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From the “Old Breed” World War II memoirs of Eugene Sledge and Robert Leckie, Marine grunts with a flair for writing have added immeasurably to our understanding of war. Their storytelling tends to capture the bottom-up perspectives of warriors suddenly confronted by the imponderables of military history, those unforgettable moments when events smite the best-laid plans of officials far removed from current conflicts. That same perspective frames every chapter of Chas Henry’s superb quest to preserve the memories of the 13 Marines killed and more than 73 injured when a bizarre flash fire erupted on the slopes of Japan’s Mount Fuji in October 1979. 

So how bad was it? Henry extensively quotes the Marine Commandant at the time, General Robert Barrow, whose military career began in the grim days of 1942: “Having witnessed a lot of bad things, ugly things, none could compare to that experience.” Although it quickly became known as the “worst-ever peacetime disaster” in Marine Corps history, hospital orderlies remembered something else: “You could smell them as soon as the elevator door opened . . . [the] acrid odor of charred flesh” infused into their uniforms, hair, and skin. Equally upsetting was the constant shivering of the burn victims. As one Marine with second- and third-degree burns explained, “It’s 110 degrees in there but we didn’t have skin to keep our heat in.” 

How could such a calamity have occurred? As a former enlisted Camp Fuji Marine, Chas Henry coolly lays bare the roots of the disaster. Although his book includes neither bibliography nor footnotes, his acknowledgments give ample testimony to his exhaustive research across two continents amid the COVID-19 pandemic: “One hundred and thirty individuals . . . shared memories of the incident . . . despite the tears often generated as they did.” Equally important: “Scores of archivists, public affairs officers, librarians, and others” raided their files to assist Henry in assembling the most comprehensive analysis ever attempted of the Fuji fire and its aftermath. Aided by maps, command chronologies, timelines, articles, and even pilot logs, the Fuji Marines at last had a historian capable of telling their unique, heart-rending stories.

Everything else about the base and its mission reflected the primacy of tough operational drilling. Pacific-based Marines typically used Fuji as a training destination after months aboard amphibious vessels, exploiting its hiking, maneuver, and live-firing ranges to sharpen their wartime skills. Since realistic, short-term exercises were their primary mission, Fuji’s bivouac areas were ramshackle, with Quonset huts “put together by infantry carpenters” that seemed “right out of Gomer Pyle.” The only real hazard of the bivouac areas came from a fuel farm improbably located uphill from the Quonset huts housing hundreds of hard-training Marines. These hazards were worsened by the use of rubberized fuel tanks that both the Army and Marines believed represented a quantum improvement in fuel-handling efficiency: “The Amphibious Assault Fuel System unpacked at Camp Fuji in 1979 included 20,000-gallon tanks. . . .When filled to capacity . . . a 20,000-gallon bladder would swell to 5 feet, 9 inches tall.”

An Army Field Manual published in 1977 gave an explicit warning about the location of fuel farms: “[N]ever choose one uphill . . . from other installations which would be in the path of escaping fuel.” Although a succession of training unit commanders seemed startlingly comfortable with the hazards to their troops, Henry cites a 32-year-old Navy chaplain whose “new eyes” enabled him to deliver a prophetic warning only weeks before disaster struck. “It just defies common sense that you would put fuel bladders . . . up above where people are living. . . .You’ve got stoves in there.” The chaplain remembered that a lieutenant colonel at the base camp curtly told him that “that’s the way it had been done for a long time. . . .So [I should] keep my thoughts to myself.” 

Unfortunately, the looming menace of what became Typhoon Tip—which remains the largest tropical cyclone on record—made landfall on mainland Japan on October 19, 1979. Registering an astounding 870 millibars of pressure, Tip had gale-force winds that extended 690 miles in every direction. For the Marines at Camp Fuji, the storm was the critical factor that combined the well-known hazards of volcanic soils, sustained tropical downpours, unpredictable slope, and highly explosive liquids. It is not known precisely when, where, or in what order these hazards ignited the firestorm that rapidly enveloped Marines, their uniforms, belongings, equipment, buildings, and everything else at Fuji that would burn. “Older Marines at the camp that day—veterans of combat in Vietnam—felt ripped back to the war zone. Initially, it was like a rocket or mortar attack, reflected one grizzled sergeant major. ‘It was as ferocious or fierce as any battle.’”

The first half of Fuji Fire will be of primary interest to Service schools and war colleges focused on the operational art. Just like viewers of the TV series Air Disasters, readers of the book will wonder what corrective actions might have broken the impending failure chain of catastrophe. But it was the disciplined adaptation to those disasters—related in detail throughout the book’s second half—that provided the most satisfaction to this reader: Marines, their doctors, and their entire chain of command struggled to collect, triage, and transport the wounded, often devising unprecedented innovations amid the chaos of the unexpected. How effective were they? Against an expected burn recovery rate of 50 percent, the Fuji fire survivors topped 80 percent—proof positive that Marines are very special people indeed! 

But the disturbing counterpoint is the institutional memory lapse that persistently plagued Chas Henry’s research: “Well, what fire was that?” Four decades after the reforms of the Goldwater–Nichols Department of Defense Reorganization Act of 1986, let us hope that those tentative inter-Service nonaggression pacts have been replaced by the entrepreneurial synergies of a joint force where voracious improvement is a way of life. In a strategic environment where ancient verities can be disrupted in nanoseconds, it does little good to strive mightily for innovation unless those breakthroughs spur future improvements.

We should be ever mindful of the stakes. In Fuji Fire’s most moving story, Marine Commandant General Barrow, accompanied by his corps sergeant major, returned to visit his troops: “I went into this one room and this rather strong voice under all these bandages said, ‘It’s a pleasure to see you, sir.’ I replied, ‘I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.’ To which he said, ‘Sir, it would be a pleasure to see you under any circumstances.’” General Barrow remembered being told later that the Marine had died shortly afterwards.

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Ιn the run-up to the start of the Russo-Ukraine War in February 2022, numerous analysts from the U.S. Government and academic sources assessed whether Vladimir Putin would invade and, if so, what the likely outcome of a Russian invasion would be. The U.S. intelligence community accurately projected that Putin would invade, but the predictions about the war’s outcome turned out to be wrong. Russia did invade, but Ukraine successfully deflected the brunt of Russia’s aggression.

Why were the assessments about Russia’s prospects for a quick victory so far off? Was it an analytic failure stemming from faulty knowledge or flawed metrics? Do we need to develop a more holistic methodology for comparing the power of protagonists? War and Power develops and applies such a methodology or framework. 

Phillips Payson O’Brien, the author of this relevant and timely book, is a professor of history at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. In addition, O’Brien writes a provocative Substack newsletter and does podcasts on contemporary security issues. His previous works on World War II—How the War Was Won (2015) and The Strategists (2024)—are acclaimed for their serious scholarship. This current project draws on these superb histories for insights. 

The central theme in War and Power is that God and fortune are not necessarily on the side of the biggest battalions. The war against Ukraine is just the latest example showing that there is more to success in war than having the most troops, tanks, planes, ships, or drones. The book is divided into two parts. The first half lays out a framework of five elements for assessing national power. States that possess these elements and successfully apply them are Full Spectrum Powers. O’Brien devotes a chapter to each element or pillar. The second half of the book strives to highlight critical distinctions during warfare. Here, the author employs examples from contemporary conflicts including the Cold War and Kosovo, as well as Iraq and Afghanistan. 

