at a cost of $25 million.” This led to the development of the Jupiter missile and the formation of the Army Ballistic Missile Agency in 1956. Gavin then ensured that the Jupiter IRBM be developed as a mobile and survivable piece of equipment to meet his vision of the atomic battlefield. The Jupiter was based on the Redstone missile, a 160-mile surface-to-surface ballistic missile developed between 1951 and 1953. The Jupiter was designed to be moved along highways, fire in all weather conditions, and even be hidden in highway and rail tunnels. The air force thought of missiles in terms of air bases and fixed launching sites requiring army defensive support, as opposed to the army’s mobility requirement. While its initial range was just two hundred miles, the Jupiter later boasted a fifteen-hundred-mile capability, which frustrated the air force. Wilson restricted army guided missiles to a two-hundred-mile maximum range—anything over that was considered an intermediate-range ballistic missile that could attack beyond the immediate deep battlefield, and therefore air force responsibility. Previously, the air force claimed control over any missiles that could fly more than fifty miles into the enemy’s rear. Two hundred miles, while still a limiting factor, was a significant increase for the army.²⁷

Of course, Wilson’s restriction did not sit well with the army. Gavin was never happy with Wilson’s attitude and decision-making throughout the era. He wrote that Wilson “tended to deal with his Chiefs of Staff as though they were recalcitrant union bosses,” while pondering if labor leader Walter Reuther might have been an efficient chief of staff. But for the army, it was a matter of an expanding battlefield. In defending his decision to pursue a fifteen-hundred-mile-range missile, Taylor reiterated the army’s role in destroying enemy land forces. “The primary function of the Air Force is to destroy enemy air power and for the Navy to destroy enemy naval power,” he testified in 1956; so “if you accept the fact that the Army exists to destroy hostile armies, then any missile which will destroy hostile ground forces should be available to the Army.” The recently formed Association of the United States Army (AUSA) issued a scathing pamphlet critiquing Wilson’s decision. The booklet argued that the range was immaterial—the army still envisioned tactical targets. “We define tactical targets as actual battlefield targets, troop formations, fortifications, and other man-made structures which immediately affect military operations on the land.” This group of concerned retired officers accused Wilson of restricting the army from carrying out its primary mission. “Hence, there can be little logic in denying the army the tools it needs to carry out its primary mission.” Jupiter was ordered into production in 1957, but in 1958 the air force assumed complete control of the program based on Wilson’s 1956 decision.²⁸

The army’s short-range missile and rocket programs found much greater success. These were justifiable for use against military targets, and Gavin ensured they received funding priority. The army’s first foray into short-range missiles was the Corporal. This liquid-fueled rocket could deliver an atomic or conventional warhead seventy-five miles with the help of an external guidance system that communicated commands to the missile via Doppler radio. First launched in 1947 yet not revealed to the public until 1951, the Corporal was operational by 1954 and was fielded in Europe in February 1955. However, the Corporal used liquid instead of solid fuel and therefore “lacked the responsiveness to provide truly effective support” to maneuvering units. The Corporal was considered a corps commander’s weapon, able to affect the deep battlefield but not quite reliable enough for echelons below the corps level.²⁹

Next, the army developed two types of surface-to-surface missiles: the longer-range Redstone, which became the basis for the Jupiter, and shorter-range, smaller weapons to provide atomic firepower to division commanders and below. The Redstone had a 240-mile range, which made the army the first force to field an IRBM before the program was handed over to the air force. Redstone also had an internal guidance system instead of the Corporal’s external computer, which provided more reliability and an invulnerability to jamming efforts. The operator programmed the entire ballistic course into the computer, and the “internal course director” would compensate as needed to keep the missile on track. The Redstone was replaced in 1960 by the Pershing—a smaller, lighter, and more mobile solid-fuel missile with a 460-mile range. The new missile violated Wilson’s range restriction but was developed under the guidance of the new defense secretary, Neil H. McElroy, to develop an improved solid-propellant ballistic missile.³⁰

