Magestic 2, page 53
They stared. ‘A mile … radius. One bomb?’
‘A very small bomb,’ Jimmy emphasised. ‘In eight weeks we’re going to test a larger one.’
‘And what do you see that one doing?’ the Vice President asked.
‘Well, let’s not think of it in terms of trees. If it was detonated in Central Park, New York, it would destroy every building up to the rivers.’
The room lost a few more degrees of temperature.
‘May I enquire, Mister Silo, why you developed it in secret?’
‘That’s a simple question to answer, and one that I knew I was right about when I walked amongst trees that had been blown down like matchsticks. If Britain develops a bomb, then Germany may develop one as well, followed by Russia, and Japan - and yourselves of course. Then Britain may feel that it needs ten bombs, soon to be followed in parity by the other nations. That may lead to fifty bombs in the hands of each nation. And that, gentlemen, is the number required – according to my smart scientists – to kill every last person on this planet; starting fires, throwing dust and radiation up into the air. Within a year, all life on this planet would end, not a blade of grass left.
‘So you can see why we need security and secrecy, because all any warring nation would need is just the one bomb. If New York was destroyed, the economy of America would take fifty years to recover. The same goes for London: just the one bomb to destroy the economy of a nation. And if Britain possessed ten bombs, and German or Italy had ten bombs, and they used them on each other, then every last person in Britain would be dead, every last German, every last Italian. And who would be the victor in such a conflict?
‘You can survive a war with regular bombs and guns, gentlemen, but no one will survive a war with atomic bombs. All your enemy needs … is for one high-flying plane to get through, and you lose Washington or New York; just the one plane to get through. So as soon as the wider world learns of the bomb, then the world will become a very dangerous place. Whoever has it first will be able to dominate the other nations by implication of its use. As a deterrent it will be excellent, since complete destruction is assured for those that threaten you.
‘But could you, Mister Vice President, order your aircraft into the sky at some future date, knowing that you won’t be defeating an enemy state, that you will be wiping out their country, their culture, and even their history. That none would survive. Twenty million, maybe fifty million men, women and children killed.’
There was a long pause.
Churchill said, ‘The race is on, gentlemen, to prevent the technology ever falling into the hands of those who might use it for threat or gain. And even when we do possess such a horrific weapon, I pray none of us ever has to live with the knowledge of using it.’
The Vice President finally said, ‘As you say, it is a race, a terrifying race, the winner of which would collect the prize of the entire world, whether that be by threat or coercion. May we adjourn for an hour?’
‘We’ll reconvene at 2pm, after lunch,’ Jimmy offered.
Upstairs, I said, ‘You just woke him up, I think.’
‘And I don’t know how they’ll react. Most likely they’ll want to match the British input, then to increase the input, then to develop their own bomb.’
At 2pm, and after I had fed Toby, we reconvened, the Americans having made a few calls with one of their own scramblers plugged in. The Vice President began, ‘We’ve discussed the matter, and with the President, and would like to match the British input of men and money.’
‘It all helps, and you are most welcome,’ Jimmy said.
‘We’ll put together a team of our best scientists and send them up to you.’
‘There are a few small conditions … of cooperation, Mister Vice President.’
‘Conditions?’
‘First, I want a written agreement that all research will be conducted at our hidden facility, far from prying eyes. You may have your own soldiers or FBI there if you wish. I want a written agreement that you will not create a research facility of your own in the States until such time as we agree to it. You may be tempted to conduct your own research, but that would just let other nations know that you’re interested in the feasibility of the bomb, and that may spur them into action.
‘Once the research is at an advanced stage, we will simply hand it to you, you don’t need to parallel what we’re doing – and at the risk of it becoming known. Further, I would like that the three parties here sit down at some future date and decide how many bombs are to be produced, and who has them, where they will be stored. I want a three-way decision on that matter, or you’ll have to start from scratch on your own – and it cost us forty million pounds to get this far.
