Not even its hard-won experience during the long, vicious Haitian Campaign could prepare the U. S. Marine Corps for the five-year Second Nicaraguan Campaign, because Nicaragua was five times the size of Haiti. A new weapon had to be found, and thus it was that the Marine Corps' air-ground team came into being.
The currently reported difficulties in providing effective close air support for the Vietnamese forces engaged in guerrilla operations against infiltrating Viet Cong units may strike a responsive chord in the memories of older officers who served under similar conditions in the jungled mountains of Nicaragua from 1927 to 1932. For those younger officers now actually or potentially concerned with so-called counter-insurgency activities, a review of the early development of air support techniques against elusive irregulars may possibly prove to be of more than passing historical interest.
The highly effective system of close air support developed by the Navy-Marine Corps during World War II, and later perfected in Korea, had its genesis in the guerrilla operations of the Marines against Nicaragua's "General" Sandino. In the process of this evolution, however, both equipment and techniques have become less adaptable to guerrilla warfare than they were in the beginning. It is time, perhaps, to review the requirements, with a view toward simplification of the means. Some reorientation in the light of historical perspective might be helpful as a prelude to definite recommendations. Lessons learned during the second Nicaraguan Campaign may well prove valid for Vietnam.
Early in 1927, the civil war then raging in Nicaragua threatened to spread beyond its allotted bounds. The Marines and Bluejackets from the ancient cruisers of the Special Service Squadron who had been monitoring the situation for some months were no longer adequate for the task. The squadron commander, Rear Admiral Latimer, asked for substantial assistance. The hard-pressed Marines responded by calling in the mail guards to reconstitute the Fifth Regiment, which was then dispatched piecemeal to the port of Corinto, the last elements—including the newly appointed brigade commander and his staff—arriving on 7 March. As a supporting element, Marine Observation Squadron One had also been ordered from San Diego, to provide "reconnaissance and communication" missions for the expeditionary brigade.
This first contingent of Marine aviation to be committed, under command of the then Major Ross E. (Rusty) Rowell, arrived in Corinto harbor on 26 February and unloaded its crated airplanes from ship to waiting flat cars for the ride to Managua. There were six DH-4 biplanes, powered by World War I water-cooled Liberty engines, armed with two .30-caliber machine guns and bomb racks for ten 17-pound fragmentation bombs. The top speed of these aircraft did not greatly exceed 100 miles per hour, but their landing speed was correspondingly low. The other planes of the squadron complement were OL-6s, the early model of the Loening amphibian, powered with a single water-cooled engine—the inverted Packard V-12. The author does not recall that these planes carried any armament other than the Scarff-mounted Lewis gun in the observer's cockpit. They were included in the squadron complement in the hope that they would be useful in an undeveloped country of many lakes and rivers. They were most useful indeed!
The only semblance of an airdrome available in the Managua area was an unimproved cow pasture then in use by the "Nicaraguan Air Force"—a quasi-military organization consisting solely of two Laird-Swallow biplanes powered by Curtiss OX5 engines, and two North American pilots, Brooks and Mason. Since they must be credited with the first efforts toward air support in the Nicaraguan campaign, these two escaped characters from the pages of a Richard Harding Davis novel deserve at least brief mention.
During the battle of Chinandega, fought during early February between the Liberal (insurrectionist) and the Conservative (government) forces, a savage encounter which virtually destroyed the town and caused the deaths of hundreds of Nicaraguans, most of them non-combatants including women and children, Brooks and Mason had participated to the extent of flying over the area and dropping a few handmade dynamite "bombs"—the short fuses of which were allegedly lighted from their cigars. While these missiles were undoubtedly more terrifying than lethal, the effect was to stampede the Liberal soldiers and give the victory to the Conservative forces, which up until then had not been doing too well for themselves. The discomfited Liberal leaders promptly castigated the "American aviators" for their inhumane conduct of war and the massacre of the innocents. While it appears very unlikely, considering the inadequacy of their equipment, that these mercenary aviators actually caused many casualties, the morale effect on the rebel soldiers and the terrified townsmen alike was considerable. The resultant hue and cry in the press also proved embarrassing to the American Minister. Messrs. Brooks and Mason were shortly thereafter quietly retired from the scene, leaving to the Marine aviators who succeeded them a rather unsavory polemical heritage, and two decrepit Laird-Swallow biplanes.