Short-range tactical weapons provided field commanders with flexible atomic firepower that fit the idea of mobile atomic battle. These smaller weapons with decreased yields fit Taylor’s requirement to be suitable for use “in close proximity to our own troops.” First developed was the Honest John, an unguided supersonic rocket with a fifteen-mile range that was later increased to thirty miles. While its range much improved upon that of the M-65 cannon, the missile was inaccurate, and its three-ton weight soon proved too heavy for the sort of battlefield mobility envisioned in the era—although the components could be slung beneath a helicopter separately. The Honest John, like the Corporal, was considered a corps-level weapon. Providing atomic weapons to division commanders and below required wholesale organizational change, beginning in 1956. As a result, in that year, the army began developing an even smaller, unguided, supersonic, nuclear-capable rocket, the Little John. Revealed in a public test in 1956 but not fielded until 1961, this rocket weighed only one ton but had a range of ten to twenty miles. It was light enough to be slung beneath a helicopter as a complete system and functioned as a division commander’s weapon.³¹

The army’s next evolution in atomic weapons placed the weapons’ destructive power in the hands of battle group commanders. First named the Battle Group Atomic Delivery system, the M-28 Davy Crockett nuclear mortar weighed 185 pounds and had a range of just one and a quarter miles. The larger M-29 weighed 440 pounds and had a 2.5-mile range. The larger variant was designed to be carried by armored personnel carriers, to then be dismounted and fired from a tripod. The warhead had such an oblong shape that many soldiers dubbed it the “atomic watermelon.” Yet it was the smallest nuclear warhead in the American arsenal, delivering an explosive yield of .01–.02 kilotons (10–20 tons). Its smooth bore, however, created massive accuracy problems, and the blast radius was rumored to exceed the maximum range of the weapon, which led many soldiers to call it a suicide weapon or the “widow-maker.”³²

To meet its concepts for waging limited atomic war while keeping up with the other services in a tight defense budget, the army focused on atomic weapons. Limited war was any war short of general nuclear war: one with limited objectives or limited means that could use atomic weapons. Focusing on atomic weapons left other more relevant programs earmarked for non-nuclear conflict with minimal funding. In a 1957 congressional inquiry, Gavin testified, “Because of the need to support the big ballistic missile program … we have had to cut back on the other things such as a new family of tanks.” For example, in fiscal year 1957, the army spent more than 43 percent of its research and development budget on missiles and atomic weapons but only 4.5 percent on vehicles, 4.3 percent on artillery, and 4 percent on aircraft development. The army failed to update the cheap, reliable, and easy-to-maintain equipment the average draftee soldier used. Instead, it focused on flashy items sure to catch Secretary Wilson’s or President Eisenhower’s approval. Despite these disparities, Gavin remained steadfast in his conviction that “if the lessons of the decade since World War II mean anything, it is that this highly mobile mid-range missile with a tactical nuclear warhead should be developed as a matter of highest national priority” for use in limited warfare.³³

Owing to the army’s financial emphasis on missiles and atomic weapons, other useful programs developed slowly, if at all. Helicopters, tanks, and armored personnel carriers, ideal for moving foot soldiers about the nuclear battlefield and essential to survivability, made marginal progress during the era. Soldiers who served in World War II would have been comfortable using any of the infantry equipment available during the decade after the end of the Korean conflict. Expensive missile systems lacked the requisite targeting technology. Communications platforms that were needed to control units on a dispersed battlefield were on the drawing board and never came to fruition before the army changed direction. The helicopter offers a salient example of equipment development that might have been more useful in atomic warfare. Some officers saw the utility of helicopters, especially to move troops and equipment around the perceived nebulous, deep, atomic battlefield. But most planners during the era eschewed the role helicopters might play, preferring to think of mobility in fixed-wing strategic terms and relegating the burgeoning rotary-wing concept to medical evacuation, reconnaissance, and small-scale transport.³⁴

The debacle over replacing the venerable old M-1 Garand rifle sums up nonatomic development in the era. Taylor wanted a versatile weapon to serve as a rifle, submachine gun, and automatic rifle, which delayed development. After it was fielded in 1961, the new M-14 proved inferior to the M-1 and inaccurate as an automatic rifle, and the army canceled production in 1963. During the 1950s, nearly all presidential hopefuls had a weapon system pet project that they touted to strengthen their campaigns—most were high-technology or nuclear-related like bombers and missiles—never the needs of the foot soldier. When one staffer asked a young defense intellectual named Daniel Ellsberg what the Kennedy campaign should use, he replied tersely, “How about the infantryman?”³⁵

