by Jeff Kildow
He smacked his hand with a fist, “We must establish a policy for handling prisoners including, I recommend, mobile teams of Military Police who can quickly take them into custody in accordance with the Articles of War.”
Furston glanced down at the notes in his hand, then at the officers in front of him. “The ACP function in particular in this attack was handled poorly; I accept responsibility for that. I had not prepared a backup in the event Colonel Knight’s aircraft was incapacitated. I didn’t ask for help from either the Navy or Marine Corps, even though they were within range of the attacking aircraft. I put this down to my faulty thinking; I acted as if only Army assets were available to me. I didn’t request aid from Colonel Graham’s P-400s either.
“Finally,” the general said grimly, “the proper, prior coordination among all the elements that could and should have taken part in this defense had not taken place; that includes every Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, and National Guard unit capable of contributing. I haven’t confirmed it, but I am sure the same is true of every other city and military facility within District 2. In short, sirs, we were caught with our drawers down again, and the fact that we had been in existence only a few weeks is no excuse. I accept personal responsibility for all those shortcomings.”
Joel was amazed; This brave man is airing all his dirty laundry. That’s a calculated risk that could really backfire if this inter-service cooperation isn’t real; he could get fired. He thought for another moment; knowing the Army, he could get fired anyway.
General White said grimly, “There are shortcomings aplenty to go around, General Furston, and by no means do they all fall upon you. This command did not provide you or any other commander with the protocols and policies necessary. Even more shameful, we did not provide you the means to execute your orders. Are there any other comments?” The room was silent. Joel let out a little breath; General White seemed disinclined to leap on the man’s confessions.
“Very well. Thank you, General. Commander Higgins, if you please.”
Higgins strode to the front of the room as the yeoman finished copying the blackboard and then erased it. He said,
“Sirs, I am Navy Commander John Bell Higgins, assigned to Pawtuxent Naval Air Station. I command the fighter training squadrons there.
“Sirs, as you are all aware, the Marine Corps falls under the Department of the Navy, so I was detailed to brief you. Marine Corps Captain Mark Best, who commanded the aircraft that responded to Colonel Knight’s request is with me.”
He turned to the blackboard and wrote:
Navy/Marine Corps Shortcomings in Response to the
Philadelphia Raid:
Force levels not determined in advance
Tactics not in place/no training
Radio protocols not in place: open vs. coded messages
Reserve forces not defined or in place
No priorities for refueling/ rearming
Commander Higgins said, “Sirs, unlike our Army counterparts, the Navy and Marine Corps had a sizable force of aircraft on alert and standby. This resulted primarily from my combat experience in the South Pacific, and was not Navy direction.” The Rear Admiral at the front table winced, and scowled at Higgins.
Joel smiled and thought, well, my already high opinion of Higgins just went up another notch.
Higgins said, “The pilots had not been trained regarding, or even been made familiar with, the most basic aspects of the Gotha bombers. The existence of the rocket guns was unknown to us, and we suffered several losses as a result.”
He set his chin firmly. “Colonel Knight’s urgent attempts to warn my pilots were too late, through no fault of his own. That we were so uninformed is a major lapse on the part of senior command.” Joel saw the Rear Admiral’s scowl turn into a red hot glare.
Now he’s in for it.
The Rear Admiral leaned forward, pointed his finger, and growled, “Commander, be warned, you are treading on dangerous ground here.”
General White interrupted immediately, sternly. “Not so, Admiral; these men were directly ordered by me to tell us exactly what they experienced, no matter whose shoes are stepped on. Please continue, Commander.”
Higgins said, “Thank you, sir. I beg your pardon, Admiral. Radio protocols had not been established; only because Colonel Knight and I know each other were we aware what frequency to tune to. In addition, no direction was given concerning what could be broadcast in the clear, and what had to be obscured by codes.
“My command was not directed to establish a reserve force. Finally, there was no provision for rearming or refueling the aircraft, had General Furston so requested.”