‘This, gentlemen, is a joint project, and should either of you believe for a foolish moment that you could go it alone, I’d remind you that I have aircraft readily available to you that fly at thirty thousand feet and at six hundred miles per hour, and could fly eleven thousand miles and drop an atomic bomb. For you to match those aircraft it may take you the next six or seven years, possibly ten. Or you may simply have them handed over to you – by us. The price that we ask for that ... is that secrecy is maintained, and that you do not give the game away with your own research.’
They exchanged looks.
Jimmy added, ‘And some of you have asked in the past, and recently, why we don’t make such aircraft available. The reason … is the same as why we would not sell an atom bomb to someone. We don’t want an arms race, but we are happy to offer you a hidden - and ultimately very secret knockout blow should you need it. Such a weapon is most effective … if kept secret. If everyone in the world knew, then no one would ever think to attack you until they had atom bombs and highflying planes. The effect of disclosure … would be that aggressors start to design smarter weapons – and bide their time till ready.
‘But I would add this one statement. If, at a later date, the nations assembled here were convinced that an aggressor nation was within years or months of developing their own atom bomb, I would see no problem in that nation being attacked in advance, to stop them from completing their research, our own atom bombs used.’
It was heady stuff, the visitors quietly shocked, much to think about.
I faced a US Army General. ‘What do you think, about keeping it secret?’
He took a moment. ‘The Germans developed submarines and used them to great effect in the last war, so now everyone wants submarines. It’s the same principle: if they have one, we want one, and vice versa. The latest craze is aircraft carriers. Better to keep it secret for now.’
The second General said, ‘Your aircraft set the standards, and others try and copy; that’s a race in itself. Everyone wants to fly faster and higher than the other guy. If we can’t shoot down a bomber, then the bomber gets through.’
I said, ‘Someone could put an atom bomb on a submarine, sail it undetected into New York, up the river, and bang! Even if they don’t have highflying aircraft, there are other ways to deliver it.’
They exchanged looks.
‘We’ll put together a working group,’ the Vice President suggested, ‘and meet again when ready, if that’s OK?’
‘Of course,’ Jimmy offered, a glance at the British, who nodded.
With the American and British delegations both departed, I said to Jimmy, ‘I figured we’d not reveal it till later.’
‘The Italians brought forwards my plans by a year or so. Besides, we’ll slow up the research, but keep them happy.’
‘And America in the “M” Group?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t see that happening till after the war. I just don’t see them accepting my directions.’
As the weather improved around Trophy, twenty British scientists turned up, dispatched to Lemming Base whilst the weather was nice, so as not to shock them - too much. They were followed by twelve American scientists, who came accompanied by six military police officers and four FBI agents. The FBI asked nicely if they could vet everyone, so we pointed towards our own FBI liaison, who they seemed to have overlooked. The FBI guys still wanted to go to Lemming Base, so we let them.
I had large posters made up, red backgrounds with white writing, and had them sent to the base. The first one said, ‘Everything here is secret. Discuss it with outsiders and you will not just lose your job, you will go to prison.’
I had the same posters put in many places around the various factories, especially the radar factory. That factory had been busy, keen to impress me, and had now fitted radar to a half-track. But a day over rough ground and the radar was in no fit state to operate. A re-design was organised, plus a dampening unit as a base for carriage by a half-track. Housed on green army trucks, the radars operated well enough, and the Rifles received training in the use of radar.
My tank Major received two radar sets on trucks, and two radio direction finding sets, and was told that from now on all exercises must include radio and radar – to simulate an enemy air threat. Without any prompting from me, he slapped twin fifty cal machineguns on a half-track and created an anti-aircraft battery. And, after some bribery and coercion, a pilot took off in a Dash-7 dragging a drone that the engineers had made up. The drone was balanced so as to fly level, and hung at the end of a three hundred yard wire that played out slowly after take-off.
