by Peter George
‘Yes, sir,’ the chief said. ‘All set, sir?’
The President nodded his grave assent. The chief threw the switch and the chair rose rapidly and smoothly on a hydraulic shaft straight toward the ceiling. Unfortunately, due to some mechanical malfunction it did not rise completely and came to a stop some feet below the ceiling.
The President blew his nose and gestured irritably to the chief, who threw the switch rapidly several times while the President fumed with impatience.
Finally it worked and the chair rose again, up and out of sight through the trap door in the ceiling.
THE WAR ROOM
The room was vast, cavernous, with sloping concrete walls that came together at the apex of the triangle they formed with the black, shining floor.
One of these walls was decorated by a series of displays which gave vital information on all aspects of the national defence to those who were privileged to see it. The displays were presented in a series of illuminated charts, and at a glance it was possible to view the situation as it changed.
On the extreme left was a display showing a polar projection of the United States and Russia. This was linked to the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System, two bases in the US and one in the UK. It would give visual indication of any rocket trajectories detected by them.
Next was a display showing the number of SAC bombers available, and their readiness state. It also showed the number of US missiles and how long it would take to make them ready to go.
On the right of this indicator there was a projection of the United States, extending north as far as the Arctic. On this could be seen any build-up of Russian bomber forces in the north, and also the submarines which were within missile range of the American coast.
Next came the biggest display – a projection of Russia and its surrounding territory and sea. Here would be shown the pre-computed tracks of SAC bombers as they headed toward their assigned targets. The targets could also be shown. Primary targets were represented by triangles, and secondary targets by squares. These targets were mostly missile and bomber bases, with a few radar positions and defensive missile complexes. Some were near big centres of population, some were not. But it was impossible to tell from the display. Centres of population were not shown.
There were also other displays showing global weather conditions, fallout possibilities, and the disposition of NATO and Russian forces, land, sea, and air, in Europe and the Mediterranean.
The series of displays was known affectionately to those who conducted global strategy as the ‘Big Board.’
These men were now seated round a huge circular table covered with green cloth and with recessed telephones built into it. Above them a suspended ring of lights shone down on each man’s position. The air was thick with cigarette smoke.
They waited expectantly for the sound of the trap door and the appearance of the President’s balding head and thick spectacles.
As the President’s chair rose into the one vacant position at the table, twenty-two men who were already seated round it rose to their feet. One did not, because he was seated in a wheelchair, which he could not leave without assistance. However, he jerked his head as a mark of respect. His name was Doctor Strangelove. President Muffley blew his nose vigorously then said, ‘Good morning, gentlemen. Please sit down. Is everyone here?’
Staines, one of the presidential aides, said, ‘Mister President, the Secretary of State is in Vietnam, the Secretary of Defence is in Laos, and the Vice President is in Mexico City. We can establish contact with them at any time if it is necessary.’
‘Fine, fine,’ the President said absently, then looked toward General Buck Turgidson, the Air Force Chief of the joint Chiefs of Staff. ‘Now, Buck, what the hell’s going on here?’
General Turgidson rose smartly to his feet. As usual, there was a slight smile on his face. Those who knew him well were not deceived by it. He was dressed now in full uniform and on his shoulders the four stars of his rank gleamed under the overhead light. He said, ‘Well now, Mister President, there appears to be a bit of a problem.’
The President said, ‘Obviously. I don’t expect to be got out of my bed at this hour unless there is a problem. Just what is the nature of this problem?’
Turgidson said, ‘Mister President, it appears that over thirty bombers of one of our airborne alert wings have been ordered to attack their targets inside Russia. The planes are fully loaded with nuclear weapons with an average load of forty megatons each. The central display of Russia will indicate the planes’ positions – the triangles are their primary targets, the squares are their secondary targets. The aircraft will begin penetrating Russian radar cover inside twenty-five minutes from now.’
Doctor Strangelove looked keenly at the President as he absorbed General Turgidson’s information. The President seemed worried, Strangelove thought, while Turgidson seemed confident and happy. Strangelove was not unhappy himself. Though he was known personally to few people in this room, he had long exerted influence on United States defence policy. He was a recluse and perhaps had been made so by the effects of the British bombing of Peenemünde, where he was working on the German V-2 rocket. His black-gloved right hand was a memento of this. He was not sure whether he disliked the British more than the Russians. He gazed out through myopic eyes, which were assisted by frameless bifocals, at the duel between the President and General Turgidson, whom he had never met.
Turgidson continued. ‘Yes, sir, seems like General Ripper of Burpelson Air Force Base – one of our finest bases, sir – decided to go for the Russians with his planes.’
President Muffley passed a hand across his forehead. ‘I find this very difficult to understand, General,’ he said. ‘I am the only one who has authority to order the use of nuclear weapons.’
Turgidson’s smile widened slightly, as it always did when he was in a tight situation. He said gravely, ‘That’s right, sir. You are the only person so authorised. I hate to judge before all the facts are in, but it’s beginning to look like General Ripper kind of exceeded his authority.’
‘But that’s impossible,’ the President snapped.
