U.S. Soldiers Could Fly into Combat on Powered Paragliders

Picture this: instead of waiting for a helicopter slot, a small team rolls up to a clearing, unpacks what looks like a
duffel bag and a lawnmower engine had a very intense baby, andafter some checksquietly lifts off under a fabric wing.
No runway. No big airframe. Just a soldier-sized “personal air mobility” setup that can hop over rivers, ridgelines,
broken bridges, and all the other obstacles the modern battlefield loves to throw into the path of “freedom of movement.”

It sounds like sci-fi, but it’s closer to “seriously being researched” than “comic book.” In 2024, reporting tied to U.S.
Army contracting notices described an effort labeled the Personnel Air Mobility System (PAMS)a push to explore
powered paragliders (often called paramotors or powered parachutes) as a new way for soldiers, especially airborne units,
to move in contested environments. The idea isn’t to replace helicopters or parachute operations. It’s to add a weird,
lightweight, surprisingly practical option to the mobility menulike adding a pocketknife to a toolbox that already has
hammers.

Powered paragliders, explained (without turning this into flight school)

A powered paraglider is essentially a paraglider wing (a fabric canopy shaped like an airfoil) paired with a
small engine and propeller that provides thrust. Some configurations look like a backpack motor worn by a pilot;
others use a small frame or trike-style setup. The key point is that the pilot is suspended beneath a wing that can be
launched without a runway and then propelled forward under power.

In civilian life, this category of aircraft is mostly about recreation and sport. In military life, it becomes about
access: getting a person (and possibly some gear) across terrain where roads don’t cooperate and traditional aviation
may be too risky, too scarce, or too loud and obvious.

Why the Army is even looking at this

Modern conflicts have made a few things painfully clear: air defenses are more dangerous, drones are everywhere, and
“contested” doesn’t just mean a front lineit can mean airspace that’s risky for helicopters and slow aircraft across a
wide area. The Army’s interest in PAMS is framed around a capability gap: giving units organic (meaning: they own it and
can use it without calling higher headquarters for a ride) mobility that doesn’t depend on big aircraft.

PAMS: the requirements hint at the concept

Public reporting on the PAMS notice described performance goals that read like a wish list for “carryable aviation.” Among
the highlights: targets for meaningful range, a system weight low enough to be practical for units, payload capacity that
covers real soldiers with real gear, and altitude capability that expands options when mission and environment allow.
The notice also referenced Berry compliance for textile components (a common U.S. sourcing requirement), which is
a very government way of saying, “Yes, even the fabric matters.”

If you strip away the acronyms, the vision is simple: a small team shouldn’t be forced to choose between “walk forever”
and “wait for aviation.” Sometimes the best answer is “fly over the problem,” even if the aircraft looks like it belongs
in an outdoor sports catalog.

Is this totally new? Not reallyjust newly interesting

Personal air mobility has been a recurring fascination in defense circles. DARPA has explored short-range one-person flight
concepts under a program commonly discussed as Portable Personal Air Mobility System (PPAMS), aimed at enabling
limited “hops” rather than long-distance travel. Meanwhile, U.S. special operations have demonstrated powered paraglider
capabilities in public showcasessuggesting the community has already been experimenting with the “ultralight, low-footprint”
mobility idea for a while.

In other words: the Army isn’t inventing powered paragliders. It’s looking at how to turn an existing type of aircraft
into a repeatable, trainable, supportable capability that fits Army units and Army logistics.

What powered paragliders might actually do for soldiers

A smart way to think about PAMS is not as a “combat magic carpet,” but as a mobility and access tool that sits somewhere
between a parachute operation and a helicopter ride. Potential roles described in open reporting include:

1) Short-notice movement over rough terrain

Rivers, marshes, destroyed bridges, steep ravinesterrain is often the oldest and most reliable defense system on Earth.
A powered paraglider doesn’t make terrain irrelevant, but it can make certain obstacles less decisive.

2) Expanding the options for airborne and light units

Airborne forces are built around getting in fast and then moving with what they carried. If you can add a compact, unit-owned
mobility method, you potentially extend what those forces can do once they landwithout assuming a helicopter is available
on demand.