The Dash-7 flew over the tank range at three hundred feet, the Dash-7 flying at full power, and was duly fired upon from below. Approaching the airfield, the drone was cut lose and allowed to drift down in a controlled crash. It was shredded with holes, fifty calibre holes. Mac then modified the next drone, and when it was hit it exploded. Well, a real plane might explode. The Dash-7 pilot eventually recovered – fully believing that they had fired at the drone from a tank, the anti-aircraft battery puzzling what the hell they hit.
Jimmy heard about the drone, and ordered fifty made-up with frames of alloy and covered in paper and plastic, bags of soot to be placed inside. Prop fighters were adjusted to have a tail clip, and now took off every day, to be seen over the range area being shot at by other prop fighters diving down. A burst of soot would result in a barrel role from a cocky pilot. Once landed, the drones would get a covering of paper again, new soot bags fitted.
To top that, I put a paper target on a frame above a lightweight tank. It drove down the tank range at speed, zig-zagging, a prop fighter attempting to strafe it, some rude radio chatter taunting the pilots. We lost a few tyres shredded, quite a few, but we were developing the skills for later.
The American Brigade received their own training on the tanks, on the use of radar and radio direction finding, and on strafing the tank target. Their numbers were growing, the new recruits stunned by the range of activities they were involved with, and of everything they had to learn.
The next exercise that I created involved a great many aspects of integrated warfare, and took some planning; more so for the officers than for me. I found a hill near the first one we had blown to pieces, and built a make-do wooden camp that looked passable from a distance. We threw camouflage nets over the buildings and trucks, and knocked man-sized targets into the ground, paper images of soldiers in grey glued onto a thin wooden layer. The Rifles possessed trip flares, so the flares were scattered around, and our Jumping Jack land mines were modified to just go “pop”. Petrol cans were dumped in trucks and buildings; if they were hit they would blow up.
I assembled the senior officers of the Canadian Rifles on a fine warm day, Jimmy, Mac, Handy and Big Paul all observing. ‘OK, gentlemen, this is your exercise. At the following map reference is – we believe - an enemy stronghold. It is rumoured to contain bunkers, tanks, artillery and infantry. As soon as you’re ready you’ll drop SAS in at height, two separate groups from opposite sides, to scout the area. Make sure that the plane is not seen or heard at the enemy base.
‘Once located, an assessment will be made of numbers, strength, positioning, and you’ll radio that detail back. There’s a rough dirt airstrip at the following coordinates, which could be used for inserts, so long as aircraft fly below one thousand feet within ten miles of the enemy position. That’s one thousand feet.
‘You will move on the enemy position and destroy it, making use of six tanks and their support vehicles, six light tanks, four half-tracks, ten jeeps – plus a radio and radar truck, one anti-aircraft truck. Those are the only vehicles available to you. You will maintain constant radio and radar checking routines, and if you see the drone you’ll fire on it.
‘Umpires will be on hand with ketchup, and the wounded will be taken seriously and treated properly, and brought out. First aid skills will need to be properly demonstrated. If you see a light tank with a target on top you’ll call in an air strike, have planes standing by ready. Oh, and above the hill in question we have three movie cameras, so don’t screw it up. You can watch the film later and comment. You may begin.’
They dropped the SAS teams in from fifteen thousand feet, five miles from the target, the teams walking through the night to reach vantage points above the target. I was there in the control room when they radioed the details, and compared the detail to what I knew was there.
The next day the recon force landed by Dash-7, the aircraft flying low enough to worry everyone onboard it. They scouted the area south of the target as the main convoy trundled slowly north. The following evening the tanks were in place in the next valley, a plan put together. After midnight, the SAS crept down and scouted around at close quarters, using silenced pistols against wooden man-targets. Once shot, the targets were kicked over. The men set diversionary charges on timers for just before dawn, and withdrew.
When those charges went off, the SAS and the recon unit sniped at the man-sized targets. The lightweight tanks flanked around to draw fire, the main tanks moving into the open and blasting at the buildings and trucks, radio chatter directing them from the SAS units above. Petrol cans exploded for effect.
