THE ENEMY is being badly hurt now. The end is sure,

though the time is unpredictable. First hand observation by

representatives of the administration shows the Russians

murdering the German armies even more effectively than

their communiques indicate. British and American overhead

attack on Germany and its European production and

transportation centers is devastating.

Signs of difficulty, though not necessarily weakness, are

plain to military observers of Germany. The speeches of

their leaders have the sound of defeat; they no longer display

the Teutonic bluster. They have stopped their familiar threats

of "a thousand to one"; they promise their people nothing

but hardship and death. They talk of defense, and vow

against capitulation; they inveigh against the Soviets, but

leave the way open for peace with England and. the United

States.

Their defeats in Russia are due to exhaustion of

manpower, to the rigors of winter, to the length of supply

lines. A strong factor, of course, is the amazing unity and

fighting spirit of the Russian people. Allied threats of

invasions cause the Nazis to spread their forces all over

Europe. Especially is this true in Southern Europe, from

which an Anglo-American attack may come at any time the

Axis may be pushed out of Africa.

The Russians, however, fully expect a renewal of

Germany's attack in the spring, and are making all

preparations to meet it. The Allies expect the Nazis to step

up their U-boat war with the coming of better weather.

Submarine action against the Allies is now worse than ever,

despite constant air attack on Nazi construction pens. The

United States is pressing its production of

escort vessels to the limit, for the submarine is

still one of the most "unbeatable" weapons in

warfare. Of course it works both ways ― our

subs are weakening the Japs because they are

unable to build merchant ships as fast as we

can.

Not the least factor in the pressure on the Germans is the

Anglo-American bombardment of Europe. The earlier attack

by the Nazis on England was nothing by comparison. The

arrogant and vindictive Goering tried to break England by

plastering the cities. But the Allied attack is on rail and

production centers, on waterfronts, and on every military

concentration that can be found. Allied hedgehoppers cover

the face of Europe like a pox, puncturing locomotives, oil

tanks, and trucks by hundreds.

So effective is the air war against Europe that you can find

high officials in Washington and elsewhere who believe

Germany still may be beaten that way. That there is some

support for this theory is shown by the fact that large orders

for tanks and certain classes of transport and mobile

weapons have been canceled, and the material and manhours

have been diverted to aircraft. The President keeps telling

Hitler that we will hit him hard somewhere in Europe. Of

course, it's a good idea to tell him that, regardless of the

plans of Allied staffs.

If the general staff had in mind an all-air thrust at Europe,

the problems involved would be tremendous. Until you take

pencil in hand and start adding up, with the help of a

military aviation authority, what it takes to run an air show,

you may be inclined to think of aviation as a royal shortcut

to avoid the grind of battle on the ground. Just recall that

months ago the British mustered a few thousand-plane raids

on Europe. At that time they talked about three-thousand-

plane assaults. Since then the United States has established a

second air force in England, but still there are no attacks

anywhere near that scale.

It takes great supplies of men, oil,

spares, food, airfields, and warehouses

to sustain an air campaign. The casual

observer wading through the figures is

likely to feel he is having one of those

nightmares in which he tries to run and

can't. Fuel, for example, is a

particularly hard problem. Combat air

engines burn more than 50 gal apiece

per hr, and planes probably average

about two engines each. It is more than

likely ― and this is only informed

guessing ― that fuel is one of the

worst of bad gremlins we have to deal

with in the African project.

Not one of our aviation theatres ―

and we have a dozen or so ― is nearer

than 2,000 mi from home base, some

of them are 6,000 or 7,000. Hitler, by

contrast, is in no case operating more

than 1,500 mi from factory to front. He

is only a couple of hours from his

British targets but, per contra, the

British are only a couple of hours from

some of theirs. Yet, after four years of

war, and after the production of

perhaps 200,000 planes to fight this

war, we still read about 10, 50, 300, or

so, taking part in an action.

Hitler had ten years to prepare the

plant to build any number of airplanes

necessary to overcome all opposition,

but he made several serious

miscalculations ― the worst being that

he would strike one stunning blow

with the designs current at that time.

Now, considering the huge task of

designing and developing new models

to meet those of his enemies, his

Luftwaffe is so weak that many

observers cannot help but express their

surprise.

There must be a combination of

reasons for this condition, but even

War Secretary Stimson appears not to

know what it is. He says that we may

have overestimated Germany's

capacity for producing airplanes in the

first place; that Germany may be

suffering a severe shortage of aviation

gasoline; or that she may be gathering

her air power for an offensive of which

we are not yet aware. If we do not

think any of these explanations is very

convincing, we may assume that the

secretary has a better one which he is

keeping to himself.