Major Rowell commandeered the Nicaraguan "airdrome" and assembled his aircraft as quickly as possible. While this task required but a few days, it must be pointed out that expeditionary aircraft should arrive at the scene in flying condition; modern guerrilla warfare would not usually permit such a leisurely approach to combat readiness.
The first combat mission of record for the newly arrived Marine squadron was flown on 18 March, when two of the DH-4s reported the progress of the battle of Muy Muy, remaining scrupulously aloof from the hostilities— not so the ubiquitous Brooks and Mason, flying their last mission in the service of the Nicaraguan government. In their colorful action report (to The New York Times), they complained that their wheezing engines would barely clear the intervening mile-high Pass at Boaca, that their ammonia and dynamite bombs failed to explode, and that they suffered severe damage to their aircraft from small arms fire. In fact, they were barely able to flutter back to an emergency air strip in deferred forced landings. The insurgents appeared to have learned much since Chinandega, and were able to drive the Conservatives from the field despite their air support.
On 28 March, at Leon on the Managua-Corinto railroad, Marines and Nicaraguans clashed briefly in an innocuous exchange of shots; and one of the Marine observation planes was hit by small arms fire while passing over Dario. The next day an armed DH-4, patrolling the rail line near Leon was hit 12 times (presumably by a machine gun burst). The pilot, Captain H. D. (Spud) Campbell, notwithstanding his aircraft's damaged control surfaces, immediately dove on his assailants and scattered them with machine gun fire. These two brief actions marked the end of the neutral observation phase and the beginning of actual U. S. military participation in the Nicaraguan civil war.
There followed a lull in hostilities while the Stimson Commission sought a truce between the opposing factions. As a result of the conference of Tipitapa, the insurgent leaders, save one, agreed to turn in their arms—for a price. Mr. Henry L. Stimson somewhat prematurely reported to Washington that the civil war in Nicaragua had definitely ended and that bloodshed had ceased. The skeptical Marines settled down to watchful waiting; the aviators continued sporadic patrolling.
Mr. Stimson's message hardly could have cleared the decoding desk in the Department of State when the Navy Department received news of more ominous import. All was not well in Nicaragua. American blood had been spilled there once again. The emphasis now passed from the realm of the diplomats into the hands of the military. Once again the U. S. Marine Corps found itself engaged in tropical guerrilla warfare, which in scale, duration, and ferocity was to test severely its mettle and endurance.
The triggering event was a night encounter in the village of La Paz Centro between some 300 armed insurgents under one "General" Cabulla, and a Marine detachment under Captain R. B. Buchanan. In the confused street fighting which followed, Captain Buchanan and one other Marine were killed, two wounded. Fourteen dead bandits were left in the streets, and an indeterminate number of wounded escaped. The Marines held the town against heavy numerical odds, thanks to superior discipline and marksmanship. This was, of course, accomplished without air support. Marine aviators of the period were not qualified for night flying, nor did there exist the requisite communication gear for such support. It would never have occurred to Captain Buchanan, or any contemporary ground commander, to expect any aerial assistance under such circumstances.
In the ensuing weeks, the Marines deployed into the mountainous interior of northern Nicaragua, prodded into this aggressive action by the depredations of "General" Augusto Sandino, the insurgent leader who had refused to abide by the truce of Tipitapa, and subsequently had taken to the brush with an estimated 200 armed followers. The Marine aviators had attempted to cover his movements, without notable success. The jungle trails often withheld their secrets from aerial observers.
The aviators did, however, maintain contact with the small Marine patrols and isolated village garrisons through daily reconnaissance and liaison flights. The ground Marines co-operated by clearing emergency airstrips near the principal garrison towns, appreciating in their isolation this periodic aerial contact with Managua.
