prescribed Douhet, and he numbered them: explosive and combustible bombs, poison gas, and every other “effective weapon” for causing damage and death. He even went into calculations of damage and death per pound of weaponry put on the target.
The enemy state would lose its will to fight in direct proportion to the aggressiveness and murderousness of the attacks, maintained Douhet, and surrender. This argument had a moralistic dimension, too: the destruction of a vigorous but short war could be less than the damage of a lengthy struggle.
I concluded my lecture with a flourish. I wrote on the blackboard in large letters QED, the Latin acronym of “proven.” This was the way Mr. Kagan, our mathematics teacher in high school, used to complete a proof in geometry. Smiling victoriously, I scanned the faces of the other air cadets. From the corner of my eye I could see Massad scribbling in his notebook, and I even caught a glimpse of the grade he gave my lecture: AB—that is, okay, not too bright, but at least he didn’t talk too long.
Massad raised his head. “Any questions for the lecturer?”
ZBB’s hand shot up. “Yes. Did Douhet consider the possibility that the two rivals may have air forces?”
“Sure.” I knew the answer from the book, and proudly I cited it to him: “The bombers would get through.”
As usual, ZBB was smarter than I. “Get through they will, and every side will bomb the other. The question is, what’s the end of such a process?”
And Umsh remarked from the back row, “What is going to be left of these two rival countries when it’s over?”
I was about to try an answer, but my fifteen minutes were up. Major Massad looked at his watch and stopped the discussion, and Goldie rose to the podium to present his analysis of
Tedder knew something about this subject, since he was one of the top commanders in the Allied air war against Germany in World War II. That air war went pretty much along Douhet’s lines and included intensive bombings of cities and industries.
First, the air marshal was not blinded by the euphoria of victory. His conclusion was that strategic bombing hadn’t brought victory. Then the end of the book put the whole idea in doubt: “What shall we gain,” asked Tedder in the last sentence, “if while winning the war we shall lose our souls?”
Goldie raised his eyes from the book and let the question sink in.
Somebody remarked, as if in reflection, “Douhet was after military victory, but Tedder was looking at the costs, too.”
“My conclusion is,” said Goldie, “that anti-Semitic elements aside, Giulio Douhet was Hitler’s twin brother. They both saw no problem in hitting civilian populations to achieve a goal. Tedder, on the other hand, thought differently.”
“Perhaps the whole difference between Douhet and Tedder is,” someone broke in, “that Douhet invented his theory before seeing Hitler in action, and Tedder saw it.”
“Shshsh,” said Major Massad. “Sit down, Goldstein. Very well done.”
“AT THE END OF THE NINETEENTH century,” Massad summed up, “a new concept was born in Europe: that there should be rules for war, too. In this way,” he explained, “the Geneva Convention was born. According to the convention it is illegal to attack anybody who is not a part of the warring forces. It is the obligation of every soldier to defend civilians if they are caught inside a battle zone. It is forbidden to injure enemy soldiers who had surrendered or were captured as prisoners of war. It is forbidden to use any weapons of an undiscriminating nature, such as chemical weapons.” He distributed among us mimeographed abstracts.
“Fortunately for us,” Massad continued, “Hitler and his gang lost the war, and Hitler’s version of Giulio Douhet—aerial bandits such as Hermann Goering—were put on trial as war criminals. The Allies won, and after the war they reinforced the Geneva Convention. All the states who signed this covenant agreed to honor its rules. Whoever breaks those rules,” Massad warned us, “becomes a war criminal.”
“Was Douhet a war criminal?” I asked, surprised.
“In fact, probably not. Potentially—certainly he was.”
We all sat silent, thinking about future missions. And again it was ZBB who put the hard question: “Sir, how about the Allied bombings of German cities in this context? And what about the Hiroshima A-bomb? Are the people involved in these actions—the same people who tried the Nazi criminals—are they not criminals of war themselves?”
“I admit,” answered Massad truthfully, “that I cannot answer this question with any logical and moral certainty.”
We all moved in our chairs. “If so, then is it just opportunistic? Does the winner make the rules?” A tone of resentment was heard in the question.
“Perhaps. It may sound cynical,” said Massad, “but let us return to the subject of this lecture. The Geneva Convention is finally in force, and nations try to behave in a more lawful way. I remind you”—he rose to his feet —“that the Geneva Convention binds us all. Israel is signatory to it, and accordingly this is the law of the land.”
“Indeed? So if someone shoots at—uh—”
“Remember what happened in Kafr-Kassem,” Massad said harshly, and got to his feet. “Remember the black flag!” This unforgettable lesson was over.
MANY YEARS LATER, IN 2004, I was surprised to run into Giulio Douhet again, in the newspapers. The new Israeli Air Force commander, Gen. Eliezer Shkedy, gave a magazine interview. After giving some insights into his thoughts and feelings—he was the son of a Holocaust survivor—the new commander was asked who his role models were, and to my surprise they were Giulio Douhet and Billy Mitchell.
At first this selection seemed reasonable: both these men were aviation pioneers and among the first to champion the airplane as a weapon of war. But Douhet is known for his radical theory that advocates the attainment of military victory through the massacre of civil populations and the destruction of enemy infrastructure. Mitchell, who was a hero in World War I, had similar opinions. The strategy they proposed was tried several times and never justified itself. Even the dropping of the atomic bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki— the essence of Douhet’s concept—doesn’t prove the theory: the bombing shortened the war, reduced American casualties, revenged Pearl Harbor, and frightened the Soviets, but its part in the actual victory was negligible. But even disregarding their inefficiency, the strategies of Douhet and Mitchell are reprehensible and contradict the laws of the State of Israel. I couldn’t understand how an Israeli Air Force commander with such a family history hadn’t noticed this.
I was disappointed he didn’t look into the history of his own air force. There were some good role models there. One of them is Yak, the late Col. Yaacov Milner-Nevo, the planner of operation Focus. Yak, the father of Israeli aerial combat, devised a method of fighting in jet fighters, wrote it down, tested it in the air, and taught it to the air force. His theory and practice were the bases for our complete control of the air for decades and for the shooting down of hundreds of enemy aircraft in a heretofore unknown and unbelievable kill ratio. But his excellence in aerial combat didn’t prevent Yak from attaining another outstanding achievement. As the chief of operations he analyzed the problem of achieving air superiority in a methodical, profound way, and when the crunch came for Israel in June 1967, the air force had a sharp and efficient answer: Operation Focus. This three-hour operation was the ultimate example of airpower at top efficiency. It achieved decisive results, and Yak Nevo even took part in the operation as pilot and leader.
Yak, a special and original person, never pursued honors, and when he left the military he was forgotten. His unique personality and outstanding achievements passed into oblivion. The Israeli Air Force had produced a first- rate military genius and could take pride in that.
THE SIX-DAY WAR was over.
Suddenly, no more scrambling. In the mornings we woke up by ourselves—no reveille. We looked up from our maps, looked left and right, and behold: our families were back. Children in colorful clothes ran around in the