O’Brien finds fault with the notion of Great Powers, which he finds places a few states on a pedestal and misrepresents the value of allies. Admittedly, the term “Great Power” comes with hints of hubris and relegates the majority of states to a second tier or worse. But it also relates to the historical impact of powerful states and empires that have shaped history. O’Brien’s preferred substitute is Full Spectrum Powers, a concept that suffers from terminological defects and a strange oversight. While the term “Great Powers” connotes a rather exclusive club of major states, it implies scale and reach, not just breadth. Many nation-states have some capacity in most of the various elements of national power—think of capable middle powers today, such as France and the United Kingdom.

The first pillar of the spectrum is economic and technological strength: “The states that have been the most powerful over the past two centuries” and dominated have been “the economically largest and most technologically advanced.” As Paul Kennedy’s classic The Rise and Fall of Great Powers notes, economic and financial potential are important in tracing the transitions of great powers. 

As the second pillar, O’Brien’s framework includes leadership and how the personalities of political leaders influence policy. This also includes how political culture and social conditions may restrain critical conditions that lead to war. War and Power’s exploration of the intercession of leaders who are all too human is regrettably unique in measures of power. But the study of individuals is rewarding because, as articulated by Hal Brands in The New Makers of Modern Strategy, “it is people that formulate and execute strategy, and it is through their ideas and experiences that we can best comprehend the unrelenting demands of those tasks.” 

History shows that competition between powerful states often juxtaposes very different societies and enabling structures. This is the author’s third component, and it addresses social values, culture, and beliefs. The reference to structure entails government agencies, bureaucracy, and power centers. The social dimension of strategy is often overlooked, a point that the late Michael Howard made years ago. More recently, researchers have examined the importance of society during periods of strategic competition and renewal. Competitive societies tend to be open, pluralistic, full of intellectual energy, and committed to learning and adapting, and they have a common sense of their own role in the world. This complex mosaic is consistent with O’Brien’s application. 

The penultimate factor for the proposed framework is the military, or more accurately the construction of a military. Here, the author offers a bold observation: “[T]he constituent elements of a power tell us more about how effective a military will be than the raw numbers of equipment or doctrine.” In short, the strengths and weaknesses of a military will reflect its country’s political leadership, social system, and its technological capacity. O’Brien contends that if you want to know how a war will develop, “look at the powers involved as possessing different military systems, and examine the factors that will govern not only how those systems will operate at first, but how they can be regenerated, adapted, and improved as a war goes on.” 

While the author grasps the importance of advanced technology, he offers little advice on how to shape a military. For more detail on how Full Spectrum Powers have adapted their armed forces in the face of disruptive technologies, readers should consult The Origins of Victory by the defense strategist Andrew Krepinevich. 

The final dimension of Full Spectrum Powers deals with alliances. “An alliance of states that work together,” O’Brien finds, “can be mutually supportive and probably greater than the sum of its parts. Such alliances won World War I, World War II, and the Cold War.” Here the author cites British diplomacy as part of the Entente Cordiale before World War I as “a textbook case” for diplomacy. From London’s point of view surely it was a success, but the British Cabinet’s refusal to publicly commit to Belgian sovereignty and France’s security made a German intervention more likely. London’s desire to retain British freedom of action undercut the Entente’s deterrence against Berlin. 

O’Brien’s suite of dimensions appears incomplete. Readers will be surprised by the absence of any mention of information; here, the “I” is missing from the heuristic DIME (diplomatic, informational, military, economic) model. The importance of connectivity, content, and cognition should be noted given today’s fast-paced information environment. The author’s conception of what constitutes power in the “full spectrum” should be extended to account for nonkinetic sources. For a comparative analysis on national power in this enabling dimension in competition, see National Defense University Press’s Strategic Assessment 2025 (ed. Thomas F. Lynch III). 

Despite the author’s holistic approach and examples, the book does not appear to generate definitive solutions to the crucial issue of prediction or foresight. O’Brien’s own case study on Ukraine is revealing. Few observers would have credited the amateur Volodymyr Zelensky with Churchillian qualities in competition with the experienced and ruthless Vladimir Putin. Few observers would have had a sufficiently strong grasp of military reforms and security assistance to Kyiv since 2014 to judge that it could withstand a conventional invasion from a neighbor with thousands of tanks and a robust air force. In economics, the Russian gross domestic product is 11 times that of Ukraine, and Russia can ramp up manufacturing for armor, missiles, and other materiel. Ukraine’s entrepreneurial ingenuity and adaptability would have been quite hard to assess before the war but are obvious now. It is perhaps only in social cohesion and resilience that analysts might have sensed how Ukrainians would rally to defend their independence, given the Maidan demonstrations of 2014. 

The outcome of any war is difficult to predict. As any good student of Clausewitz realizes, war is inherently nonlinear. On War reflects that war is a nonlinear phenomenon, and that “similar causes do not always produce similar effects, and causes interact in ways unforeseeable even by the historically sophisticated”—like our author. Thus, any war may reflect different outcomes that will not be predicted with great accuracy. Much of the uncertainty comes from the unpredictable interaction of states, societies, economies, and military forces that O’Brien depicts over the last century and a half. 

We should learn to accept the reality that conflict is the realm of contradiction and paradox, not of rationality or precision analytics. No individual or algorithm will capture all the patterns of the past or eliminate uncertainty in future human affairs. That said, a framework that incorporates more than a military order of battle or static metrics appears extremely useful when formulating policy (or studying it). 

While Paul Kennedy will not be retitling his classic The Rise and Fall of Great Powers anytime soon, this splendid book is just as important. War and Power manifests a nuanced grasp of 20th-century wars, especially the complexities of two world wars. The book has particular utility for top-level joint professional military education students because of its informed exploitation of the past to demonstrate the dynamic interaction of the instruments of national power. O’Brien reminds us that wars are not necessarily won by the state with the largest army, the biggest missile inventory, or the most exquisite technology. Students of war must evaluate all the elements of power and anticipate their interaction. War and Power illuminates the past and guides serious students of war into the future. 

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Αfter nearly 25 years of security force assistance as a pillar of national security strategy, U.S. strategists and practitioners still struggle to predict when the tool will succeed in building up a partner nation’s military and security apparatus to confront its threats. To date, the ability of any model of security force assistance to predict the results of an engagement has as much fidelity as a Magic 8 Ball. 

Enter Frank Sobchak, the Chair of Irregular Warfare Studies at the Modern War Institute, with his book Training for Victory. In his research, a study of U.S. Special Forces advisory missions, Sobchak seeks to find the most important success factors for building capable host-nation special operations units. 

Though Special Forces have advised in dozens of countries, Training for Victory studies only five cases: El Salvador, Colombia, the Philippines, Iraq, and Afghanistan. To focus on the link between the advisory missions and outcomes, Sobchak tries to hold contextual factors constant by selecting cases where Special Forces built foreign special operations units from scratch to help the host nation deal with an insurgency. 

Of the five, Colombia and Iraq stand out as exemplars, while the rest had mixed or poor results. To find out why, Sobchak looks at data about Special Forces missions and advisors and incorporates research interviews to measure five advising factors to see which were most critical in creating effective partners in combat: consistency in advisor pairing, language skills, partner-to-advisor ratio, the ability to organize the host-nation unit, and combat advising. 

