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Rolling Thunder

Page 6

by Mark Berent


  ** To raise the morale of the South Vietnamese.

  The strikes were supposed to roll thunder further north each time the communists did something the White House didn't like. They were dictated in size, weapons, and time on target by the White House, a methodology Whitey was finding out was killing fighter pilots.

  Whitey suspected no war had been run quite like this, by committee--civilian at that--since the time of George Washington. And considering Valley Forge, not then either.

  In addition to advising the SecDef, Whitey Whisenand was on the National Reconnaissance Organization (NRO) board, a highly classified agency trying to set up clandestine recon­naissance in North Vietnam and Laos. The NRO used teams on the ground, Compass Cope drones at low altitudes in the air, U-2s at high altitude, and satellites in space. They were having a hard time getting support for all but the satel­lites. The SecDef loved satellites. His idea was to build an electronic fence between North and South Vietnam that ran east and west along the 17th parallel at the DMZ. Satellite coverage would relay information instantly to Washington where he could absorb it, and relay orders back to the field commanders exactly how to react to enemy actions. Whitey despised this arrangement of excessive civilian control and the SecDef knew it.

  Whisenand knew he would never get his third star because he was too old. In truth, there was no job for him. He was only on active duty at the sufferance of some highly placed admirers in the Congress who felt his contribution to the intelligence community belonged in the military. Whitey was independently wealthy, and he liked the United States Air Force. He was good at what he did, and saw no reason to retire merely to seek employment elsewhere.

  He was the top Intel specialist in the USAF, and, it was said, he could spot a camouflaged gun emplacement at ten feet from a three-inch negative. He could identify all the Spoon Rest and Fan Song Russian radars by their trans­mission sounds, and had a feel for enemy intentions that made some think he personally paid agents inside their cabinets to provide information.

  Whisenand knew his time with the SecDef was limited. Whitey was sure that sooner or later his intellectual tempera­ment and dislike of autocratic persons would prevail and he would inform the ex-Detroit whiz kid exactly where his and the president's air war plan should be stuffed.

  He sighed, put his coffee cup down, and picked up his latest target request list. He stared at it for a moment and threw it down as he looked at the chart board his Air Force and Navy assistants, fighter pilots themselves chafing to get to Vietnam, had shown him. Draped with black crepe paper, it listed shootdowns. They had been told they would be in deep kimchi for negative thinking if the SecDef ever saw it. They felt it was the only way they could call some attention to and show some tribute, albeit minor, to the aircrew who had paid such a high price to obtain a goal that didn't seem to be understood by their commander-in-chief. Whitey had them leave the board in his office. He looked at it and his face tightened.

  ...........................................................

  AIRCRAFT SHOT DOWN OVER NORTH VIETNAM....148

  PILOT/NAV MIA, KIA, POW....................102

  SUCCESSFUL RESCUES........................46

  ............................................................

  "Those POWs are rotting in cells in the Hoa Lo prison in Hanoi," Air Force Colonel John Ralph had said.

  "Boss," Navy Captain Jerry Paulson had said to Whitey, "we've got so many guys in there now, the troops over at Casualty Recovery have got a new name for the place."

  "Oh? What's it called?" Whitey had asked.

  "The Hanoi Hilton."

 

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