With the Air Force's Head Stuck in the Clouds: Time for a New Accord on Close Air Support

The Air Force is retiring the A-10 Thunderbolt II, the most iconic close air support platform in American military history, with no clear replacement in sight. While Air Force leaders tout the F-35's multi-role capabilities and speak vaguely about "distributed operations," ground commanders know the truth: there is no substitute for an aircraft purpose-built to protect troops in contact. If the Air Force no longer wants this vital mission, it's time for a fundamental shift. The Army should take over close air support entirely, and Congress should revisit the outdated division of labor enshrined in the 1948 Key West Accords.

A Cold War Relic in a Modern Fight

The Key West Agreement made sense for its time. In 1948, with nuclear warfare dominating strategic thinking and the Air Force newly independent, assigning close air support to the youngest service while restricting the Army to rotary-wing aircraft seemed logical. The world was divided into clear spheres of influence, and military planners could envision large-scale conventional battles where air superiority would be decisive and enduring.

That world no longer exists. Today's battlefields are characterized by distributed operations across vast distances, rapid tactical shifts, and the constant threat of anti-access systems that challenge traditional air dominance. Yet we continue to operate under agreements crafted for a different era, with different threats, and different technologies.

The Air Force's Institutional Blind Spot

The Air Force's abandonment of close air support isn't accidental. It reflects deep institutional biases compounded by the service's current struggle to maintain relevance across multiple domains.

Born from the Army Air Forces' strategic bombing campaigns of World War II, the Air Force has always prioritized high-altitude, long-range operations over low-altitude ground support. But today, the service faces existential pressure to justify its role in space operations against the newly created Space Force while simultaneously trying to prevent the establishment of a separate Cyber Force that could claim another major mission area.

This institutional anxiety has pushed the Air Force even further toward high-end, technology-focused missions that demonstrate unique service capabilities. Close air support, by contrast, is seen as a mission that ground forces could theoretically handle themselves. The result is a service culture that rewards fighter pilots who can engage enemy aircraft at beyond-visual-range and bomber crews who can strike strategic targets deep in enemy territory, while viewing close air support as unglamorous "mud-moving" that keeps pilots too close to the ground and too far from promotion boards.

This bias has real consequences. The A-10, specifically designed for close air support with its titanium bathtub protecting the pilot, 30mm cannon optimized for ground targets, and ability to loiter for hours over the battlefield, is being phased out in favor of the F-35. While the F-35 is undoubtedly a technological marvel, it's fundamentally the wrong tool for close air support. At $80 million per aircraft, it's too expensive to risk in low-altitude operations. Its high-speed optimization makes it difficult to coordinate with ground forces who need eyes-on-target confirmation. Most critically, it lacks the staying power that ground troops desperately need when they're pinned down by enemy fire.

Meanwhile, Army soldiers continue to depend on close air support in every type of conflict, from high-intensity conventional warfare to counterinsurgency operations. They shouldn't have to rely on a service that views their most critical air support needs as a secondary mission at best.

The Changing Character of Warfare

Despite all the talk of Great Power Competition and high-end warfare, current conflicts demonstrate the continuing relevance of dedicated close air support platforms. The A-10 remains in active use supporting operations in Syria, and similar aircraft are proving invaluable in Ukraine's ongoing conflict against Russian forces. These real-world applications underscore that even in an era of advanced surface-to-air missiles and contested airspace, there remains a critical need for aircraft designed specifically for ground attack missions in permissive and semi-permissive environments.

Future conflicts will likely unfold in environments where traditional air superiority is contested or impossible to maintain. Consider the Indo-Pacific theater, where operations may span thousands of islands with limited basing options, or Eastern Europe, where sophisticated surface-to-air missile systems create deadly no-fly zones. In these environments, the military needs low-altitude, persistent air support that can operate in degraded conditions and provide immediate response to troops in contact.