‘Perhaps you’re forgetting the provisions of Plan-R, sir?’
President Muffley shook his head in puzzlement. ‘Plan-R?’
Turgidson said quickly, ‘That’s right, sir. Plan-R. It is what the code name implies – that the ultimate lowest echelon will be able to take effective action. Surely you must recall – Plan-R is an emergency war plan in which a lower echelon commander can order nuclear retaliation after a sneak attack if the normal chain of command has been disrupted. You approved it, sir. Surely you must remember, sir, when Senator Duff made that big hassle about our deterrent lacking credibility. The idea was for Plan-R to be a sort of retaliatory safeguard.’
‘What do you mean, a safeguard?’
‘Well, sir, I admit the human element seems to have failed us here, but the idea was to discourage the Russkies from any hope that they could knock out Washington and yourself as part of a sneak attack and escape retaliation because of lack of proper command and control.’
‘All right,’ President Muflley said, ‘all right. Has there been any indication whatsoever of hostile Russian intentions in the last twenty-four hours?’
‘No, sir, there has not. The more I think about it this really is beginning to look like a very unfortunate misuse of Plan-R.’
The President glanced at the central display, where the bomber tracks were seen steadily converging on Russia. Then he looked down at a pad in front of him and drew a few speculative lines on it while he thought. He looked at Turgidson again. ‘Well now,’ he said, ‘all right. But I assume the planes will return automatically as soon as they reach their Fail-Safe points.’
Turgidson had remained standing while the President thought. He said, ‘No, sir, I’m afraid not. The planes were holding at their Fail-Safe point when the Go-code was issued. Once they fly beyond Fail-Safe they do not require a second order to pro
ceed. They will continue until they reach their targets.’
‘Well, why haven’t you radioed the planes countermanding the Go-code?’
‘I’m afraid we’re unable to communicate with any
of the aircraft.’
‘But this is absurd,’ the President said sharply.
Turgidson smiled his preliminary smile. ‘As you may recall, Mister President, one of the provisions of Plan-R is that once the Go-code is received the normal Single Side Band radios in the aircraft are switched into a specially coded device, the Combat Warning and Interference Elimination receiver, which I believe is designated CRM-114. To prevent the enemy from issuing fake or confusing orders the CRM-114 is designed not to receive at all unless the message is preceded by the correct code group prefix.’
President Muffley said, ‘Well, but surely this is part of the SAC master code?’
‘No, sir, it is not. Since this is an emergency war plan and has to be activated at a lower echelon, the lower echelon commander designates the code, and in this case it is known only to General Ripper, since he changed it just before take-off and gave it personally to the crews at their pre-flight briefing.’
President Muffley said slowly, ‘Then do you mean to say you will be unable to recall the aircraft?’
‘I’m afraid that’s about the size of it, sir. We are plowing through every possible combination of the code, but there are many thousand combinations and it will take us several days to transmit them all.’
‘How soon did you say the planes would penetrate Russian radar cover?’
‘About eighteen minutes from now, sir.’
‘Are you in contact with General Ripper?’ The President’s voice was brisk and authoritative now.
‘No, sir. General Ripper has sealed off his base and cut off all communications. We are unable to get through to him.’
‘Then where the hell,’ the President demanded, ‘did you get all this information?’
‘Sir, General Ripper called Strategic Air Command Headquarters shortly after he issued the Go-code. I have a portion of the transcript of the conversation here, if you’d like me to read it.’
The President nodded his head in assent.
‘The duty officer asked General Ripper to confirm the fact that he had issued the Go-code and he said, “Yes, gentlemen, they are on their way in and no one can bring them back. For the sake of our country and our way of life I suggest you get the rest of SAC in after them, otherwise we will be totally destroyed by Red retaliation. So let’s get going, there’s no other choice. God willing, we shall prevail in peace and freedom from fear and in true health through the purity and essence of our natural fluids.” Then he hung up.’
President Muffley said, ‘Did you say something about fluids?’
Turgidson looked down at his typescript again, and found the passage. ‘Yes sir, here it is. “We shall prevail in peace and freedom from fear and in true health through the purity and essence of our natural fluids.” We are still trying to figure out the meaning of that last phrase, sir.’
‘There’s nothing to figure out, General Turgidson. The man’s obviously a psychotic.’
‘Well, Mister President, I’d like to hold off judgment on a thing like that until all the facts are in.’
The President said slowly, ‘General Turgidson, when you instituted the reliability tests, you assured me that from then on there was no possibility of such a thing ever occurring.’
‘I don’t think it is fair to condemn a whole program for a single slip-up, sir.’
President Muffley made a dismissing motion with his hand. ‘Never mind, we’re wasting precious time. I want to speak personally to General Ripper on the telephone.’
‘I’m afraid that will be impossible, sir.’
President Muffley drummed his fingers on the table. He made an obvious effort to control himself, but then burst out, ‘General, I am beginning to have less and less interest in your estimates of what is possible or impossible.’
Around the table everyone was silent. They glanced covertly at the crimson-faced but still sickly smiling General, and the President’s expression of tightly controlled fury.
