War and Game

In purely numerical terms, Japan’s venturing into war against Russia was compared, at least in the eyes of the world press at that time, to David facing Goliath. But when the prewar military balance is examined, the seemingly unbridgeable differences between the rivals is seen as a product of widespread illusions rather than careful analysis. Granted, the Russian standing army was more than three times greater than the Imperial Japanese Army, and the Imperial Russian Navy was far larger than its rival. Nonetheless, in East Asia the Russian military presence was fairly limited, and only the Russian Pacific Fleet was roughly of similar strength to the Imperial Japanese Navy. At the beginning of the war, in fact, and during certain significant stages, Japan enjoyed a qualitative and at times even a quantitative advantage in the number of soldiers and the number of vessels at its disposal. Nevertheless, Japan had to exploit its superiority rapidly, and it could not afford to fail, because failure at any stage of the war could yield up the local advantage to Russia.

The Japanese war plans, prepared separately by the army and the navy, played a central role in shaping the course of the battle. The first premise of the plan was that in a war against the Russians in northeast Asia, Japan would benefit from its short supply lines and from the ability to array its forces rapidly along the front. The war scenario proposed an opening blow by the Japanese against the harbors of Port Arthur and Vladivostok that would put the Pacific Fleet totally out of action. Next the army could overrun the relatively small Imperial Russian Army units in Manchuria before it could muster any reinforcements by the still unfinished Trans-Siberian Railway. The plan recognized that Japan could not eliminate the Russian threat forever, but it assumed that even partial success would bring the Russians to the negotiating table, around which Japan could use Manchuria as a bargaining chip.

The Russian war plans were by nature defensive, and they allowed for a scenario in which the Japanese would be the first aggressors, trying to invade Manchuria. The Russian plans were constantly subject to change, and were still not complete when war broke out. Their first draft had been prepared in 1895 after the show of Japanese strength in the First Sino–Japanese War. They were updated to suit the changing realities in 1901 and again in 1903. The updated plan on the eve of the war stated that in case of Japanese attack, the Imperial Russian Army would protect both Port Arthur and Vladivostok, and deploy defensively behind the Yalu River, with particular emphasis on the region of Mukden. It was also planned to send reinforcements to the region, and once the Russian forces attained numerical superiority, they would go on the offensive. The war was supposed to conclude with an invasion of the Japanese home islands, although there was no detailed plan beyond an initial deployment of the Russian defense. The final version of the plan was based on Russian control of the sea and on a land struggle lasting long enough for reinforcements to arrive overland.

Russo-Japanese War Research Society

One of the first aircraft acquired by the Luftwaffe, the big He 59 was a versatile machine capable of many functions. It saw active service in World War II and even helped stage daring commando missions.

The He 59 was originally designed in 1930 as part of a clandestine program to equip Germany with military aircraft. Although posited as a twin-engine maritime rescue craft, it was in fact intended as a reconnaissance bomber capable of serving off both water and land. The first prototype, designed by Reinhold Mewes, flew in 1931 with large “trousered” wheel spats, but subsequent versions were all fitted with twin floats. Like many aircraft of this era, the He 59 was of mixed construction, having a fuselage made from steel tubing, wings of wood, and entirely covered by fabric. The bomber seated a crew of four comfortably and was well armed with machine guns in nose, dorsal, and ventral positions. Both flight and water performance were adequate, so the German government ordered 105 machines built in several versions.

The He 59 first saw combat during the Spanish Civil War (1936–1938), where it functioned as a patrol- bomber. Production of the He 59B-2 which introduced an all-metal nose with glazed panels for the bomb-aimer, plus a glazed ventral position housing an MG 15 gun to supplement those in nose and dorsal positions. It was this version that was first to see operational use, being used by the Legion Condor in Spain for night bombing, or for anti-shipping patrols when the nose machine-gun was replaced by a 20-mm MG FF cannon. At night the big craft would glide over an intended target unannounced, then drop bombs upon astonished defenders.

He 59s were pushing obsolescence in 1939 when World War II erupted, but for many months the lumbering craft performed useful work. Most He 59s equipped coastal reconnaissance groups, but others operated with the Seenotdienststaffeln (air/sea rescue squadrons). These craft were conspicuously painted white with large red crosses in the early days of the war and left unmolested by Royal Air Force fighters—until they were discovered directing German bombers by radio. But the most important service of the He 59 was in transporting Staffel Schwilben (special forces). On May 10, 1940, a dozen He 59s landed in the Maas River, Rotterdam, and disgorged 120 assault troops, who paddled ashore and stormed the strategic Willems bridge. They were all finally retired by 1943.

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The He 59 and He 115 floatplanes were intended to be torpedo bombers, but they never carried out an operation. The Germans were aware of their limitations, but because of their indifferent attitude, they failed to exploit the equipment at hand. The Air Staff believed that the larger German warships received adequate service from their Arado and Heinkel floatplanes.