Training for Victory finds that the fourth factor—the ability to organize the host-nation special operations unit—is the one most strongly linked to combat effectiveness. In Iraq, Special Forces advisors had the latitude to choose the host-nation unit’s leadership, screen out unsuitable candidates, and set training and deployment schedules. While the Colombians retained decisionmaking authority, they went along with most of their advisors’ suggestions, ceding de facto control over many aspects of their special operations organization. 

Surprisingly, Sobchak finds that high levels of language ability are not as important as the Special Forces community has believed. A lack of Arabic fluency did not prevent Special Forces from achieving spectacular results in Iraq. Special Forces advisors relied on just a handful of their teammates who could speak Arabic at a basic level, a few Iraqis who spoke English, and interpreters. Still, Iraqi special operations forces created after the 2003 invasion became a highly proficient counterterrorism unit. 

In contrast, many Special Forces soldiers sent to advise Salvadoran special operations forces in the 1980s spoke fluent, if not native, Spanish, yet the units’ performance was mediocre. Sobchak concludes that—counterintuitively—learning any language helps advisors understand how to navigate other cultures and communicate with sensitivity, even if they have to speak through interpreters. 

Crucially, Training for Victory hints at but does not fully develop a major point—that Special Forces advisors are soldiers who have been carefully screened and assessed for personality traits that thrive in unfamiliar cultures. Before they learn a language, Special Forces advisors already possess critical yet rare attributes, such as humility, curiosity, adaptability, and patience, among others. 

The implication for the military Services is that they should screen candidates for military advisor, foreign area officer, and exchange roles based on personalities before sending them abroad. Matching language training with a military member who has suitable personality traits will give them the ability to flourish in many cultural contexts. No amount of time at the Defense Language Institute can fix inflexibility and impatience. 

Sobchak’s five advising factors can be read differently, however. None of them are independent variables; instead, they are indirect and partial measurements of two elusive variables that are the most important in advisor missions: influence and control. Four of the book’s factors measure the advisors’ influence—the extent to which advisors can persuade and shape the ideas and behaviors of the host nation’s soldiers. These four—consistency in advisors, low partner-to-advisor ratios, language fluency, and combat advising—are factors that the United States can control, to an extent, and that yield greater influence over the host-nation unit. 

The degree of sovereignty that the host nation yields to the United States— manifested in Sobchak’s model as the ability of advisors to organize the unit— is control over key decisions. Although the United States can determine how much influence it wants to exert, the host nation alone decides how much sovereignty it will cede to advisors, and whether that will include the ability to determine the unit’s commanders and leaders, selection standards, equipment, strategy, and operations. 

Reading Sobchak’s evidence in this light, it becomes clear that U.S. advisors need both influence and control to create combat-effective units. The host nation can offer up decisionmaking authority to the United States, but if the Services frequently rotate culturally unprepared advisors, the mission will not be able to use its leverage. Conversely, well-trained advisors that spend a lot of time with the host-nation unit will not be able to move beyond rapport without control over key decisions. 

On the surface, Training for Victory appears relevant only to the special operations community, but a closer reading offers broader lessons to the larger security force assistance community and combatant commanders. Sobchak’s framing of influence and control applies across the board. When building a foreign military capability—Special Operations Forces or otherwise—defense leaders must soberly assess how much influence and control they can assert in the advising mission. 

Commanders should not wait for the outcome—the book’s five cases averaged over 10 years, and in most, the work was left incomplete. However, influence and control are leading indicators of the mission’s viability. Each of Training for Victory’s five advising factors was visible at the outset, or in the case of organizational control, emerged soon thereafter. 

When the United States finds itself without the necessary influence and control of partner forces to reach its objectives, it should scale back its advising goals instead of accepting the physical and political risk that comes with combat advising and assisting. In those instances, more responsible alternatives are sending noncombat advisors to seek access and information about the host nation or withdrawing altogether. 

Security force assistance is not a reliable strategy; it is a long-term relationship rife with uncertainty. Understanding the importance of influence, control, and time horizons can help the United States consider partners with forecasts better than “Ask again later.”

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USS Kitty Hawk (CV 63) steams in formation during a joint photo exercise during exercise Valiant Shield 2007 while at sea, August 14, 2007. (U.S. Navy/Mass Communication Specialist Seaman Stephen W. Rowe)

Within a month of the September 11, 2001, attacks on New York and Washington, DC, the United States began a military offensive against al-Qaeda’s center of operations in Afghanistan and the country’s ruling Taliban regime, which had harbored the terrorist organization since the mid-1990s. The objectives of the offensive, codenamed Operation Enduring Freedom, were to topple the Taliban, destroy al-Qaeda’s primary base structure, and apprehend Osama bin Laden, using a minimum number of conventional ground forces. The projection of U.S. naval power was indispensable to the execution of Operation Enduring Freedom. Because Afghanistan is landlocked and located nearly 400 miles from the nearest coastline at its southernmost border, U.S. and coalition forces had to prosecute much of the war from naval vessels armed with Tomahawk Land Attack Missiles (TLAMs), aircraft carriers, and bases positioned far from combat zones. Air Force heavy bombers flying from outside the theater of operations delivered the vast majority of munitions, but U.S. carrier-based aircraft flew 75 percent of all strike missions, effectively substituting for land-based air forces to compensate for the lack of forward operating sites. 

Grappling with the challenges of reaching targets deep inside one of the most remote parts of Southwest Asia and hundreds of miles from regional U.S. bases and allied installations, U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) began devising plans to stage Special Operations Forces (SOF) of U.S. Special Operations Command (SOCOM) from positions close enough to southern Afghanistan to strike al-Qaeda in its mountainous strongholds. While studying maps of the region, CENTCOM planners noticed that several Taliban and al-Qaeda targets were located within the range of shipborne helicopters flying from the North Arabian Sea. However, the Navy’s helicopter carriers, from which Marine Expeditionary Units deployed, were not big enough for the composite force that CENTCOM envisioned. Thus, the solution was to position a large deck aircraft carrier off the coast of Pakistan to serve as an afloat forward staging base for SOF elements, in a manner similar to the Navy’s use of America (CV-66) during the U.S. intervention in Haiti in 1994.

In mid-September 2001, CENTCOM directed Naval Forces Central Command (NAVCENT) to prepare to fly Carl Vinson’s (CVN-70) air wing to Qatar to use the carrier as an afloat forward staging base for SOF personnel and their helicopters. After issuing these directives, however, planners realized that the lack of readily available tankers in the area of responsibility meant that removing Carl Vinson’s air wing to make room for SOF components would effectively eliminate the carrier’s most potent asset for the entirety of the planned combat operation. The specter of such a consequential decision sparked intense deliberations among CENTCOM; NAVCENT; the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Vernon E. Clark; and other fleet commanders regarding which additional carriers to commit to the region, if any, and which to deploy as an afloat forward staging base. Nearly all the potential options would have upended the precisely scheduled carrier deployments. In the end, because the SOF components tasked with serving in the mission were not yet ready to embark, CENTCOM planners chose to deploy the aging Kitty Hawk (CV-63) as an afloat forward staging base, thereby allowing Carl Vinson to keep her air wing. Based in Yokosuka, Japan, as part of the Forward Deployed Naval Force, Kitty Hawk was a conventional, large-deck carrier that had served in Vietnam, Somalia, and Iraq. Other than Carl Vinson and Enterprise (CVN-65), it was the carrier operating closest to Afghanistan on September 11. 