After ten seconds, which seemed to stretch into hours, Turgidson said, ‘Mister President, if I may speak for General Faceman, Admiral Randolph, our aides, our staff, we are all professionals, sir. We’ve spent our lives at this and we know our jobs. All the contingencies are being considered and you may rest assured that the departments concerned are on top of this thing. Now, we can all understand what kind of strain you must be under, just having been rousted out of a sickbed, and if I may suggest, sir, we are all on the same side. We are all trying to accomplish the same thing, and perhaps it might be the best way if you just let us handle this.’
When the President replied, his voice, though still tightly controlled, had in it a quality of quiet fury. ‘General Turgidson, I want one thing understood and understood clearly – I am running this! I am running this right to the end! It is my responsibility and my right, and anyone who feels his professional talents are not receiving sufficient recognition may hand in his resignation, which will be instantly accepted!’
‘Well now,’ Turgidson said, ‘Mister President, we’re here to help you, sir, and there was certainly no offence meant by that remark.’
‘All right,’ President Muffley said, ‘I’ll accept that. General Faceman, are there any army units near Burpelson?’
‘One moment, sir.’ General Faceman turned to a colonel sitting next to him, and they conferred hastily in hushed whispers. Then Faceman, a stocky grey-haired man in his middle forties, said, ‘Yes, sir. I believe there’s an airborne division positioned about seven miles away at Alvarado.’
‘Very well,’ the President said. In spite of his cold, his voice was clear and incisive. ‘General Faceman, I want you to get on the phone yourself and speak to the officer in charge. Tell him to get himself and his men moving immediately. If they don’t have enough vehicles, commandeer cars off the highway, but tell him he must be there within fifteen minutes from the time he hangs up the phone. If he can’t get them all there, get as many as he can. I want them to enter the base, locate General Ripper, and immediately put him into telephone contact with me.’
Staines, the presidential aide, asked a question. ‘Mister President, what is your feeling about civil defence?’
‘Well now,’ President Muffley said, ‘civil defence...’ He paused and frowned while he considered the matter. He used his inhaler while he thought.
‘Shall we let the situation mature a bit, sir?’ Staines suggested.
‘Why yes,’ the President said, ‘yes, I think that’s the best policy for the moment.’ He used his inhaler again as he turned to look at the electronic displays.
Doctor Strangelove looked at the displays also. He noted that the lines indicating bomber tracks were encroaching steadily on Russia. He was not displeased.
LEPER COLONY
Leper Colony was still at high altitude, moving smoothly over high cloud and frozen terrain. But the attack profile called now for a descent to evade Russian radar. There is a definite and predictable pattern in the way radar operates. Radar beams travel in a straight line. But the Earth is curved, and therefore by making a low approach it is possible to evade the detecting beams.
Lieutenant Sweets Kivel, the navigator, finished his calculations and glanced at his clock. He waited while the second hand came to the exact place he had planned for, then said, ‘Make rate of descent fifteen hundred per minute. That should slide us in nicely under their radar cover.’
King adjusted the trim and throttled back slowly to maintain the correct speed. Leper Colony began to descend steadily at fifteen hundred feet per minute and speed Mach 0.9.
King said, ‘Descent steady at fifteen hun’erd. Speed steady at Mach zero-nine.’
Sweets Kivel glanced at his ground-position indicator, on which certain of the pilot’s instruments were duplicated. ‘Roger. Main
tain.’
King said, ‘Okay, ready for checks.’
Both the defence-systems officer, Lieutenant Dietrich, and the navigator acknowledged. The navigator spoke first. ‘Main search radar all green. Set for maximum range, maximum sweep.’
King acknowledged.
Lieutenant Dietrich made a final small adjustment to his apparatus. Then satisfied, he said, ‘Both electronic detectors set to swing from stud A though H.’
On the bulky electronic detector a small rotor arm moved rapidly through the sequence of stud settings, each representing a preselected frequency band then flicked back to start the sequence again.
But Dietrich had not yet finished his checks of the complex equipment. He now glanced at another of his sets and said, ‘Main interference linked to electronic detector. Fighter interference on readiness state. Target-detection radar is green. Target-illuminating radar is green.’
‘Check.’
‘Missile and flight-path computer showing four greens.’
‘Check.’
King’s voice was happy as he spoke to Lothar Zogg, the bombardier, whose checks were next on the list. All the equipment was in good shape, so far, and he felt an inner certainty everything was going to be green. He looked fondly at the ancestral triptych as he said, ‘Lothar, how about it?’
Lothar Zogg replied quickly as he slid a transparency off his radarscope, ‘Target-approach radar tuning is right. All approach transparencies are checked, one through twenty-five.’
‘Check target approach.’
Lothar went on. ‘Bomb-door circuit is green, bomb-release circuit is green, bomb-fusing circuit is green.’
King relaxed in his seat. They were flying. Everything was green. There was nothing would stop them now.
Lothar Zogg asked, ‘When do you want to arm the bomb for the primary, King?’
‘Soon as I’ve checked out the approach.’
After King had spoken, Sweets said, ‘In thirty seconds the count-down clock should read eighty-three minutes. Eighty-three.’