In spring 1939 the OKL did in fact formulate plans for the formation of a "maritime strike force", appointing General Hans Geisler, under command of Luftflotte 2 responsible for the planning and recruitment of suitable resources to strike enemy merchant and military shipping, mine their ports, and generally hinder the free-flow of commerce and war materiel. Upon the outbreak of hostilities his command was redesignated 'Fliegerdivision 10', and a former naval officer (of the Seeluftstreitkraefte) and veteran of the Spanish Civil War with several anti-shipping strikes beneath his belt, Major Martin Harlinghausen, became Geisler's Operations officer. He had already used the technique of ‘masthead bombing’ - attacking shipping from abeam at very low level - in the Spanish Civil war flying a He 59 float-biplane.

Germany - Fokker D.VII Unit: Geschwader 2 Serial: 5125/18 Pilot - CO of 1 Geschwader Herman Goring. October or November 1918. The last personal Fokker D.VII of Herman Goring. It was built especially for him and painted in personal white color of Goring

As 1916 drew to a close, Germany was clearly in danger of being overwhelmed on the Western Front if the Allies could translate this industrial superiority into aerial mastery. The airplane had now become indispensable to the conduct of hostilities, and the rapidly growing war of attrition in the air, like the one on land, would be determined by the combatants’ success in mobilization. The French and British were already pursuing the aerial offensive, while the Germans husbanded their slender resources, fought defensively, and concentrated their aerial forces to seek an occasional mastery limited in time and space over the battlefield.

For example, the Germans focused on the British at the Battle of Arras in April 1917. Outnumbered two to one in fighter strength and three to one in total aircraft strength over the battlefield, German fighter forces, led by ace Manfred von Richthofen, countered by shooting down 151 planes while losing 66 of their own during “Bloody April.” The British official history later concluded that German dominance demonstrated the importance of aircraft performance in gaining aerial superiority and that an air offensive would not necessarily ensure local superiority against a determined and skillful enemy that was numerically weaker but better equipped. Unfortunately for the Germans, the War Ministry’s inspectorate contented itself with procuring slightly improved versions of the Albatros, which the new British fighters outclassed. The new Fokker triplane, whose exceptional maneuverability made it a deadly weapon in the hands of such superior pilots as Richthofen and Werner Voss, proved susceptible to wing failure and shoddy construction and consequently spent much of its short career grounded.

The Germans also introduced “infantry fliers,” ground attack squadrons equipped with highly maneuverable and well-armed two-seat biplanes and armored monoplanes, including the nearly indestructible Junkers J1 “furniture vans” (Möbelwagen), which served effectively in offensive and defensive capacities to assist German infantry. Finally, German long-range reconnaissance crews, who flew alone over the lines, received such superior aircraft as the Rumpler C7, whose six-cylinder, 240-horsepower, high-compression engine enabled it to fly at altitudes of 20,000 feet, above Allied interceptors. Although heavy losses in planes and crews in the 1917 war of attrition forced the air arm to send aviators to the front with less training, and shortages were affecting the quality of materials used in airplanes and engines, the best and most experienced crews and their airplanes remained highly effective.

Now the Germans were waging two uncoordinated strategic campaigns against Britain—the army with giant airplanes (the Grossflugzeuge and Riesenflugzeuge), and the navy with its monstrous zeppelins. The twin-engine G-planes, with their 78-foot wingspans; the four-engine R-planes, with their 138-foot wingspans; and the six-engine, 2 million cubic foot zeppelins represented incredible expenditures of money and materials for no decisive success.

The general German mobilization of the Hindenburg Program actually exacerbated Germany’s shortage of raw materials and transportation delays, and it did nothing to reduce the barriers among the German states to the most efficient allocation of skilled labor. The War Ministry’s inspectorate increased standardization, licensed production, drew automotive firms to engine production, and prioritized the allocation of materials to favor more productive companies. As raw material prices skyrocketed and workers began to strike, the aviation firms resisted rationing, hoarding gasoline, spare parts, and materials by late fall 1917. Meanwhile, the air service’s fuel allotment, instead of doubling during the year to 12,000 tons, plummeted to 1,000 tons in November as the war severed Germany from its sources of oil.

Although the German engine industry never moved beyond the six-cylinder in-line and a few rotary engines, most of which copied French designs, at least the high-compression six-cylinder engines of the Maybach firm and of a new firm, BMW (Bayerische Motorenwerke, or Bavarian Motor Works), promised high output at high altitude. The German military-industrial complex in aviation fell far short of the optimistic production goal set by the Hindenburg Program in 1916: 1,000 airplanes a month by spring 1917. Extant documents indicate that the industry, dogged by shortages of material and labor, attained that level of production only once in 1917. Consequently, when military chief Ludendorff proclaimed an Amerika-Programme in June 1917 stipulating monthly production of 2,000 airplanes and 2,500 engines by January 1918, its fulfillment seemed highly unlikely.