Since the aircraft of 1927 carried no radio equipment, and the ground forces had only cumbersome and unreliable signal sets, the problem of air-ground communication proved acute. Experiment toward solution included cloth panels laid out on the ground in coded arrangement, to be answered by the airmen with wing and engine signals. An ingenious method of message pick-up was perfected, wherein the pilot attempted to hook a trailing weighted line over a pole-suspended message bag. The airmen could also, of course, communicate by dropping a message stick. None of these means was very effective, however, in rough, wooded country. All required the aircraft to remain in very close proximity to the contacted ground unit, thus tending to advertise its presence and progress to all concerned. There were, for this reason, patrol leaders who deliberately avoided seeking contact with searching aircraft. On the other hand, there were those who invariably signaled for a message pick-up, on whatever pretext, whether or not their need had military validity. For instance, there was the major of the old school—with a perennial thirst—who requested, and received, his daily dropped ration of ice. Another patrol leader requested an emergency landing on a marginal airstrip in order to acquaint the somewhat unsympathetic aviator with the current shortage of toilet paper in his camp.
Despite these often amusing frustrations and misunderstandings as to the proper role of supporting aviation, this short period of deployment strengthened the bond between air and ground, resulting in at least a partial appreciation of each others' problems. The usefulness of aviation in reconnaissance, liaison, and for emergency transportation had been demonstrated and accepted; few ground commanders, however, were ready to admit that the air arm was capable of effective combat support. Notwithstanding the prior employment of Marine air units in the post war occupation of Haiti and San Domingo, there had been no opportunity—save for a very few single plane engagements—to demonstrate ground attack capability.
This prevalent skepticism was to be dramatically reversed on 16 July at Ocotal, a mountain town on the upper Coco River. Captain Gilbert D. Hatfield, with a mixed force of 37 Marines and 47 Nicaraguan guardia had but recently established a garrison within the town. Sandino was known to be in the general vicinity but was believed to have only a few followers. No one took him to be a serious threat—least of all, Captain Hatfield, who in fact had amused himself by exchanging insulting messages with the bandit leader. Sandino, thus taunted, defied the Marines to come and get him; on second thought, he decided to go get the Marines. With a force later estimated to consist of 500 or 600 men, Sandino moved swiftly on the heels of his last defiant message, and during the early evening hours of 15 July, completed his stealthy approach on Ocotal. Although Captain Hatfield was not expecting an attack, he was not—in the military sense of the word—surprised; an alert sentry detected the approach of armed men and fired the warning shots which brought the sleeping garrison to arms. Protected by the thick masonry walls of their separate billets, the Marines and guardia were able to stand off the attackers until morning. Sandino then suspended the attack while he regrouped his forces and demanded Hatfield's surrender. The reply delivered to the bearers of the flag of truce may have been somewhat deficient in terms of old world courtesy but left no doubt in Sandino's mind as to Hatfield's intention. The battle was rejoined.
At 1000, there appeared over the town a two-plane reconnaissance patrol flown by Lieutenant Hayne Boyden and Marine Gunner "Mike" Wodarcyzk, a redoubtable and colorful pair of aviators. Somehow sensing trouble, Lieutenant Boyden landed on the adjacent airstrip while Wodarcyzk covered him from the air. Excited natives gave Boyden some inkling of the true situation, and he immediately took off under scattered rifle fire. He rejoined his wingman, and the two of them expended their ammunition on strafing runs against the bandit positions before returning full throttle for Managua to sound the alarm. Up until this time, Captain Hatfield had been unable to communicate with brigade headquarters. The returning aviators reached the base airdrome at 1215.
