Dr. Strangelove

by Peter George

  Lothar Zogg said, ‘Fusing for impact, delay as briefed.’ He reached forward and turned the knob setting of the altitude burst controller. The needle crept round the dial to the figure ten, and Zogg pressed in succession three control buttons which gave electronic, barometric, and time setting to the bomb fuses. Again this was a safety precaution, though of a slightly different nature. It was unlikely that any two of the fusing devices would fail at the same time and almost impossible that all three would fail.

  The three lights told Zogg that all the fusing circuits were live. He pushed back his hair and said, ‘Master safety.’

  King leaned forward and pressed the last remaining switch on the panel, clearly marked ‘Master Safety.’

  The two remaining lights on the safety panel shone, and Zogg glanced quickly along the banked rows of glowing lights. He said, ‘Bombs are live and fused. All circuits are showing green.’

  King said, ‘Arming drill check.’

  Lothar repeated the drill mechanically as he checked the switches and lights of his equipment. ‘Bomb-fusing master safeties on. Electronic, barometric, time and impact. Fuse for ground burst, three minutes delay. Bomb circuits one through four, test lights on. Bomb-door circuits, test lights on. Bomb fusing green one through four, test lights on. Detonator set to zero altitude. Systems selector to ground burst three. Air-burst barometric-fusing-compensator cutout positive. Emergency power lights on. Auto/manual circuit live, first safety. Track indicators to maximum deflection. Primary trigger switch override engaged. Second safety, bombs alive. Arming drill check completed.’

  King said absently, ‘What was that, Lothar?’ While Lothar had been speaking, his attention had been distracted by the portraits of his ancestors. The drill was routine. They had been through it many times before, and he knew that Dietrich was monitoring the checks.

  Lothar Zogg repeated, ‘Arming drill check completed.’

  King said, ‘That’s great, Zoggy. I acknowledge, arming drill check complete.’

  Below them in the cavernous bomb bay of the aeroplane Hi-There and Lolita waited. They were live now, and ready to go.

  King was determined they would.

  BURPELSON AIR FORCE BASE

  Dawn was slowly pushing a pale light over the vast base.

  All around the wire perimeter fence, defence teams were in position, armed with carbines, rifles, machine guns and bazookas. They commanded all the approaches to the base, and they had with them adequate stores of ammunition and rations. In the distance was heard the first sound of rumbling truck engines. Not all the defence teams heard the noise; some of them were five miles away on the other side of the base. But many heard it, and in those positions men became alert, machine guns were cocked and swung in the direction from which the noise was coming.

  The defence team commanded by Sergeant Mellows, who was searching the road with binoculars, suddenly detected in the uncertain light a jeep and three troop carriers approaching their defence position. The approach was slow and cautious.

  Private Anderson, peering through the sights of his machine gun, said, ‘How do we know they’re saboteurs?’

  The sergeant rested his binoculars on his chest for a moment. He said coldly, ‘How do you know they’re not?’

  Corporal Engelbach, manning the bazooka, said, ‘That’s right. You heard the General, Anderson. Two hundred yards, that’s as near as we let them. And they’re still coming closer.’

  Sergeant Mellows, who had been traversing his binoculars to cover the entire field of fire, said, ‘Hey, look! There’s eight more trucks on the north road.’

  Engelbach turned to Anderson. ‘They have to be saboteurs. Who else would be coming at four in the morning?’

  Anderson said, ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ He aligned his sights on the lead jeep.

  Sergeant Mellows watched the approach of the vehicle calmly. Already they had set up a range indicator, which was a tall post at the side of the approach road. The four vehicles crept slowly toward it. Mellows said, ‘Any moment now.’

  Though the approach of the assault forces was slow, there was a certain massive implacability about it. Mellows wondered just how many men were in the four vehicles they were covering and the eight on the north road. He watched the lead jeep reach the range marker and roll on past it. He said quietly, in the way he had been taught at NCO School, ‘Okay, let them have it.’