General White looked sharply at the Rear Admiral, who understood the implied warning.
“Any comments?” White asked.
“Sir, Captain Best, Mark T., United States Marine Corps. I commanded the F6Fs that attacked the Germans. I’d like to suggest, sir, that assuming adequate warning, a way to overcome the tactical advantage the Germans have with their rockets guns is high speed attacks. Their rocket guns are hand laid, just like the MGs on our own bombers. That means that they’d have a hard time tracking a fast fighter, even inside the effective range of their rocket guns. This would be especially true if there were multiple high speed gun runs from different aspects. Ships like Mustangs or Lightings could fill the bill, in addition to F6Fs. Attacking the standard way is ineffective because we can’t get inside the effective range of the rocket guns.
“Sirs, to address the short range of the 0.50 caliber guns, couldn’t we take a page from the German’s own book? How about using the 5” HVARs [High Velocity Aircraft Rocket] our Marines use on F4Us in the Pacific? They’re cheap, plentiful, and easily adapted to any aircraft. Best of all, their range is about 2 ½ miles, so we’d put the Germans at a disadvantage. They’re not terribly accurate, but Gothas are pretty big targets. They’d need proximity fuses; they already have HE warheads from 5” anti-aircraft shells.”
General White sat upright. “Excellent suggestion, Captain! Are HVARs also referred to as ‘Holy Moses?’”
Captain Best nodded with a grin, “Yes, sir. They’re called ‘high velocity’ because they go over 900 miles per hour, and they don’t smoke like the German rockets.”
General White turned to his adjutant, “Make sure Aberdeen Proving Grounds follows up with the Navy on that, ASAP. I want a memo on my desk in a week. Copy the Admiral as well.” His adjutant wrote furiously.
“Now then, Major Thorton, we’d like to hear your comments.”
“Thank you, General. Sirs, I am Major Thorton, James L., the temporary commander of the 4743rd Provisional Fighter Group forming up at Bolling Army Air Field in the District As you know, sirs, we had just begun transferring from Maxwell Army Air Field Alabama a few days ago. That transfer is still incomplete. At this point, I am the ranking officer. We are to learn who will be taking command sometime this week.
“Now, about the Baltimore attack; one of my men was also listening to the Central Command frequency as the attack began. It was obvious that General Furston’s forces were being overwhelmed. On my own authority, I launched a dozen aircraft, and put them at General Furston’s disposal. I am gratified we were able to contribute.”
The look on the young man’s face was earnest and sincere.
“If I may be so bold, General, with respect, I’d like to emphasize strongly that as the district defending the nation’s capital, we must have an organized communications setup, sir. Before I was wounded and sent home, I fought with the 8th Air Force; we had an excellent radio network we could depend on. Many missions were too complex to work otherwise. I believe we need that same kind of support and control here. We’re simply too short on planes and pilots to risk not supporting each other. Thank you, sir.”
Summation
General White finished his notes, “Thank you, Major. I commend your initiative. We need the benefit of combat veterans like yourself. I will personally direct such a radio n
et be created immediately.
“Now. I will summarize these comments, and review them with the other senior officers present. Soon, I will address the Joint Chiefs about Central Command’s organization and these attacks.”
He nodded toward Major Thorton. “I intend to request – no, demand – that our District be provided new, first line fighters in large numbers, along with top quality pilots to fly them ASAP.” He glanced briefly at Joel; he and Chappie had told the General about the substandard pilots they’d been assigned.
“On Wednesday next, I am to testify to a congressional subcommittee in a closed door session; the following day, the Senate has asked for my presence. It is possible both may be political scapegoat hunts; I intend to do all in my power to turn those politicians into advocates and supporters of Coastal Defense.
“If Almighty God is gracious, winter on the Atlantic will give us two or three months to get reorganized before any German spring offensive against the ZI [Zone of the Interior – the contiguous forty-eight states]. Let us pray we will be more prepared to defend our homeland than during these last two attacks. If there is nothing else, gentlemen, you are dismissed.”