Austro-Hungarian aircraft and engine deliveries to the military remained abysmally low in 1917 and did not exceed a total of 1,300 for the entire year. Inadequate worker exemptions and raw material shortages caused these low production figures, but a desperate Austro-Hungarian army high command, quite out of touch with reality, stipulated in the fall that production should rise to 750 planes and 1,000 engines a month in 1918, including giant and armored planes.

French aviation in 1917 experienced a difficult and tumultuous year on the fighting and home fronts. Delays in the introduction of new aircraft and higher-powered engines left its aircrews, particularly reconnaissance and bomber squadrons, equipped largely with obsolete aircraft. At home, constant bureaucratic changes and vitriolic political clashes contrasted negatively with the relative stability of military control in Germany. Amid this bureaucratic instability and labor unrest, the French aviation industry still managed to produce 14,915 airplanes and 23,092 engines in 1917. The military increasingly concentrated production on Spad fighters and their Hispano-Suiza engines and on Breguet 14 reconnaissance-bombers and their Renault power plants, in preparation for the military campaign of 1918. The key to success in both combinations was the perfection of the engines, which would determine the performance of the aircraft.

British fighter pilots had begun 1917 badly against their German opponents, being rushed to the front with inadequate training to replace high losses, but as the year continued, the new fighters improved their ability to execute long-distance patrols over German airspace. The Hispano-Suiza–equipped SE-5, the Sopwith Camel equipped with Clerget and then improved Bentley rotary engines, and the Bristol fighter with the Rolls-Royce Falcon would serve effectively to the end of the war, although the Camel was increasingly relegated to low-altitude ground attack operations. Bomber and reconnaissance crews, like their French counterparts, made do with inferior aircraft that offered easy prey to German fighters.

At home, the Royal Flying Corps found itself the subject of an increasing determination to combine it with the Royal Naval Air Service and create a separate air force, but the key to the air arm’s future performance in the war lay primarily in the hands of two men—Secretary of State for Air William Weir and Minister of Munitions Winston Churchill—who were determined to rationalize aircraft production and field “clouds of aeroplanes.” They also dramatically expanded the labor force at aviation factories by employing women and boys, and by November 1917, the British aviation industry was the world’s largest. The aircraft firms increased their deliveries from 6,633 in 1916 to 14,382 in 1917. However, British engine deliveries lagged more than 3,000 units behind airframes in 1917, and domestic copies of the Hispano-Suiza were markedly inferior to the original, forcing the importation of nearly 5,000 engines, primarily from France.

Italy, the least of the Allied powers, delivered 3,861 airplanes and 6,276 engines in 1917 through a well-organized system of production and development that focused on 300-horsepower Fiat six-cylinder inline engines to power a variety of reconnaissance-bombers and flying boats. Bringing up the Allied rear, the United States—the new associate power that had entered the war in April 1917—was undertaking a confused and chaotic mobilization to fulfill grandiose expectations. It would best be counted on to supply pilots and spruce for aircraft construction.

In 1917 the German approach of developing specialized types of aircraft and appropriately training for specific operations, such as ground attack, proved more effective and efficient than the British method of simply throwing untrained Camel pilots into ground attack. Certainly, the military control of production and the use of airplanes was more unified and less politically unstable than in Britain or France—and it needed to be, given the shortages of materials and manpower in Germany.

Everywhere, however, the evolution of airpower demonstrated the signal importance of aero engines. The engine was the heart of the airplane. The crisis in aviation in France and Britain was fundamentally one of engine production, as both relied on increased engine power rather than aircraft design to provide the essential margin of difference for aerial superiority. Britain’s magnificent Rolls-Royces, however, proved too complex for mass production. France displayed the best combination of quality and quantity. Germany, mired in material shortages, could neither move beyond the six-cylinder in-line nor increase its production sufficiently, no matter how reliable and durable its engines proved to be. The air war itself had become a full-scale war of attrition; consequently, the mass production and training of aircrews would prove decisive in 1918, the final year of the great conflict.

At the beginning of 1918, as the German air arm prepared for the March offensive on the Western Front, the army and navy continued their airplane and zeppelin raids, respectively, on England. By the end of May, both strategic campaigns had ended: the navy’s, with the death of the airship commander and the end of airship production; the army’s, with its commitment of all remaining bombers to provide support at the front. The strategic air campaign had failed in its first and most grandiose aim—to drive Britain from the war. The giant plane raids had caused the diversion of significant British fighter forces to home defense, and the tons of bombs they had dropped on Britain had caused death and destruction but only a limited disruption of production.