After further deliberations, the Navy chose to surge several aircraft carriers to the North Arabian Sea in an effort to—in the absence of land bases—maximize expeditionary air power during Operation Enduring Freedom’s critical opening phase. At first, Enterprise and Carl Vinson were the only carriers on station when strike operations began, but Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71) arrived on October 15. John C. Stennis (CVN-74) would arrive several weeks later to relieve Enterprise, which had already been on deployment for nearly 7 months. Each carrier would deploy with its embarked air wing, made up of several squadrons and detachments of both rotary- and fixed-wing aircraft, the latter composed primarily of F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets. This surge of carriers into the Arabian Sea demonstrated the Navy’s ability to adapt to the lack of access to land bases. It also demonstrated the versatility of sea-based forces equipped with a flexible doctrine for littoral warfare. Among the most salient demonstrations of this versatility was the deployment of the Kitty Hawk as an afloat forward staging base for special operations forces.

On September 27, Kitty Hawk received orders to deploy to the North Arabian Sea. To accommodate SOF elements, the carrier deployed with fewer than 20 aircraft from Carrier Air Wing Five (CVW-5): eight F/A-18C Hornets, three S-3B Vikings, two C-2A Greyhounds, and two SH-60F/HH-60H Seahawks. On October 1, a reconfigured Kitty Hawk departed Yokosuka for the CENTCOM area of operations in company with cruisers Vincennes (CG-49) and Chancellorsville (CG-63, now the Robert Smalls), destroyers Curtis Wilbur (DDG-54) and Cushing (DD-985), the frigate Gary (FFG-51), and the oiler USNS Rappahannock (T-AO-204). 

During the first few days of Operation Enduring Freedom, Navy surface combatants and submarines armed with TLAMs conducted many of the initial strikes. Combat operations formally began on the evening of October 7, when destroyers McFaul (DDG-74), John Paul Jones (DDG-53), and O’Brien (DD-975); the cruiser Philippine Sea (CG-58); the submarine Providence (SSN-719); and the British submarines HMS Triumph and HMS Trafalgar launched a barrage of some 50 TLAMs against fixed targets inside Afghanistan. These TLAM strikes were followed up by bombings carried out by 25 Navy carrier aircraft launched from Enterprise and Carl Vinson and 17 U.S. Air Force heavy bombers. The primary targets for the Navy aircraft included Taliban and al-Qaeda command and control installations, early warning radars, airfields, and major air defenses—principally, Soviet-built SA-2 and SA-3 surface-to-air missiles. The objective of the opening strikes was to achieve air supremacy, thus allowing U.S. aircraft to operate over Afghanistan with complete freedom for the duration of the campaign. 

After transiting the Strait of Malacca on October 7, Kitty Hawk arrived off the island of Masirah, Oman, on October 12, steaming more than 5,000 nautical miles in 12 days. In the weeks following the September 11 attacks, CENTCOM had made strong diplomatic efforts to gain access to Masirah in preparation for launching military campaigns into Afghanistan. By September 20, Oman had granted permission to stage SOF elements from the island; SOCOM established a forward headquarters there just a few days before Kitty Hawk’s arrival. At Masirah, Kitty Hawk embarked a composite Army command. Consisting of more than 600 personnel, this command included a Special Forces Operational Detachment, the 2nd Battalion of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, and a team of Navy SEALs. Second Battalion embarked 20 helicopters, including MH-47D and MH-47E Chinooks, MH-60K and MH60L Black Hawks, and Hughes Little Birds. Once the SOF elements were in place aboard Kitty Hawk, the carrier commenced mission tasking in support of the critical overland strike operations that had already begun. To preserve the operational security of the embarked special operations forces, Kitty Hawk maintained a 5-mile exclusion zone for the duration of the operation, blacked out personal emails from the ship, and prohibited all press access. 

U.S. Air Force Tech. Sgt. Joshua McIntosh, 48th Operations Support Squadron complex air traffic controller, Capt. Kate Evans, 48th OSS airfield operations flight commander, and Senior Airman Justin Wood, 48th OSS radar airfield and weather systems technician, utilize a measuring wheel during a landing zone night operation near Fakenham, England, December 10, 2025. (U.S. Air Force/Airman 1st Class Rilynn Jacobs)

The decision to convert Kitty Hawk into an afloat forward staging base for SOF missions was inspired by the use of America in the 1994 intervention in Haiti. During that operation, the Navy removed all of the aircraft from America, thereby turning the carrier into a floating platform for the exclusive use of SOCOM. During Operation Enduring Freedom, however, Kitty Hawk retained a small portion of her air wing, including the eight F/A-18C Hornets, which competed for limited space with 2nd Battalion’s Black Hawks and Chinooks. The carrier’s few remaining strike fighters flew missions over Afghanistan around the clock, interrupting the delicate battle rhythm of the embarked SOF elements who operated on a reverse cycle. After staging missions from the carrier at night, personnel from the composite Army command attempted to sleep through the incessant roar of strike fighters launching off the deck during the day. While on station in the Arabian Sea, pilots from Kitty Hawk’s embarked Carrier Air Wing 5 flew some 600 missions over Afghanistan, including more than 100 combat sorties. 

During the first week of the Operation Enduring Freedom air campaign, CENTCOM made multiple unsuccessful attempts to bring SOF teams into Afghanistan to collaborate with the Northern Alliance in their offensive against Taliban forces and provide targeting coordinates to Air Force and Navy aircraft. The initial obstacle was the slow process of political negotiations with the sovereign states neighboring Afghanistan to gain the use of airfields from which to launch missions. The most logical positions for staging such missions were located in Pakistan along its border with Afghanistan. However, because of domestic political concerns, Pakistan agreed only to allow the staging of support flights from its territory and prohibited the launching of direct-action missions by SOCOM personnel. CENTCOM planners, therefore, turned to negotiating with Uzbekistan and Tajikistan for the use of their airfields. Unfortunately, once those countries eventually granted approval, SOF insertions were further thwarted by adverse weather conditions and heavy ground fire at predetermined landing zones marked by Central Intelligence Agency teams that had operated inside Afghanistan since September 26.

Finally, after weeks of frustration, on the night of October 19 the composite Army command staged the first major SOF mission into southern Afghanistan from Kitty Hawk. Four MH-47 Chinook helicopters carrying more than a squadron of Army Special Forces operators took off from the carrier in complete radio silence, launching from the flight deck in an exact sequence based solely on timing. The primary target of the mission was a residential compound near Kandahar belonging to the Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar. The purpose of the raid was to gather intelligence, capture key enemy personnel, and disrupt the Taliban’s command and control systems. 

Before seizing the compound, Army Special Forces from Masirah were tasked with securing a dirt airstrip approximately 80 miles southwest of Kandahar for SOCOM to use as a temporary forward arming and refueling point for follow-on missions. This airstrip had been built for the United Arab Emirates’ military chief of staff, Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed, an avid falconer who flew in by private aircraft to access a nearby hunting camp. Originally planned to be a minimal helicopter assault staged from Kitty Hawk in support of the raid on Mullah Omar’s compound, this mission slowly grew into a much more substantial airborne operation that had to be launched from Masirah to accommodate the large number of aircraft involved. The mission was to be led by Army Special Forces, and Army Special Forces were responsible for the raid on the compound.