Chapter 76
25 May 1944
Office of Base Commander, General Adrian White
0930 Hours
Gotha Exposed
“Joel, it’s especially important that we get your assessment of this,” General White said urgently, handing him a thick document. It was Foreign Service Division’s report on the Gotha. The German bomber had been carefully disassembled in John Garfield’s cornfield, and trucked to Wright Patterson Field.
Opening the TOP SECRET cover, Joel glanced at the executive summary: conventional aluminum construction, no unusual instruments or controls. Engines are double supercharged, that’s something, he thought as he read. What’s this? A new bombsight? I wonder if it’s the one John Bell Higgins told Admiral Stuart about? What’s the low power radio for? There are sleeping facilities on board; that helps explain things. The crew was provided anti-fatigue drugs. The autopilot is a new design as well. Humm; they didn’t stint on anything, did they?
“Wow. Listen to this, sir: ‘the tubular structure protruding forward of the left leading edge is connected via piping and valves directly to the aircraft main fuel tanks. It is assumed that the structure is used to fuel the aircraft in flight.’ They’re gassing up in the air, sir! That’s how they get so much range, or at least part of it.”
General White nodded, “I saw that. Surely that isn’t the only thing they are doing to extend their range; the fuel tanks just aren’t large enough, even if they do refuel in the air. Those big engines must use a lot of gas. And where do they refuel? Somewhere over the ocean? That seems improbable; how would they ever find each other? What if it’s at night? And why do the wingtips have those strange stabilizers? The preliminary aeronautical analysis says the airplane is stable without them.”
“Yes, sir, that’s a mystery, alright. I have no idea what they’re for. We can bet that they’re on there for a specific purpose, though, because this airplane is well thought out. They wouldn’t add that extra weight if it didn’t help,” Joel replied.
“Now, this’s unexpected – the aircraft has a manufacturing joint running down the center line – that’s common, of course, but it’s not bolted, it’s held together with ‘clips’. There are eight clips top and bottom. Say, I wonder – could that account for the way we’ve seen several of these ships fail in the air? They just fold up like a butterfly, with the wingtips touching. If some of the clips failed due to combat damage, the aerodynamic forces would cause the rest to fail as well, and there she goes!”
Joel thumbed through the document a few pages, “General, could I borrow this for a couple of days, sir? I’d really like to study it carefully.”
“Yes, yes, certainly; that’s why I had a copy sent here, for you to review.” He handed Joel an envelope for the document.
“Remember this is Top Secret; you can review it with Chappie, but that’s all, OK?”
“Now, then, have you heard about the the HVAR rockets? I’ll be briefing all the commanders tomorrow.”
He smiled under his white mustache, “It’s going swimmingly. Got approved wing mounts for P-47s and P-51s, and the Navy F6Fs now, too, in addition to the F4Us. Navy’s new twin engine Grumman F7Fs will be equipped on the production line. The P-38s should be through testing and approval in a couple of weeks. And, a new more powerful rocket motor is being developed. They’re building two munitions plants in Indiana just for HVARs.”
Joel brightened, “Say, that’s good news, sir. Here’s a thought; has anybody looked at putting them on the P-61s? That’d be a big help, it seems to me.”
General White smiled broadly under his handsome, white mustache.
“The fellows at Northrop are a step ahead of you, Colonel. They’re testing that modification in the California desert. Now, keep this under your hat: Browning Arms has a working duplicate of the German rocket gun. They’re working with the boys at Aberdeen Proving Grounds; they think it can be made more accurate with a smaller round, which means a possible rapid fire version. They think they can increase the velocity at least 20 percent. Northrop is also looking at how to replace the turret on the P-61 with one that uses rocket guns. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yes, sir!” Joel replied enthusiastically. “We’d be taking it to them with their own idea, but with greater firepower, a longer range, and more accuracy. Any idea when we might see some rocket gun equipped P-61s, sir?”
