In the military, to give a name to a weapon is not how difficult it is—it’s creating a story, a history, and an honor to the mission. Apache, Black Hawk, Titan—if you utter those words, you’re not merely looking at a machine—you’re hearing the whisper of history, legend, and identity. A good name can evoke pride in the operators and leave a lasting legacy in the minds of the public.
The US military has taken decades to blend tradition, symbolism, and sometimes raw gut instinct. One of the best-known is the Army tradition of referring to helicopters by Native American tribe names. It started in 1947 when General Hamilton Howze was dissatisfied with the original helicopters’ names, Hoverfly and Dragonfly. He needed something that reflected speed, stealth, and ferocity, something he had seen in Native American warriors.
The Army’s H-13 was “Sioux,” the ancestor of successful follow-ons such as Apache, Black Hawk, Cheyenne, Comanche, and Lakota. Policy in 1969 made it a reality with Army Regulation 70-28, which required aircraft to be assigned names from Native American words, tribes, or chiefs.
Even the Bureau of Indian Affairs provided suggestions. The regulations were strict: the name had to be stimulating, had to convey strength and confidence, and had to be compatible with the character of the airplane—agility, endurance, or firepower, depending on the situation. Although the regulation no longer applies, convention still holds. Even in 2012, the Army received the UH-72A Lakota, spiritually sanctified by Lakota elders before taking duty. This tradition of naming important names is not confined to helicopters.
War machines are given mythical generals’ names—Sherman, Abrams—missiles take a cue from predators and death animals in the wild: Sidewinder, Titan, Falcon, Sparrow. The Navy also has its tradition, ships being named after states, cities, battles, and politicians. All those traditions have evolved; submarines used to name themselves after such fish, then cities, and now states. Aircraft carriers were traditionally named after presidents—though with an unofficial policy heavily weighted toward beloved presidencies.
Naturally, not all modern names are retro. Military analyst Tom Karako bemoans the trend toward dull acronyms—such as GBSD (Ground Based Strategic Deterrent), JASSM-ER (Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile-Extended Range), and THAAD (Terminal High Altitude Area Defense). They’re technically correct, yes, but lacking mythic bite to Atlas, Nike, or Peacekeeper. Karako feels that a good name has the power to suggest power and intent in a manner that a string of clinical letters simply cannot.
Because names possess three things that do matter: a history, an aura of distinction, and something of continuity with the past. Behind each legendary gun name usually lies a myth—Zeus’s shield (Aegis), the resilience of the Minutemen, or the bravery of soldiers whose names still live on in Apache or Black Hawk. These aren’t just names that describe what a gun does—they are names that define what kind of character something needs to possess to do so.
Even the mythic connection to history is close at hand in strategic systems themselves. The initial nuclear missile articles themselves were mythologically christened after gods and mythical heroes—Atlas, Titan, Thor, Poseidon, Trident—before resorting to American symbols like Minuteman and Peacekeeper.
There is still suppressed nostalgia for the same even today. Karako has posited that future missiles may be given names like C Nemesis, Zephyr, Vulcan, or Ulysses, drawing on some of the myth-making potential of otherworldly.
This type of thing is a controversy. Giving Native Americans their names has proven to be tough due to the scandalous past between Native nations and America. Others see it now, however, as an act of respect, an acceptance of the ideology of the warrior, and embracing a shared heritage.
And, last but not least, they’re not only designators—they’re military designators. They’re badges of honor, tradition, and myth that a nation wishes to invoke for its defenders. Whether a helicopter blessed by elder members of a tribe or a missile named after an avenger deity, a proper name sustains legend in an age of high technology. And one for which no acronym can suffice.