by Wagher, Ward
She shook her head. “I hope somebody tells the Russians that.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “And what about your war with the Japanese?”
“You know what a difficult time we have had,” she said. “I think when our people found the mass graves in Hawaii, it became something entirely different. I think before, to a certain extent, we viewed the Japanese as some impersonal force attacking America. Suddenly it all became personal. Smoke and I talked about it at length. He thinks that before this, we might have accepted some reasonable terms to end the war. I don’t think we will stop now until we march into Tokyo.”
“I think the ambassador is correct,” Rainer said. “You know what we were getting ready to do with the Jews. If we had done that, the Americans would have probably entered the war. And the English and the Americans would not have stopped until they were in Berlin. This kind of genocide is just a monstrous evil. We only just got it stopped here. The Japanese will pay for their sins, I think.”
A while later, Misty looked out the window as the Condor began its descent to Munich. The ride grew bumpy as they worked their way down through a light cloud layer.
“I am looking forward to this weekend, Karl,” she said.
“I plan to enjoy it,” he replied. “There likely will not be many more for a while.”
“Let’s take what we can get, then.” She squeezed his hand.
§ § §
June 19, 1943; 6 AM
Peenemunde, Germany
Wernher von Braun looked through the thick glass of the blockhouse window at the monstrosity sitting on the launch pad. General Dornberger stood next to him.
“It still seems like a waste to launch something like this when we have so few of the rockets remaining,” Dornberger said.
“We need to prove the theory, General,” von Braun said. “If things work out according to plan, I think we can talk the Reich Chancellor into allowing us to build a few more V2 rockets.”
“I am not sure why I allowed you to talk me into this, but I suppose we are committed now.” He nodded out the armored window.
Von Braun’s current project involved three A4 rockets strapped together on the pad. Mounted to the top of the center middle was a modified A3 acting as the second stage. The engineers insisted the lashup would work, but Dornberger had his serious doubts. He also worried about the reaction of the Reich Chancellor to this latest experiment. The A4 rockets each cost as much as a Fock-Wulf Condor and their single-use nature made them a poor choice for an economical weapons program.
Von Braun wanted to put men on the moon, and Dornberger knew that this experiment was designed to give the scientist further data on large rockets with the ultimate intent of putting something into Earth orbit. The possibilities of the device as a weapon were von Braun’s fig leaf over the whole program.
The rockets had were fueled with a mixture of ethanol and water along with liquid oxygen. Plumes of vapor drifted from the vehicle and wove a tapestry in the spotlights. Perhaps the biggest challenge of the launch was igniting the engines of the three boosters simultaneously. Although the missiles had not been used in combat, von Braun and Dornberger had managed to manufacture and launch enough of the beasts to refine them into a reasonably reliable weapon.
The two men watched as the launch crew in the blockhouse worked through the checklist. When everything seemed ready, the launch controller looked up at Dornberger and nodded.
“Very well,” Dornberger said, “let’s get this thing off the ground.”
“Right,” the launch controller replied.
He scanned the instruments again and pushed the red button on the console. With a heavy shaking rumble, the hybrid rocket leaped off the pad and began climbing. It tilted slightly towards the northeast, where a small fleet of boats and aircraft waited to observe the landing.
Outside the blockhouse, a Wehrmacht corporal operated a movie camera with a telephoto lens. Von Braun and Dornberger walked outside once the rocket had safely launched and began tracking it with their binoculars.
“Coming up on sixty seconds, meine Herren,” the launch controller announced over the external speakers.
At sixty seconds, von Braun could see the engine cutoff. There was then a puff of smoke, and the second stage separated from the booster. A moment later, the second stage ignited. From inside the open door of the blockhouse, they heard clapping and cheering.
Von Braun looked over at Dornberger. “General, I just gave you 800 kilometers in range with a 1,300-kilogram payload. I think the Reich Chancellor might find that interesting.”
“Indeed, he might,” Dornberger replied. “But is this rocket really practical?”
“Of course not,” the scientist replied. “But we have proven we can scale up the design. We should be able to drop a warhead in Moscow with the next iteration.”
“And what about putting something in orbit?” Dornberger asked sardonically.
“I think we could do it in another four or five years,” von Braun said seriously. “Our basic engineering works and works well. If we put a good German airman in orbit, there will be nothing on the Earth we cannot look at.”
“There is that,” Dornberger agreed. “Please let me know when you have the mission report completed. I will arrange for us to visit the Reich Chancellor.”
“Of course, General,” von Braun replied.
The German rocket scientist made his way back to his office and began sketching ideas for the next version of the rocket. He wanted to experiment with placing multiple V2 rocket motors into a single enclosure. Managing the plumbing and the turbopumps would be an order of magnitude more complicated, but at this point, it was a matter of sound engineering.
