On American
domestic routes, of, say, five hundred miles, jet airliners
frequently do not achieve more than 100-200 mph average speed,
once one has counted in such incidentals as retrieving one's
luggage from baggage claim, time waiting for connections, etc.
I think my record for slow air travel was a Beech 1900 propjet
operating over a seventy-mile leg, which achieved only
thirty-five miles per hour. Upon later inquiry, I discovered
that the local taxicab company made quite a good thing out of
substituting for the propjet when it was unserviceable.
Getting an airplane into the air is intrinsically a bit
of a production, and this has to be offset against the
airplane's flying speed.
The great strength of the passenger train is that it is very
good at rapidly starting and stopping, and rapidly loading and
unloading. It is commonplace for a crack express train to have
stops every fifty miles or so, because that can be done
without cutting into the average speed significantly. If you
game out travel times between secondary cities (let us say,
Rouen, in France, and Magdeburg, in Germany), using
regularly scheduled routes, you will probably find that the
train can keep up with the airplane as long as the train's
peak speed is, say, half or even a third of
that of the airplane. It is difficult for an airplane to
plug into the railnet at the same level that a train can
plug in. The common practice is for the local train and
the express train to stop on different sides of the same
platform. Likewise, a train stops in the heart of a big city,
whereas airports are necessarily selected for their
remote locations. That said, the pragmatic argument for air
travel in the 1930's seems something of a stretch. There
was probably more of symbolism in it, barring the
special case of overwater flight.
I understand that where discount airlines such as RyanAir do
well in Europe at present is in catering to people who want to
go a long way, typically North Europeans who want to get away
from the winter. That implies not only a long distance, a
couple of thousand miles, but an indifference to destination.
The tour organizer can say, in effect, that all
sun-tourists from Hamburg, in Germany, will go to Greece, and
all sun-tourists from Manchester, in England, will go to
Sicily. This means that the tour organizer does not have to
monkey around with the logistics of connecting flights, the
way an airline catering to business travelers does.
In practice,
there were more dimensions of variation than there were
aircraft manufacturers, so I don't think you can prove
anything at quite the level of finding feature
differences between civil and military aircraft. For
example, civilian airlines tended to require banking
accommodation. Air forces did not. They spent money "as if
they were printing it," which was of course the exact
truth. In his autobiography, Eddie Rickenbacker, who
was chief of Eastern Airlines, gives an account of
negotiating with Boeing and Douglas for jet airliners. He
wanted noise suppressors, and thrust reversers, and interest
on his deposit. Boeing took the position that they did not
need instruction in aircraft design, and refused financial
accommodation point-blank. Classic Rolls-Royce salesman, in
short. Douglas agreed about the financial
accommodation, and promised a serious effort on the
technical issues (Edward V. Rickenbacker,. _Rickenbacker:
His Own Story_, 1967, ch. 19 (pp. 440-41, pbk. edn.).
Some of the most important differences between military and
civilian work have to do with this kind of
thing.
I've been looking at James Hay Stevens, _The Shape of the
Airplane_ (1953?), and I note that the one
characteristic of a good bomber which he emphasizes is a
large unobstructed bomb bay, as exemplified by the Avro
Lancaster. The designers of other bombers tended to figure
out what was the largest bomb they would want to handle, and
then break the bomb bay down into compartments of that size,
in the interests of structural strength. This is a long way
from the core of an aircraft design of that date, which
would be the wings and the engines, and of course
aircraft engines are essentially interchangeable, like
automobile tires. Airplanes were periodically being
refitted with new engines, eventually going turboprop.
I think you would need to show some evidence of distinctive
design tendencies in bomber wings vis-a-vis airliner wings.
I ran across a couple of interesting references on
Slashdot a while back. The gist of then was that one of the
risks of employing ex-military Information Technology people
is that they are very sloppy about complying with
software licensing terms. They tend to take the attitude
that "it all belongs to Mr. Rumsfeld anyway, and if anyone
wants to argue, we've got some really impressive
guards with submachine guns and attack dogs. The dogs eat a
bailiff or process server, and an hour later, they're hungry
again." In a civilian business, that is an excellent formula
for expensive legal difficulties.
