Magestic 2, page 70
‘But, they are experimenting with a radio talk-down procedure. We’ve fitted Goose transponders to their Dash-7s, and their radar and radio operators talk the planes down through cloud and fog. They’re getting good at it now; they can put a plane right on the end of the runway using a glide path.’
‘If we’re going to operate at night, we’ll need it.’
‘Similar procedures are starting to appear in the States at the civil airports, making use of the transponders.’
‘Progress, eh,’ I quipped.
‘You’ll see goodies being shipped out to Africa as well, a stockpile, and Hong Kong is now sinking under the weight of munitions.’
‘American Brigade behaving?’
‘Nope, two more killed. The Japs have consolidated the Canton region, and seem happy with that, but Mao has pushed them back a bit, and they’re not happy with that.’
‘Any closer to Hong Kong?’
‘Yes, a little closer, and the Japs watch the place more now.’
‘Food shipments regular?’
‘Yes, they don’t interfere,’ Jimmy replied.
‘Sykes thinks the Germans will try something, test the British nerve.’
Jimmy slowly nodded. ‘Probably a naval skirmish around Jutland.’
‘Not Libya?’
‘The British can move back from an air engagement there without anyone knowing; no loss of face. A ground attack would see a very long and arduous journey across the world’s worst terrain. And again, who’d see it? No, they want to nudge the British, and for it to be reported to the German people. He’s a magician with public opinion, and the Sahara won’t give him a microphone and spotlight. He may test British nerve there, but he wants a show.’
A few days later, the engineers in the jet factory called me over. Actually, they asked for both me and Jimmy, so we figured that it must be something good. We drove around, through the security, and to a new shed labelled up as Research-15. I guessed that sheds 1-14 were busy with other stuff.
Inside, we found a keen bunch of engineers, all looking smug. They led us past men in white lab coats doing things that men in white lab coats did, and to what looked like a cruise missile with its skin taken off after a bad accident. The nose of the missile contained hundreds of brass tubes, their shape and surface texture reminding me of the coral you found when scuba diving. Behind it sat what looked like a radio set after a bad night, followed by a torpedo engine, and finally a few small fins.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘It looks … complicated.’
A man pointed. ‘At the front there are many tubes that contain a liquid, the same liquid that we make use of in the night sights. That liquid reacts to infra-red radiation, creating a small electrical current, which is amplified many times.’ He pointed at the radio parts. ‘Those signals are then calibrated to a direction off-centre, and drive servo-motors that control the fins at the rear, the projectile flown by the modified torpedo engine.’ He stood proud. ‘If it was fired by one aircraft at another, it would adjust its course till it hit the other aircraft’s engine.’
‘And then…?’ I nudged.
‘And then it would explode, sir.’
I glanced at Jimmy, who was keeping quiet. ‘So, it’s a … heat … seeking … missile, yes?’
‘That’s an interested name for it, sir, but yes.’
‘Why, what did you call it?’
‘We called it a thermal-detecting self-contained plane, sir.’
I stared at him.
‘Your title is better, sir. Heat-seeking missile.’
‘How much explosive would it carry?’ I asked, studying it.
‘Around six pounds, sir. An initial explosion with fragmentation would destroy an aircraft within twenty yards, but we’re adding bomblets from the cluster bombs. They’ll detonate after half a second, fragmentation up to three hundred yards.’
‘And you think it’ll work?’ I posed.
They wheeled forwards a bed sheet on a frame, placing it in front of the missile’s cones. They switched it on, the fins twitching before settling, a man now stood behind the sheet and clicking on his cigarette lighter. He walked left, the fins twitching, walked right, the fins twitching again, and raised his hand, the fins twitching again.
‘So if the Japs had a lot of men behind bed sheets, we’ve got them,’ I said, making the group laugh.
‘We’ll have a prototype to test soon, sir.’
‘Expensive toy, this?’ I asked.