Developing missile technology was expensive. Yet the army pursued this equipment at the expense of other items in the hopes of improving its public image and maintaining relevance in an age where many policymakers were questioning its very existence. By showing it could develop and use atomic weapons, the army kept pace with the other services and played an enormous role in the space race. On January 31, 1958, the nation’s first successful satellite rocketed into orbit atop a modified Jupiter missile, thanks to the work of scientists at the Army Ballistic Missile Agency. The rejection of increases in armor in favor of providing devastating (atomic) firepower to units reflected the shared belief held by the airborne mafia in the ability of well-trained groups of infantrymen to move quickly, mass available firepower, and fight dispersed on any battlefield on which they found themselves. Moreover, missiles and rockets impressed the public. The army needed the proper organizational structure to take advantage of them.³⁶

The Pentomic Division

As the army continued to think about fighting on the nuclear battlefield, it became clear that it needed to reorganize the infantry division to meet emerging concepts in doctrine and take advantage of advances in tactical nuclear weapons. Gavin believed the new division should be “an amorphous biological cell” capable of responding to any situation by taking on whatever form necessary. For Gavin, this meant dissolving the existing organization “down to the size of units you are not afraid of losing to one blast” and that the infantry division needed to mimic the mobile combat commands of the armored division. The battalion—renamed the battle group—was the ideal unit size capable of sustained combat yet expendable in a nuclear blast. Each battle group would have the assets needed to deploy and disperse in all directions. It was intended to be more sustainable thanks to increased reconnaissance, signal, maintenance, and medical assets in a battle group headquarters and service company.³⁷

In April 1954, Ridgway directed Army Field Forces to create a new division predicated on mobility and flexibility. Eisenhower believed that emerging technologies would permit “economies in the use of men as we build forces suited to our situation in the world today” and allow for a smaller army. Ridgway’s guidance asked Army Field Forces to meet several critical objectives. They needed greater combat manpower ratios, greater combat-to-support unit ratios, and more flexibility and mobility in combat units in order to maximize new technology and improve the ability of the army to sustain land combat. And they needed to develop tactical doctrine to support these changes and reorganize all units by January 1, 1956. Ridgway’s ideas for a ground combat division envisioned larger, heavier divisions able to absorb more losses. In Ridgway’s conceptualization, decentralization on the battlefield through greater dispersion was only possible with leaders capable of and comfortable with making plans and decisions with minimal guidance— empowered subordinates. It reinforced his thesis that human beings were the dominant factor in war.³⁸

Project Binnacle, a US Army War College effort, studied the effects of nuclear weapons on the army in the next decade. In addition to arguing that mutual annihilation through massive retaliation would keep wars limited, the study concluded that the army must be “designed to locate, maneuver, and fix enemy forces and then blast such forces with nuclear fire.” The study also proposed a reorganization of the army into 12,000-man divisions of multiple 1,000-soldier combat teams capable of air and ground mobility and armed with atomic weapons in addition to their conventional complement. Project Binnacle served as the basis for the army’s next foray into divisional reorganization conducted by Gen. John E. Dahlquist’s Office of the Chief of Army Field Forces.³⁹

The resulting plan, which filtered from Army Field Forces through the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in the fall of 1954, was titled Atomic Field Army–1 (ATFA–1). The study results hinted that the cellular battlefield envisioned by Gavin was likely but required new tactics and unit structures. Improvements in communications equipment and experience in World War II hinted that a division could control up to five maneuver elements rather than just three regiments. In proposing a 4,000-man reduction for each infantry division, ATFA-1’s strength stood at 13,500 officers and men. It appeared to be the perfect nexus of flexibility, mobility, and firepower. Announced in the February 12, 1955, issue of the Army–Navy–Air Force Register, the new organization, as Gavin reiterated, would be ready for conventional or atomic war, and “he expected non-atomic ‘peripheral’ war the more likely type as both East and West approach a state of ‘thermo-nuclear plenty.’” The article emphasized “communications, intelligence, firepower and above all mobility to keep from concentrating in one spot.”⁴⁰