Both missions were initiated by the insertion of a small Army pathfinder team at the airstrip that confirmed it was clear of Taliban forces. After the pathfinders completed their reconnaissance efforts, Air Force pilots flying B-2 Spirit stealth bombers and AC-130 gunships delivered pre-assault fires. Then, at 11:15 p.m. local time, approximately 200 soldiers from Army Special Forces parachuted in from four Lockheed MC-130 Combat Talons of the Air Force 16th Special Operations Wing flying from Masirah. One Army Special Forces company set up a perimeter and blocking positions while another cleared buildings. MC-130 support aircraft arrived 14 minutes later and dropped off a fuel bladder for the forward arming and refueling point. Shortly thereafter, the four Chinooks carrying the Army Special Forces team from Kitty Hawk approached the airstrip.

After refueling at the newly established forward arming and refueling point, the primary raid force departed for Mullah Omar’s compound, located about 100 miles to the northeast of the airstrip. The compound included a brick house used by the Taliban leader and several outbuildings for accommodating his small security force. After AC-130 Spectre gunships and Black Hawk helicopters delivered preparatory fires, Army Special Forces personnel disembarked from the four Chinook helicopters. 

While some Army Special Forces personnel entered compound buildings, others established a perimeter. Although they faced no resistance initially and never encountered Mullah Omar, they set about conducting sensitive site exploitation and intelligence-gathering. Approximately an hour after initiating the raid on the compound, the Army Special Forces ground elements called for the helicopters to pick them up. Under the protection of circling AC-130s, the four Chinooks successfully extracted the Army Special Forces team, but one of the helicopters struck the edge of a compound wall while lifting out of the landing zone. The accident ripped away the landing gear and caused a hydraulic fuel leak, but the aircraft managed to take off. The outbound force for the assault on the compound then flew to the forward arming and refueling point at the airstrip to refuel before returning to Kitty Hawk at sunrise. Once the helicopters had departed the airstrip, the Army Special Forces boarded two Combat Talons that had landed there and left for Masirah.

During the raid on Mullah Omar’s compound, a third company of Army Special Forces flew from the Kitty Hawk on Black Hawk helicopters to a site at Dalbandin, Pakistan, known as Objective Hondo, 26 miles south of the Afghanistan border, to set up another forward arming and refueling point for the night’s outbound missions. After the Army Special Forces had secured the site, one of the Black Hawks attempted to reposition, creating a billowing dust cloud or “brownout” that obscured the landing zone. The disoriented pilots crashed the helicopter, which rolled onto its side, killing two Army Special Forces personnel and injuring three more. 

Early on the morning of October 24, the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable) launched a reinforced tactical recovery force from the amphibious assault ship Peleliu (LHA-5), stationed in the North Arabian Sea, to recover the downed Black Hawk. Working in conjunction with Pakistani security forces, the Marines successfully retrieved the helicopter and delivered it to the Kitty Hawk without further incident.

Back aboard the Kitty Hawk, the composite Army command spent the first few days after the missions at the airstrip and Mullah Omar’s compound completing after-action reviews and preparing for the arrival of CENTCOM Commander General Tommy Franks, who secretly visited the carrier on October 23. During this time, the Army Special Forces operators returned to Masirah, but 2nd Battalion, the SEAL team, and other Army Special Forces elements remained on board. On October 30, a week after General Franks’s visit, Secretary of the Navy Gordon England boarded Kitty Hawk to express his appreciation for the crew’s role in the nontraditional mission and to encourage them to understand their service as “creating the point of the spear” during Operation Enduring Freedom’s opening operations.

Marine Raiders with 1st Marine Raider Battalion near the completion of one of their and Special Patrol Insertion and Extraction (SPIE) exercises near Hurlbert Field, Florida, February 6, 2015. (Marine Forces, Special Operations Command/Sgt. Steven Fox)

Helicopters from the composite Army command deployed from Kitty Hawk again on November 18 and inserted SOF into the Shin Narai Valley, near the Pakistani border, where it linked up with the anti-Taliban Pashtun leader and former Kandahar governor Gul Agha Sherzai. These SOF personnel worked with Sherzai’s forces to block the main road between Kandahar and Quetta, Pakistan, and seal the border crossing near Spin Boldak to cut off the Taliban supply route.

On November 21, a detachment of approximately 20 SEALS flew from Kitty Hawk to the airstrip in the composite Army command’s helicopters. The SEALs were charged with conducting ground surveillance and reconnaissance over the airstrip in advance of Operation Swift Freedom, a forthcoming Marine mission to reoccupy the airstrip and build it into a forward base of operations for an offensive against Taliban forces near Kandahar.

At the end of November 2001, SOCOM began to draw down special operations forces in Afghanistan after the Taliban front in the north collapsed in several key locations, including Mazar-e-Sharif. The drawdown diminished the need for Kitty Hawk’s role as an afloat forward staging base for Special Forces, and the carrier began preparations to end her combat deployment. After flying off all remaining SOF helicopters to Masirah, the carrier departed the Arabian Sea on December 16, 2001, and returned to Yokosuka. During Kitty Hawk’s 83 days at sea in support of Operation Enduring Freedom, more than 1,000 SOF personnel from various Services staged from the carrier to conduct a range of critical missions including direct action raids, combat search and rescue, airstrike coordination, and intelligence gathering. 

Conclusion

The aircraft carrier is one useful piece of a large force that can be used innovatively to augment the whole. This article’s brief overview of the deployment of Kitty Hawk in Operation Enduring Freedom is intended to provide context for how a carrier has been employed in a successful, nontraditional mission in the recent past. It demonstrates the flexibility of the Navy’s most expensive platform, which boasts capabilities well beyond the air superiority and strike roles traditionally associated with carriers, and it may offer a helpful data point for subsequent research projects seeking to address the anticipated challenges of potential nontraditional missions in the future. 

The use of Kitty Hawk as an afloat forward staging base suggests that important nontraditional roles may become available to carriers as they approach the end of their service lives. While some of these roles may require older carriers to reconfigure or even undergo modifications to make them more suitable for specific alternative missions, doing so could extend the ships’ useful service by several years. Amid the resurgence of Great Power competition, the U.S. military as a whole and the Navy in particular will likely encounter nontraditional challenges. Maximizing the aircraft carrier’s flexibility and lifespan and exploiting the platform’s range of alternative capabilities will, therefore, improve the readiness of the entire joint force and increase the options available to military and civilian decisionmakers.³⁸ JFQ

Notes

¹ Gregory Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 2001–2002 (Washington, DC: Naval History and Heritage Command, 2016), 3–4, https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/u/us-navy-operation-enduring-freedom-2001-2002.html.

² Benjamin S. Lambeth, The New Face of Naval Strike Warfare: U.S. Carrier Air Operations and Capability Improvements Since Desert Storm (Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2004), 1, https://www.rand.org/pubs/research_briefs/RB9137.html.

³ Sean Naylor, Relentless Strike: The Secret History of Joint Special Operations Command (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2015), 96.

⁴ Tommy Franks, American Soldier (New York: Regan Books/Harper Collins, 2004), 265.

