American Under Attack

by Jeff Kildow

  “As to your last question, we will have a suspect in custody shortly. We cannot say more. Now, we need to inspect the aircraft. We will, of course, confiscate the engines and all their parts as evidence.”

  Joel took them to the hanger in the 1941 Plymouth staff car. The guards were still on duty, and let them in at Joel’s orders.

  The two FBI Agents looked around for a few moments, and then turned to Joel. “We’ll send a truck to pick up the engines. Could you provide us an office with a telephone, Colonel?”

  “Certainly; you can use this one,” Joel indicated a nearby doorway.

  Agent Rangely told him, “We’ll need to interview the mechanics who worked on this aircraft and the tower personnel on duty as well. Please arrange for the tower log to be copied – we have to keep the original.”

  He thought a moment; “Please let the mechanics know that they aren’t suspects – they’re more like witnesses to a car wreck; we need their stories.”

  “We’ll also need to interview the crew, of course. Please make them available.”

  “Sorry, Agent, I can’t do that. This bird is a transient, and the crew has dispersed. Here’s contact info for them, though.” The agent looked chagrined, but took the paper Joel handed him.

  As Joel left, they began to photograph everything in sight.

  The Spartan office in the hanger was quickly equipped with a table and several chairs. Shortly afterward, the parade of men being interviewed began.

  At the end of the day, Joel received a call from Sergeant Hillborne.

  “Sir, they’ve interviewed all six mechanics, Lieutenant Brody, the tower guys, and myself. They asked me to stand by with a couple of men to help load the engines. The main gate just called and the truck is on its way. We should be wrapped up in a couple of hours at the most.”

  “What about the IG team?” Joel asked him.

  “Sir, they finished and left about 1500 this afternoon; my guess is that they didn’t want anything to do with an FBI investigation.”

  “Can’t blame them. OK, Sergeant, please make sure Colonel Randolph is kept informed about all this as well.”

  “Will do, sir,” he replied.

  “And Hill? That ETCTO arrived; all our P-47s are grounded as of now.”

  Hillborne sighed, “Right, sir. I’ve got guys waiting to start on it. We’ll work through the night. I’ll have a report for you at Stand Up in the morning.”

  Joel knew that the man would work through the night; he was the definition of dedication.

  In the hanger, the engine-less P-61 sat in the corner, nose high, still dripping oil, looking forlorn and abandoned.

  Chapter 45

  1 July 1943

  Berlin, Germany

  1515 Hours

  Compromise Explained

  General Heinrich Müller collected his thoughts and carefully prepared himself; this would be the most important presentation he would ever make. Albert Speer and Field Marshall Fedor von Bock held the real reins of power in Germany; he was the wobbly third leg in an uneasy Dreifach [triple]; none fully trusted the other two, yet the arrangement was holding together, however shakily. Müller suspected that it would last only until one of them gathered enough power to overthrow the other two.

  Von Bock, as always, was blunt, even rude to those who he considered his inferiors. He looked at Müller through his small, round glasses with pitiless, pale blue eyes.

  “Do not waste our time with pretty speeches, General; tell us what you must, and go.”

  Müller put on his best expressionless face, “Sir, I regret to inform you that the Enigma system has been compromised, in every aspect of its use. Our enemies are reading dispatches of every kind within hours of when they are sent. I most urgently urge you to instantly direct changes of the most fundamental sort.”

  “How can this be? Enigma is unbreakable!” von Bock roared, coming to his feet.

  “Not so, Fedor,” Albert Speer told him calmly, as he leaned back in his chair. “Any machine one man can devise can be understood by another. We know the British and Americans have been working on this for years; apparently, they have succeeded.”

  Field Marshall von Bock went to the heart of it; “If they can read our dispatches, we are exposed in every move we make. What can we do?”

  “Sir,” Müller said deferentially, “we have a few days’ supply of ‘one-time-pads’ for nearly all units and facilities currently using Enigma. These can be used temporarily until a new or modified Enigma can be fielded.”