  Anderson had the lead jeep clearly in his sights. He pressed the trigger of the machine gun, held it for five seconds, released it, and then fired twice more. Instantly the convoy stopped and men erupted from the jeep, running desperately for cover from the lethal stream of bullets.

  Corporal Engelbach fired his bazooka and grunted with satisfaction as he scored a direct hit with his first shot. The empty jeep exploded violently, and its broken, shattered parts burned fiercely.

  In the light of the flames from the jeep, men were seen hurriedly leaping out of the three trucks which had followed the jeep and disappearing rapidly into the fields on each side of the road. These were men of a crack outfit. They were highly battle-trained, and many of them were battle-experienced too, veterans of Okinawa and Korea and other places in Asia where the cold war had at certain times become hotter than hot. They were experienced under fire, and soon they were pouring it into the defence positions, sending flails of lead splashing across the top of the positions.

  All around the perimeter of the base violent fire fights were developing. They would become sporadic in places, even die away completely as each side cautiously probed for the location of the other. Then they would break out again, and the night became a hideous medley of the crack of carbines, the heavy drumming of machine guns, and the powerful thud of bazookas and mortar shells.

  The commander of the assault troops spoke into his walkie-talkie. He gave an order. Gradually the firing died down, and in the silence that followed, the noise of the night insects was heard again.

  On both sides men peered anxiously into the grey light, looking for targets. But these were difficult to find.

  The noise of the insects was stilled momentarily by the metallic click of a loudspeaker. Behind one of the trucks which had been brought to a stop by Sergeant Mellows’ defence team the commander of the assault troops began to talk into the loudspeaker equipment.

  He said, his voice loud and clear, ‘Men, this is Colonel Guano, commanding an airborne division of the United States Army. Why are you firing at us?’

  There was silence on the base. Guano waited thirty seconds, then clicked on his speaker and repeated his message.

  In the defence position Private Anderson turned to look at Sergeant Mellows. He said, ‘Hey, he sounds real American. Don’t we answer?’

  Mellows looked at Anderson with scorn. ‘You jest keep your head down and open up on the first one of them shows theirs.’

  Guano tried again. ‘This is Colonel Guano. I repeat, Colonel Guano. We’re on a mission from the President. We want to enter the base and speak with General Ripper.’

  Again there was silence. Corporal Engelbach said musingly, ‘A special mission from the President, what do you know about that?’

  Sergeant Mellows was still looking intently through his binoculars. He said, ‘I know one thing. You’ve got to give these Reds credit for great organisation and planning.’

  Two hundred yards away a skirmishing party of a dozen men, widely spaced out with about thirty yards between each man, rose out of the grass and began to work its way forward.

  Anderson said quietly, ‘And plenty guts, too.’ He looked carefully through his sights and began to fire on the skirmish line. He traversed the machine gun rapidly and in the first burst three men were hit. The others immediately dived for cover and became invisible to Anderson in the concealment of the tall grass.

  From the cover of the truck Colonel Guano had watched the progress of the party. His instructions were that he should not open fire unless he was refused admittance to the base, but there had been little time t
o brief his troops adequately, and in his opinion they had been justified in returning the fire which had poured into them, from the defence positions. But now there was a break in the firing and Guano decided he must make one last effort to gain admittance without taking any further casualties.

  He spoke through his loudspeaker. ‘This is Colonel Guano. Men, you are firing on your own troops. Unless you surrender within sixty seconds I am under orders to return your fire with everything I’ve got and forcibly penetrate your base.’ He clicked off the speaker and waited for some response.

  Sergeant Mellows said softly to Engelbach, ‘That’s okay by me, comrade,’ pointed his carbine at the truck, and let loose five rapid shots. Anderson also opened up with his machine gun.

  Bullets zipped close to Colonel Guano and the company commanders who were with him. Guano turned to his company commanders. He said, ‘They must all be crazy! What the hell’s going on?’

  He thought for a moment, then made his decision. ‘All right, Johnson. Take C Company round to the flank.’ He indicated the direction with his hand. Johnson moved off.