The lightweight tanks attacked from the side, firing as they advanced, moping up. A drone appeared overhead, engaged by the anti-aircraft truck, as well as a few snipers. With infantry surging forwards, the umpires followed. Man-targets were shot up, grenades tossed into trenches, buildings cleared. A flare was tripped, ketchup squirted, a few rude words uttered. Mac’s Jumping Jacks caught a few people, more ketchup applied, wounded dragged out.
Then the spotters on the hill reported a column of enemy tanks approaching from the north. The infantry withdrew at a pace, the main tanks covering the retreat as an air strike was called. Our prop fighters swooped down and shot at the tank column, dummy RPGs fired. The SAS and recon units withdrew to an RV point, picked up in jeeps before being sped away.
The debrief lasted the whole of the next day, the film watched several times, positioning and timing criticised. Overall, we were very happy with it. We were small in numbers, but were developing the skills needed so that they could be taught to larger numbers; it was a blueprint. I gave the American Brigade extra training on the tanks for a week, and issued them the very same exercise, the results pleasing.
Two of our fast boats then turned up in the inlet, everyone keen to have a go. I handed one over to the Americans, one to the Canadians, and told them to practise with the craft. The other fast boats were aboard a large cargo vessel and heading for Hong Kong. Finding people daft enough, we added a little extra armour to the wheelhouse of one of the craft and used it for strafing practice, the damn boat turning so quickly that it was hard to get the firing angle on it. One overly keen pilot misjudged, dipped a wing in the water and cart-wheeled. He got out, the object of his frustration picking him up. Scratch one expensive prop fighter.
Then one day in July, a beautiful sight appeared on the inlet, a big black submarine. No one was allowed near it, the onlookers kept back. It had waited for a suitably calm spell off the coast of California, and had then powered itself north alongside a US Navy destroyer, making the last two miles alone – and proud.
The gang inspected it at length, the sub powering down the inlet to the dry dock the next day. Inside, high and dry, our people got to work. They inspected the hull, finding it well made, then began to slap on a horrible green paint that dried yellowish-green. It would plug leaks, and would stretch, not crack. Poor old sub, she looked like a damn banana.
With the horrible yellow stuff dry, they began affixing rubber blocks that were four inches square, a glue used to stick each block down, as well as to its neighbours. Each block had a top and bottom, different sizes because of the curvature of the hull, some of the blocks perfectly square for flat sections. The horrid yellow colour was slowly covered, and disappeared on the third day. When I clambered down to her, I stepped on the rubber. It was not bouncy, but not solid either. They applied a coating of black goo, slapping it on thick. It dried smooth and taut, would stretch and not crack as the sub altered depth. They painted on three layers, the combined covering a thick outer layer for the rubber blocks.
Inside the sub, all sorts of gadgets were now being installed, some existing equipment removed. Venturing inside, I was surprised by how light and airy it was - plenty of headroom, the walls all painted white. The bunks were tested, plenty of legroom, and then folded away. When folded up, the room they were in seemed spacious, a detachable table at the centre. I found four showers, six toilets, a good-sized galley with seats for twenty or more at a time, electric rings on the stove.
The captain’s chair felt great, and I could imagine being in a battle with a destroyer above me. The equipment ranged in front of me seemed to be from a period later than the Second World War, certainly not like the films I remembered of unshaven men with sweat stains.
When the sub was ready the US Navy wanted a look, so we simply said that it wasn’t ready, and that we’d check the safety first. I could hear the grinding of teeth down the phone.
The dry dock was duly flooded, the sub rising, its tethers released. The dockyard staff lowered a walkway, and we boarded with ten engineers, as well as Mac and Handy. Out of the dock, she was towed behind a tug for half a mile, a US destroyer just happening to be passing. The tug crew released the tow and caste off, and we were adrift.