Emerging technologies make Army-organic close air support more feasible than ever. Loitering munitions like the Switchblade can provide precision strikes with minimal infrastructure. Modular aircraft designs allow for mission-specific configurations at lower costs. Advanced unmanned systems can provide persistent surveillance and strike capabilities without risking pilots. These technologies align perfectly with Army operational needs but remain underutilized because they don't fit the Air Force's high-end warfare paradigm.

Furthermore, Air Force doctrine is increasingly focused on space operations, cyber warfare, and strategic deterrence. All are critical missions, but ones that pull institutional attention and resources even further from tactical ground support. The service's recent emphasis on the "Great Power Competition" and multi-domain operations, while strategically sound, reinforces this drift away from the intimate air-ground cooperation that close air support demands.

A Marine Corps Model for the Army

The solution isn't revolutionary. It's evolutionary. Congress and the Department of Defense should revise the Key West Accords to give the Army authority over fixed-wing close air support aircraft and unmanned combat air systems. This approach would mirror the Marine Corps model, where Marine aviation exists primarily to support Marine ground operations, with pilots and ground officers sharing a common culture and understanding of battlefield requirements.

The Army is already moving in this direction with its Future Long-Range Assault Aircraft (FLRAA) program, which demonstrates institutional commitment to organic aviation capabilities tailored to ground force needs. Expanding this approach to include fixed-wing close air support represents a logical next step in the service's aviation evolution.

An Army close air support capability could field lower-cost, mission-specific platforms optimized for ground support rather than air-to-air combat or strategic strike. These aircraft could be designed with longer loiter times, better low-speed handling characteristics, and enhanced survivability in contested environments. More importantly, Army pilots would train exclusively for close air support missions, developing the specialized skills and ground-centric mindset that the mission demands.

This reorganization would not eliminate joint operations or coordination. The Army would continue to work with Air Force assets for air superiority, strategic strike, and other missions outside the close air support realm. But for the immediate, life-or-death air support that ground troops need, the service that fights on the ground would control the aircraft that support them.

Addressing the Skeptics

Critics will argue that dividing air missions between services creates inefficiencies and undermines joint operations. But service autonomy for critical mission sets doesn't preclude joint coordination. It ensures that vital capabilities receive appropriate institutional support. The current system already divides air missions, with the Navy operating carrier-based aircraft, the Marine Corps flying its own tactical aviation, and the Army operating thousands of helicopters. Adding Army fixed-wing close air support would represent an evolution of existing practice, not a dangerous precedent.

Air Force leaders contend that the A-10 is outdated for modern threats and that multi-role aircraft like the F-35 provide better value. Yet they offer no dedicated replacement for the A-10's unique close air support capabilities. Their solution, using fast jets optimized for other missions, ignores the fundamental requirement for persistent, low-altitude support that can work intimately with ground forces. Independent analysis suggests the F-35 cannot effectively replace A-10 capabilities, and Air Force comparative testing between the platforms has been shrouded in secrecy. If the Air Force cannot provide adequate close air support with appropriate platforms, another service should.

The Army already operates complex aviation systems including Apache attack helicopters, which require similar maintenance and training pipelines to fixed-wing aircraft. Expanding to fixed-wing close air support represents a logical extension of existing capabilities rather than a revolutionary change in service roles.

Realigning for Future Conflicts

Military organizations must evolve with changing threats and technologies. The 1948 Key West Accords served their purpose for the Cold War, but they increasingly constrain effective responses to 21st-century challenges. Recent analysis suggests it may be time for a new Key West agreement that better reflects modern realities. Close air support represents too critical a capability to remain trapped within a service culture that undervalues it and under-resources it.

If the Air Force won't prioritize close air support, the Army should take responsibility for this vital mission. American soldiers deserve air support from pilots who train exclusively for ground support missions, flying aircraft designed specifically for that purpose, within an institutional culture that prizes tactical air-ground cooperation above all else.

It's time to revisit Key West, not as a retreat to the past, but as a strategic realignment for the future. When lives hang in the balance and seconds matter, close air support is too important to leave to a service whose institutional heart lies elsewhere. The Army fights on the ground. It should control the aircraft that fight for it.