  Speer shook his head, “Developing a new coding device could take months, even years. One-time-pads should not be used for more than a few days; they are too clumsy and subject to physical interception. We must devise a substitute quickly. We could use the Geheimscheiber for the most important messages, but most smaller units do not have the equipment.” Geheimscheiber meant “secret writing”; it was a system that encoded a message using a perforated paper tape that fed the coded message directly into a radio transmitter. The problem was that it was easily broken.

  Müller was again deferential, “If I may, Herr Speer? One of my men has devised a modification to the Enigma machines that could possibly be fielded quickly.”

  “What would that be, Herr General,” Speer said somewhat suspiciously. Every hair-brained idea some farmer or shop keeper thought up seemed to come to his desk, with only one idea in thousands worthy of consideration.

  Mentally crossing his fingers, Müller said, “This man, an engineer, has proposed replacing the wheels within the Enigma machine with six rotating hexagonal rods.” He moved his hands up and down, showing that the rods would be mounted vertically.

  “Each rod would contain 100 alphabet characters in random order on each face; no two faces are the same. By inserting the rods to different depths into the machine, and rotating them, the number of combinations is all but incalculable. Best of all, sirs, he has built a manually operated model which performs well.”

  “Is it complex, this design? How difficult would this be to manufacture?” Speer pressed, already mentally searching for a facility that could take on such an important and high priority project.

  Müller spread his hands, “Herr Speer, with respect, I am only a policeman, not an engineer. My man assures me that making the new parts is not difficult.”

  “While we investigate this, could we not double – encrypt our messages using one-time pads?” asked von Bock.

  “Yes, sir, that would work. The complication is, of course, that we would use up our stock of pads twice as quickly. If I may suggest, Gestapo couriers would be ideally suited to both protect and distribute the new pads as they are created.”

  Müller smiled internally; he had been able to involve each man in a way that he saw it was to his own advantage, and now they were in agreement.

  Within days, a small manufacturing firm nestled near the Alps was working around the clock producing the parts.

  Chapter 46

  9 July 1943

  German Base near Santiago de Compestela, Spain

  1013 Hours

  Getting Started in Spain

  Oberst Freiherr Gerhard von und zu Schroeder strode back and forth along the top of the bluff, watching bulldozers pushing dirt over the edge. He was anxiously looking quickly at the operators, then at the work, his hands jerking up as if to direct them, then holding back.

  A few yards away, a Construction Battalion Major with a deeply tanned face and wearing a dusty work uniform watched him.

  “May I explain anything to you, Herr Oberst?” Von Schroeder’s head snapped around, he had been unaware he wasn’t alone.

  Von Schroeder said. “I am concerned that they do not fall over the edge, Herr Major, and that they will not have enough – um – material to fill in under the runway.”

  “May I assure you, sir, that these men are accomplished builders? Most have worked for me for many years. We have built roads through the Alps, we even did the improvements on the road leading to the Füh
rer’s Wolf’s Lair. We have constructed runways throughout the Reich, and in Africa. They most certainly know how to operate at the edge of a precipice. And I myself have calculated the amount of fill we will require; there is more than enough to allow the 10 in 100 slope you require.” The man exuded confidence, and the decorations on his chest testified to his expertise.

  This is a relief, he thought. “Will you be able to pave on such a slope, Major?”

  “Sir, I assure you, this will not be a problem. The only unresolved issue at this point is where best to direct the flow of rain water so that it doesn’t undermine the lower runway. I am proposing catch basins, but my terrain specialists have not yet finished evaluating other possibilities.”

  “Ah,” von Schroeder replied. I don’t really understand what he means, but I must not let him know. “And the level upper runway will be sufficient to land the aircraft initially, and to park them until we depart, I trust?”

  “Herr Oberst, I have recommended a larger parking area, because I believe that an insufficient area was allowed for maneuvering such large aircraft. This will not affect the completion date. The rockiness of the terrain is a bit greater than expected, but nothing we can’t easily cope with. This project will be ready within the time limits you have specified.”