Within the hour, the five available DH-4 airplanes had been armed with light fragmentation bombs and full belts of machine gun ammunition. Major Rowell, the squadron commander, led the flight off the 400 yards of turf runway, across Lake Managua and over the 5,000-foot mountain chain to Ocotal (no small feat in itself during any afternoon of the Nicaraguan rainy season). By 1500, the flight was over Octoal, circling at 1,500 feet above the town, and receiving small arms fire. Major Rowell later reported:
I led off the attack and dived out of column from 1,500 feet, pulling out at about 600. Later we ended up by diving in from 1,000 and pulling out at 300. Since the enemy had not been subjected to any form of bombing attack, other than the dynamite charges thrown from the Laird-Swallows by the Nicaraguan Air Force, they had no fear of us. They exposed themselves in such a manner that we were able to inflict damage which was out of proportion to what they might have suffered had they taken cover.
The jefe politico of Ocotal, who was an eye witness of the air attack, also contributed his version to history:
At 10:00 a.m. two planes are seen flying low . . . they fire on Sandino's forces and leave. . . . At 3:00 p.m. five planes appear in battle formation, form line and open fire with their ten machine guns. . . . They drop bombs on Sandino's army, now beginning to retreat . . . 5:00 p.m., all quiet.
This air action, generally recognized to be the first organized dive bombing and low altitude attack ever made in direct support of ground troops, was decisive. Sandino and the survivors of his force fled, leaving an estimated 40 to 80 dead behind him, with probably at least twice as many wounded. The fire fight at Ocotal had lasted altogether more than 16 hours; had it not been for the protection provided by the thick-walled houses, the Marines and guardia could hardly have survived the night. While their total casualties were light, they were actually in a desperate plight with but little ammunition left when Rowell's flight arrived. Certainly Major Rowell was justified in reporting that Marine aviation "had saved the garrison from great loss of life and almost certain destruction."
The attacking planes were hit repeatedly by small arms fire from the ground—Major Rowell reported 44 bullet holes in his aircraft—but fortunately all escaped serious damage and were able to return to Managua. This demonstrated resistance to battle damage gave the aviators greater confidence in their machines, and undoubtedly encouraged more reckless exposure in subsequent encounters.
The battle of Ocotal established Marine aviation as a full fledged partner in what was later to become famous as the Marine air-ground team. The outstanding success of Rowell's small flight was particularly remarkable in that it was accomplished by long-obsolete aircraft with grossly inadequate armament.
Following the Ocotal engagement, brigade headquarters despatched Major Oliver Floyd with a force of 100 Marines and guardia in hot pursuit of Sandino's fleeing band. Major Floyd was supported by reconnaissance flights, which repeatedly reported concentrations of bandits on Chipote, near Quilali, and in the vicinity of Telepanaca, Jicaro, and other places southeast of Ocotal. Notwithstanding these warnings which were dropped to Floyd's patrol, small bands of sandinistas ambushed the Marine column on two occasions, but were driven off without much difficulty. Major Floyd completed his patrol without encountering any major armed bands, which led him to report that "the country was deserted—inhabitants probably in hiding." This purely negative report was at variance with the air intelligence on file at brigade headquarters, but was nevertheless accepted at Managua as indicative of Sandino's complete defeat—a most unfortunate conclusion.
By early August, those in authority had become convinced that Sandino's revolt had been quelled. The Marine expeditionary force was reduced to some 1,300 men and garrisons redistributed accordingly. Barely enough men were left in the northern area to hold the principal towns and patrol their supply lines; further offensive action was considered impracticable.
Meanwhile, Sandino had gained a host of sympathizers and had been able to assemble a well-armed force of possibly 1,000 men. He could now bring superior numbers against the attenuated Marine forces at whatever point he chose. During late August and September, there occurred numerous attacks on Marine garrisons, and harassing ambushes against the under strength patrols and supply trains. Air support of these units was drastically restricted due to the inclement weather conditions prevalent during the rainy season.