About the Channel Tunnel, the big point to remember is
that the invasion panic was a showstopper. It blocked the
tunnel for a hundred years, by the end of which time
both the British and French empires had collapsed, and both
countries had an inferiority complex about the United
States, the Soviet Union, Japan, and who knows what else?
Projects of that sort cannot go forward without sustained
support at both ends. In any event, civil engineering
projects are not mobile in the same sense as airliners.
Suppose that Britain had put a lot of money into subsidizing
an airline in Canada, operating between, say, Montreal and
Vancouver on the Pacific coast. This would not have
been an entirely unreasonable thing. The government of
Canada does periodically worry about regions becoming
assimilated to the adjoining portions of the United States,
and takes measures to bind Canada more closely together.
However, European powers would have done sums in their heads
about how fast the airplanes could be flown across the
Atlantic. Better and faster railroads would not have
had that kind of potential.
I would differ with you about the extent to which war
production can be "saved up." You can put your industrial
surplus into making things like machine tools, which
can then be used to make a great variety of things. I ran
into an argument in one of the American Machinist
blogs (I'm afraid I don't have the citation at hand) about
whether a lathe or a planer is to be considered the primal
machine tool, that is, the machine tool with which all other
machine tools can be manufactured. At any rate, given
a sufficiently large accumulation of machine tools, you can
set them up with jigs and train beginners to do specialized
tasks.
Certainly, basic materials such as iron and steel can be
produced "on spec," without any clear idea of what they are
eventually going to be used for. If you will recall,
Frederick Winslow Taylor, the American efficiency expert,
and founder of Taylorism, tested his ideas by
supervising a gang of workmen who were engaged in moving, by
hand, some tens of thousands of tons of iron "pigs" (each
weighing eighty pounds or so) which a steel mill had
produced, and had then left lying in a field.
The intermediate products can be accumulated in a defensible
central area, as can many crucial tools, workers, etc. I
know that in the immediate postwar period, Volkswagen was
anxiously concealing from the French occupation
authorities certain essential machinery which had originally
been looted from France. Fortunately for Volkswagen, they
were in the British occupation zone, and the British
authorities were rediscovering their own long-lost dislike
for Frenchmen.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dennis E. Showalter,
_Railroads and
Rifles: Soldiers, Technology, and the
Unification of Germany_, Archon books, Hamden, Connecticut,
1975
William A. Shurcliff, _S/S/T and Sonic Boom Handbook_, 1970A
further sidenote:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Edwin A. Pratt, _The Rise of Rail Power in
War and Conquest, 1833-1914_, P. S.
King & Son, Ltd., London, 1915
Old reading note follows:
A fairly practical book, oriented towards how to
use railroads for military purposes, illustrated with
examples from the wars of the nineteenth
century. This is military history rather
than history of war.
While there is a brief consideration of
armored trains, the military uses of
railroads are mostly logistic. Railroads can
transport troops, either in short flanking movements, or
in long strategic ones. They make it
possible for the whole economic
power of the home country to be brought to bear in
the form of supplies, and permit the
rapid removal of sick, wounded, and
P.O.W.s, who would otherwise hamper the army's mobility.
Pratt lays stress on the importance of
developing a combined army-railroad staff.
The soldiers have to set priorities, but
they have no idea how to run a railroad.
Railroaders are, of course, the opposite.
Railroad troops have to provided, to repair and
destroy track at need, and also to operate trains in
enemy territory. They can only be raised and
trained, in practice, with the collaboration of the
civil railroads.
As far as the conduct of operations,
Pratt emphasizes first that the
railroads must be centrally controlled,
to prevent individual commanders from disrupting their
operations. At least in the early
days of the American civil
war, low grade functionaries would do
stupid things (he gives the example of the paymaster who set
up shop in a boxcar, ignoring the fact that he
was thus blocking the main line).
More seriously, commanders tended to view
cars as mobile magazines, much like the earlier
commissariat wagons, despite their greater value and
scarcity. To add to this, supply officers at the
rear will naturally incline to send off
everything they can as soon as possible.
Between them, they can easily throw the forward
railhead into gridlock, and create an acute
shortage of rolling stock elsewhere in the
system.