On the battlefront, the inadequate replacement of personnel and materiel limited the effectiveness of the German air force. The limited supply of materiel could be offset only by a marked qualitative ascendancy. Fortunately for German aircrews, some of the planes they flew in 1918—such as the high-altitude Rumpler C7 reconnaissance plane equipped with a 260-horsepower, high-compression Maybach engine, and the Fokker D7 fighter equipped with a BMW 185-horsepower engine—were superlative, their performance unequaled by their Allied opposition. Yet the fundamental problem remained: the aircrew training schools and the aviation industry could no longer meet the needs of the front. Some German fighter units continued to inflict higher losses on the enemy than they incurred up to the end of the war. Nevertheless, suffering irreplaceable losses of personnel and materiel, and dogged by stringent fuel rationing and the lack of material even for aircraft repairs, they neared exhaustion as the war drew to a close.

Ultimately, Germany’s manpower reserves fell far short of the Allies’, as did production and supply, the other key factors in a war of attrition. Deliveries of airplanes and engines fluctuated wildly, but neither attained the goals stipulated in the mobilization programs, and neither exceeded 1,500 units a month. Industry, beset by shortages of metals, fabrics, precision machines, tools, and coal and disrupted by transportation crises and labor unrest, had no prospect of dramatically increasing production. Production proved to be the Achilles’ heel of the German air effort. Shortages had halved production during the winter of 1916–1917; now a near-total collapse of aviation production loomed in the winter of 1918–1919 owing to coal, material, and food shortages, had the war continued. Austro-Hungarian aviation merits only a footnote, as its total production for the ten wartime months of 1918 was only 1,989 planes and 1,750 engines—barely enough to keep pace with attrition. Its aviators paid for this inadequacy with their lives.

The German air force, although it fought to the end, was overwhelmed in the air; it had lost the war of aerial attrition to the French and British, aided by their lesser aerial allies. The French aviation industry produced 24,652 airplanes and 44,563 engines in 1918, overwhelming both its opponents and allies. The French air arm emphasized the employment of aviation in 1918 and trained increasing numbers of aircrews to man its fighter and bomber squadrons. This concentration on tactical aviation, and on the continued improvement of a limited number of fighter and bomber types and their engines, enabled both relatively high production at home and effectiveness over the front. In air strength, the French possessed the world’s largest air force in 1918, and had the war continued into 1919, its new fighter aircraft and engine types would have portended increased difficulty for the German air arm.

The British aircraft industry delivered some 32,000 airframes but only 22,000 engines in 1918, requiring the importation of some 9,000 engines, primarily from France. The Royal Air Force, which attempted strategic bombing beyond the tactical air war on the Western Front, was widely dispersed on all the imperial fronts. The Italian aviation industry manufactured 6,488 airplanes and 14,840 engines in 1918, powering the Italian military and naval air arms to success against their dwindling Austro-Hungarian opponents. The United States’ air service and aircraft industry would have offered the Allies a powerful air weapon had the war continued into 1919 and 1920. But the German army high command could read the handwriting on the wall in October 1918; they had lost the war, on the ground and in the air.

Austria-Hungary - Fokker E.III Unit: Flik 18 Serial: 03.45 Galicia, October 1916.

From the start of the conflict at the beginning of August, German airplanes acquitted themselves well on the Western and Eastern Fronts. In the west they kept track of the French retreat and played key roles in detecting enemy troop movements. Aviation was even more important on the Eastern Front because, in light of the great numerical superiority of the Russian cavalry, airplanes provided key information on Russian troop movements in the relative absence of cavalry units. German aviators were instrumental in preparing the victory at Tannenberg and in preventing a more serious defeat on the Marne. By the end of August, the airplane had developed from “a supplementary means of information relied upon principally for confirmation” to “the principal means of operational reconnaissance—an important factor in forming army commanders’ decisions.”

German army airships, in contrast, proved vulnerable to ground fire during reconnaissance and bombing attacks on the Western Front. The zeppelins’ initial wartime performance was disastrous: five of the seven military airships were destroyed by early October 1914, four by fire from the ground. The giant dirigibles had become liabilities; they could fly over the front only on dark nights. In addition, replacement of their losses was slow, with only three new zeppelins entering service by the end of 1914. Though the airship failed the German army, the German naval airship officers considered it a cheap substitute for cruisers to scout for the fleet. Obsessed with the idea of bombing England, the naval leadership expanded its tiny unit, which had only one airship at mobilization.

Organizational deficiencies lessened the potential efficacy of German aviation units. The high command and army commands lacked central aviation agencies to collect and assess fliers’ reports; the subordination of aviation to transport deprived aviators of direct access to the front command; and the practice of equipping units with different aircraft types complicated supply. In the rear, the existence of war ministries in some of the smaller German states, Bavaria in particular, also impeded the most efficient mobilization of the aviation industry. More crucially, the Prussian War Ministry, although it insisted on increased aircraft deliveries in early August, impeded the industry’s ability to comply by resisting aircraft price increases until February 1915, four months longer than did the French War Ministry, which had issued extensive aircraft contracts and consented to price increases in October 1914.