Early in October, Sandino was given the Opportunity to strike back at the Marine aviators who had been his nemesis at Ocotal. Although the aviators as yet had suffered no fatalities from enemy fire, so frequently encountered, their luck suddenly ran out. On 8 October a two-plane patrol discovered and attacked a bandit concentration of some 200 men near Sapotillal Ridge, killing "many" and dispersing the rest. Shortly thereafter, one of the planes, apparently hit, was observed to make a crash landing on the side of a brush-covered hill. The pilot, Lieutenant E. A. Thomas, and his enlisted observer, Sergeant Dowdell, were seen to run away from the wreckage shortly before it burst into flame. They were never sighted alive after that, but their misfortune touched off a series of sanguinary encounters as the Marine ground forces made heroic efforts to rescue their aerial brethren. Marine aviation at that time did not afford the luxury of an air rescue service—rotary wing aircraft being yet some distance into the future.
A mixed patrol of 40 Marines and guardia, under Lieutenant George O'Shea, set out from yearn on October 9 to search for the missing aviators. Some hours later, while approaching the vicinity of the crash, they were ambushed by a large force of well-armed bandits. After a desperate fight which lasted over two hours, the patrol managed to extricate itself under cover of darkness and returned with difficulty to Jicaro. The mission could not have succeeded in any event. Thomas and Dowdell were dead blasted out of a cave with dynamite bombs and cut to, pieces with machetes.
A second attempt at rescue met with similar misfortune on 27 October, six miles southeast of Jicaro. Lieutenant C. J. Chappell and his patrol of 35 men were ambushed by a force of some 250 sandinistas, who, fortunately, were not so valorous as they had been in the O'Shea fight. Lieutenant Chappell was supported by an air patrol (which attacked the bandit positions as directed by ground panel signals), and was re-enforced at the critical moment by Lieutenant Moses Gould and his detachment of mounted Marines. The attackers were driven off after 35 minutes of sharp fighting, only to return later in the day for a second repulse.
The valiant efforts at rescue by these ground patrols, although unsuccessful, cancelled out the debt owed the flying Marines for the Ocotal rescue, and cemented the beginning of that air-ground co-ordination which was to develop many years later into such a lethal combination against the Japanese and, still later, the North Koreans.
The Marine aviators, meanwhile, had continued their aggressive patrolling of the bandit-infested areas, and had confirmed persistent intelligence reports that Sandino's main force of several hundred men was concentrating on a strongly fortified hill in eastern Nueva Segovia. A stepped up bombing offensive was planned; legitimate travelers were warned to stay out of the area. Before any effective air attacks could be executed, however, the skeletonized ground forces suffered further disasters.
On 19 December, Captain Richard Livingston left Jinotega for Nueva Segovia with a detachment of 115 Marine replacements, accompanied by a pack train of over 200 animals and the attendant muleros. The trail chosen led through wild and rugged country, largely unfamiliar to Livingston or his subordinates. A second detachment of some 60 Marines and guardia under Lieutenant M. A. Richal, marched eastward from Pueblo Nuevo with orders to joint Livingston at Quilali.
Ten days after its departure from Jinotega, while approaching Quilali through a narrow defile, Livingston's ungainly column was effectively ambushed by a large group of bandits. In the ensuing melee, five Marines and one guardia were killed, 25 wounded (including Livingston and Gould), and the pack train was stampeded, taking with it supplies and reserve ammunition. Lieutenant Gould managed to extricate the column from the defile and deploy it for battle on more open ground. The bandits were finally driven off, with the assistance of an attacking air patrol which fortuitously appeared on the scene, but the Marines were largely immobilized and in no position to claim the victory.
Later the same day (30 December), Richal's column was also ambushed while yet several miles west of Quilali. The initial assault was repulsed with only one Marine wounded, but the bandits continued sporadic attacks on the bivouac during the night. The next day Lieutenant Richal was again ambushed by a force of some 400 bandits. The ensuing fight lasted over an hour before the bandits withdrew leaving 30 dead behind them. They also left behind them a much battered Marine patrol, Lieutenant Richal seriously wounded, Bruce (the guardia commander) dead, three others seriously wounded. Gunnery Sergeant Brown assumed command, dug in along a ridge and awaited relief. The next day a relief column, supported by an air patrol, managed to extricate Richal's column and return with it to Quulali. Thus was the planned junction of Livingston and Richal effected—but hardly according to plan.