But the difficulties that beset the

building of air forces are not enough to

stall the great industrial and manpower

of the United States. Our production is

past 6,000 per month, and of all the

vast factories and millions of workers

and mountains of metal and supplies

going into the war production

machine, more than 40 percent is now

devoted to aircraft.

Nevertheless, our troubles are many:

We have irresponsible absentee

workers by the thousands every day;

our engine production gets ahead of

plane output; we still cannot deliver

forgings and castings fast enough;

"change orders" come from the front

so fast that often only 10 or 20 planes

are made alike; we set up modification

centers to keep from stopping the

production line, and the centers burn

up the manhours; then we have to drop

a model entirely and start on another

one. That will happen several times in

1948. Not the least of problems is the

oracle at Washington from which all

programs flow. Some of the best

managers from industry ― not bureau-

crats ― are there, but the demands on

them are almost too much for human

wit at its best.

The very mountainous proportions

of the aircraft program in the war are

becoming more and more of liability

for peace, and some bosses can't resist

taking an eye from the immediate goal

for an occasional glance into the

future. It is rather appalling to think

that nearly half the industrial power of

the United States has been converted

to aviation; that before the war ends it

may be more than half. It's going to be

a morning after the night before when

the show is over and a great deal of

this plant capacity has to get back to

egg beaters, wheelbarrows, dollar

watches, or what have you.

Nothing much is being done about

that, as they say, except that the boss

must lean back and give it a couple of

thinks now and then. As we have

reported before, the aircraft people are

aware that they are qualified, by new

techniques and familiarity with new

materials, to make a large number of

old things in very new and interesting

ways. And when the time comes they

will ― they will have to.

Operation of airplanes, come peace,

is of immediate national and inter-

national interest, and steps have

already been taken to meet swift turns

of events. Complicated events, too. It

so happens, that because the United

States is on the other side of the world

from the war and because we are

manufacturers, our chief role has been

the Arsenal of Democracy. In that

capacity, we needed a lot of airlines to

girdle the world. We established them

forthwith. Meanwhile, England,

Holland, Italy, France, and Germany

have neither the time for airlines nor

the airplanes to equip them. So the war

will end with the American flag on

airways all over the world.

This situation, like Topsy, "just

growed," and since the war started

there has been little, if any, time to

consider its implications. For another

thing, even though Pan American

Airways began foreign operations

about 17 years ago, the country still

lacks a foreign aviation policy. For

several years before the war, the

government indulged in small-time

horse trades with England, France,

Germany, Italy, and Holland, on who

could run an airline where. Before

bigger things showed up, there were

times when conniving over a

Toonerville line to some Pacific atoll

was good for a three-day run in

Washington's bars.

At any rate, we had no policy when

the war started and, as of now, all

deals are off. We have the airlines.

This situation began to disturb the

British a few weeks back, so that

certain MPs felt obliged to warn

Britain against our monopoly, and

even went so far as to recommend

boycott of our lines. Washington was

caught flat footed, with no plans and

no basis from which to make a reply.

The President quickly appointed an

interdepartmental committee to study

the matter and make recommend-

ations. Its deliberations thus far have

been strictly secret. This committee

has matters on its mind for heavier

than Britain's fears, although the

administration certainly does not want

any quarrel with England about

airlines. The committee has to decide

what the United States will stand for

when it goes to the peace table,

For centuries, the nations have held

that the seas are free to all. No country,

attaches any claim to the ocean. But

the air is different ― it goes right over

the land, all of which belongs to

somebody. Shall the aircraft of the

various nations be allowed to take any

route they wish, over other countries,

or do all countries have sovereign

rights in their overlying air, not to be

intruded upon? This is the biggest

question that has come before aviation

since the barnstormers started work

without law, license, or rules. We

certainly wouldn't expect the

Mexicans, for instance, to allow us to

run a railroad across their country. Is

an airline entirely different?

When the President's committee

decides this question, the final answer

will still be a long way off, because we

can only recommend to the

international air commission (or

whatever name) which will be part of

the final peace machinery. The

Russians and the Argentines and the

Portuguese and the Greeks will all

have their ideas, too.

Whether we have freedom of

sovereignty of the air, we shall have to

decide whether we have freedom of

entry. That is, can anybody start an

airline to any port in the world. You

can practically do that with steamships

― if you want to. Would the low-wage

countries drive us out of the air, as

they drove our merchant ships off the

seas?

It is a safe guess that our gov-

ernment does not intend to try to

harness the planet's air operations, just

because the war threw them into our

lap. We couldn't follow up such a

policy even if we wanted to. But, since

the future of the United States in world

air commerce is being made now, we

ought to watch all the plays.

This article was originally published in

the March, 1943, issue of Aviation

magazine, vol 42, no 3, pp 90-91, 370,

373-374.