  Then Guano turned to the other two company commanders, Bothman and Cooper, and quickly gave them their instructions. They too moved off.

  Guano’s deployment was quickly seen from the base, and the defence positions opened fire. But Guano’s soldiers were highly skilled in this type of mission, and though they lost men, they still moved forward.

  LEPER COLONY

  The bomber was down to twenty thousand feet as it approached the coast.

  Lieutenant Sweets Kivel was hunched over his search radarscope, which he had adjusted to short range to get a clear definition of the point they would cross. This was important, both to get a completely accurate navigation fix, and also to evade predicted flak defences. He checked the radar picture against his map, then said, ‘We should be crossing the coast in about six minutes. We’re on track. It looks good.’

  King said, ‘Thanks, Sweets.’ He looked ahead toward the enemy coast but could not yet see it.

  Lieutenant Dietrich was also hunched over his radarscope. But this was not navigational radar; it was search radar designed to detect enemy missiles and fighters.

  Dietrich suddenly saw a blip appear on the scope. He watched it closely, then said, ‘Missile! Sixty miles off, heading in fast, steady track – looks like a beam-rider.’

  King reacted with the assurance of a veteran. He said, ‘Awright, keep callin’!’

  Then he turned to Ace Owens. ‘Knock off the autopilot, Ace.’

  Ace reached forward and flipped the two switches. He said, ‘Autopilot off.’

  King said crisply, ‘Lock ECM to master search radar.’

  Dietrich reacted immediately. He flipped the switches and made the necessary adjustments in tuning. He said, ‘ECM locked to master search radar.’ In front of him the large electronic counter-measures control panel was functioning perfectly. He gave it an approving pat. Well now, he thought, this is it. He adjusted the scope again and carefully measured with a strobe marker the range of the enemy missile.

  Ace Owens said, ‘Where do you suppose it’s coming from?’

  King looked at his altimeter and frowned. They still had too much height. He considered the possibilities of evading the missile. At this height they were not good, and they were not going to get down to a safe height before the missile arrived.

  He said, ‘Dietrich, you picked up any fighters?’

  Dietrich shook his head. He said, ‘Just the missile.’

  King thought about the situation again. He fitted into place all the assessments he had studied from intelligence reports. He said slowly, ‘It must of been fired from Brombingna Island, probably that there new Vampire two-zero-two, the one with a hundred-mile range.’

  Dietrich broke in on him, ‘Forty-five. Straight and fast. Coming in at twelve o’clock.’

  ‘What speed?’

  ‘Between Mach three and four.’

  ‘Call it every five miles.’

  ‘Thirty-five, it’s still coming!’

  King made his decision. ‘Prepare to release Quail.’

  Bombardier Lothar Zogg flipped a number of switches and checked that the circuits were in good shape. He said, ‘Quail ready for release.’

  ‘Open bomb doors.’

  Lothar Zogg said immediately, ‘Bomb doors are open.’

  King acknowledged the message. He thought he would wait until the last moment before releasing Quail. He considered that time would come when the missile was between thirty and twenty-five miles away. It would only be a few seconds now until he had to decide to give the executive order.

  They carried only one Quail decoy, designed to divert enemy radar and missiles. It was a decision of great importance.

  Dietrich called, ‘Thirty! Twelve o’clock and straight!’ King decided. He said calmly, ‘Release Quail.’

  The decoy dropped from the bomb bay. It fell a few feet, and then a jet flame appeared as it came to life.

  King acknowledged Lothar Zogg’s message that the decoy had been released. He said calmly, ‘Changing course ninety degrees. Close bomb doors.’

  Zogg said, ‘Bomb doors closed.’

  Dietrich’s voice was excited, high pitched. ‘Twenty miles, heading in straight.’

  King banked the huge aeroplane, and watched the gyros carefully as they altered.

  Below the bomber, as it turned, the Quail decoy turned also, duplicating the bomber’s alteration of course. It was about a hundred yards beneath the B-52.