The immediate problem was the evacuation of the 30 wounded men, which included the two commanders and the medical officer. Air evacuation was the only possibility, but there was no air strip at Quilali. The surviving Marines improvised a marginal strip 250 yards long by demolishing all the flimsy buildings along one side of Quilali's deserted main street. Lieutenant Christian F. (Frank) Schilt volunteered for the evacuation mission. Flying a newly arrived Vought 02U Corsair biplane, fitted with oversize landing gear but no brakes, Lieutenant Schilt made repeated flights into Quilali during the period 6 to 8 January 1928, all under enemy fire. His landings had to be slowed by Marines dragging on the wings; his take-offs were "catapulted" by Marines holding the plane in position until the engine was developing full power. That all flights were completed safely was nothing short of miraculous. For this feat of "almost superhuman skill," Lieutenant Schilt was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for valor "beyond the call of duty." Both ground and air Marines were agreed that never was a decoration more fully deserved.
A combined ground and air attack against Sandino's fortified stronghold on Chipote Mountain was now planned for 14 January. In the event, the ground element, under Major A. Young, ran into a strong outpost position and lost considerable time The aviators went ahead with the planned bombing and strafing attacks, inflicting considerable damage to the fortifications and reporting heavy casualties to bandit personnel. Major Young's advance on the ground was further slowed by his methodical insistence on blocking all escape routes before making his final attack. When he arrived, on 26 January, 12 days after the air attack, the bird had flown. The elusive Sandino had triumphed once again.
This apparent lack of co-ordination between air and ground units may be largely, but not entirely, attributed to faulty communications. The planes were still without radio, and for days would be unable to contact ground patrols on heavily jungled trails. Nevertheless, there lingers the suspicion that the aviators were too impatient to get on with the deferred attack on Chipote, and that no one on the brigade staff felt sufficiently informed to insist on a co-ordinated attack.
By the end of January, it was conceded that Sandino had an organized force of about 1,500 armed men operating in northern Nicaragua. The Eleventh Regiment of Marines was now ordered to take over the Northern Area. The movement of the regiment and its supplies by bull cart and pack train, with token assistance from the two Fokker transport planes but recently arrived, consumed more than a month. Aviation covered the movement with daily reconnaissance patrols.
An additional aviation squadron, including three more transport aircraft, was now added to the brigade; landing strips were improved throughout the area. The obsolete DH-4 airplanes were being replaced by O2U's and the new Curtiss Falcon attack aircraft. The new planes came equipped with air-cooled engines of somewhat greater power and reliability, and were capable of carrying heavier bomb loads. The original 17-pound bombs gave way to 30-pounders and 50-pounders; later to 100-pounders. However, effective means of air ground communication were still lacking; the new planes did not carry radio equipment. The original squadron organization now became in effect an air group, and had meanwhile moved to a larger and better equipped airdrome. The main turf runway was now some 2,000 feet long with clear approaches, ample distance for even the tri-motored Fokkers. Shops and hangars were built, barracks replaced tents, and the Marine air base gradually assumed an air of semi-permanence. Lacking, of course, were any aids to navigation, or lights for night flying. All flying was by contact point-to-point navigation, using such inaccurate maps as existed. The occasional pilot who returned home after dark had to land by flickering oil flares, sometimes using as a reference point the white horse which habitually grazed on the field.
There were numerous bandit contacts during the rest of 1928. The air arm continued to support these ground actions where possible, hampered still by lack of adequate communications. On 19 March, the flyers found and routed a big Sandino force caught for once in open country, inflicting severe casualties during repeated attacks. An air observer, Captain F. E. Pierce, was wounded in the foot; a bullet lodged in his pilot's parachute pack; and other planes in the flight were hit. All returned safely to Managua. After that episode, armor plate was fitted under the seats of all aircraft.