To prevent this, a rear base must be set
up, far enough back to be clear of the fighting, with
associated depots. This is the boundary
between the civilian railroads
and the military railroad. All
shipments are stopped here, unloaded, sorted out,
and the cars returned to the civilian system. It is
important to have the manpower to do so
immediately. From here, supplies are dispatched
rapidly forward on an as needed basis.
There may have to be an
intermediate base further forward, especially
for the keeping of a reserve of ammunition, loaded in
cars. This will be the furthest point to which there
is regular service, which is to say it will be
just far enough back to be temporarily
immune to the operations of the enemy.
Forward of this is an extent of
insecure line to the railhead, which is
constantly shifting, according to the fortunes of war.
Nothing is allowed to accumulate here. Trained come
forward with stores for immediate use, are rapidly
unloaded, and withdraw immediately.
Still further forward are the railroad
troops, repairing or wrecking the line as
the case may be. In the pursuit, they are
expected to keep up with the advance guard.
In dealing with the
planning of railroads for military
purposes, Pratt attempts, not wholly successfully, to
construct a distinction between ordinary
railroads, for economic ends, and strategic
ones. The characteristic traits of a strategic railroad
system are a lot of
lines running to the
border, for mobilization, and a lot of
lines running along the border, for
flanking movement.
Finally, he interprets German railroading
in Africa and the near east as a central
part of a prewar scheme to overthrow the British
Empire.
Re: Brett Holman, An alternative Battle of Britain -- I
HNN Cliopatria [pseudonym, ], before
Aug 3, 2006
http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/28719.html#comment
(now)
https://historynewsnetwork.org/blog/28719
(Aug 7,2006)
Here is a book written on the very eve of Pearl Harbor, by
one of the very great writers on strategic studies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Bernard Brodie, Sea Power in the Machine Age, Princeton
University Press, Princeton, 1941
This is a history of the rise of the modern battleship,
ironically written in the very hour of its demise. While
written in the first days of the second world war, it treats
the first world war as the climax of technological
development, and the events of 1939 to spring, 1941 as
merely more of the same.
The sailing ship was restricted by the wind.
Most importantly, it could not sail directly upwind. The
"high ground" of naval combat was the "weather gauge,"
upwind from the enemy. Equally to the point, the sailing
ship was subject to the variability of the wind. Apart from
calm weather, the wind might shift, and the hunter become
the hunted. But at the same time a sailing ship could go for
indefinite distances under wind power. Before the battle of
Trafalgar in 1805, Nelson had chased Villaneuve to the West
Indies and back. The French navy, while inferior in naval
strength, had been able in 1798 to evade British
surveillance and put [a force ashore] in Ireland.
Steam power made naval power far more certain,
but also far more local. The steamship could go in any
direction in any weather, but it was also tied to its supply
of coal, and to the complex repair facilities dictated by
its machinery. Global power required a global network of
bases, and an empire to go with them. Paradoxically, the
steam navy was a navy which was most threatening while in
port.
Steam power, and its concomitants, iron
construction and large turret-mounted guns, had been billed
as a naval revolution, capable of overthrowing the global
dominance of the British navy. However, the industrial
requirements of a steam navy merely resulted in the dominant
industrial power-- Britain-- becoming the dominant naval
power of the steam age.
At the beginning of the twentieth century, a
new innovation appeared-- the submarine. Submarines offered
the promise of using stealth to bypass the battleship.
However, soon after the submarine appeared, so did submarine
detection gear, as well as the use of airplanes to locate
submarines. In may 1941, Brodie had heard rumors of ASDIC
(sonar) and had it confused with radar, all of which were
still secret, but he still had a basic idea of what the
equipment did.
Brodie minimizes the effect of aircraft,
treating the aircraft carrier as a battleship by other
means. That is, the carrier's airplanes perform the same
function as a battleship's guns, only at a greater range,
and with a lower rate of fire.
Writing when he did, Brodie missed the one most
striking characteristic of the aircraft carrier-- the near
impossibility of designing it in a compartmentalized
fashion. This fact, of course, contributed mightily to the
decisive character of the battle of Midway in 1942.
