Fighter Control: World War II Technology that Saved Us All
After Independence Day, when all the barbecues, fireworks, and movie marathons are over, take a moment to reflect on a little-known technology that probably saved us all from Adolf Hitler: fighter control.
Fighter Control was the world’s first great air defense system. It was invented by the RAF in the mid-1930s and was a crucial element in the British victory over a numerically superior Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain in 1940. At this time, the Germans outnumbered the Brits in terms of aircraft by a factor of four to one. Fighter Control allowed the RAF to track incoming enemy planes and get its own fighters up into the air to harass, destroy, and drive off the Germans while they were still miles from populated areas, primarily London.
It saved fuel, aircraft, and lives. Fighter Control eliminated the need for roving air patrols throughout the UK, which would have been extremely difficult, if not impossible, to mount. If Hitler had conquered, or even gotten a foothold in England in 1940, he would have been infinitely harder to dislodge from Europe, and, as it turned out, it took six bloody years to do so.
The British taught fighter control to American radio men like my father, an Army Air Corps sergeant with the 327th Fighter Control Squadron in Western Europe. In fact, one of the first things my dad did when he arrived in London in September 1943 was to start training at RAF bases.
American Fighter Control was originally designed to protect the coast of the United States from air attack. Outfits like the 327th Fighter Control Squadron acted as liaisons between controllers in operations blocks on the ground and lead airborne pilots in five-plane fighter squadrons. Fighter Control technicians helped guide pilots to their targets; if a flyer was lost or hit, radio men would help direct him back to base.
According to an October 1944 Air Force Magazine article, fighter-control-directed fighter-bombers destroyed over 900 enemy trucks and horse-drawn equipment on a typical day. Other targets were railways and bridges.
Some outfits used radar. Others, like the 327th, did not.
There were two types of trucks: transmitters and receivers. Transmitter trucks allowed a controller to speak to a lead pilot. Receiver vans allowed a controller to listen to the flyer. All radio men were familiar with both types of vehicle.
Radio vans were perched on the highest possible ground to ensure optimal transmission and reception. They were spaced at least a mile apart to avoid mass casualty and capture. If a truck was damaged or destroyed, another would quickly move in to replace it-as opposed to having them all en masse, which could easily have resulted in decimation of an entire outfit.
There were usually three radio men in a truck: a sergeant supervisor, and a corporal and a PFC. The latter two soldiers would monitor and transcribe aerial broadcasts, and perform clerical duties.
If a flyer was lost or hit, it took three radio vans to locate him. What the fighter control technician would do-usually the sergeant or corporal-was listen on earphones for an audio signal coming from the lead fighter aircraft and turn a little wheel in his truck-which was connected to a 75-foot antenna outside-until that signal reached the “null” or softest volume. That would give the radio man the angle of his truck relative to the lead airborne pilot, and he would then transmit that angle by radio telephone to the controller.
The controller had a map of all truck locations. When he received an angle from a radio man, the controller would plot it on a graph. He would collect all three angles in this manner, and their point of intersection was the pilot’s location. Once the controller knew where the pilot was, he could talk him back to base. This technique was called triangulation.
Determining angles was tricky because the fighter control technician had to listen very carefully for that null volume. There was a sound that was almost identical that was 180 degrees off. If the Fighter Control man got the wrong angle, the pilot would fly out to sea where death was almost certain. In the two years that my father was overseas, the 327th Fighter Control Squadron, some 300-men strong, never lost a single pilot.
Very few men in the 327th received lavish decorations. Yet their perfect record is a testament to the effectiveness of Fighter Control and the “ordinary” men who ran the system.
Fighter Control has always been top secret. Enhanced with satellite and computer technology, it continues to help keep Coalition forces safe in the 21st century. But in the wake of V-E Day, the upcoming V-J Day, and Independence Day, it’s fitting to remember the vital contribution Fighter Control made at its birth. If it wasn’t for Fighter Control, we might all be speaking German now.
Mark Stuart Ellison is an author of Dear Mom, Dad & Ethel: World War II through the Eyes of a Radio Man.
Murphy, S. Sgt. Mark, USAAF. “Fighter Control: Nerve Center of Battle.” Air Force (October 1944): 6-7, 63. Record of the 327th Fighter Control Squadron. Privately printed, 1946. Dear Mom, Dad & Ethel: World War II through the Eyes of a Radio Man (iUniverse 2004, 2006).