In early May, a detachment of amphibious planes was established at Puerto Cabezas, on the east coast of Nicaragua, to support better the planned river operations in that area. These were OL-8s, carrying armament, with room in the capacious hull for two extra passengers or equivalent air freight. A better aircraft for the purpose did not exist, a combination observation, attack, and transport design never at a loss for a place to land. The "ducks," as they were inevitably to be called, proved invaluable to Merritt A. "Red Mike" Edson during his famous Coco River patrol, as well as to other patrol commanders operating in the Eastern Area; they must be given credit for materially assisting in the blunting of Sandino's thrusts into that area.
By the end of 1928, the co-ordination between air and ground units had greatly improved with practice. The new types of aircraft had removed some of the hazards from jungle flying, and the aviators were extending their patrols to the most remote areas of Nicaragua. Particularly noteworthy was the employment of the Fokker transports (later replaced by Fords) on scheduled runs between Managua and Ocotal, which greatly facilitated movement of personnel to and from the combat zone, evacuation of the wounded, and the supply of critical items to the troops.
The year 1929 was a quiet one in Nicaragua, a period of transition from Marine to guardia control. Marine aviation continued the routine support of both forces, with but little diversion in the way of hostile contacts. The troops in the field were now habitually paid by air-dropped money bags—none of which was ever lost. A regular air freight department had been organized at Managua for preparation of these dropped deliveries to the more remote outposts, ranging from bundles of newspapers to special orders of outsize shoes. The observers soon developed unerring skill with these missiles, seldom missing the bullseye of the dropping ground. There is record of one Marine being struck by a bean bag, and of one bull succumbing to a direct hit from a bundle of The New York Times.
In June 1930, the aviators had their last chance at Sandino, trapped on Saraguasca Mountain on one of his forays toward the coffee district of Jinotega. As at Ocotal, the first contact was made by a returning two-plane patrol which responded to signals for assistance from an out-numbered guardia unit. Lieutenants Byron Johnson and Jesse Young were the pilots who launched the initial air attack, which caught the bandits in fairly open country on top of the mountain and did them considerable damage while ammunition lasted. The follow-up attack, launched in the afternoon, consisted of five planes led by Major Ralph Mitchell, the then air group commander. By this time, however, the bandits had taken cover, leaving only an area target for the aviators, which was thoroughly bombed and strafed but with results unknown. Sandino, wounded in the leg by a bomb fragment, escaped the encircling guardia patrols under cover of darkness and disappeared into the jungle fastness of Nueva Segovia. The aviators felt that the guardia should have moved faster, but again the lack of communication hindered air-ground co-ordination.
During early 1931, the Marines were withdrawn from the outlying districts and concentrated in Managua, Matagalpa, and Ocotal, where they continued to act as a reserve for the guardia units which had taken over the active patrolling. There was but little further action by the Marine ground forces pending their withdrawal at the end of 1932. On the other hand, the aviation element of the Marine brigade continued all-out support of guardia activities until the end of the occupation. There were numerous contacts of record during this later period, and one plane was lost to hostile ground fire during an attack on bandits at Siclin, in the Eastern Area, on 23 July 1931. The pilot executed a deferred forced landing, burned his plane, and, with his observer, made good his escape after an odyssey of some 40 swampy miles and several days elapsed time—probably the pioneer example of escape and evasion.
It is worthy of note that only two Marine aircraft were actually shot down by ground fire during the five years of guerrilla operation in Nicaragua, although some of them returned to base literally sieved with bullet holes. Only two aviators were killed and one wounded by direct enemy action; operational accidents due to weather and other causes took a much higher toll.