Whatever the problems in Germany, they paled before the inadequacy of Austro-Hungarian aviation, which quickly became a burdensome appendage to its German counterpart. The tiny size of the Austrian aircraft industry forced the Austro-Hungarian army to resort to the German industry for airplanes, but the army refused to extend advance payments to manufacturers to allow them to procure materials. The army also demanded the immediate development of a large twin-engine biplane (the Grossflugzeug, or G-plane) from an industry that was barely able to deliver ten airplanes a month.

The onset of the war disrupted aviation production everywhere, and the French responded most quickly to the new challenges. In October the French army began specializing its aircraft types as it geared up aircraft and particularly aero-engine production for the anticipated campaign of 1915.

In that year, as the war spread and the consumption of materiel exceeded expectations, resulting in production and labor shortages, the combatant powers confronted critical decisions regarding the mobilization of aviation technology and industry that would have far-reaching implications for the future course of the air war.

At the recommendation of the German high command, the Prussian War Ministry established a chief of field aviation (Feldflugchef ) on 26 April 1915 to direct all aviation, including the “systematic mobilization of the aviation industry.” French attacks in 1915 forced the German army and its air service on the defensive, and the French remained superior in numbers throughout the year. The appearance in the late spring of the C-plane, the standard two-seat biplane equipped with 150- horespower engines and a machine gun for the observer, and then of the single-seat Fokker monoplane (Eindecker), armed with a synchronized forward-firing machine gun, kept the German air arm qualitatively abreast of its opponents. The performance of German aircrews, particularly pilots such as Max Immelmann and Oswald Boelcke, demonstrated the quality of their training, and outstanding fighter pilots began to appear on both sides of the Western Front.

The army, confronting continued zeppelin losses, transferred most of its airships to the vast reaches of the Eastern and Balkan Fronts. The navy, which secured the kaiser’s consent to bomb England, exaggerated the significance of its initial airship raids in January and was determined to procure increasingly larger zeppelins. An editorial in the Kölnische Zeitung on 21 January exulted: “The most modern air weapon, a triumph of German inventiveness . . . , has shown itself capable of carrying the war to the soil of old England! . . . This is the best way to shorten the war, and thereby in the end the most humane.” Meanwhile, during the year, the zeppelins grew larger, expanding from 1 million cubic feet in volume powered by four engines to nearly 2 million cubic feet with six engines. These ships could outclimb opposing airplanes, but they remained vulnerable to weather in the air and fire in their sheds on the ground. With the onset of winter, the naval raids ceased, and the airships were left to face the ravages of high humidity, mold, and putrefaction in their hangars.

In perhaps the most significant development for the future of aviation science and technology, Hugo Junkers spent 1915 developing the first all-metal airplane. Its metal construction would make it more resistant to weather and fire, and its thick airfoil offered little more drag and better stability than the thin airfoils used by other airplane designers. The War Ministry tendered Junkers a contract in May, but wartime conditions made it difficult for the firm to find sufficient skilled workers, so the prototype was not finished until December.

Spurred by military contracts, the German aircraft industry increased production from 1,348 airplanes in 1914 to 4,532 in 1915, while engine factories delivered 5,037 engines. Yet German aero-engine manufacture stagnated during the first three quarters of 1915. Erroneous decisions by the inspectorate’s engine section, whose one engineer, Walter Simon, managed relations with the industry in a “peculiar and arbitrary manner,” compounded the limitation posed by Daimler’s near monopoly of production. On 16 November 1914 the inspectorate had decided against the development of engines greater than 150 horsepower to avoid disturbing production. This decision, though prompted by limited production capacity, delayed the evolution of more powerful engines.

In 1915 the inspectorate declined a Benz eight-cylinder, 240-horsepower engine because it did not conform to the six-cylinder standard, but it then allowed Daimler to produce an eight-cylinder, 220-horsepower, in-line engine following its bench test in December 1915. After only forty-two of the engines had been made, however, it halted production because the engine’s length caused a lack of stiffness in its crankshaft. In general, shortages of skilled labor and machine tools kept crankshaft manufacture insufficient to increase overall engine production, so the entire year was spent expanding factory capacity. Such inadequate production condemned the German air service to, at best, a temporary aerial superiority over a circumscribed area of the front.