‘All of the components are common, taken from stores, except the guidance system. That’s just brass tubes and radio parts, sir. We believe we can keep the cost down, but if it works, then one missile – as you say, will bring down one or more enemy bombers without risk to our aircraft. Our aircraft could fire from half a mile away … and then turn away.’
‘Good,’ Jimmy commended. ‘How many people working on it?’
‘Just the four of us at the moment, sir.’
‘Make that twenty-four, and straightaway. I like it.’
‘Yes, sir,’ they enthused.
‘I think we’re missing something here,’ I announced. ‘Guys, you have this thing homing-in on a heat source, but we already have radio direction finding technology. Could you not also make one to home-in on a radio source?’
‘The … aircraft would have to be using its radio at that precise moment, sir,’ a man said, looking a bit embarrassed for me.
‘You’re still not getting it, are you. Who else uses radios, besides aircraft?’
‘Radio stations?’ one man asked.
‘Great, we could blow up Radio Vancouver!’ I snapped. ‘What else?’
‘Control towers?’ someone ventured.
‘Now we’re getting somewhere. What if … you fired this from a plane ... and it sought out someone else’s control tower.’
‘It … would blow up their control tower?’
‘It would, meaning that they can’t control their aircraft.’
‘Ah…’ they collectively let out.
‘What else?’
‘Tank commanders.’
‘Good, a good idea. What else?’
‘Enemy headquarters, sir, sending radio messages out to regional commanders,’ a man confidently suggested.
‘Good. Excellent. We could kill their commanding officers, all sat about the radio sending messages. What else?’
They glanced at each other. ‘A battleship,’ someone said, as if struck with a divine revelation.
I said, ‘One missile ... damaging a battleship, would be worth it. But you would need a big missile. So, how about one of these with an auto-trim, wings, a big payload, and your clever guidance thing. It would fly off one ship towards another, go twenty miles, and then … bang, scratch one very expensive battleship. Or … aircraft carrier. And the same thing could be used over land, to hit an enemy headquarters with a big bang.
‘Guys, if you’re going to make an expensive toy, make it worth it. Shooting down an enemy plane with a twenty thousand dollar missile is a bit steep. Tell the Research Manager I want a hundred men on it as of tomorrow morning. This now has priority. And … good work, guys, really good work.’
In the car, I said, ‘Did they get a nudge to design those from Hal wanting missiles for the jet?’
‘Nope, they came up with it by themselves. We have some very bright young men around, some just from college – those with the highest grades. We have theoretical physicists, mathematicians, chemists; all very bright. But that’s not the key. They compete with each other, and sit around the canteen discussing each other’s work. They have an attitude of can do; they don’t know the meaning of it can’t be done. I’ve allowed in a few Americans, graduates, and a few British lads. C’mon, I’ll show you anther toy. Driver: tank depot, please.’
At the tank depot we found the senior officer, Jimmy requesting an artillery demonstration. So far we had not bothered with artillery. At the tank range we rudely interrupted some gunnery practice, soon stood with the senior officer and a radio operator. An oddly shaped tank appeared, growling across the range, a small artillery piece perched on its back. The tank had no turret, just an odd artillery piece with lots of bits attached to it.
It came to a halt side-on to the range, revving as two small legs descended at the rear, two at the front, the legs digging into the dirt. With the revving eased, the gun moved left and right, up and down, finally raised to a high angle and facing down the range. It started to fire, lobbing shells at a rate of one every two seconds. Six had been fired before the first threw up mud three thousand yards down the range.
The officer explained to me, ‘It has a clever aiming system, more about the compass bearing and range than what you could see with your eyes. Its range is limited to four miles, but it’s very accurate, and self-loading as you can see. When a tank radios back a target to it, it can lay down fire across a tight area, and quickly. Good against buildings, trenches, or infantry that are spread out and dug in.’
