Although Trenchard and Douhet are now hailed as pioneers in air power theory, their conclusions were over-imaginative and unscientific and, for the military establishments of the 1920s, an invitation to indulge in what were still widely regarded as morally unacceptable violations of the laws of war. Despite the subsequent status enjoyed by both men, they remained relative outsiders in the 1920s. Douhet was briefly Air Minister in Mussolini’s first Cabinet in 1922, but was then retired from military service, sacked as minister, and left to argue his case from the wings. Trenchard spent much of his term as chief of staff fighting to retain air force independence and to forge a distinct strategic identity for his force. Neither was a household name in the 1920s, though Douhet’s works became more widely known in the decade that followed. No air force in the 1920s (or indeed in the 1930s) deliberately created a strategic bombing capability to eliminate an enemy rapidly and ruthlessly by assaulting civilian morale, a strategy crudely described in the interwar years as ‘the knockout blow’. What was significant about both Douhet and Trenchard, and a great many other post-war military thinkers, was the assumption that future war would be waged between whole societies in which the citizen, whether in uniform or in a factory, or driving a train or ploughing the fields, whether male or female, would contribute to the national war effort. This assumption made industries, cities and workers objects of war as much as the armed forces and put into sharper focus the pre-war fiction about the menace to civilization.
The European public in the 1920s saw the limited bombing of the Great War in much starker terms than most of the military establishment. The critical change brought about by the war was the widespread realization among Europe’s population that there was no possibility in any future war of civilian immunity. Small though the bombing effort had been during the Great War, it was taken to symbolize the crossing of an important threshold, in which science in the service of war could subvert conventional forms of military conflict in favour of a wilful assault on civilian society. Commenting in 1923 on a claim that hostile aircraft could poison the whole of London in three hours, the English historian, Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson, wrote: ‘war now means extermination, not of soldiers only, but of civilians and of civilisation’.23
Lowes Dickinson was not a military expert, but much of the scaremongering literature in the interwar years was made more chilling because it was written by soldiers or ex-soldiers, or by scientists and engineers who paraded their expertise to the public to give their conclusions greater weight. The Earl of Halsbury, the author in 1926 of