3) Low-footprint access for small teams

“Low footprint” doesn’t mean “invisible.” It means fewer vehicles, fewer support personnel, less logistical tail, and more
flexibility in where and how a team moves. In theory, a small system that can be transported and launched with minimal
infrastructure opens up routes that bigger platforms can’t use.

4) Reconnaissance and observationwithin limits

A person in the air can see far. That’s the oldest aviation advantage there is. But in modern conditions, observation also
means exposure. Any military use would have to account for drones, sensors, and air defenses. The “value” here is not
“loiter forever,” but “change position quickly” and “reach vantage points otherwise inaccessible.”

The reality check: what could go wrong (and what has to be solved)

The most dangerous idea in defense procurement is the one that sounds cool and skips the hard questions. Powered paragliders
come with hard questions in bulk.

Survivability in contested airspace

A powered paraglider is small, but it’s not armored. It’s also not fast like a jet, nor high like strategic aviation. That
means survivability depends heavily on when, where, and how it’s usedand on avoiding situations where
threats are dense. Any serious adoption would require clear doctrine: missions and conditions where it helps, and missions
where it’s a terrible idea.

Noise, thermal signature, and the “please don’t notice me” problem

A motor and propeller create noise. Engines also generate heat. Even if a system is relatively quiet compared with some
aircraft, “relatively quiet” is not the same as “stealth.” That’s why many personal air mobility discussions emphasize
signatures and the need to keep exposure time short.

Weather and environment

Wind, turbulence, precipitation, dust, and temperature all matter. The Army doesn’t get to schedule operations around “nice
weekend conditions,” so the system would need robust operating envelopesor clear rules that prevent risky use.

Training burden and proficiency

If a capability is hard to maintain, units won’t maintain it. If it’s easy to forget, people will forget it. A big question
for PAMS is how to create training standards that keep soldiers safe and effective without turning the unit into a part-time
flying club with really expensive hobbies.

Logistics: fuel, maintenance, parts, and packing

A mobility system is only as useful as its sustainment plan. Fuel has to be stored and moved. Engines need maintenance.
Wings need inspection and careful packing. If any of that becomes too fragile for real Army conditions, the system becomes a
“demo day miracle” and a field headache.

How this compares to other ways of getting people into places

The Army already has multiple insertion and mobility tools. PAMS would be a niche addition, not a replacement.

Versus helicopters

Helicopters deliver speed, payload, and medical evacuation options, but they are high-value assets that can be vulnerable in
contested environments. They also require scheduling, support, and often predictable flight routes. A small powered paraglider
system could offer a “when you can’t get a helo” alternative for certain limited missions.

Versus parachute infiltration

Traditional parachute operations are proven, but they often depend on aircraft availability and flight corridors, and they
typically deliver you to where the aircraft can safely fly. A powered paraglider concept suggests greater post-insertion
mobilitymore like “arrive and then reposition”but that benefit comes with complexity and risk.

Versus ground mobility

Ground vehicles carry more and keep you under the weather, but terrain and threats can block routes. A personal air mobility
tool can bypass certain ground constraintsbut it also introduces new constraints, like exposure in the air and dependence on
conditions.

Signals that the idea has momentum

The PAMS notice is one signal: the Army is at least exploring a pathway to prototyping and industry engagement. Another signal
is visibility: special operations forces have showcased powered paraglider capabilities in events like SOF Week demonstrations,
which suggests the concept is not purely theoretical. A third signal is the broader defense interest in “personal air mobility,”
including DARPA’s work on short-range systems and the Navy’s past interest in powered paraglider concepts for reconnaissance.

Put together, these signals point to a pattern: the U.S. military is looking for ways to move small teams in environments
where big platforms are scarce, risky, or too obvious. Powered paragliders are one of the few options that can plausibly be
transported, launched, and operated with a relatively small footprint.

What adoption might look like (if it happens)

If PAMS evolves beyond exploration, expect the road to look like most capability development: prototypes, safety testing,
iterative requirements, and a lot of “this sounded easier in the PowerPoint.” Practical adoption would likely involve:

• Limited initial fielding to units that can sustain training and maintenance.
• Standardized safety and proficiency gates (because gravity is undefeated).
• Doctrine and mission profiles that clearly define when this tool is appropriate.
• Integration with existing reconnaissance and communications rather than treating it as a standalone trick.