The ATFA-1 division would have had seven infantry battalions alongside tank, engineer, and other support elements. Division artillery was weakened, containing only one 4.2-inch mortar battalion and two 105mm howitzer battalions. It was a much heavier division than what was ultimately decided. The division lacked antitank and artillery support, and the personnel reductions left staff at all echelons unable to perform essential support functions, as many administrative or logistical matters were to be handled by a support command. Aviation and reconnaissance assets were consolidated in companies within the division headquarters battalion. The Infantry School was concerned about the lack of a regimental command level and proposed using a “combat command” in the style of armored divisions. ATFA-1 proved untenable and never came to fruition after February 1955 tests by the 3rd Infantry and 1st Armored Divisions in Exercises Follow Me and Blue Bolt showcased its issues in command-and-control capability. To solve the problems encountered, the infantry division needed an increase in its staff and an additional infantry battalion.⁴¹

Later, in 1955, the same divisions tested a retooled version of the structure during Exercise Sage Brush at what is now Fort Johnson, Louisiana, and determined that the ATFA concept “did not appear to have any greater mobility, or any greater capability to conduct successful atomic-tactical operations than did the conventionally organized forces.” Sage Brush was the largest maneuver exercise since the 1941 Louisiana Maneuvers. It was designed to test the new organizational structure amid simulated atomic strikes. Observers also noted that the ATFA organization showed “no marked improvement” over the previous triangular formation. To further complicate matters, Army Field Forces was reorganized into the Continental Army Command (CONARC) to provide a better command element between the chief of staff and the six Continental Armies arrayed around the country. CONARC then reinstated a triangular division structure, abandoning the ATFA-1 concept.⁴²

After taking over as army chief of staff, Maxwell Taylor rejected the ATFA-1 concept because it did not create smaller, simpler division structures with tactical atomic weapons. Later, in 1956, Taylor selected a different study for implementation that came from an earlier rejected proposal. Titled “Doctrinal and Organizational Concepts for Atomic-Nonatomic Army during the Period 1960–1970,” but referred to as the PENTANA study, this model called for fully air-transportable divisions based on five self-sufficient battle groups, each with its artillery. Each division would have 8,600 men and eliminate the regimental level of command—a more than 50 percent reduction in personnel and the number of aircraft required to move it. The PENTANA study and Taylor’s desire to implement it met with staunch dissent from the army’s Command and General Staff College (CGSC) at Fort Leavenworth. Namely, two successive commandants, Maj. Gen. Harry I. Hodes and his successor, Maj. Gen. Garrison H. Davidson, viewed it as fostering an officer corps too narrowly focused on atomic warfare. By far Taylor’s most ambitious project, PENTANA was approved on June 1, 1956. And in true Taylor style, he replaced Davidson with a sycophant, Maj. Gen. Lionel C. McCarr, in July 1956, and promptly revised the entire CGSC curriculum for atomic combat.⁴³

PENTANA was another, lighter response to Ridgway’s November 1954 directive to find a new organization capable of atomic and conventional warfare that applied to sustained ground combat on the Eurasian landmass. The new structure offered more flexibility in its five-battle-group structure. Like the ATFA-1 division, however, PENTANA offered meager artillery support despite new Honest John nuclear rockets. It also lacked tanks, antiaircraft artillery, engineer, and reconnaissance assets. Before approval of PENTANA, Taylor directed a reorganization effort for airborne divisions using a modified version, which incorporated portions of both the PENTANA and the ATFA-1 studies. This proposed airborne division would have five battle groups, four infantry companies, a 4.2-inch mortar battery, and requisite support assets. The division included a divisional support group, a command-and-control battalion, a signal battalion, and a small engineer battalion with airstrip construction resources—critical for airfield operations. Division artillery assets were slim—three 105mm howitzer batteries and one nuclear weapons battery with Honest John rockets. The Little John and Davy Crockett were not yet available, while 155mm howitzers were eschewed due to their lack of air transportability.⁴⁴

Taylor endorsed this change in February 1956 but ordered the addition of a fifth infantry company and an increase in 105mm batteries from three to five. ROTAD (Reorganization of the Airborne Division) was approved by Taylor on August 10, 1956, as the airborne version of the concept. The airborne division was ideal to test the new five-sided divisional structure for atomic battlefields. After Taylor reactivated the 101st Airborne Division in 1955, the army again had three airborne divisions on active duty. The 101st moved to Fort Campbell in 1956 to test the new concept and replace the 82nd Airborne Division as the Western Hemisphere Reserve. The 101st tested the idea of an “amoeba”-like fighting concept while stressing the need for more helicopters to improve mobility. Those initial experiments preceded the massive test known as Jump Light in August of that year, which kicked off the five-year experiment with what was to be called the pentomic structure. The division’s connection to the chief of staff, its World War II record, and public recognition made it the logical choice to spearhead this effort.⁴⁵