The gray headed man shook his head, “Congress turned up the heat about as high as it can go, Colonel. I’d guess an optimistic estimate might be six or eight months, at the minimum.”
Chapter 77
12 November 1944
Colonel Joel Knight’s Office
1730 Hours
Invitation
Mrs. Agatha Morris, Susan’s landlady, gave her a frowned warning and reluctantly handed her the telephone.
Joel said, “Hello there, young lady! How’s my favorite teacher this evening?”
“Hi, Joel,” Susan responded, her voice smiling, “I’m doing fine, if you can be ‘fine’ grading papers and pulling out your hair!”
Joel laughed, “Oh, don’t pull out your hair; I love it! It’d drive me nuts, doing what you do. Listen, I won’t keep you long; I know that down deep, you really want to get back to those papers.” She snorted derisively.
“If you don’t have plans for Thanksgiving, how’d you like to go to a dinner dance at the O Club? There will be plenty of good food, a pretty good band, and all sorts of brass to rub elbows with.”
“You had me convinced until you started talking about the brass, fella!” She laughed back. “I’d love to go; what time will you pick me up?”
“Let’s see, it starts at 1700 – let’s say 1600, and we won’t have to hurry. How’s that sound?”
“It’s a date, flyboy! See you then.”
“Say, boss, two more of the new P-61s just landed. That’s six; only twenty-four to go” Chappie announced.
“Good. Have to keep our fingers crossed they keep coming, ‘cause everybody else wants ‘em too!” Joel replied.
Chapter 78
18 November 1944
Joel’s House, Millville, New Jersey
0710 Hours
Travel Plans
Joel hadn’t spoken to Susan since they’d made Thanksgiving plans; she’d been busy with some special project, so he was pleased when she called him.
“Say, listen, Joel, I’ve got a little favor to ask. Could you drive me over to Philadelphia on Monday the 20th? I’ve got to deliver something I can’t talk about, and they don’t want me to take the train.”
“Official business, right?”
“Oh, yes, of course, I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
“OK, sure. The Packard needs to be serviced anyway, so I’ll get that scheduled. We can have lunch somewhere, and drive home by dark. Pick y
ou up at 0800?” There was no Packard dealer in Millville, and Joel just couldn’t bring himself to let any of the local mechanics touch the nearly new car.
Monday Morning, 20 November 1944
The sky was gray and threatening as they drove out of Millville.
Joel asked, “So, can you can tell me about this, or do you have to keep it to yourself?”
“Well, I don’t know much about why I was asked to do this.” She frowned, wrinkling her forehead. “They asked me to look at several foreign-born scientists, to decide if they are trustworthy. Say, have you ever heard of a Dr. Niels Bohr?”
Joel was surprised, “Niels Bohr? Oh, of course; he’s the Danish physicist who won the Nobel Prize in Physics a while back. Cracking the atom, or something, I think.”
Susan was very serious, “Well, there are three others. There’s Leo Szilard, a fellow named Eugene Wigner, and Edward Teller. They are all physics PhDs; all three are Hungarian, two are Jewish. What could the government want with them, Joel?”
“Don’t know; it’s not like we don’t have a lot of physicists ourselves. They must know something the government wants, something like that.”
Susan set her chin; “Well, it must be important, because they really made me hurry. Funny that they all fled the Nazis, though. I really do wonder what they’re up to.”
“Well, maybe some time when the war’s over, we’ll find out. Probably nothing.”
So far, everything has gone swimmingly, Joel thought. The Packard dealer got the tune up done just in time. We found a nice café and had a pleasant lunch.
A glance at his watch showed it was only 1400; they had plenty of time. Maybe on the trip back they could talk some more, and not about “business.”
They paid the nickel toll to cross the Delaware River bridge to Camden, New Jersey, and turned southeast on Highway 41. In a few miles, they’d be on Highway 47, directly into Millville. The road was smooth, the company delightful as they chatted. Joel hardly noticed the first snowflakes.