The Austro-Hungarian army’s air service encountered even greater difficulty than the Germans. After the Italian declaration of war in May 1915, it was involved on three fronts—Russian, Balkan, and the mountainous Italian. Although the navy’s Lohner flying boats dominated the air over the Adriatic Sea in 1915, the limited capacity of the domestic aviation industry kept its monthly deliveries to the army air service below fifty planes. Only the intervention of Hansa-Brandenburg, an Austrian- owned German firm with a superior designer, Ernst Heinkel, saved the army air service. The German army released the Hansa-Brandenburg factory for German naval and Austro-Hungarian production, and the Austro-Hungarian army quickly became dependent on the firm for fast, modern planes. The owner of Hansa-Brandenburg, Camillo Castiglioni, also owned aircraft firms in Vienna and Budapest. Thus, the prospect of monopoly loomed, and Hansa-Brandenburg charged comparatively high prices to the Austro-Hungarian army, whose desperate straits allowed no alternative.

The circumstances in Germany and Austria-Hungary contrasted to those in the Entente powers. French aircraft manufacturers delivered 4,489 planes in 1915—a figure comparable to their German counterparts; French engine production, which rose steadily in the fall and winter, totaled 7,096 in 1915. By 1916, the French were producing nearly two engines to every one airplane, a ratio they sustained for the rest of the war and that the other combatants found impossible to duplicate. Furthermore, these engines were rotaries, radials, and in-lines, a variety unequaled by other countries. French aero-engine manufacturers had established their ascendancy in design and production.

The French aviation procurement agencies also capitalized on innovative designs in 1915. C. Martinot-Lagarde, chief of the engine service, pressed for the development of 200-horsepower engines of V or radial design, because their shorter crankcases and crankshafts in comparison with in-line engines would result in lighter and stronger power plants. He also pressed French firms to evolve materials and accessories such as special steels, aluminum, magnetos, and spark plugs that France, like the rest of Europe, had imported from Germany before the war.

French procurement experts traveled to Spain to purchase a new Hispano-Suiza 150-horsepower V-8 engine, a revolutionary new liquid- cooled engine design. Powerful, rigid, light, and durable, the Hispano-Suiza would deliver ever higher horsepower and would become one of the war’s greatest fighter engines.

French aero-engine experts and manufacturers in 1915 thus laid the foundation for the future superiority of French aviation in the First World War. Although Britain still lagged in the development of its aviation industry and remained dependent on France for aero engines, it possessed the industrial resources for substantial expansion. The automobile firm Rolls-Royce designed and began to deliver two high-horsepower engines in 1915—the 250-horsepower Eagle and the 200-horsepower Falcon. Finally, the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) and Royal Naval Air Service were developing a group of accomplished and aggressive aviators. As for the Austro-Hungarian air service, even the Russian aerial effort remained superior to it. Italy’s entry into the war in May 1915 brought an embryonic airpower with an air theorist and an aircraft designer—Giulio Douhet and Gianni Caproni, respectively—who focused on the use and development of strategic bombers. With every year, the odds against German and Austro-Hungarian aviation rose.

In 1916, the year of the great battles of Verdun and the Somme on the Western Front, the German air arm was hard-pressed to compete against an enemy that was superior in number and often in aircraft quality. France’s Nieuport outclassed the German planes, and Britain’s pusher DH2 biplanes were comparable to the Fokker monoplane. By spring, the army forbade flights of the expensive zeppelins over the Western Front, because Feldflugchef Colonel Hermann von der Lieth-Thomsen believed that their high losses and negligible results pointed inescapably toward the abandonment of airship operations. The navy, however, persisted in its determination to use zeppelins to bomb England, although RFC airplanes had improved sufficiently to be able to shoot down zeppelins in 1916. At least the zeppelins proved to be effective scouts for the High Seas Fleet. German naval seaplane forces were also acquiring capable floatplanes, in particular the Hansa-Brandenburg W12 (Wasserflugzeug), whose speed and maneuverability would give the British a rude shock over the Flanders coast in 1917.

Fortunately for German aviators, the Albatros factory had incorporated plywood construction techniques pioneered in 1913 by the Russian designer Steglau to build a strong, stiff, sleek fuselage in which it installed a Mercedes 160-horsepower, six-cylinder, in-line engine and twin forward-firing machine guns synchronized to fire through the propeller. The resulting biplane (and then sesquiplane) fighter restored qualitative supremacy to the German fighter arm from fall 1916 through spring 1917.

On the home front, the War Ministry improved its procurement hierarchy by adding organs for aircraft acceptance at the factories, secured skilled workers through exemptions in the face of a serious labor shortage, and in the fall of 1916 prepared to select its best aircraft types for licensed production. Hugo Junkers confronted numerous problems in perfecting his all-metal airplane in 1916, among them wartime shortages of engineers, skilled workers, materials, and capital.