The new airborne division organization also meant it was completely air transportable—a capability it had lost in the decade since World War II. Air transportability was a critical requirement for the army in the atomic age. While leaders strove to improve the transportability of all units, the airborne division alone met the army’s stiff criteria for strategic mobility. But to do so, it lacked tanks, armored personnel carriers, and conventional fire support larger than 105mm howitzers. The choice to go without robust fire support indicates two realities—the need for air transportability and the belief that any war would include the use of tactical atomic weapons. Regardless, Taylor had all army divisions reorganized along this basic structure to survive in omnidirectional atomic or conventional combat. Initial plans for the new “pentomic division” now called for reorganization to be complete by the end of May 1958, and after a few minor delays, reorganization of the army’s fifteen combat divisions, one brigade, and several separate battle groups was completed by June 30, 1958.⁴⁶

The term “pentomic” was an attempt to sell the army to the public. Taylor admitted it was a “Madison Avenue adjective” that referred to its pentagonal structure and atomic purpose, designed to cater to Secretary Wilson’s desire for “public appeal.” Nevertheless, the five-sided structure was necessary for fighting on Gavin’s nebulous atomic battlefield. Each battle group was to fight alone in all directions, if necessary, creating islands that forced the enemy to present themselves as targets for the division’s internal tactical nuclear weapons. Theoretically, the dispersion required depended on the adversary’s willingness to expend its nuclear weapons on smaller targets. The new configuration meant increased air transportability and battlefield mobility for all divisions. Every division was to be a worldwide air-deployable formation. All five battle groups could be lifted with just over 400 sorties of aircraft, a significant reduction from the 620 sorties needed for the assault elements of the previous 17,000-man triangular infantry division.⁴⁷

Midway through the restructuring effort, Maj. Gen. T. L. Sherburne of the 101st wrote that his new division was so transportable, so mobile, that it needed “less than half the planes required for a conventionally manned and equipped airborne division” and was fast becoming the army’s first airborne “True Ready Force.” He boasted that it would be ready to “move out, completely ready, in a few hours” and strike hard whenever and wherever the country asked. As the word “mobility” continued to drive the army, the pentomic division promised fluid concentration and dispersion as required to fight on the atomic battlefield. The idea, in practice, was to concentrate, strike, and then disperse as needed. However, without adequate equipment, the quick tempo promised to tax even the army’s most skilled commanders. “Concentrate to fight—disperse to live,” one army officer once said.⁴⁸

The pentomic division reflected airborne leaders’ shared experiences. The division was predicated on an increased span of control in fluid, ambiguous situations, as Ridgway, Taylor, and Gavin experienced in World War II. During that war, the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions fought as ever-changing divisional-size task forces, adding or subtracting regiments depending on the situation. During the invasion of Normandy, for example, each airborne division had four infantry regiments under its command. During the Battle of the Bulge, the 101st Airborne Division managed to control five separate maneuver units, including two armored combat commands. The concept also has roots in Taylor’s prewar experience as commander of the 12th Field Artillery Battalion, where he commanded five separate batteries. Taylor had further experimented with a division having five subordinate elements in the Republic of Korea army while in command of the US Eighth Army in 1953. Despite the influence of the airborne mafia, one cultural tenet was not fully disseminated to the army of the 1950s—effective decentralized leadership. Instead, the army was characterized as overcontrolled and oversupervised. This resulted from rigid career management systems imposed after World War II that encouraged a careerist mentality among officers.⁴⁹