⁵ Sam Cox, “H065.1: Operation Enduring Freedom—September to December 2001,” Naval Intelligence Professionals, September 8, 2021, 7, 9, https://www.navintpro.org/professional-articles/2021/09/08/h065.1-operation-enduring-freedom-september-to-december-2001/; Loren Thompson, Killing Al Qaeda: The Navy’s Role (Arlington, VA: Lexington Institute, 2002), 13, https://lexingtoninstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/killing-al-qaeda-the-navys-role.pdf.

⁶ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 4–5.

⁷ Thompson, Killing Al Qaeda, 13.

⁸ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 30; Mark L. Evans and Roy A. Grossnick, United States Naval Aviation, 1910–2010, vol. I, Chronology (Washington, DC: Naval History and Heritage Command, 2015), 540, https://www.history.navy.mil/research/publications/publications-by-subject/naval-aviation-1910-2010.html.

⁹ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 6, 33.

¹⁰ Evans and Grossnick, United States Naval Aviation, 1910–2010, 541.

¹¹ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 97.

¹² Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 36–37.

¹³ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 106.

¹⁴ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 106.

¹⁵ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 79.

¹⁶ Cox, “H065.1,” 19.

¹⁷ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 86–89.

¹⁸ Nathan S. Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 2001–2002: From the Sea (Washington, DC: Marine Corps University, History Division, 2011), 59, https://www.usmcu.edu/Portals/218/from%20the%20sea.pdf.

¹⁹ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 107–8.

²⁰ Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 59.

²¹ Cox, “H065.1,” 20.

²² Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 59.

²³ Cox, “H065.1,” 21.

²⁴ Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 60.

²⁵ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 117.

²⁶ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 117.

²⁷ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 117–18.

²⁸ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 118.

²⁹ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 42–43; Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 60.

³⁰ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 121–22.

³¹ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 45–46; Thomas A. Hejl, USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) Command History for Calendar Year 2001 (Washington, DC: Naval History and Heritage Command Archives, 2001), 8, https://www.history.navy.mil/content/dam/nhhc/research/archives/command-operation-reports/ship-command-operation-reports/k/kitty-hawk-cv-63-ii/2001.pdf.

³² Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 58; Donald P. Wright, A Different Kind of War: The United States Army in Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF), October 2001–September 2005 (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2010), 106–7, https://www.armyupress.army.mil/Portals/7/combat-studies-institute/csi-books/DifferentKindofWar.pdf.

³³ Lowrey, U.S. Marines in Afghanistan, 111.

³⁴ Naylor, Relentless Strike, 154.

³⁵ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 79; Thompson, Killing Al Qaeda, 13.

³⁶ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 35. 

³⁷ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, xvi, 35.

³⁸ Bereiter, The U.S. Navy in Operation Enduring Freedom, 62.

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U.S. Army Soldiers assigned to the 62nd Medical Brigade participate in a field training exercise, coordinating the movement of blood supplies during medical operations at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington, Jan. 30, 2026. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Fabian Jones)

Blood is critical to casualty care, and managing the blood supply chain in expeditionary environments presents unique logistic challenges, especially in nonpermissive environments. Ensuring the availability of blood in resource-limited, remote settings far from established medical infrastructure requires sophisticated coordination. Unique aspects of its supply chain include the acquisition of blood, precise identification of the blood needed, and the viability of the product over time. Since blood must be donated rather than manufactured, it requires a dedicated effort to replenish existing supplies. Recipients have varied blood types, and only a few are universally compatible, which increases the need for precise metrics on expected use. Given that blood is subject to strict temperature requirements and a limited shelf life, time becomes a vital component to the supply chain. While the combatant commands each manage blood in distinct environments, they share a common goal of ensuring that they have sufficient supply on hand delivered rapidly to personnel in the field who require it. This common goal demands that each combatant command be able to maximize product availability and remaining shelf life within the expeditionary environment.

The blood supply chain is an interagency effort in which the synchronization of various agencies can affect the speed and accuracy of delivery. The production, transportation, and delivery of blood involve multiple agencies, all prioritizing successful delivery in expeditionary settings. For example, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approves blood products collected by the Armed Services Blood Program at federal installations. Once approved, the blood is transported to various locations worldwide and used by the Department of War (DOW), Department of State, and other agencies to treat eligible hemorrhaging patients.

The most in-demand blood product in military settings is low-titer type O whole blood (LTOWB) because of its near-universal compatibility with potential recipients. Whole blood is generally preferred for trauma-related resuscitation because it reduces the volume of blood needed for treatment and leads to better clinical outcomes.¹ LTOWB is especially valuable because it is universally compatible, meaning it can be given to any patient regardless of the patient’s blood type. In contrast, other types of whole blood are type-specific and must be matched to the recipient’s blood type (for example, type A blood can be given only to a patient with type A blood). Currently, LTOWB has a maximum shelf life of 35 days from collection. Delivery of the product takes time, and any delays in delivery can reduce the remaining shelf life at the point of use, which increases the need for precise and efficient delivery.

Given blood’s critical importance and limited supply, it must be allocated judiciously to areas of potential need. Currently, at a time of relative peace, there is a twofold timing problem. First, as lack of continuous need in the field has resulted in sporadic use, the amount of blood expiring on shelves has increased. Second, at the same time, combatant commands have faced unmet requests because of supply shortfalls. Second, combatant commands have faced unmet requests because of supply shortfalls.² This amplifies the need to have increases in precision and accuracy in the timing of the acquisition of blood (donations) relative to the delivery at the point of need in the field. Because a blood donor can safely donate only every 56 days, donations made during periods of surplus are at risk of being wasted. As donations decrease because of a perceived surplus, by the time donations resume, the product has expired—placing the supply in a deficit. These challenges highlight opportunities for improvement as the military prepares for future conflicts. 

Combatant Command Portion of the Blood Supply Chain

In conjunction with the challenges of acquisition and shelf life, the blood supply chain is further complicated by the nature of the point of delivery: austere, contested environments. Delivery from the United States to combatant command areas of responsibilities is relatively simple compared to delivery within an area of responsibility. The expeditionary medical environment is characterized by austerity. In the expeditionary environment, limited resources are available, and all actions support the operational mission.³ At forward positions, the resources to care for both traumatic and nontraumatic injuries are limited in comparison to in-garrison environments. Additionally, medical supplies compete for space with other essential military supplies like ammunition and food, adding another layer of logistic complexity.

A U.S. Army HH-60M Black Hawk MEDEVAC helicopter and aircrew assigned to C Company, 2nd Battalion, 4th General Support Aviation Battalion, conduct a medical evacuation flight to retrieve blood within the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility, December 21, 2025. (U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Drew Schumann)

Blood products hold a special status in supply prioritization because of their critical role in resuscitating hemorrhaging patients. Unlike other war reserve materiel, blood cannot be forward-staged far in advance of a crisis or conflict and must therefore be constantly transported into theater. The process of collection, testing, and shipment to a distribution point in an area of responsibility takes time and consumes usable shelf life outside the utilization area. Ideally, handling time before delivery would be minimized to maximize the remaining shelf life at the point of use. Yet even with special status, blood must compete for transportation resources that could be used for other military operations.

Table 1. Summary of key applications and benefits in blood management

Source: Compiled by authors.