Yet the most serious industrial problem remained an inadequate aero-engine production, consisting of 7,823 engines in 1916. Although air chief of staff Lieth-Thomsen wanted the industry and inspectorate to develop and test powerful engines of more than six cylinders, the industry proved incapable of copying either the Hispano-Suiza V-8 or the Rolls-Royce V-12 engines. The German industry had perfected six cylinder in-lines of 150 to 160 horsepower, but German authorities had not attracted additional firms to engine production or pushed the production of higher-horsepower engines, as the French had. The airplane industry remained competitive, building such sophisticated craft as the Albatros and Junkers, and delivered a total of 8,182 airframes, but the German engine industry was unable to keep pace with domestic aircraft production, much less with its French opponent.

The Feldflugchef failed to secure a unified independent air arm, although the air service officially became the Luftstreitkräfte (air forces) and gained a commanding general (Kogenluft, or Kommandiere General der Luftstreitkräfte). Yet German prospects looked grim, as a memorandum written by Air Chief of Staff Lieth-Thomsen on 31 August 1916 and released in early October acknowledged. The Allies, supported by the “world raw material market and the American motor and aircraft industry,” had increased their “oppressive” numerical aerial superiority, causing severe losses to Germany’s best and most experienced fliers. The German air arm would have to improve its organization and equipment merely to assert aerial control at decisive points in future battles. Lieth- Thomsen was resigned to a defensive posture with occasional and limited aerial ascendancy. It was now questionable whether efficient organization and aircraft technology, the hallmarks of German aviation excellence, would suffice to offset the Allies’ mounting numerical superiority.

With the defeat of Serbia and the impending collapse of Russia by late 1916, Germany’s Austro-Hungarian ally could focus on the war against Italy. The dual monarchy’s air services did not lack for intrepid spirit in its pilots, but there were just too few of them. Shortages of skilled labor and raw materials severely impeded domestic production, which rendered Austria-Hungary increasingly dependent on Hansa-Brandenburg and its Austro-Hungarian subsidiaries’ production, just as the German navy increasingly required Hansa-Brandenburg to meet its own needs. Under such circumstances, it made little difference that Porsche developed a 250-horsepower, twelve-cylinder V and a 360-horsepower, six-cylinder engine in 1916. The industry, which delivered fewer than 1,000 airplanes in 1916, could not build them.

In France, the administration and politics of aviation were riven with conflict, and although the aircraft industry delivered fewer planes (7,549) than its German counterpart, French engine production totaled 16,875. These numbers included such advanced types as the Hispano-Suiza, a heavier Renault twelve-cylinder engine, and the Salmson Canton-Unné radial, all of which would be delivering more than 260 horsepower by 1918. These engines would power, respectively, the famed Spad 7 and 13 fighters, the superlative Breguet 14 reconnaissance- bomber, and the durable Salmson 2A2 reconnaissance biplane. Gnome-Rhône and Clerget continued to press the evolution of rotary engines, which the Germans found difficult to copy because of their inability to secure castor oil, the engine’s essential lubricant.

Meanwhile, the British pressed forward relentlessly, particularly in their insistence on an offensive policy at the front, regardless of the inadequacies of their aircraft in 1916. The outcome of the air war did not hinge on aircrew quality, because the aircrews of all countries were volunteers. Although the pressures of attrition often meant that they did not receive complete and extensive training, they did not fail to undertake their assigned missions. By 1916, the British aviation industry began to hit its stride, realizing its potential as the world’s leading industrial nation before the war. The Rolls-Royce Eagle and Falcon became superlative high-horsepower combat engines, although their complexity inhibited their production in sufficient numbers and rendered the British dependent on the French for aero engines. Furthermore, three aircraft prototypes appeared in late 1916—the SE-5 and Sopwith Camel single seat fighters and the Bristol F-2 two-seat reconnaissance fighter—that would be the mainstays of the Royal Flying Corps and, in 1918, of the Royal Air Force through the end of the war. Britain produced over 5,000 airplanes and a similar number of engines in 1916 as it began to assume a role in aviation more commensurate with its potential.

Even the Russian aviation industry, which was in decline, stepped up its production of airplanes and engines in 1916. Italy, with its military focusing on the development of aviation and an industry endowed with the Caproni bomber firm and the Fiat engine company, had also outdistanced Austria-Hungary in military aviation by the end of 1916.

STEPAN OSIPOVICH MAKAROV (1848–1904).

Russian naval officer, naval inventor, and explorer of the Arctic region who served as commander of the Pacific Fleet during the early stages of the Russo–Japanese War. Makarov was born in Nikolaev on the Black Sea to a naval junior officer and enrolled in the Nikolaevsk Naval Academy to prepare for a career in the merchant marine. At the age of 15 he was assigned to the Pacific Fleet as a naval cadet, and in the same year he sailed to San Francisco. After graduating, Makarov was assigned in 1866 to the Baltic Fleet and a year later published his first article. Soon he produced his first major invention, the design for a collision mat. During the Russo–Turkish War of 1877–1878, he served in the Black Sea Fleet and gained much combat success with his flotilla of torpedo boats. During that war he became a national hero and won several decorations and another promotion.

