1945 (49 page)

"Yes, sir. As I was saying, the role of the fleet is to keep the seas clean of enemy shipping, and our own convoys safe. Attempting to go head to head with the air force of a land power such as Germany would be suicide even with a full complement of modem aircraft."

It was a credit to Marshall's force of personality that Halsey did indeed keep silent at this assessment of his precious carriers; he seemed ready to burst. Still, silent or not, the daggers flying from his eyes toward Martel did not go unnoticed. Martel thought for a moment. That's not to say, of course, that the fleet could not provide significant assistance to the RAF, but only while the carriers are kept out of range of land-based planes." Still conscious of Halsey's burning gaze, Jim paused again, then said, "But I repeat, my area of interest has always been naval air technology and its effective application. I really shouldn't be the one briefing you on fleet actions."

Halsey's gaze flamed down a notch.

"You're doing fine, Commander," Marshall said quietly. "We don't want excessive detail at this point anyway." Marshall turned to Halsey. "Admiral, have you heard anything here you think is wrong?"

Free at last, Halsey prepared to ventilate. "The US Navy will do its job! There is no enemy so powerful we can't face it. None! I admit that—"

Marshall leaned over to Halsey and said very quietly, "Admiral, let's keep it light. My demonstration is doomed if Commander Martel gets too inhibited to think straight."

For a moment Halsey looked as if be had a gas bubble. Finally he relaxed and smiled in the manner of a family guest who would really like to give Junior a much-deserved thwacking, but knows it's not his place, and that it would be hopeless to discuss the matter further with the doting parents. Ironically, as was obvious from an unconscious change in his stance, that attitude could not have been better designed to bring out the intellectual combatant in James Martel.

Marshall sat back with a look of satisfaction as Halsey continued:

"Hrmph. Well, I think your emphasis is off, but I don't argue with your basic facts. Just remember that the fleet is a very powerful weapon."

"Yes sir. Properly used it is the most powerful instrument of war ever conceived. Which is another argument in favor of using it properly."

Halsey's eyebrows went up at this hint of counterthrust. Though his hand happened to be covering his mouth at that moment, Marshall's eyes danced.

Martel continued, speaking directly to Harrison. "Sir, given our weapons limitations, it is my opinion that the fleet's role in this first phase of the war is to secure the sea-lanes and allow for maximum flow of men and materiel to England. As to how to best use the fleet to counter the

Luftwaffe in the final stage of the passage from our ports to theirs, I have an idea or two, but I don't like them much. If they are the best we can come up with, a lot of good men will die for only a small additional advantage."

"Well, then," Marshall said, "let's save them for later. For now I'd like you to go into a little more detail on what we're facing."

"Sir? With Kelly Johnson present wouldn't it be better to get it straight from the source? Furthermore, since he's been busy in the OSS files—that's what he's in Washington for, I believe—he's bound to be more current than I am."

Marshall smiled. "Tiring of the limelight so soon, Commander?" He turned to Kelly. "Mr. Johnson?"

"Commander Martel is a much better speaker than I am, General. I think it would be better if I just sit here ready to help out when needed. You should have had Dutch Kindelberger here. He can build planes
and
talk." Kindelberger could indeed talk. He was also the man who had taken the P-51 Mustang from back-of-the-envelope to test flight in just over four months—just as Kelly Johnson and his Skunk Works had done with the P-80 Shooting Star in just under five.

"You were in Washington, Mr. Johnson; Mr. Kindelberger was not," Marshall replied. "Otherwise you would both have been here." Turning back to Martel, he added, "Just give us the basic performance characteristics, and the implications in terms of our own weapons. Nothing fancy."

Wondering again just what he had done to deserve this, Martel prepared to continue lecturing the President of the United States, the Army Chief of Staff, the two officers in primary charge of the Great Pacific. War, the head of the OSS, one of the world's most brilliant aircraft designers, and — Betty. Thank God for Betty. For all too brief a moment his mind wandered to the many hours, sweeter still in retrospect, that they had spent with their heads together poring over grainy photos, roughly copied schematics, and occasionally a genuine fresh-stolen blueprint.

Strengthened by that momentary respite he went on. "The Gotha 229 is their most current operational fighter," Jim began quietly. "As I said before, by now they will have started producing them in quantity. Our projection at the time was one thousand on-line by this spring. Their 262 is in the process of becoming the old warhorse of their fighter force, but it is nearly a match for our Phantom and perhaps a bit more than a match for our Shooting Star."

Betty and Kelly Johnson both nodded.

"As for bombers, their four-engine Arado 234-C bomber can outrun every prop fighter we have. We also expect their Ju-287V3 to start coming on line soon."

"That's their jet bomber with the forward sweeping wings," Kelly interjected.

"The same. Intel says the Germans expect it to cruise at thirty thousand feet at over four hundred miles an hour."

"Remarkable," Kelly commented. "We tried the forward wing sweep; couldn't get rid of the turbulence. I don't understand how they got past that."

"Within the year we'll see supersonic fighters start coming on line as well."

Donovan, Johnson, and Betty nodded in unconscious unison.

"Right. I've been briefed on all this, of course," the President commented. When Jim stopped in confusion, Harrison hastened to add, "But go on, Commander. Assume that I am missing just one piece of vital information, and you don't know which it is. That's a big problem in my line: nobody wants to insult me by assuming I'm not omniscient."