He gave the radio operator a nod. ‘It has another use as well, and that’s for what Mister Silo calls close-up and personal,’ he said with a smile.
The gun lowered itself, seemingly aiming at the smoking hulk of a truck that had been used for target practice. It popped off five rounds quickly, nothing left of the truck, the mud around it flung high into the air. The vehicle revved, the muddy legs retracted, and belched smoke as it powered away.
Smiling, the officer said, ‘If the crew get caught with their pants down, surrounded by the enemy, they just lower the gun and fire at things that are close by. Then it becomes a tank. But you could just drive it to the edge of a village and flatten the place.’
‘Could also fire at a ship, if the ship was close enough to shore,’ I noted, a glance at Jimmy.
‘Hell, yes,’ the officer confirmed. ‘Would stop them landing soldiers.’
‘How many do we have?’ I asked.
‘Twelve, for now.’
I faced Jimmy. After a moment, he said to the officer, ‘Ship four of them to Hong Kong, just in case the Japs decided to sail into port.’
‘That would be a right dumb thing to do,’ the man pointed out with a grin. ‘Right dumb.’
‘If they knew we had them, yes,’ I pointed out.
In the C.O.’s office he made us tea, and I stood over a large battle-board with models. Jimmy pointed at the board. ‘Closely-integrated warfare,’ he began. ‘Recon, tanks, light tanks behind, half-tracks behind them, artillery as you just saw further back, then infantry, air cover and ground attack aircraft – all working together. Depending on the situation, the right weapon is used.’
‘The right tool to fit the socket, we say,’ the C.O. announced as he handed me a tea. ‘No good just making a big bang with expensive munitions, ya need to hit the damn target. The tanks go head to head with other tanks in woods or in towns, tight streets. Aircraft hit the tanks with RPGs if they’re out in the open, the artillery hits soldiers in buildings or in trenches, and infantry arrives in a half-track to clear out the town afterwards. No good a tank trying to clear a trench, or to remove infantry from a village, and no good putting infantry up against tanks.’
‘Seems like you have it all worked out,’ I commended. ‘How many men at this depot now?’
‘Over a thousand,’ the Colonel reported. ‘Two hundred and eighty vehicles of some sort or another.’
‘Do the men specialise?’ I asked.
‘After they’ve mastered everything,’ the officer responded. ‘If a tank gunner is killed his driver can load and fire the weapon, or even the tank commander could. Everyone learns everyone else’s job, and they still have to keep the basic infantry skills sharp, regular small arms training, exercises, parachuting. These guys are worked hard, never a dull day.’
I stared down at the board, and the small models, seeing a potential future battle unfold before me, and wondering if we could win – at least win the set-piece battles that we had in mind. We were still a small force.
The Canadian Government came to visit us a week later aboard their own luxury aircraft, supplied by us. The day was glorious, hardly a cloud in the sky, the air still, the inlet looking good enough to swim in – for crazy people. We settled them into the bar after ten minutes of idle chat, and after plenty of thanks for the wondrous plane.
‘Gentlemen,’ Jimmy began. ‘What we have to talk about today is both grave, and secret.’ We had their attention. ‘I’d like to pose a scenario, and ask for your opinions.’ He took a moment. ‘If the United Kingdom found itself in a war with Germany, Italy, or even Japan, would you have any objection to us flying aircraft from Canadian soil that may be part of the British war effort?’
‘If you sell aircraft to the British, then no – of course not,’ they responded.
‘And if a bomber took off from Nova Scotia and bombed Germany?’
‘Then … we would have to consider that it would be an act of war, something we would need to decide upon ourselves. If there was a war between Britain and Germany, then it would probably be fought with ourselves siding with Britain. That seems likely, but we would, of course, need to be at war first.’
‘And if a potential war developed, and Britain or America saw the need to use certain special bombs…’
They eased back, glances exchanged. ‘We had considered this. In practical terms, you could just fly the plane south fifty miles, or to England. Our insistences would make no practical differences.’
