Manned-unmanned teaming
Based on Wikipedia: Manned-unmanned teaming
In January 2026, the United States Marine Corps formally selected Northrop Grumman and Kratos to develop its first operational "Collaborative Combat Aircraft," a decision that signaled the transition of the Kratos XQ-58 Valkyrie from an experimental testbed into a loyal wingman aircraft. This announcement did not merely mark a procurement milestone; it codified a fundamental shift in the nature of aerial warfare, moving away from the era where human pilots were the sole occupants of every cockpit toward a battlefield defined by manned-unmanned teaming. The concept, often referred to as MUM-T, envisions a future where human operators no longer just fly machines but command teams of them, delegating life-and-death decisions to artificial intelligence while remaining the ultimate arbiters of engagement. This is not science fiction; it is the immediate operational reality being funded with $8.9 billion by the U.S. Air Force between fiscal years 2025 and 2029.
The evolution toward this model is driven by a cold, strategic calculus: to enhance mission effectiveness while reducing risk to human life and optimizing resources in increasingly complex environments. For decades, unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) required remote control, with humans overseeing missions that were performed semi- or fully automatically only after extensive programming. However, the relentless advancement of electronics on both the unmanned system side and the controller side has fundamentally altered this dynamic. We have moved from simple remote piloting to a state where machines can execute automatic take-offs and landings, plan their own missions, recognize targets autonomously, and even track and engage without direct human intervention in real-time.
This technological leap has redefined the role of the soldier in the sky. The operator is no longer a joystick-wielding pilot but a supervisor, a commander who approves or denies the machine's decisions rather than making every micro-adjustment themselves. When semi-autonomous systems perform specific tasks based on human orders, it is called Manned-Unmanned Teaming. But the highest level of autonomy envisions something far more profound: unmanned platforms operating within integrated teams where a single operator controls multiple drones, and when human control is unavailable due to jamming or distance, the machines continue their mission independently.
"The success of the CCA program may lessen the need for additional manned squadrons."
This statement from the U.S. Air Force reveals the strategic imperative behind the push. The goal is not just to replace pilots but to fundamentally restructure the air force itself. By integrating Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCAs)—also known as "loyal wingman" drones—with next-generation sixth-generation fighters, the military aims to create a force multiplier effect that traditional squadrons cannot match. These CCAs are designed to operate in collaborative teams with human-piloted jets, carrying their own munitions and acting as sensors, shooters, and decoys.
The distinction between these new autonomous wingmen and traditional Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicles (UCAVs) is subtle but critical. While both fall under the umbrella of MUM-T capable aircraft, defense analysts draw a sharp line in the sand regarding their intended roles. Traditional UCAVs are often viewed as higher-performance machines designed to perform independent operations or "traditional" fighter and strike roles. In contrast, CCAs are explicitly conceived as loyal wingmen for manned platforms. Their primary value proposition is affordable mass. They provide extended-range strikes, frontline intelligence, and additional layers of protection for their human counterparts.
This focus on affordability introduces a complex ethical and tactical dimension. The concept relies on the idea that these drones can be "attritable"—a term that sounds clinical but carries heavy implications for the conduct of war. If a platform is cheap enough to lose, commanders may be more willing to send it into situations where sending a human pilot would be unthinkable. The Boeing MQ-28 Ghost Bat and the Kratos XQ-58 Valkyrie were early explorations of this expendable loyal wingman concept. Yet, the narrative of "attritable" drones often clashes with the reality of their intended use.
USAF Secretary Frank Kendall later clarified that the focus on "affordable mass" does not necessarily mean these platforms are meant to be disposable cannon fodder in the traditional sense. He argued that CCAs should function as remotely controlled versions of targeting pods, electronic warfare suites, or weapons carriers. They must possess sufficient intelligence and onboard defense systems to survive on the battlefield, playing perhaps "100 roles." The price point of a CCA will determine its versatility: more expensive designs could be multirole aircraft capable of complex missions, while cheaper, modular designs might perform specific tasks on different days, with the understanding that they can afford to be lost in combat.
The planning process itself has been a study in wargaming and adaptation. Initially, service officials developed the Increment 2 CCA as a high-end, stealthy platform. However, simulated conflict scenarios—particularly those set in the Pacific theater—revealed a stark truth: large numbers of low-end aircraft were more effective than small numbers of high-end versions against sophisticated adversaries. This realization forced a rethinking of the approach, pushing the USAF to seek CCAs with greater thrust than current models like the MQ-28 and XQ-58, while balancing the need for stealth and autonomy.
The development of these systems is not unique to the United States. The concept of the loyal wingman arose in the early 2000s, and since then, a global race has been underway. Countries including Australia, China, Japan, Russia, Turkey, the UK, and the US have been researching and developing the necessary design criteria and technologies. Boeing Australia is leading the development of the MQ-28 Ghost Bat, which BAE Systems envisages as capable of operating in both manned and unmanned configurations, with the AI system substituting for a human pilot in the cockpit if necessary.
The United States Army Aviation Center of Excellence defines MUM-T as the "synchronized employment of soldier, manned and unmanned air and ground vehicles, robotics, and sensors to achieve enhanced situational understanding, greater lethality, and improved survivability." This definition underscores the integration of land and air, where a single operator might coordinate a drone strike while simultaneously managing a robotic ground vehicle. The Levels of Interoperability (LOI) for these operations were defined by NATO in 2002 under STANAG 4586. Level 1 represents the weakest interoperability, essentially a basic remote-controlled system, while Level 5 denotes unmanned aerial vehicles capable of self-launch and recovery without human intervention. We are now exploring levels beyond this, including AI-assisted formation flight and networked control of fully autonomous systems.