HNN post, re: Brett Holman, Thanks for playing,
http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/31329.html#comment
(now) https://historynewsnetwork.org/blog/31329
(My comment)
(Nov 3, 2006)
What Computerized Games Are Good At
I think the problem about computer war games is
that they short-circuit the process of working through the
game rules to the point of becoming critically
familiar with them, and being able to circumvent them as
needed. To a lesser degree, this is also a fault of the
Avalon-Hill hex-grid style wargame. The classic staff
college war game was one of real maps with acetate overlays,
and people measuring distances off on the map, and of course
an umpire, or umpires, to keep players from gaming the
rules, and the umpires maintaining their own sets of maps,
etc.
A different way to use a computer is to manage a more
rigorous game with many human players. This is what happens
in frankly fantasy games such as Second Life, and the more
advanced multiplayer Dungeons and Dragons-type games. Such a
game has very few embedded rules. Pieces can move
continuously along prespecified paths, and report back when
something happens, so the rules do not have to be so
complex as they would be in the hex-grid game. In short,
the game can do the kind of housekeeping management
that blog software does. The goal is to make it easier to
assemble the requisite number of people to conduct a war
game, not to get the computer to simulate everything.
Now, of course such a game is not going to be attractive to
a commercial publisher in the business of selling many
new titles of games. A good gaming system is going to
have the kind of extended versatility as, say, a pack
of playing cards. Practically, such a system would
have to be developed by an enthusiast, probably in the
context of an on-line group.
I should add a qualification. Computer simulation of
naval/air warfare and logistics does work very well. The
basic tactical issue in air/sea warfare is usually an
"intercept," that is, given the speeds, ranges and initial
positions of two units, can one intercept the other,
and after what lapse of time? This is essentially a problem
in applied geometry. A corollary is that if a computer
simulation works well, you can rejig the simulation as an
automatic controller. Automatically try out different inputs
to the simulation until you get the desired output, and then
use those inputs as control signals for the actual
machinery. At least ninety percent of the sailors at Jutland
or Midway were doing things which are now done by
machines. As for Trafalgar, the figure would be
conservatively ninety-nine percent. I don't know whether
there's much market for antiquarian naval games. There's
always a temptation to introduce, by some pretext, more
modern technology. If you try to get a
thirteen-year-old boy to play a Trafalgar game, he
will inevitably ask:"where are the machine guns?" Such games
may simply be too boring to be played. In these areas, the
interesting thing to study is how people moved past "mind
blocks," in the planning, equipping and training stages, for
example, the decision to launch the Kami Kaze corps. By
contrast, medieval land war games can look surprisingly
modern.
HNN post, re: Brett Holman, The Douhet dilemma, Apr 8, 2007
http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/37424.html#comment
Again, irretrievable. But it is apparently a discussion of
"pre-Douhet-ism."
Think of Douhet as a Synthesizer or Popularizer, not
an Originator.
I've noticed something analogous with other figures, eg.
Adam Smith. What it turns out is that there were all kinds
of people saying much the same thing, for some time, until
the movement produced an articulate spokesman. For example,
I ran across a man writing circa 1670, who had
formulated the essential ideas of classical economics,
a hundred years before Smith.
Roger Coke, _A Discourse on Trade. In Two Parts. The
First treats of the Reason of
the Decay of the Strength, Wealth,
and Trade of England. The latter of the Growth
and Increase of the Dutch Trade above the English_,
London, H. Brome, R. Horne, 1670, facsimile
edition, Arno Press, New York, 1972.
Coke was not remotely as lucid as Adam Smith,
and simply didn't write well enough for best-seller status,
but the essential ideas are there, in the age of Colbert and
Sir George Downing.
If you wanted to look at early science fiction, eg. Jules
Verne, Felix Robida, and their forgotten
contemporaries, you could probably find Douhetism in
inchoate form. The starting point would be I. F.
Clarke's _The Pattern of Expectation, 1644-2001_, 1979.
=====================================================
=====================================================
HNN Post, Brett Holman, Zeroth World Wars, Sept 10, 2009
http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/116122.html
(deleted, but available at)
https://web.archive.org/web/20111107124745/http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/116122.html
The Relation Between Weapon Range and Scale of Battle.