‘Still, we’re based in your country, you have a right to know, and a veto.’
‘They are not our bombs or planes, they are being paid for by Britain and America under agreement, and we are signatories to that agreement. That agreement does not stipulate that a bombing mission may start here, but what would be the difference between that … and a flight to Seattle and a bombing mission starting there?’
‘A practical approach, Prime Minister,’ Jimmy commended. ‘For now, we’d like you to consider the implications, the permissions, and I’d like it in writing - a guidebook of what you see as acceptable or not, where prior notification is required. Now, that brings us to the Canadian Rifles. They are – technically – your soldiers, albeit paid by us. Would you allow us to commit them to a war involving Britain?’
‘We did not object to their posting to Hong Kong,’ they pointed out. ‘And the British formally requested them, so … we don’t see an issue.’
‘Again, I would like you to consider just where and how they may be used, any limitations, and a guidebook again. I want to know in advance if there would be any circumstances in which it would be inappropriate to use them.’
‘Unless you used them to start a war, we could see no circumstances where they could not support the British, or even the Americans. If Britain was at war, we would likely commit troops.’
A second man asked, ‘Do you see war as likely?’
‘I think the Italians want a war, and the Germans don’t hide their aggression; we could see a conflict in Europe within a year. And then there’s Hong Kong, which the Japanese encircle – and creep ever closer to. So we do see war as highly likely, yes.’
‘Then … we should make a few preparations ourselves,’ the Prime Minister suggested.
Jimmy said, ‘I’ve transferred a large sum to the account we use to sponsor your other infantry units. Please use it in the next six to nine months, for it to be effective. Recruit more men, buy better weapons – we have some. Now, we’ll get you some food before we show you a few of those weapons.’
‘How’s the plane?’ I asked our guests as Jimmy organised the food.
‘I must admit, it feels … ostentatious and presumptuous,’ the Prime Minister admitted.
‘Nonsense, you’re the government, so use it. You have long flights to make all the time, and you need to be fresh when you get there. The British Prime Minister uses one, and that fella in the White House - although he has two.’
After lunch, the Canadian leadership watched as our MLRS tore up a strip of their land, the men frightened rigid by the firepower displayed, and then observed as an artillery piece reduced a peaceful wooded hillside to a pile of logs and mud.
‘I believe, Mister Holton, that as a technique for felling trees … this will not catch on,’ the Prime Minister told me, making me laugh.
They tried AK47s, again horrified at the rate of fire, and returned to their aircraft wishing for a quiet life of shuffling papers.
At the hotel, Mac, Handy and Big Paul arrived with cases. I didn’t even notice they’d been gone. ‘Where you been?’
‘Fishing off Cuba, big game fishing,’ Big Paul said, now tanned.
‘Man fishing,’ Mac added. ‘Not for you old married men types.’
‘Cheeky bastards. Anyway, I went to Brighton Pier with the family, so there.’
That holiday on the south coast of Britain was soon just a memory, as summer became September. But as the weather cooled here, so it cooled in Libya, cool enough for a German mechanised brigade to land, for “joint exercises” with the Italians.
I sat with Jimmy when I heard that news from Hal. ‘German exercises, in Libya?’
‘Practice, no doubt, plus a little provocation,’ Jimmy said. ‘And yesterday a German destroyer tried to ram a British destroyer in the Denmark Straights.’
‘Will we make it to next May?’
‘I should think so, Hitler wants to dip his toe and test the water.’
‘What do the British have in Egypt?’
‘They had enough last week, not enough this week.’
‘Should we do anything?’
‘I have done, I’ve sent the British infantry in Egypt thirty half-tracks and fifty jeeps, so now they’re a more mobile infantry. Weak, but mobile.’
‘And the Germans?’ I nudged.
‘Were seen to offload around two hundred vehicles.’
‘Bit of a mismatch,’ I testily pointed out.
