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Tactics guide the way we fight. They are developed by our best aviators and invoke lessons learned, often written in the blood of our predecessors. We tend to stick with what works until an enemy makes us pay for being stale. In Vietnam, the U.S. Navy perfected the art of the alpha strike where many aircraft, each with a specific, but related mission, would head into the most heavily defended airspace on earth:
The MiG Sweepers would flow through at high speed looking for bandits. The Wild Weasels would launch anti-radiation missiles down the throats of SAM sites trying to lock up the strike package. The bomb droppers would roll in from altitude and find their targets through a hail of flak, then the Recce birds would scream in for the battle damage assessment. If someone got bagged, the Search and Rescue team would try to get to the downed crew first. On egress, the Barrier CAP (Combat Air Patrol) would sanitize the airwing looking for bandits trying to pick off the wounded. And when it was over, the airwing went back to the ship, landed, debriefed, and got ready to do it again.
In my first combat, we used that tried and true recipe - over Lebanon. Different enemy, different results. We got a bloody nose and lost a couple jets and a pilot - LT. Mark Lange. When that happens, tactics change. In the years that followed, I've seen us stay low to avoid the SAMS; go high to avoid the flak; go in singles to exploit our stealth; and strike at night to inspire fear.
In the nineties, we honed the art of using precision weapons. Our losses have dropped dramatically. Now we can take down a bridge in one mission instead of a dozen. Of course, we didn't face a foe as determined and skilled as the North Vietnamese. And we aren't trying to attack targets in a triple canopy jungle or the mountains of North Korea. If we do encounter an enemy with a spine and know-how, we'll no doubt have to go back to the drawing board. When that happens, our tacticians will fall back on the basics. And for that, you start with the Rules.
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