During the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the blood supply chain flowed when the United States maintained air supremacy, allowing direct access to forces in any location. In addition, there were long periods of relatively low-intensity combat operations where the simultaneous need for blood supply was limited. In the future, the military is expected to operate in nonpermissive environments where aerial access is limited and even at times denied. Under the operating concept of agile combat employment in large-scale combat operations (LSCO), the forces are more distributed and operate out of more austere base conditions. With fewer fixed locations that have the requisite facilities and equipment needed to store blood, the resiliency of the blood chain is uncertain compared to the experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan.⁴ The introduction of mobility into the supply chain can saturate mental models with data, resulting in human errors. Improved information processing would minimize handling time and maximize remaining shelf life at the point of usage. 

Innovative solutions are needed to address the unpredictability of demand and the logistic challenges of storing and transporting blood to combat zones. One promising innovation is artificial intelligence (AI). AI has already transformed industries such as healthcare, pharmaceuticals, and food logistics, and its potential application in blood management is gaining attention.⁵ This article explores how AI can help create a more efficient blood production and distribution system, improve utilization, and extend shelf life in expeditionary settings (see table 1). 

Table 2. Examples of types of artificial intelligence technologies in blood management

Source: Compiled by authors.

Artificial Intelligence

AI refers to the science and engineering of creating machines capable of intelligent processes.⁶ In this context, intelligence involves the computational aspect of achieving objectives in the physical world. Because there are multiple forms of intelligence, various types of AI and underlying technologies are required to make them function effectively (see table 2). Different types of AI can be applied to address discrete problems. At the core of AI is the data it relies on to make initial decisions and learn over time. While AI is not expected to make decisions independently, it serves as decision support for humans. AI can quickly analyze vast amounts of data without emotional bias, enhancing human decisionmaking through improved information processing.

Figure 1.

Source: Compiled by authors.

Key AI Applications in Blood Management

1. Predictive Analytics for Blood Supply Needs

One of AI’s most promising applications in blood management is its ability to predict blood needs by analyzing troop movements, historical casualty data, and other operational conditions. Traditional supply chain management is often reactive, responding to immediate demands, or, when anticipatory, highly inefficient because of the excessive supply allocated to account for uncertain needs in remote areas. AI can transform this approach by analyzing vast datasets to forecast where and how much blood will be required. This ensures that appropriate quantities of blood are positioned at suitable locations, optimizing allocation and improving utilization rates.

A critical emerging concept to enhance predictive capabilities is the digital twin (figure 1).⁷ In military blood management, a digital twin could simulate the real-world environment of battlefields, bases, or medical facilities in real time.⁸ It is a live virtual model of the physical environment, kept synchronized through a continuous stream of real-time data, that planners can use to test decisions before acting. The model captures variables such as weather, troop movements, casualty rates, and resource availability. A digital twin can predict blood needs at various locations under different conditions by modeling different operational scenarios. For example, if a military unit prepares for a major operation in a remote area, the digital twin could simulate expected casualty rates, operational tempo, and environmental challenges, such as difficult terrain or severe weather. AI would then use this simulation to forecast blood demand, determine where it should be stored, and identify the optimal supply routes for timely delivery. 

AI-driven predictive models have already shown success in health care and pharmaceutical supply chains, forecasting the need for medical supplies, medications, and equipment. By learning from historical patterns and integrating real-time data, AI can reduce the risk of shortages or overstocking, enhancing the overall efficiency of supply chains.⁹ These models optimize inventory by ensuring that resources are available when and where needed, an approach that can be seamlessly applied to military blood logistics.

2. Managing Blood Transportation

AI can quickly and continuously analyze data that a human would find difficult to process. In military blood logistics, AI systems can optimize transport routes by considering environmental and logistical factors while accounting for blood products’ temperature and shelf life. In food and health care logistics industries, AI-powered solutions dynamically adjust routes based on real-time traffic, weather, and operational constraints, significantly reducing delays.¹⁰ Similarly, AI can prevent blood spoilage in military settings by adjusting routes in response to road conditions, geographical challenges, or hostile activity. When integrated with technologies such as RFID and UAVs, AI-driven route optimization can ensure safe and timely delivery of blood products. This integration is expected to minimize delays, preserving more of the blood’s shelf life at forward locations.

Radio-frequency identification (RFID) is a technology that provides real-time data to support AI-driven decisionmaking. When combined with passive RFID tagging for each unit of blood, AI systems can track blood type, expiration date, and location in real time.¹¹ By analyzing data from RFID systems, AI can further enhance efficiency by predicting usage patterns and dynamically reallocating blood supplies to areas of higher demand, especially during kinetic events.¹² This approach reduces waste, streamlines the supply chain, and ensures that blood reaches the areas of greatest need with minimal delay.¹³

Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) have demonstrated their potential to quickly deliver medical supplies to remote or hard-to-reach areas, overcoming logistic challenges posed by damaged infrastructure or hostile environments. By integrating AI into UAV operations, frontline medical providers can receive accurate delivery estimates. At the same time, logisticians can increase delivery frequency and maximize the shelf life of supplies at forward locations. Small UAVs, as well as unmanned surface vehicles (USVs) or autonomous surface vehicles (ASVs), may also be able to penetrate complex air defense systems, giving them access to locations otherwise cut off from traditional mobility platforms from air and sea. Efficient unmanned vehicle management will be even more critical during LSCO, when traditional resupply routes may be more limited.

Finally, integrating AI into military supply chain management can optimize route planning and resource allocation by factoring in troop movements, casualty risks, and available infrastructure. This real-time adaptability reduces logistic bottlenecks and delays, ensuring that blood and other medical supplies reach the units with the greatest need.¹⁴ By combining RFID, unmanned vehicles, and AI, the military can develop a fully optimized, data-driven blood logistics system that maximizes blood viability, minimizes waste, and delivers life-saving supplies precisely where and when they are needed most.

U.S. Soldiers assigned to the 703rd Brigade Support Battalion, 2nd Armored Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division conduct a blood transport exercise as part of Spartan Focus at Fort Stewart, Georgia, February 14, 2026. (U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Anthony Herrera)

3. Improving Blood Storage Logistics

Blood storage logistics in dynamic environments, such as combat zones, require constant monitoring of inventory levels, expiration dates, and storage conditions. Manually managing these variables is inefficient and prone to error, often resulting in blood wastage and unmet demand. AI can improve the efficiency of blood storage logistics by tracking real-time inventory and predicting when supplies need replenishment. Logisticians and blood producers can then use AI-driven decision support to optimize production and delivery, maximizing blood utilization in expeditionary settings.

The pharmaceutical industry has successfully implemented AI-driven logistics systems to track the expiration of sensitive products and optimize distribution channels. AI and automation in pharmaceutical logistics have proven essential in delivering medications before expiration, reducing waste, and improving overall reliability.¹⁵ These same principles can be applied to military blood management. AI can monitor inventory in real time, minimizing wastage by ensuring blood products are distributed to areas of high demand before expiration.

Blockchain technology and RFID can be integrated with AI systems to enhance transparency and traceability in blood supply chains, though they serve different roles. As an Internet of Things (IoT) device, RFID tracks each blood unit’s real-time physical movement and status, while blockchain provides a secure, decentralized system for recording and verifying this data. By analyzing RFID data with AI, every unit of blood can be monitored from donor to end use, reducing the risk of mismanagement or loss. Blockchain and AI have already improved traceability in industries such as food and pharmaceuticals, enhancing transparency and operational efficiency.¹⁶ In military operations, integrating AI with real-time storage data and blockchain ensures complete visibility over blood inventory, preventing losses due to miscommunication or logistic errors.

