At congressional hearings in October 1949, one high-ranking admiral after another condemned the atomic blitz, arguing that the bombing of Soviet cities would be not only futile but immoral. They advocated “precision” tactical bombing of Soviet troops and supply lines — using planes from American aircraft carriers. Admiral William F. Halsey compared the Air Force’s new bomber to the siege weapons once used to destroy medieval castles and towns. “I don’t believe in mass killings of noncombatants,” Admiral Arthur W. Radford testified. “A war of annihilation might bring a pyrrhic military victory, but it would be politically and economically senseless.” The harshest criticism of the Air Force came from Rear Admiral Ralph A. Ofstie, who’d toured the burned-out cities of Japan after the war. He described the atomic blitz as “random mass slaughter of men, women, and children.” The whole idea was “ruthless and barbaric” and contrary to American values. “We must insure that our military techniques do not strip us of self-respect,” Ofstie said.
The Navy’s opposition to strategic bombing, soon known as “the revolt of the admirals,” infuriated the Truman administration. A conventional defense of Europe seemed impossible. Congress had failed to renew the draft, defense spending was being cut, and even the Army, lacking sufficient manpower, supported the Air Force’s bombing plans. The Navy’s moral arguments were undercut by the main justification for building a supercarrier like the United States: it would be large enough to launch planes carrying atomic bombs. The head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Omar Bradley, finally ended the revolt with a dramatic appearance before Congress. Bradley had earned enormous respect during the Second World War for his soft-spoken, humane leadership of the Army, and his reputation for fairness made his testimony all the more powerful. Bradley accused the Navy of being in “open rebellion” against the civilian leadership of the United States. The admirals were “Fancy Dans” and “aspiring martyrs” who just didn’t like to take orders. As for the accusation that targeting cities was immoral, Bradley responded, “As far as I am concerned, war itself is immoral.”
Although the Air Force and the Navy were willing to fight an ugly bureaucratic war over how atomic bombs should be used, the two services were in complete agreement about who should control them. David E. Lilienthal, the head of the Atomic Energy Commission, faced unrelenting pressure, from his first day in office, to hand over America’s nuclear arsenal to the military. The Joint Chiefs of Staff repeatedly asserted that the nation’s most powerful weapons should be kept securely in the custody of officers who might one day have to use them. At the height of the Berlin crisis, Secretary of Defense Forrestal asked President Truman to transfer the entire atomic stockpile to the Air Force, warning that a Soviet attack on AEC storage facilities could leave the United States defenseless. James Webb, one of Truman’s advisers, wasn’t persuaded by that argument and told Lilienthal: “The idea of turning over custody of atomic bombs to these competing, jealous, insubordinate Services, fighting for position with each other, is a terrible prospect.” The president denied the military’s request and publicly reaffirmed his support for civilian control of the atomic bomb. Privately, Truman explained that he didn’t want “to have some dashing lieutenant colonel decide when would be the proper time to drop one.”
White House approval of the atomic blitz gave the Strategic Air Command a role of singular importance: SAC had the only planes that could drop atomic bombs. “Destruction is just around the corner for any future aggressor against the United States,” an Air Force press release warned. “Quick retaliation will be our answer in the form of an aerial knockout delivered by the Strategic Air Command.” A wide gulf existed, however, between the rhetoric and reality. Demobilization had left SAC a hollow force, with a shortage of skilled pilots and mechanics. During one major exercise in 1948, almost half of SAC’s B-29s failed to get off the ground and reach their targets. The public controversy surrounding the atomic blitz obscured a crucial point: the United States couldn’t launch one. The nation’s emergency war plans called for a counterattack against the Soviet Union with more than one hundred atomic bombs — but SAC had just twenty-six flight crews available to deliver them. Perhaps half of these crews would be shot down trying to reach their targets, while others would have to ditch their planes after running out of fuel. Although SAC’s retaliation might still be devastating, it wouldn’t be quick. An estimated thirty-five to forty-five days of preparation would be necessary before an all-out nuclear attack could be launched.