The most important outcome might not be “soldiers fly everywhere.” It might be “commanders have one more option” in scenarios
where options are usually expensive, slow, or dangerous.

Bottom line: a niche tool with big implications

Powered paragliders won’t replace helicopters, parachute operations, or ground vehicles. But the Army’s interest in PAMS shows
a broader trend: mobility is being rethought for a world where airspace is contested, platforms are precious, and small teams
need flexible ways to move. If the service can solve training, sustainment, and survivability concerns, powered paragliders
could become a specializedbut genuinely usefulcapability.

And yes, it will still look a little like somebody turned “extreme sports” into a procurement document. Sometimes innovation
is like that: half serious, half “are we really doing this,” and then suddenly it’s part of the playbook.

Experiences: What it could feel like (a realistic, non-technical look)

Imagine a training cycle where “mobility day” doesn’t mean ruck marching until your soul leaves your body. It means unpacking
a compact flight system, doing deliberate inspections, and rehearsing procedures the same way soldiers rehearse any other
high-risk task: slowly, repeatedly, and with a lot of quiet focus. The vibe is less “Top Gun” and more “serious outdoor guide
meets safety briefing,” because personal air mobility punishes shortcuts.

In that kind of environment, the first thing people often notice isn’t the flyingit’s the packing. Fabric wings and
lines demand care. If the Army ever fields something like PAMS at scale, a big part of the soldier experience will be learning
the discipline of maintaining gear that behaves more like precision equipment than like a typical ruggedized widget. It’s the
difference between tossing a poncho in a bag and folding a parachute: one is forgiving, the other is not.

Then there’s the planning mindset. A powered paraglider concept forces a different conversation about routes and timing. On the
ground, you think in roads, cover, and checkpoints. In the air, you think in exposure, visibility, and “how long am I presenting
myself as a moving dot?” In modern conditionswhere drones, sensors, and electronic surveillance shape the battlespacetraining
would likely emphasize minimizing unnecessary time aloft and coordinating movement with broader unit actions. Not glamorous, but
very real.

The human factor is huge. Even if the system is designed for usability, flying changes how your body processes risk. Your brain
notices the open space under your boots. Your attention splits: you’re managing navigation, communication, and situational
awareness while also respecting a machine that does not care how motivated you are. That’s why any realistic “soldier experience”
involves repeated drills, standard calls, and structured progressionbecause confidence without proficiency is just optimism
wearing a helmet.

If you talk to people who spend time in aviation-adjacent roles, they’ll tell you the same story in different words:
the cool part isn’t “I flew.” The cool part is “I arrived where I needed to be, when I needed to be there.” In a tactical
context, that arrival might mean reaching a vantage point that would take hours by foot, crossing terrain that would otherwise
force a detour, or repositioning quickly without tying up a helicopter. It’s not that the flight itself becomes routineit’s
that the option becomes part of the unit’s thinking.

There’s also a practical rhythm to it. A unit trying to keep a niche capability alive would build habits: scheduled inspections,
maintenance windows, refresher training, and a small group of soldiers who become the “go-to” experts. In the Army, every new
system competes with time, and time is always the most limited resource. The soldier experience of PAMSif it ever becomes a
real programwould be shaped by whether the system can fit into training calendars without becoming an all-consuming side quest.

Finally, there’s the emotional whiplash of how ordinary it can feel. One moment you’re dealing with checklists and gear layouts.
The next moment you’re looking at the terrain from above, seeing the world in a way you usually only see from aircraft windows.
That shift can be motivating, even inspiringbut the Army’s job is to harness that energy and keep it disciplined. Because in
military aviation, the goal isn’t thrill. The goal is reliable performance under pressure.

If powered paragliders ever become a standard tool, the most important “experience” won’t be adrenaline. It will be confidence:
confidence that a small team can move without waiting, confidence that a unit can solve mobility problems creatively, and
confidence that the capability is safe and sustainablenot just exciting on a demonstration day.