Von Braun laid his pencil down and stared into the distance. “You know,” he whispered to himself, “I really think we can do this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
June 20, 1943; 9 AM
Chartwell
Westerham, Kent
United Kingdom
Winston Churchill stared across his desk at Kim Philby. The man had come to the estate promptly after arriving on the overnight train from London. Philby had been a great help to Churchill, especially after the Germans captured Desmond Morton. Yet there was something about the man Churchill did not like. It seemed he was slightly oily. Churchill had always felt like washing his hands after their meetings. Yet Philby was the tool he had for his tasks, and he wasn’t in a position to be picky.
“What have you brought me this morning, Mr. Philby?” Churchill asked.
The man glanced over at the liquor cabinet and then back at Churchill. The owner of Chartwell did not feel obliged to extend his hospitality by offering drinks first thing in the morning.
“Sir, Prime Minister, I have discovered that General Model and his army are trapped behind Soviet lines. The betting is that he will either surrender or be wiped out.”
“Is that so? And how, pray tell, have you come across this information?”
“Since you so graciously arranged for my employment at the Times, Sir, I have been able to develop my journalistic contacts on the continent. The rumors are flying. Schloss doesn’t seem to be keeping the situation secret, either.”
“Model has an entire army behind the line?” Churchill asked incredulously.
“I believe the OKW said it was four divisions.”
“Hmph. That is not an army, Mr. Philby. It is still a significant force for the Germans to lose.”
“I think Stalin is pretty serious about beating the Germans,” Philby said.
“Oh, it is an existential exercise for both the Soviets and the Germans,” Churchill said. “When this war is done, one of them will be preeminent on the continent. The other won’t exist anymore as a nation-state.”
“Then obviously, the Soviets must win this,” Philby commented.
“Why do you say that, pray tell, Mr. Philby?”
“Well, it is an opportunity to liberate the occupied countries,” Philby sputtered.
Churchill nodded slowly. “Perhaps. Perhaps. Was there anything else this morning?”
“Prime Minister Atlee and Stuart Menzies have started hiring people to re-staff Six, Sir.”
“That surprises me not,” Churchill commented. “But it will take years to get us to the point where we have a coherent organization.”
“Perhaps when things settle down, Sir,” Philby continued, “you might use your influence to see me rehired in Six. I feel like that is where my skills lie. And it would provide a better conduit for information that I could bring to you.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps. I think, Mr. Philby, that we might be getting ahead of ourselves in that regard. I anticipate long years for me in the wilderness before I can come back.” He hesitated. “If I ever come back.”
“Certainly, the people will recognize your value, Prime Minister.”
The former prime minister shrugged. “I am more interested in how the Kingdom can benefit. Compared to that, my value is unimportant.”
He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “Now, Mr. Philby, was there anything else?”
The journalist frantically thought of anything he might share with Churchill, but he had clearly been dismissed.
“Thank you for your time, Prime Minister.” Philby stood up.
Churchill stood up. “Thank you for making the trip up here. I know the night trains are not very comfortable.”
Hansen escorted Philby to the door. After he left, Churchill paced his office for nearly a half-hour. Something about Philby made him very uncomfortable. True, he had been useful. His repeated business seemed to spread a dark aura over everything he touched. Finally, Churchill returned to his desk and resumed work on the speech he would give on the upcoming Saturday night. It was another opportunity for more funds to find their way into his coffers legally, but he also used the meetings as an opportunity for his voice to be heard, though the audiences were small.
The work on the speech allowed him to keep his other thoughts on the back burner. He focused on his views about the state of Europe and how he imagined it would reshape itself over the next twenty years. After an hour, he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. He decided it was time to cultivate more contacts. He sensed that Kim Philby was serving his own agenda, whatever it was; plus, it was always better to have more than a single conduit into the government.
He thought that since his contact with RUSI had been burned, he should drop a hook in the water around Whitehall. Although the Foreign Office as a whole was not as friendly to him as the government intelligence organs, he did have friends there. It was time to attempt a meeting in such a way as not to endanger the source. Sitting out on the eastern coast of England was not helpful. While the new income stream helped, he was still not able to afford a house in London. The city would simply have to wait.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured his usual weak Scotch. Opening one of the double-doors, he walked out onto the porch overlooking the Eastern moors. He loved this place. Buying it was one of the best decisions he and his wife had made. And it was a relief to be financially solvent again. And now it was time to get back to the speech. It was nearly complete, but he would spend the rest of the week putting his usual polish on it. Churchill was a disciplined speechwriter and had always believed that he should put forth the effort regardless of the size of the audience.
Returning to his desk, he sat down and leaned forward to study what he had written. And he decided that after his Saturday night speech, he would approach a couple of his acquaintances about inviting a few key people from the Foreign Ministry to the next meeting.
§ § §
June 21, 1943; 10 AM
Reich Chancellor’s Office
Reich Chancellery
Berlin, Germany
“What do you have for me this morning, Herr Heisenberg?” Schloss asked.
Werner Heisenberg frowned as he looked down at the hat in his hand. “I suppose it is good news and bad news both, Herr Reich Chancellor.”