The pentomic structure was not well received by most of the army. Units in Germany found it wanting, yet CONARC evaluated it positively and saw it as well suited for conventional or atomic warfare. A 1963 army study noted that it lacked flexibility and confined the army to one type of warfare: limited atomic warfare in Europe. Tactical mobility was inefficient, and the pentomic division had less conventional firepower than the standard infantry divisions in World War II and Korea. The Seventh Army concluded that a pentomic division had insufficient conventional and atomic firepower—which in effect removed the strength of American artillery since World War II, namely its centralized command and fire-direction control. Gavin commented that it was unfit for combat, “was really a mess,” and needed more artillery, because “if you’ve ever had to use artillery, you knew it was grossly lacking in artillery.” He saw Taylor’s swift approval of the pentomic division as typical—little analysis but always wanting to please politicians. The pentomic rebrand on Madison Avenue also points to Taylor’s efforts to showcase the army as new and exciting in the atomic age. Nevertheless, the pentomic battle group’s size fell well short of Gavin’s ideal of “two or three thousand men” per battle group.⁵⁰

The division had further problems; the span of control for commanders was too great because the necessary communications equipment did not yet exist to facilitate a commander’s ability to control five subordinate units at the distances envisioned on an atomic battlefield. The army knew it could not provide the equipment necessary for full attainment of combat effectiveness. In September 1958 the Seventh Army commander, Lt. Gen. Clyde D. Eddleman—a career infantryman who served on the Sixth Army staff in the Pacific during World War II— recognized that the army’s “current capabilities with weapons and equipment on hand do not permit us to enjoy the full benefits of the new concept.” One officer wrote in Army magazine, “Despite a greatly revised organization and tactical doctrine, combat units, as usual, are trying to do with the same old equipment until the new gear arrives.” The pentomic division, while well suited to quick-hitting airborne assaults and short ground operations, appeared insufficient for low- and mid-intensity conflicts. Austerity in personnel, firepower, and logistical support required additional assets if the division was to be committed to a long-term conflict.⁵¹

The pentomic division was supposed to demonstrate that the army was a forward-thinking force worthy of a meaningful place in the New Look military. Instead, it revealed that the army overestimated its ability to create a highly mobile, well-supplied force. Under the circumstances, its replacement was being considered as early as January 1959 under the Modern Mobile Army 1965–1970 (MOMAR I) study initiated by the CONARC commander, Gen. Bruce Clarke. MOMAR I reflected Clarke’s experience as an armor officer and commander of the Seventh Army from 1956 to 1958 before taking over CONARC in 1959. He believed in concentrated rapid armor attack—fast and in-depth—and MOMAR I provided that. His division structure emphasized mechanized and armored vehicles—a heavier approach signifying the waning influence of the light- and air-minded airborne mafia.⁵²

Eddleman succeeded Clarke as the commander of the Seventh Army. While in Germany, the two had worked closely with the reconstituted German Bundeswehr, observed their new Panzergrenadier divisions, and realized the limitations of the pentomic division. The Germans had come to many of the same conclusions as the Americans: tactical atomic weapons would require mobility, dispersion, and flexibility and were necessary to offset Soviet advantages. The Germans likewise prized the flexibility of tailoring divisions with units as needed and therefore preferred a brigade structure with tailorable units. In 1959, the Germans unveiled a new division based on three tactical brigade headquarters that were self-contained. Battalions were reduced in size to streamline their capabilities. Each division had twelve battalions rather than nine. All infantry became armored infantry, and brigades of several maneuver units were capable of independent action. The division headquarters essentially became an administrative formation. The Bundeswehr’s brigade structure became the standard for all NATO divisions in the late 1950s to achieve greater compatibility across the alliance. The NATO Standing Group concluded that the division concept adopted by the reconstituted German army was to be the standard across the alliance, though the United States had yet to settle on its new concept.⁵³

MOMAR I was designed explicitly for war against the Soviet Union in Central Europe. Eddleman wanted the army to develop a tailorable division structure like that of the Germans, which could be used in various hot spots around the globe. As commander in Europe, he had combined battle groups into quasi-brigades. In one of his first acts as vice chief of staff, Eddleman instructed the CONARC commander, Gen. Herbert B. Powell, to devise plans for infantry, armored, and mechanized divisions. They needed flexibility in composition. He wanted a flexible brigade level of command based on the examples set by NATO Central Army Group and Bundeswehr divisions. The new study was submitted less than three months later.⁵⁴