In the next two decades, Makarov was involved in the endeavors to modernize and standardize the Imperial Russian Navy. He continued with his naval research, producing over 50 publications on oceanography and naval tactics. In 1890 he became Russia’s youngest rear admiral and assumed the post of chief inspector of Naval Ordnance. Four years later he was appointed commander of the Mediterranean Squadron, and in 1895 he was appointed chief of fleet training. In 1896 Makarov was promoted to vice admiral and in the following years became involved in designing new warships suited to the specific needs of the Russian fleet, especially ice-breakers to open the northern sea route between Europe and East Asia. In 1899 he was appointed commander of the Kronstadt naval base and governor of the town. He was considered at that time a “sailor’s sailor,” as well as Russia’s leading naval officer.

Two weeks after of the outbreak of the Russo–Japanese War, Makarov was appointed commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet and commander of the Port Arthur Squadron. Two weeks later, on 8 March 1904, he arrived at Port Arthur to replace Vice Admiral Oskar Stark. Although he was unable to rectify the fleet’s shortcomings, Makarov energetically began to provide intensive training and subsequently saw morale soaring. On 13 April 1904, less than two months after his arrival, his flagship, the battleship Petropavlovsk, sailed into a newly laid minefield. The ship blew up and in less than two minutes sank, taking down more than 600 seamen. Makarov’s loss dealt a mighty blow to the Russian war effort in general, and the Pacific Fleet in particular, from which it never recovered during the war. Makarov was considered the true naval hero of the war, and his memory transcended politics: ships of both the Imperial and Soviet navies bore his name.

VILGELM KARLOVICH VITGEFT [WILHELM WITGEFT] (1847–1904).

Russian naval officer who commanded the Port Arthur Squadron in the early stages of the Russo–Japanese War. He graduated from the Naval Academy in 1868, and following various sea and staff assignments was promoted to rear admiral in 1899. Vitgeft subsequently served as the chief of the naval department at the headquarters of Admiral Evgenii Alekseev, commander-in-chief of Russian land and naval forces in East Asia, until 1904. After the outbreak of the Russo–Japanese War, he was appointed chief of the Naval Staff of the Supreme Command in the Far East on 1 April 1904. Three weeks later, on 22 April 1904, following the death of Vice Admiral Stepan Makarov, he was given command of the Port Arthur Squadron as well as a temporary assignment as commander of the First Pacific Squadron, until the arrival of Vice Admiral Nikolai Skrydlov. During the following months, Vitgeft played a passive role against the naval blockade of Port Arthur by the Imperial Japanese Navy.

Anxious to avoid a fight, Vitgeft led his main force on 23 June 1904 in a failed attempt to escape the threat posed by Japanese land forces and reach Vladivostok. On 7 August he was wounded in the leg by a shell splinter during the first bombardment of Port Arthur by the Japanese Third Army. Three days later, on 10 August, Vitgeft made a second attempt to escape the harbor. In the ensuing battle of the Yellow Sea, he refused to enter the armor-protected conning tower of his flagship, the battleship Tsessarevich, and remained on the upper bridge to oversee the engagement. Subsequently two Japanese 305-millimeter [12-inch] shells hit the foremast above the upper bridge, killing him and severely wounding his chief of staff.

NIKOLAI ILLARIONOVICH SKRYDLOV (1844–1918).

Russian naval officer who served as nominal commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet during much of the Russo–Japanese War. His first major combat experience was the Russo–Turkish War of 1877–1878, in which he commanded the small mine vessel Shutka. On 8 June 1877, he attacked and sank a Turkish monitor on the Danube River. From 1894 to 1898, Skrydlov was director of the Torpedo Section of the Naval Technical Department, and in 1897–1899 he served as the commander of the Mediterranean Squadron. In 1900 Skrydlov, by then vice admiral, was appointed commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet; two years later, he became commander-in-chief of the Black Sea Fleet, a post he held until April 1904.

Following the death of Vice Admiral Stepan Makarov in the early stages of the Russo–Japanese War, Skrydlov was again appointed commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet. Arriving in Vladivostok on 24 May 1904, he was unable to assume command of the fleet, whose main units were stationed in Port Arthur. Consequently he remained nominal commander of the fleet but in effect was responsible for planning the naval activities of the Vladivostok Independent Cruiser Squadron, together with its commanders Rear Admiral Karl Iessen and later Vice Admiral Petr Bezobrazov. On 7 January 1905, Skrydlov was replaced by Vice Admiral Zinovii Rozhestvenskii as commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet and he returned to St. Petersburg. In 1906–1907, he served again as a commander-in-chief of the Black Sea Fleet, but he retired in 1909 and was killed in the terror following the Bolshevik Revolution nine years later.