Yet, as we delve deeper into the mechanics of these machines, we must pause to consider the human cost of this transition. The promise of MUM-T is that it reduces risk to human life by placing robots on the front lines. There is a moral argument here: if a drone can be lost instead of a pilot, the war becomes less costly in terms of American or allied lives. But this logic often obscures the reality faced by those on the ground where these weapons are deployed. The "loyal wingman" is not just a sensor or a decoy; it is a weapon platform designed to deliver significant military loads. When AI systems make decisions about target recognition and engagement, the chain of accountability becomes blurred.
The reduction in cost that makes these platforms attractive for "combat mass" does not diminish their lethality. In fact, it may increase the tempo of violence. If a commander has access to a squadron of cheap, autonomous drones that can be replaced easily, the threshold for using force may lower. The "affordable mass" strategy implies a war fought with a volume of munitions and sensors that would have been prohibitively expensive in previous decades. This could lead to a saturation of the battlefield with automated weapons, increasing the probability of civilian casualties through algorithmic error or misidentification.
Consider the implications for civilian populations in conflict zones. A "precision strike" conducted by a human pilot involves a conscious decision to engage, weighed against the immediate visual context and the rules of engagement. An autonomous system conducting the same strike relies on sensors and machine learning models that may not account for the nuances of human behavior or the presence of non-combatants in complex urban environments. When an AI identifies a "target" based on pattern recognition, the error rate can be catastrophic. If a drone swarm is deployed to overwhelm enemy air defenses, the collateral damage from the ensuing chaos is not calculated by the algorithm; it is paid for by the people living below.
The military rationale for MUM-T is clear: enhance situational awareness, reduce risk to friendly forces, and optimize performance. But the humanitarian consequences are less frequently discussed in official briefings. The shift toward autonomous systems means that the decision to kill may increasingly be delegated to code. While human operators retain a "supervisory" role, approving or denying machine decisions, the speed of modern warfare often outpaces human reaction times. In high-intensity conflicts, the operator may become a mere observer of actions initiated by their own machines.
Furthermore, the concept of the "loyal wingman" as a "cost reducer" has a dark side. It treats aircraft not just as assets but as expendable commodities. The idea that a $3 million drone is "cheap enough to lose" stands in stark contrast to the value placed on human life, yet it also suggests a willingness to escalate conflict intensity because the financial and political cost of losing hardware is lower than losing pilots. This dynamic could embolden aggressors to take risks they would otherwise avoid, knowing that their automated assets can absorb losses without triggering the domestic outrage that accompanies the death of a servicemember.
The technological capabilities being fielded are undeniably impressive. The ability for a single operator to control multiple platforms via AI-assisted formation flight represents a quantum leap in military aviation. The Skyborg program, which explored autonomous fighters working alongside sixth-generation jets, laid the groundwork for this future. The MQ-28 Ghost Bat and the XQ-58 Valkyrie are not just prototypes; they are the vanguard of a new era where air superiority is determined by the integration of human intuition and machine precision.
However, as we stand on the precipice of this new operational reality in 2026, the questions remain: Who is responsible when an autonomous drone makes a mistake? How do we ensure that the "loyal wingman" truly remains loyal to the rules of war and not just its programming parameters? The United States Air Force plans for these CCAs to have their own squadrons, potentially replacing manned squadrons in certain roles. This structural change will alter the culture of the military itself, creating a force where human pilots are more like mission commanders than aviators.
The global implications are equally significant. As major powers like China and Russia develop their own iterations of MUM-T, the risk of miscalculation increases. If two opposing sides deploy swarms of autonomous drones that interact in unpredictable ways, the potential for rapid escalation is high. The "Levels of Interoperability" defined by NATO may not be enough to prevent a conflict where algorithms clash with algorithms, and humans are left scrambling to regain control.
The path forward is paved with both innovation and peril. The $8.9 billion investment by the USAF from 2025 to 2029 signals a commitment to this future that is irreversible. The Increment 1 CCAs will focus on sensors and targeting, carrying extra munitions for manned aircraft. Increment 2 will bring greater stealth and autonomy, capable of electronic warfare, suppression of enemy air defenses (SEAD), and acting as decoys. The divergence into "exquisite" high-end platforms and basic inexpensive ones suggests a layered approach to warfare, where the battlefield is saturated with both sophisticated and disposable assets.
Ultimately, the story of Manned-Unmanned Teaming is not just about technology; it is about the changing nature of conflict and the human role within it. It promises to save the lives of pilots by putting machines in harm's way. But it also risks distancing us further from the gravity of war, turning lethal force into a logistical calculation where the cost-benefit analysis favors the machine over the human. As these systems transition from the testbeds of 2025 and early 2026 to operational squadrons, the world must remain vigilant. The efficiency of the "loyal wingman" is undeniable, but its deployment brings with it a new set of moral burdens that no amount of artificial intelligence can resolve.
The future of aerial combat is here, and it is autonomous, affordable, and abundant. Whether this leads to a more humane way of waging war or simply a more efficient one remains the most pressing question for policymakers, military leaders, and the global community. The machines are ready; the question is whether our ethical frameworks are prepared to follow them into the skies.