In summary, the accomplishments of our small supporting air force in Nicaragua contributed materially to the efforts of the Marine brigade. There are those who believed that the Marines could not have restored law and order to turbulent Nicaragua, nor have maintained sizeable ground forces in the roadless mountain jungle of Nueva Segovia province without the aid of their air arm. Sandino enjoyed superior mobility on his own ground; he could concentrate superior forces at the point of contact. Only the air patrols could really hamper his movements, forcing him to travel at night or during inclement weather. Only aerial reconnaissance could detect the presence of large concentrations of bandits in such an area—even the air arm on occasion was unable to maintain surveillance of the Wily enemy, who learned after Ocotal the art of cover and camouflage. Only the air arm could concentrate heavy weapons on a given target; the Marines had no artillery. And finally, it was aerial transport which linked the outposts with the rail head at Managua and gave to the isolated garrisons and patrols a flexibility of operation which would have been impossible with bull cart and pack transportation. There was also the morale factor, definitely present but always difficult to assess, of knowing that friendly air cover was never very far away.
Marine aviation performed its various missions with a true economy of force. Only on three occasions, Ocotal, Chipote, and Saraguasca, could we boast of a concentration of as many as five combat aircraft—on each of these days that number represented the current availability list. The total aircraft strength of the group rarely exceeded 20, Including transports and amphibians. The daily combat and reconnaissance patrols consisted of two aircraft allotted to each combat zone; the transport schedule varied according to load backlog. Major and minor maintenance problems with the comparatively simple and sturdy air frames and engines were well within the capabilities of the skilled technicians available at the base airdrome. The group muster roll contained fewer names than would be found on that of a modern squadron Operating under group control.
It may be said that Marine aviation came of age during the Nicaraguan campaign. The lessons learned were incorporated in the training manuals later concocted for the guidance of a younger generation; the officers and men who flew in Nicaragua were destined to be leaders in the great Pacific war; the doctrine of close air support was refined to an exact science through the medium of instant and reliable radio communication; new and far more effective aircraft were made available under the impetus of all-out war to meet better the conditions of major amphibious operations. All this spilled over, of course, into the subsequent Korean hostilities.
Since then, however, the newer types of aircraft have become increasingly less adaptable to the conditions of small-scale guerrilla activities, demanding long, hard-surface runways and excessive air space for their high speed maneuvering. The existing system of arrested landings and accelerated take-offs requires elaborate field gear which may not be available or operable in jungle country. Rotary wing aircraft are too vulnerable to ground fire. Perhaps the new VTOL convertible type of aircraft will be the answer. In any event, the ideal aircraft for the close support of troops in guerrilla operations will be a specialized type, light, durable, highly maneuverable, with speed a secondary consideration, operable from turf runways, with versatile armament. Such an aircraft need not be particularly useful for any other purpose. Surely our aircraft industry can meet this challenge.
Aviation squadrons, especially equipped and trained for guerrilla counter-insurgency, should be self contained and capable of independent actions in the field. They are not so under current organization, being tied to the apron strings of the parent group. Their ground equipment should be streamlined on an austere basis, capable of operation in a largely roadless country. Supported ground forces should be expected to provide for local security and supply of common items. Counter air operations and area air defense should be provided by other, more appropriately equipped, air units, preferably by carrierbased naval and Marine squadrons. The specialized ground support squadrons, to be really effective, must forego the lure of the wild blue yonder; the lower they fly on their support missions in jungle country the longer they will live.
What we need for a close support aircraft, then, is a modern version of what served us so well in Nicaragua. A tool that proved useful 35 years ago would not necessarily be less useful today. We believe in aeronautical progress but, in this case, our aircraft designers and tacticians could do worse than turn to history for their inspiration.
General Megee enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1919 and was commissioned in 1922. His expeditionary duty during the 1920s included Haiti (1923 to 1925), China (1926 to 1928) and Nicaragua (1929 to 1931). During World War II, he served as Chief of Staff, Third Air Wing, and as Commander, Marine Air Support Control Units. He commanded the first Marine Air Wing in Korea throughout 1953. He was Deputy Commander of Fleet Marine Forces, Pacific, and, subsequently, of FMF, Atlantic, prior to becoming Assistant Commandant and Chief of Staff, Marine Corps Headquarters from January 1956 until November 1957. At the time of his retirement in November 1959, he commanded FMF, Pacific. The author of numerous articles, General Megee is co-author of the Marine Corps' Small Wars Manual and Manual for Landing Operations.