With the increasing range of weapons, generals tended to
swing ever wider, in search of an open flank. This reached
its perfection in operations like the Anzio and Inchon
landings. The wider turns tended to expand wars.
In 1870, during the Franco-Prussian war, Von Moltke
the Elder deployed his troops along the
Franco-German border for about a hundred miles between the
Rhine and the Moselle. The Moselle was the border
between the German Saar and Luxembourg. The
major railroad lines between France and German
ran through Saarbrucken, in the center. Von Moltke
had room to conduct repeated enveloping
maneuvers, and wound up crossing the Moselle
about fifty miles south of the Belgian border,
and besieged half of the French army in the border
town of Metz. He proceeded though French territory to the
Meuse, passing through the gap between the Vosages
mountains and the Ardennes, about fifty miles wide,
and followed the Meuse to Sedan, south of the
Ardennes, where he finally accepted the surrender of
a disintegrated remnant of the French army, which happened
to include the Emperor Napoleon III. The
road to Paris was open by this time, and if Napoleon
had retreated into Belgium, he could have been ignored.
Von Moltke had no need to violate Belgian neutrality, and
he did not do so.
(See J.F.C. Fuller's discussion in _The Decisive
Battles of the Western World_, 1954, ed.,
abridged, John Terraine, 1970)
In 1870, fifty or a hundred miles was an indefinitely
large space. In the American Civil War, the dual campaigns
of Vicksburg and Port Hudson to open up the
Mississippi River were roughly comparable in scale.
So was the Gettysburg Campaign.
By 1914, weapons had improved to the point
that it was necessary to go around the north
side of the Ardennes, to get clear of France's
prepared fortification belt. Violating Belgian
neutrality meant war with England. The planning for 1914
began back in 1905, with the Von Schliefen Plan, at about
the same time that the Anglo-German naval race
began. They were related events, obviously. Conflict with
England, in turn, implied the necessity of developing an
alliance with a non-European power, such as Turkey, which
might be able to do something about England's global lines
of communication. It also implied the necessity of
submarine warfare. The Zimmerman Telegram? If
Germany could not have the United States as an ally,
it needed to keep the United States occupied in
punishing Mexico. All of these things followed from
the idea that fifty or a hundred miles was not a
wide enough front to deploy an army. Even so, Norway was
able to sit out the First World War, but not the Second
World War, because the increasing performance of
aircraft rendered it a desirable base-- for both
sides.
HNN Post, re: Brett Holman, Nobody could have foreseen
this, july 17, 2010
http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/129108.html#comment
Irretrievable. As I recall, Holmn was complaining that his
publisher had relegated his footnotes to a website-- and
then lost the website.
Internet Archive
I looked up Ramsden's footnote website on the
Internet Archive, and I looked up my own website for
comparison, so as to understand the meaning of the
Internet Archive's statistics. My conclusion is that the
footnote website had probably ceased to exist by
the end of 2006. Do you have any evidence to the
contrary? Granted, that the domain was paid up until
2008, but the server may not have been. At any rate, the
Internet Archive captured the notes, and they are
available, as your correspondent "Sharon" at
Air-Minded noted.
For what it is worth, the going rate for independent
website hosting is something like a hundred dollars a
year, when you include things like domain registration
fees. Each year, you get more capacity, both in the form
of storage and of download bandwidth, but the fee
does not decrease. Now, of course, if you use
a website properly, and post large quantities of
stuff, the fee is not a big issue. However, if you
are just using the website to post a
supplemental leaflet for a book, it would almost
certainly be cheaper to bind additional pages into a
paper book and use small print. I don't know if you've
ever used the old paper edition of the Social
Science Citation Index, which was in use back in the
1980's, but they had print so so small that
one needed a magnifying glass. It may
well be the case that the author and publisher never
agreed who was going to pay for
the website, in which case it would have
vanished when the annual fee became due.
Now, of course, a publisher which was competent in
internet affairs would have provided a page for each book
within a larger website, in which case,
the maintenance costs would have been trivial.
I suspect the publisher _really_ didn't want
to publish footnotes, and manipulated matters
to that end.
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