Initially titled MOMAR II, the new division was supposed to provide flexibility that bridged the capability gap between the lighter pentomic and heavier MOMAR divisions. The new concept was presented to the Department of the Army in March 1961. The new army chief of staff Gen. George H. Decker approved it in April, and President Kennedy did so in a special message to Congress on May 25, 1961, describing it as essential to his flexible response strategy. In January 1962, the secretary of defense ordered the army to shift to the renamed Reorganization Objectives Army Division (ROAD) 1965. Although the Berlin Crisis delayed implementation until fiscal year 1964, ROAD represented a return to the triangular division of World War II, with a brigade headquarters rather than a regimental one. The brigade headquarters was designed to command two to five maneuver battalions (various types of infantry and armor) that could be attached or detached in a building-block concept. It was designed to be flexible so the army could organize forces as needed for specific missions, yet the army would maintain separate mechanized, infantry, airborne, and armored structures. Even the battalions were designed this way, allowing for the attachment or detachment of individual companies.⁵⁵

The adoption of the ROAD division was not without its critics. Some complained that it required too much equipment, and others, including Taylor, thought it too soon to change from his beloved pentomic division. Later, tactical leaders further adjusted their units in the Vietnam War to better reflect reality. Likewise, during the early 1960s, the army designated heavier armored and mechanized formations for European deterrence, reserving light infantry and airmobile formations for limited counterguerrilla conflict, all but abandoning the modular building-block concept. Nevertheless, the army changed its basic organization for the second time in five years, marking the end of the short-lived pentomic division.⁵⁶

The reorientation of the army for atomic warfare failed. The doctrine was never officially written, the equipment did not match the needs of the pentomic division, and the organization was cumbersome despite its smaller numbers. Atomic reorientation was successful in keeping the army relevant throughout the period, yet Taylor and Gavin’s insistence on nuclear capabilities overshadowed more pressing concerns. Joining the nuclear club helped resurrect the service’s image by portraying it as a forward-thinking “modern” atomic force. But atomic weapons were also complex, and without the proper mobility and communications equipment to put it all together, the pentomic experiment failed. The army’s orientation toward atomic warfare reflected a broader trend in American military history in which the services placed an unbounded faith in technology to try to eliminate the human costs of war and make up for personnel shortcomings against much larger foes. Whereas airpower theory sought to eliminate ground combat, the army still accepted the need for ground soldiers yet also placed undue faith in technology—atomic weapons—to make up for personnel shortcomings. Critics also accused the army of fixating on expensive projects with little utility rather than updating the equipment of the average soldier.⁵⁷

As President Kennedy took office in 1961, his administration implemented changes necessary to meet his conceptualizations of flexible response. Nevertheless, as soon as 1961, Secretary of Defense McNamara put into action a plan to increase the size of the regular army and refocus training for conventional ground warfare and counterinsurgency operations while letting the air force and NASA assume control of space and missile technology. The 1962 edition of FM 100–5 reflected that reality, reminding officers that “military forces must be able to operate effectively across the entire spectrum of war”—much like Kennedy’s strategic vision. The ROAD division also reflected these ideas as it sought to provide increased flexibility with its seemingly infinite number of plug-and-play combinations, like the airborne division headquarters of World War II. The concomitant emphasis on Special Forces, strategic response elements, and light heliborne airmobile units also reflected the likelihood of this type of warfare. Although the army retained its nuclear-capable weapon systems, “the time and resources devoted to training to fight on the nuclear battlefields” were reoriented toward conventional combat and guerrilla warfare. A renewed focus on the equipment required to carry out mechanized warfare in Europe meant that the influence of airborne officers on the operational army was waning. The ROAD division also reflected the design structure of World War II–era armored divisions and their “combat command” brigade–like structure, a potential sign of the waning influence of airborne officers in the operational army.⁵⁸

The pentomic period reflected both the influence of the airborne mafia and their shared values, beliefs, and norms about the efficacy of flexibility, dispersion, and mobility. “Each of the armed services has its own particular military philosophy … [about] how wars should be fought,” as Secretary of Defense Wilson testified to the Senate Armed Services Committee in 1956. The army’s philosophy was based on its leaders’ experiences with airborne units in World War II. This shared experience played a monumental role in carrying out robust institutional changes in the atomic era, many of which proved ill-advised. “It takes courage to make them [innovations],” Gavin wrote, “because, for the few who will support a new concept, there will be hundreds who will point out why it cannot possibly work.” In Gavin and Taylor’s view, further advances in airlift capabilities, both tactical and strategic, promised to provide the service with the mobility required for the atomic battlefield while reinforcing key principles of airborne culture.⁵⁹