  The tightness in his stomach began to ease as von Schroeder returned to his quarters. This seems to be going well.

  The same major came to him a few days later, “Oberst, I have good news! The Spanish government has decided that this is to be a new air base for them after we have launched our mission. They will build a second runway, and in place of our railroad tank cars, they intend to install modern fuel tank farms.”

  The “Spanish government” had been not so gently prodded in that direction, von Schroeder knew.

  “This is indeed good news, Herr Major! First they sell us the fuel we need from their new refinery, so it is no longer necessary to transport it from the Fatherland, and now that they are building this launching area into a military base, our use of it will be disguised!”

  “Speaking of disguises, sir, here is the plan to hide the sloped runway.”

  He unrolled a drawing, and pointed. “After you depart, we will randomly perforate the sloping surface with thousands of holes, and plant fast growing shrubs, such as grow naturally on the hillsides nearby. Within a short time, the sloped runway will become indistinguishable from the surrounding area. We will scatter dirt, rocks and plants over the lower runway, so,” he pointed on the drawing, “which will disguise it. Within two months, at the most, no improvements save those of the Spanish will be visible.” He looked pleased with himself. Von Schroder happily slapped him on the back and congratulated him.

  Von Schroeder’s Temporary Headquarters

  The same day

  His adjutant entered, and waited quietly for von Schroeder to finish. When he looked up, he said, “Herr Oberst, three more of the modified aircraft have arrived. They are in the same excellent condition as the others, I’m pleased to tell you. The Director at Gotha sent a telegram announcing that the remaining seven aircraft are to arrive by next Monday. If that is so, we will have the full complement of sixty aircraft a week ahead of schedule.”

  Von Schroeder sat back in his chair and smiled uncharacteristically.

  “Dieter, this is such good news. Things seemed to have gone so well of late, I almost wonder what we have forgotten.” This is truly good news; we are actually just ahead of schedule.

  “In that regard, sir, I have the most current status of our efforts; do you wish to review it with me?” the young Major asked him earnestly.

  Von Schroeder nodded.

  I must remember that this young man is an engineer, and always laces his information with numbers; it’s his nature.

  “Foremost is training. Of the 350 assigned flight crew –we have trained an additional fifty men, in case of injury or illness – 92 percent have successfully completed proficiency training for their primary function; in addition, over 80 percent have now been trained to take over for another man in case of emergency; that’s a large improvement over last time.

  “All the pilots assigned as primary pilots have performed at least three mate/de-mate connections with the aerial tankers. Many have done six or more. What amazes me is that we have had so few problems. After all, most bomber pilots are not at all used to flying close formation, which is what refueling requires, after all.”

  Von Schroeder asked, “How have Herr Doctor Berthold’s changes to the Junkers design worked out?”

  As promised, Generalmajor Wever had sent the genius to visit the Junkers factory the next week after von Schroeder’s worrisome comments about their design for the refueling mechanism.

  Major Dieter Osterman smiled wryly at his boss, “Well, sir, with his usual aplomb and grace, our Doctor Berthold set them straight. In truth, they were very close to the final design; he lengthened the refueling hose several meters, it was far too short, causing the two aircraft to be too close together, which made them bounce around quite a bit. The controls for the little fins that maneuver the end of the hose were too sensitive. With a more deliberate way to move it, the hose operators have an easier time of it. He also had Gotha move the receiving pipes closer to the aircraft centerline, which makes it easier for the bomber pilot to see his own position relative to the hose. The latching mechanism has been refined; it rarely disconnects on its own now, and leaks seem to be a thing of the past.

  “The navigators and their backups have progressed well in their refresher courses as well.” He hesitated a moment, “To touch on a delicate subject, sir, I feel pressed to remind you that if you intend on commanding this mission, by your own order, you really must take the refueling training yourself.”

