and Schwarzkopf had served together, the two generals had forged a very different kind of relationship. For Horner, Schwarzkopf was not the screaming, tantrum-throwing prima donna others feared. He knew, first of all, that the CINC was very intelligent and amazingly softhearted, and, for him, Schwarzkopf ’s confrontational style of leadership was a plus. Horner also thrived on confrontation. If working for him was like an air-to-air battle, that was no problem. Horner was a fighter jock. That kind of competition was a joy. Horner always worked hard to enter engagements with the CINC prepared for any maneuvers he might throw at him; and as a result, their relationship was cordial and warm. Schwarzkopf had even learned to tolerate occasional jabs from Horner’s sometimes wild sense of humor.

On this day, however, there would be no humor.

When Horner walked into Schwarzkopf ’s office, he saw that the General looked very tired. The CINC didn’t waste any time: When he briefed the President and the cabinet the next morning (August 4) at Camp David, he said, he had a pretty good idea of the options the U.S. ground forces could employ to halt any Iraqi advance into Saudi Arabia, thanks to Internal Look, and he was confident he could give a clear, solid briefing to the President. But about the “Air” part of the briefing, he was much less secure.

If the Iraqis decided to move south into Saudi Arabia, the CENTCOM ground component was the XVIIIth Airborne Corps, which could be on the scene relatively speedily, some of it in days. Iraqi options were limited. Since the terrain became more and more difficult the farther west one got from the Gulf coast, and since the Israelis were in the extreme west watching any military moves in their direction, any Iraqi attack would probably come down the east coast. This was also where the oil was and most of the significant Saudi population centers, such as Jubail and Dhahran. If Riyadh was an Iraqi goal, they would probably come south and then turn right toward the capital. It was clear to Schwarzkopf what divisions he’d need and where they needed to go to stop such an attack.

Air, however, was another matter. Horner was aware that Schwarzkopf had no significant knowledge of that component, much less experience with it. The proper use of an air force was not then part of his mental equipment. Horner was also aware — though the CINC never said it explicitly — that Schwarzkopf was less than confident his planning staff would be able to prepare an air briefing for him that he could happily take to the President. That’s why he wanted Chuck Horner at MacDill. After he’d explained to Horner that Air Force Major General Burt Moore’s J-3 (CENTCOM Operations) shop was working the briefings, he asked if Horner could go down to the command center and give them some assistance. Moore was the chief reason Schwarzkopf was worried about his planning staff.

Moore had only recently taken over the CENTCOM J-3 slot after four years as the Air Force congressional liaison in Washington — hardly the best preparation for planning and operations. Not only was he new to the job and yet to prove himself, but he lacked both experience in the theater and current knowledge of airpower. Almost as bad: he was an Air Force officer, a segment of humanity that the CINC instinctively disliked and distrusted. “With Schwarzkopf,” Horner reflects, “you had to out-tough him to be accepted. Once he’d concluded that you were smart, tough, and loyal, then he would accept you. If he didn’t accept you and you were an Air Force officer, you were double dead meat.” Schwarzkopf didn’t accept Burt Moore.

Moments later, Horner was out of the serene yet intense office of the CINC, and into the noisy chaos of the CENTCOM command center. Burt Moore was under the gun, and a raft of Air Force, Army, and Marine lieutenant colonels and colonels were crowded into a small conference room, all of them very much on edge, building briefing slides to present to the CINC at the 1700 (5:00 P.M. EDT) conference. The urgency of their efforts was heightened by their fear of provoking a Schwarzkopf rage.

As soon as he walked into the conference room, Horner sensed that such an event was a very real possibility. Everyone there was more than a little confused and demoralized. Their efforts lacked order and focus, and they seemed to be missing essential details, such as basing, logistics, and sortie rates.

For their part, Moore and his people were neither delighted to see Horner nor eager to listen to his thoughts and suggestions — which he understood. Ordinarily it would have peeved him to be told to get out of their hair when he was sure he could help them, but they had obviously been working the problem for days, and they didn’t need some outsider sticking his nose into their business. If they were going to be ripped apart by the CINC, at least it should be as the result of their own efforts, and not because of some unwanted advice from the Air Force component of the command. He was also well aware that rank had little importance among fighter pilots. He let the matter drop. If they needed his help, they would call him.

There was a spare office up on the second floor. If he liked, they told him, he could wait up there. He sighed, and retired to the solitude of the bare-bones office on the second floor.

It was now 3:00 P.M. He decided he might as well not waste his time, so as he sat, he pondered: What would I tell the President of the United States if I were General Schwarzkopf?

He’d tell him how much military force he could deploy; what types of units, how fast, where they would be based, and how they would be supported. They’d be broad summaries clearly based on intensive examination of thousands of details. Next, he’d show what amount of military coercive force this air armada could generate. Again, the summaries would capture the strength of modern airpower without boring the listener with the particulars. Here, too, the President would know these statements were supported by a thorough review of nuts-and-bolts detail. Finally he’d conclude with employment concepts — a strategy for employment of airpower to bring the invasion to a halt in preparation for an offensive air campaign that would throw the invading army out of Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, seize control of the air, interdict Iraqi fuel, munitions, food, and water, as well as command and control, and provide close support to the outnumbered ground forces. All of this would be enough to the point to let the President know that he, General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, U.S. Army, had his act together and was ready, capable, and in charge.

More specifically, Horner thought, Schwarzkopf would want to protect our own forces, so he’d want to put up a defensive air CAP—Combat Air Patrol—with AWACS, so he could keep the Iraqi Air Force from attacking us. This would also allow our forces maneuver space, and protect the cities and oil facilities. Once that was done, he’d worry about the Iraqi ground thrust. Where our ground forces were engaged, he’d provide air support. But the real aim of air in this situation would be to defeat the enemy’s ability to sustain the attack, so he’d go after supply depots and lines of supply. That would likely mean he’d have to give up some ground in the opening battle, but as the enemy’s supply routes became longer, the Iraqis would become increasingly vulnerable to air attack. In time we’d cause the attack to dry up, while forcing their ground forces into a posture that our ground forces could handle. Meanwhile, we would conduct operations against their infrastructure and their nation that would punish them for initiating the attack. How? By hitting specific targets with a specific number of sorties. In order to do it, we’d provide such and such a force, to be based here and here…

In order to fill in the blanks, Horner spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone to Shaw AFB, getting information from his Director of Operations, Colonel Jim Crigger, and his Director of Logistics, Colonel Bill Rider. Crigger looked up for him the sortie rates they’d used during the Internal Look exercises, as well as historical aircraft loss rates, readiness states of various fighter and bomber units, deployment schedules, and beddown locations — locations where units would have fuel, food, ammunition, housing, and everything they needed to function. Rider provided endless streams of data on munitions availability, spare parts, fuel supplies, and the beddown capacity of various bases — all the supporting factors that spelled the difference between victory and defeat.

? Above all, Horner wanted to avoid the misconceptions that got tossed around all too easily in discussions of air planning and air operations — that there were such things as distinct “strategic” and “tactical” airpower. He knew that if they got bogged down in such distinctions, then the whole operation could be a disaster. He explains:

The use of the words “strategic” and “tactical” are a heritage from previous wars, where in general strategic attack was directed at an enemy’s heartland, and tactical operations were directed at his military forces in the field or at sea. More recently, “strategic” has come to mean nuclear strikes against the Soviet Union, or other powerful enemies, and “tactical” all other forms of air warfare.

Meanwhile, the less lofty terms, “offensive” and “defensive,” have long been associated with counter-air operations. Defensive sorties were ground alert, airborne alert, or scrambles launched against enemy

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