“I have had my share of both recently. Just tell me what I need to know.”
“We had a dozen truckloads of Uranium ore delivered to a port in West Africa. It is now aboard a freighter and on the high seas. It will be landed in Hamburg within the next couple of weeks.”
“That is good news,” Schloss replied. “And this helps your research, I assume?”
“Yes, it is beneficial. With several more shipments, we should be able to refine usable amounts of fissile material.”
“I suppose you ought to tell me the bad news as well.”
Heisenberg nodded. “The SS man who has coordinated the shipments is dead.”
“Was there a security breach?” Schloss quickly asked.
“No. Best as we were able to determine, he was poisoned by the materials they were transporting.”
Schloss leaned back in his chair. And so, we now learn about radiation poisoning. While I hate losing people, perhaps it is better to learn now and avoid a greater tragedy in the future.
“That is sad. I think you need to investigate the direct cause and put measures in place to avoid more deaths.” Schloss propped his elbows on the desk. “If we suffered an accident here in Germany, it would be terrible.”
“Oh, I agree, Herr Reich Chancellor,” Heisenberg said. “There is so much here that we do not understand.”
“Very well,” Schloss said. “Now, tell me what progress you have made in the research.”
Heisenberg cleared his throat. “We have been able to sustain a chain reaction. In other words, the neutrons from the Uranium bombard other Uranium atoms causing them to split. It gives off energy in the form of heat and more neutrons. The ash, so to speak, from this process, includes plutonium. It is a reactive element that we can use to make weapons. This process actually produces more fuel than it consumes.”
“How powerful would this be?”
“It would be the equivalent of several thousand metric tons of high explosive. It would be enough to level a small city.”
“That’s very powerful, Herr Doctor Heisenberg.”
“Frighteningly so. I worry about using something this powerful.”
“It is something to worry about, to be sure,” Schloss commented. “When do you believe you might have a weapon ready?”
“I think that within eighteen months, we will have enough plutonium for an explosive device.”
Schloss shivered, even though it was warm in the office. I wonder if we will have eighteen months.
“Do you have a design for such a weapon?” he asked.
“We have a preliminary design. We are still working through the math, but we are confident it will work.”
“What could we do to have something sooner?”
Heisenberg looked surprised. “Are things going that badly, Herr Reich Chancellor?”
Schloss worked his tongue around in his mouth. “I wouldn’t say things are going badly, but we have a very challenging war. The type of weapons we are talking about here is something we do not want to use, but I think we need to prepare for that eventuality.”
“That is very concerning, Herr Reich Chancellor.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” he grinned. “We have a responsibility to protect the Fatherland. I would be remiss if I ignored some possible weapons.”
“I suppose we could set up a second team and build out another production device. We would be limited in how much Uranium we can acquire.”
“I may be able to do something about that,” Schloss said.
Heisenberg was now nodding. “Indeed, indeed. Very well, Herr Reich Chancellor. We will do our very best.”
“And I will talk to the Reichsprotektor about having someone manage the ore shipments from Africa. It only requires strong backs.”
“As I understand it,” Heisenberg stated, “the roads from the mine to the port are nearly impossible for truck traffic. I wonder if we might have a team begin improving them.”
“I promise you we will look into that,” Schloss replied. “It would probably be money well spent.”
Following the meeting with Heisenberg, Schloss visited the toilet and then filled his coffee cup from a fresh carafe. He then began working his way through the reports that Willem had left on his desk. He picked up the report from Walter Dornberger and quickly scanned it. He then tapped the sheaf of papers on the desk as he thought about what he had read. It seemed to him that von Braun was an aggressive innovator. And he might have the solution for delivering an atomic weapon on Moscow.
After thinking a bit more, he hollered, “Willem!”
“Yes, Herr Reich Chancellor?” Kirche said as he walked quickly into the office.
“Please ask General Dornberger to come to Berlin for a visit. I wish to question him about his recent experiments.”
“You would be talking about the recent launch.”
“That would be the one,” Schloss said.
“There was some criticism in the OKW about his wasting three rockets on an experiment like that.”
“Yes, I suppose they might have.”
“Very well,” Kirche said, “I will call him immediately.”
“Thank you, Willem.”
After the secretary left the room, Schloss began working his way through the pile of paper on the desk. His attention kept returning to the report from Dornberger. It seemed that von Braun had managed to make the V2 rockets in this universe more reliable than those he was familiar with. The question was whether the Germans could scale the rockets up far enough to carry an atomic weapon to Moscow. There was much to consider.
He forced himself to concentrate on the other reports. He would learn nothing more on the rocketry until he met with the General. And he worried about missing critical items in the reports.
He leaned back in his chair to take a breath. He thought about Model’s army trapped in Poland. He knew that Guderian and Rommel would do everything possible to rescue them. He had no confidence that they would find a solution. If Model surrendered to the Russians, few of those troops would ever return home.