  “Ah, ‘hoist on my own petard,’ as the British would say,” the Oberst replied. “But you are correct, Dieter; will you schedule me for tomorrow, and tell me where to be and when?”

  “Of course, sir,” he made a note. “Late this afternoon, a train arrived with the last of our armaments, especially the missing incendiaries. The damaged external fuel tanks have been replaced. Except for a few very minor items, all we lack in materiel for the mission is the fresh food, which we’ll load just before departure.”

  Von Schroeder allowed himself a deep sigh of satisfaction after the man left.

  This is really beginning to come together; we are actually going do this.

  Chapter 47

  10 July 1943

  The Oval Office, The White House, Washington, D.C.

  1113 Hours

  Transatlantic Telephone

  “Franklin, my wizards at Benchley Park say we have been unable to decode German messages of any kind for more than a month; it appears the Jerrys have done a serious switch on us. Have your lads seen any success?”

  “No, Winston, and I am most concerned about it. Our losses on the Atlantic have begun to climb again.”

  “Yes, yes, we know. Air raids have again begun to slip in with distressing regularity over Great Britain as well. Even Liverpool was hit hard by Gothas. Our RADARs have the Devil’s own hard time seeing them. As you may know, HMS Redoubt was rather badly handled two days ago when she went to rescue a convoy from one of the German pocket battleships. The convoy diverted to the south-east, and almost immediately came under heavy attack from Gothas, with grievous losses. It would almost seem that we are blind and they are not.”

  “I assure you, Winston, that every effort is being made on this side of the Atlantic to break this impasse.

  “We are embarking on another attempt to capture a German weather ship, as we did in 1940; perhaps we can again obtain a new code machine intact. SAS are planning some raids. Until one of these efforts succeeds, our losses may continue to mount.”

  Chapter 48

  22 September 1943

  German Base near Santiago de Compestela, Spain

  0910 Hours

  Doctor’s Orders

  The doctor sat back on
his stool, observing the weary-looking officer in front of him.

  “Herr Oberst, Generalmajor Wever was right to send you to see me, despite your protests. You are physically exhausted, and in no condition to lead this mission. Fortunately, there is yet time to remedy the situation. This is what you will do – this is an order, as if by Generalmajor Wever himself; yes?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Doctor,” von Schroeder said with resignation.

  “Very well.” The man raised his head as if he were about to make a proclamation.

  “These pills are for sleeping; you will take one and only one each night before retiring, for the next ten days. You will retire at 2100 hours, no exception, and no alcohol after mid-afternoon.” The man’s index finger was pointed at his chest. “Your batman will awaken you at 0600 hours for your toilet and breakfast. Then and only then are you to resume your duties. Do you understand?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Doctor.” He relaxed a bit; this wasn’t as bad as I’d feared – they might have taken the mission away from me.

  The doctor smiled at him, “Do not despair, my dear Oberst. You have delegated well and the entire organization is full of enthusiasm. Morale is excellent. I asked your adjutant about preparedness; he tells me the crews are ready, and are just polishing their techniques. You have done your duty well. Follow my directions, and you will be fit to complete the mission, to the glory of Germany.”

  Being a good German, he obeyed the doctor’s orders to the letter, of course. To his surprise, the sleeping pills and regular hours of sleep did wonders for his sense of well being. The bags disappeared from under his eyes, and he actually felt good again. He was less snappish with his men. Even so, a deep sense of anxiousness was building. This was worse than any of the missions he’d flown in Spain: it was bigger, so much more was at stake, and this time, he was responsible.

  He flew the necessary training flights to learn how to refuel from the big, lumbering Junkers. He smiled as he thought of the instructor, a twenty-two- year old Oberleutnant. The poor fellow had been openly nervous about correcting his Colonel’s technique. Von Schroeder had done all he could to put the man at ease, explaining that he’d flown with all sorts of instructors in the past ten years, and he would do his best to follow the younger man’s instructions.