Real-time tracking and AI-based predictive algorithms can forecast blood demand and align production accordingly. By integrating data from various locations, considering historical trends, and factoring in logistic constraints, AI can recommend optimal production targets for blood producers. AI’s role in predictive analytics has already been proven in other sectors, such as organ transplantation, where it has improved the forecasting of organ demand based on patient data and environmental factors. Applying this approach to military blood logistics could ensure the right amount of blood is available at the right time and place, reducing shortages and excess inventory.

4. Expanding the Donor Pool and Optimizing Donations

AI has significant potential to optimize donor recruitment and expand the pool of eligible donors, thereby maximizing blood production. Blood donation is typically managed by local leadership teams at donor centers, with limited incentives offered to encourage participation. AI can revolutionize this process by analyzing donor data to identify patterns in donation behavior, optimizing donation windows, and personalizing incentives to boost turnout. By predicting the best times and locations for blood drives, AI can ensure that donation rates align more closely with demand, leading to more efficient blood production.

AI can help maximize donations of the most in-demand blood types. In organ donation systems, AI has successfully optimized donor recruitment by analyzing medical histories, geographic locations, and behavioral data to match donors with recipients.¹⁷ Similar applications can be adapted to blood donation systems. For example, AI could identify populations most likely to donate low-titer type O whole blood (LTOWB), the preferred blood type for military trauma resuscitation, and offer personalized incentives based on demographic and behavioral data. By leveraging predictive models and real-time data, AI can anticipate when and where eligible donors will be available, further optimizing donation campaigns.¹⁸

AI can improve the blood donor experience and encourage repeat donations by personalizing engagement strategies. Currently, incentives such as T-shirts, snacks, and patches are common but often follow a one-size-fits-all approach. AI can analyze past interactions and tailor incentives to specific populations, boosting donor engagement by offering rewards that align with individual motivations.¹⁹ For example, younger donors might respond better to social media recognition, while older donors may prefer health-related rewards like fitness trackers. Additionally, AI can analyze traffic patterns, donor wait times, and geographic factors to recommend optimal locations and times for blood drives, minimizing disruptions to donors’ schedules. This technology has already proven successful in other sectors, such as organ donation and health care supply chains.²⁰ 

AI’s ability to track and predict donor behavior over time enables the anticipation of fluctuations in blood donation rates and the adjustment of recruitment efforts accordingly. By leveraging big-data analytics to predict seasonal donation patterns, holidays, and other events that affect donor availability, AI can help military blood centers maintain a stable supply year-round.²¹ This reduces the risk of shortages during critical periods, ensuring that military units are always equipped with necessary blood supplies. 

Sailors assigned to Naval Health Clinic Oak Harbor and tenant commands aboard Naval Air Station Whidbey Island participate in the culminating practical exercise of Tactical Combat Casualty Care (TCCC) training. (Defense Health Agency photo by Matthew D. Williams/Released)

Limitations of AI 

Despite AI’s many potential benefits in logistics and supply chain management, its application in tactical decisionmaking within expeditionary environments remains limited. These environments are often chaotic, unpredictable, and marked by a wide range of injuries, making it difficult for AI to provide reliable clinical inputs in real time. In such settings, AI systems may struggle to match human medics’ adaptability and nuanced judgment. Human intuition, adaptability, and experience often outperform AI in chaotic, resource-limited environments, particularly when quick and flexible responses are required. 

Combat scenarios often involve complex wounds and medical conditions that require immediate, context-sensitive decisionmaking. While AI excels at analyzing large datasets and predicting trends, it may struggle to process the wide range of unpredictable factors encountered in real-world combat. For example, AI’s response to trauma and battlefield injuries may be limited because it cannot fully account for the environmental, emotional, and situational variables a human medic can assess. This limitation in clinical decisionmaking is further compounded by the extreme time pressures combat medics face, where the ability to assess and adapt quickly is critical to survival. 

The lack of reliable infrastructure, such as internet connectivity and computational resources, may limit AI’s effectiveness in these environments. Combat operations often occur in remote areas where medics and personnel may not have access to the technology or connectivity required to efficiently operate AI systems.²² While IoT and AI-driven health care systems have made significant strides in more stable settings, their dependence on connectivity and real-time data streams becomes challenging in combat zones, where such infrastructure cannot be guaranteed. AI programs may also be susceptible to cyber attacks either by disabling the capability or by corrupting data. 

In resource-limited environments where conditions change rapidly, AI systems may struggle to provide the nuanced judgment and real-time adaptability required. This is particularly true in expeditionary settings, where medical conditions can deteriorate quickly, and preprogrammed AI responses may fall short. For example, AI systems trained on historical data might be unable to adjust to unforeseen combat injuries, environmental hazards, or shifting supply conditions in real time. In such situations, the human ability to make quick, informed decisions will likely remain superior to AI, mainly when rapid changes occur on the battlefield. 

Finally, privacy and security concerns must also be addressed. While integrating blockchain and AI can enhance security and traceability in logistics systems, operational security in combat zones may still limit the deployment of these technologies. In military environments, the need for secure and protected data is paramount, and the risk of AI systems being compromised in these settings is an ongoing challenge that must be carefully considered. 

Conclusion 

AI offers significant potential to enhance blood production and distribution as a decision-support tool for human decisionmakers. Its proven success in health care and pharmaceutical supply chains demonstrates its ability to improve resource allocation and reduce inefficiencies. In the expeditionary environment, AI can help maximize blood product availability, optimize distribution, and extend shelf life. However, the limitations of AI in chaotic and unpredictable settings mean that human adaptability will remain crucial. Integrating AI into the blood production and distribution supply chain will better prepare the expeditionary force for future large-scale conflicts. JFQ 

Notes

¹ Jonathan P. Meizoso et al., “Whole Blood Resuscitation for Injured Patients Requiring Transfusion: A Systematic Review, Meta-analysis, and Practice Management Guideline from the Eastern Association for the Surgery of Trauma,” Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery, no. 3 (2024): 460–70, https://doi.org/10.1097/TA.0000000000004327. 

² Andrew B. Hall et al., “U.S. Central Command Military Blood Utilization Practices 2011 to 2020,” Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery 93, no. 2S Suppl 1 (2022): S30–S34, https://doi.org/10.1097/TA.0000000000003628. 

³ Joint Publication 4-02, Joint Health Services (Washington, DC: Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2023), https://www.jcs.mil/Doctrine/Joint-Doctrine-Pubs/4-0-Logistics-Series/. 

⁴ Brent Thomas et al., “Toward Resiliency in the Joint Blood Supply Chain,” RAND Health Quarterly 8, no. 3 (2019), https://www.rand.org/pubs/periodicals/health-quarterly/issues/v8/n3/09.html. 

⁵ Andrea Peloso et al., “Artificial Intelligence: Present and Future Potential for Solid Organ Transplantation,” Transplant International, no. 35 (2022): 10640, https://doi.org/10.3389/ ti.2022.10640; Brikash Pradhan et al., “IoT-Based Applications in Healthcare Devices,” Journal of Healthcare Engineering (2021), https://doi.org/10.1155/2021/6632599. 

⁶ Greg Allen, Understanding AI Technology (Washington, DC: Department of Defense Joint Artificial Intelligence Center), 2020, https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/citations/AD1099286.

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