  Lothar Zogg looked at his radarscope. He said quickly, ‘Something must be wrong. Quail turned with us.’

  Immediately King straightened out of the turn and banked the aeroplane the other way. He said, ‘Changing course ninety degrees.’

  Dietrich called the missile at fifteen miles and twelve o’clock.

  Again the Quail missile turned with the bomber and Lothar Zogg detected the turn on his radarscope. He said, ‘It’s still following us.’

  As Lothar finished speaking, Dietrich called the missile at ten miles, still heading in straight.

  Again, King had to make a decision. The electronic brain installed in Leper Colony was the product of years of patient research by the greatest experts in the field. But apparently it was not powerful enough to divert the enemy missile. There was more power available, but also there was the possibility of blowing the set. It was a risk that had to be taken.

  King said, ‘Okay, take the ECM over the red line.’

  Dietrich made the adjustments to the set. He turned it to maximum power and the power gauges instantly showed their arrows quivering past the red line.

  Dietrich said, ‘Maximum power. It’s at eight miles.’

  Lothar Zogg, looking intently into his radarscope, said, ‘Quail is with us. Looks like it’s going to follow us whatever we do.’

  Beads of sweat were now forming on King’s face, but he was still very well in command. He said, ‘Hang on, boys,’ and flipped the plane into a series of violent turns to get away from Quail.

  Lothar Zogg, watching his radarscope, continued to report that the decoy was following them.

  Dietrich said, ‘Seven miles.’

  King pushed forward violently on the controls.

  ‘Six.’

  Lothar Zogg said, ‘Still with us.’

  ‘Five miles.’

  King pulled back on the controls. It was now, he thought, that a sudden climb might throw off the missile.

  Dietrich continued, ‘Four miles.’

  King watched the instruments as the bomber checked its descent, then began to rise. He called for maximum engine power, and Captain Ace Owens adjusted the throttles to give it.

  Lothar Zogg said, ‘Keeping right with us.’

  Dietrich said, ‘Two miles, heading right in.’

  King frowned. This wasn’t right. The ECM should have made the missile break off. He pulled back harder on the controls to make the climb steeper.

  Ben
eath the bomber the malfunctioning Quail decoy followed as faithfully as a favoured puppy. Something had gone wrong with its guidance system, and it was locked on to the bomber which had released it.

  Dietrich called, ‘Coming in to minimum range.’

  The Russian missile was still climbing when it approached Leper Colony. The beam which had directed it was too diffuse at this range for it to sense the difference between the bomber and the decoy. Its guidance system picked up Quail, and the missile closed on the decoy.

  One hundred yards below Leper Colony there was a huge explosion as missile and decoy collided.

  The aeroplane bucked violently as the blast wave of the explosion hit. King fought to control it, his vision impeded by the thick smoke that filled the pressurised area of the plane. ‘Everyone on emergency oxygen. Guess we’ve been hit somewheres. I’m takin’ her down on the deck.’

  He pushed the controls forward and again Leper Colony slid down toward the enemy coast. The controls were operating normally, King decided. He checked them, then called for damage reports from the crew. He received them from all except one crew member, repeated his request, then leaned across and jerked his elbow into Ace Owens’ ribs.

  Ace turned his head slightly. He looked at King and his mouth opened to form a word. But the word did not come. His eyes closed and he slumped sideways in his seat.

  THE WAR ROOM

  On the main display the bomber tracks moved forward again. Ambassador De Sadeski watched their progress, then turned and spoke with furious intensity to the President. ‘You are very clever, Mister President! You send nuclear planes to destroy Russia! You call me in here and tell me the planes are coming but it is an accident. You say, ‘do not strike back, Russia, this is an accident.’ So the trusting people of the Soviet Union believe you? Sit back, and bang, you destroy us. Ha! Your trick is clever, Mister President, but one thing you forget – we are chess players, and in chess there are no tricks! No tricks, Mister President! Just traps! And only the beginner falls for traps. We are not beginners.’