Jim took a deep breath. "Yes, sir. There are a number of other areas where they've grabbed a long march forward. Their peroxide-powered subs are fast, silent, and even when submerged can match the cruising speed of nearly any target. They've already got surface-to-air missiles, air-to-air wire-guided missiles for use against bombers, and a nasty package called the Henschel 300, a television-guided rocket bomb with a range of twenty-five miles and a payload of half a ton — enough to ruin any ship and sink most." Jim paused and looked at Donovan. "One thing I doubt anyone here is familiar with is their air-launched jet-powered glider — a glider for most of its flight time, I mean—that can cruise as high as seventy-five thousand feet for recon. When I was . . . recalled from Berlin we hadn't decided if it was real or we'd just been given the schematic for somebody's pipe dream. It looked buildable, though."

The President and Donovan shared a glance. Then, as the President nodded, Donovan grinned sourly and said to Martel, "From now on call that pipe dream the DFS-228. They've been flying a few of them since '43, and it performs as advertised. Frankly, we just plain missed it."

For some reason Kelly Johnson seemed riveted by this particular piece of news. That's nearly into space!"

Harrison looked at Kelly speculatively, but remained silent.

"Nothing we have can touch it, sir," Martel continued. "As Mr. Johnson says, it might as well be in space. They could put one up over Southern England and cover the entire country from one end to the other with a single camera pass. For that matter, if they manage to seize and hold Greenland —which they might well do if England falls — they could stage it out of there and sweep recon flights right down our coast. We won't be able to hide anything from them. And speaking of space, there's the V-10, a ballistic missile designed to hurl a projectile across the Atlantic. Mate that to an atomic bomb and twenty minutes from launch time they could indeed wipe out lower Manhattan or downtown Washington. It would also be possible to use the V-10 to put a payload in orbit."

"What for?" Harrison asked. This was apparendy one of those vital facts that had slipped by.

"Reconnaissance satellite," Kelly interjected. "Let it do several orbits, photograph what they want, then drop the satellite back down and pick up the film. They could keep track of everything we're doing anywhere in the country— anywhere in the world, for that matter." Johnson paused for a moment. "I don't know if they've thought of this, but they might even be able to mount a variant of that rocket-glider of theirs and do actual eyeball observations from space. Then we would really be naked."

"And they can do this?" the President whispered.

"It would depend on the wing structure, mainly," Kelly replied abstractedly. "They would need special reinforcement . . . the weight would be a problem . .. titanium air frame, maybe deployable wings.... Well, given the missile and the rocket-glider, we could do it, sir, so we have to assume they could. And will." Kelly glanced at Donovan. "How much does one of those atomic bombs weigh?"

Donovan glanced in turn at the President.

"If anyone here was not cleared to hear anything we want to talk about when they walked in, they are now," Harrison said dryly.

"Uranium or plutonium?" Donovan asked.

"Whichever would make a lighter bomb," Johnson replied.

"About five tons for a plutonium bomb, but we're not sure the plutonium bomb will actually explode. Also keep in mind that the explosive material only constitutes a small part of the weight. I expect that if really required, even the uranium bomb could be made much lighter than five tons."

"Well then, it ought to be possible to stow something like that aboard a beefed-up version of the rocket-glider, then use television guidance to put it just exacdy where you want. Atomic bombs aboard ballistic missiles aren't good for much but mass murder; this way you could put one in a latrine window, so to speak. The pilot would have to walk home, but so what?"

"Even the Hanford reactor won't be safe," Harrison said numbly.

The gloom in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Well sir, I don't believe they have any such capabilities yet," Martel said into the silence.

"How long will it take them?" Harrison asked.

Martel and Johnson looked at each other, then at Donovan and Marshall.

"It would take me about a year, I think, if I already had the V-10 and the rocket-glider. It would be a real pilot killer at first, though."

Jim nodded somberly. Marshall and Donovan did not disagree.

"Is that it?" Harrison asked. "No German invisibility cloaks? No secret rays that can set off explosives from a distance?"

"That's it sir, assuming they don't have secrets we don't know about," Donovan deadpanned.

Suddenly the President looked very tired. "General, this meeting is being held at your behest. I'm waiting for that voodoo you promised."

Marshall leaned forward. This was it. "Yes, sir. That's what I'm here for. Obviously there will be a lot of philosophy and detail to go through before you can sign on, but for the moment let me keep it short and sweet."

Harrison seemed amenable to this.

"What I'm proposing is that we take our very best performers from the Great Pacific War research and development surge and let them use their own brains to decide on how to maximally contribute to the war effort. The total input from above will be go/no-go after the design phase is finalized. If no-go, the proposer comes up with a new idea. Oh, and of course supposedly 'failed' designs will be handed out for peer review, so the people who veto new designs had better have good reasons."

Marshall paused to look around. Only MacArthur and Halsey had not had a chance to consider the bare bones of the notion already. They both seemed confused, but a large part of their reason for being here was to play audience. Though they didn't know it, Marshall regarded convincing the pair of them as his primary goal. If he could convince the President, he could go ahead. If he could convince such as Halsey and MacArthur, it would work.

"General, Admiral, something like this can only work if the men in charge believe in it. I'm not asking you to suspend disbelief. I am asking you not to reject it until you have good reason. And remember: the Germans have too big a margin right now. We have to get outside the model, break the paradigm. This is how we'll do it."

"General Marshall," Halsey said, "I'm not sure I understand how we're supposed to trust a bunch of creative types to come up with something sensible. How can we hope to give them their heads and keep them focused? Give those crazy scientists an inch and they're off in cloud cuckooland before you turn around."

"Not just any creative types, Admiral. Creative types who have produced. Men like Mr. Johnson, here. You too, Commander. Men who have performed way over expectations, men who even under our old system provided miracles that astounded the world. Let's see what they can come up with on their own. That's all I'm saying. And I guess it's time for our demo."

Everyone sat expectantly, looking for the hat, waiting for the rabbit.

"Mr. Johnson," Marshall said, "I take it that you agree with Martel on the inadequacy of the Navy's aircraft to deal with the Luftwaffe within range of a large number of their airfields?"