American Under Attack

by Jeff Kildow

  “Let’s get down to brass tacks on the B-29 issue,” Admiral Bill Leahy, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said, refilling his coffee cup.

  “You know LeMay will have a fit if FDR does this,” Admiral Ernest King said to General Henry “Hap” Arnold.

  Arnold put down his coffee cup, and said evenly, “Ernie, Curt LeMay doesn’t run the Army Air Forces, despite what he thinks. And he doesn’t own the B-29s, either. I have no intention of discussing this beyond telling him he’ll have 100 less Superfortresses than he expected. After the fact.”

  “Besides,” he added, “that new factory in Kentucky is coming on line soon, we’ll be able to make up the differences quickly.”

  Bill Leahy shook the ash off his morning cigar, “What about the camera planes – what are they – F-13s, Hap? Can we take what we need without putting Curt in a bind?”

  “Yes, a photo recon B-29 is an F-13, and they are in short supply, Bill. It’s the cameras, not the planes, that’s delayed us. There’s only one plant in the whole country making those big lenses,” Arnold replied.

  “But I think Curt can get along with what he has for awhile. Don’t forget he’s got a few photo

  B-24s, too – called F-7s. The reason we need those F-13s in Europe is that we’re basically blind along the French/Spanish border. The Germans throw up lots of jets to intercept every single-seat photo bird sent along that route. Even Mosquitoes don’t have the range or speed to do it.”

  General George Marshall asked, “You’re trying to fly the entire length of the Spanish/ French border, is that it? Why?”

  “Yes, that’s it, George. Intelligence believes the Germans built their batwing plant somewhere along the border. But we’ve had no luck finding it. Not even De Gaulle’s partisans have turned up much. Seriously, I’m worried they put it underground, like the Messerschmitt plants. If they did, we’ll have a hard time finding it; you know how good they are at camouflage. I reluctantly asked Mr. Roosevelt for General Donovan’s help; he sent a team into France a couple of weeks ago. Seems like a long shot.”

  “An F-13 can fly non-stop from Iceland to North Africa right down the border, and can take a phenomenal number of photographs.”

  “But aren’t they as vulnerable as the Mosquitoes to those German jets?”

  “Probably, on an ordinary run; German RADAR sees everything that takes off in England. The thing is, they’d have no idea where our birds are going when they take off in Iceland, even if they knew about them. If the weather’s good, we can send an F-13 in at 35,000 feet, at a ground speed of over 400; that’s a tough intercept, even for jets. They probably won’t even spot it until the ship is over France, since they’ll be coming in over the Bay of Biscay. I think the odds are pretty good, at least at first. The Germans will be looking in the wrong place, or so we hope.”

  George Marshall said, “Speaking of Iceland, how soon will the runways and hangers be completed?”

  “That’s a good question; how soon can your SeaBee’s pull this off, Ernie?” asked Arnold.

  Admiral Ernest King tugged at his right ear and said, “Well, it’ll be another six weeks of preparations before they can start the runways, then maybe a month for the concrete, weather permitting. That could be a problem. Hangers go up pretty quickly, even in those Arctic storms, but there’s good news in that: we keep building during all but the worst weather, but that same bad weather keeps the Germans in Norway grounded. They’ll discover us eventually, but hopefully not until after we’ve made several photo raids with the F-13s. I’ll base additional fighters there to fend off the Germans once we start flying bombing missions. You’re all aware that we’re preparing for the contingency of pulling back most or all of our heavy bombers to Iceland if the attacks from the Gothas can’t be stopped?”

  There were nods around the room; that was a contingency none of them wanted to face.

  Leahy was silent for a moment, “Once you find the batwing plant, you’ll use the entire B-29 force against it?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s the plan,” Arnold replied. “I suspect that it’ll only take a couple of raids to keep their heads down, once we locate them. It’s possible we could launch out of North Africa, too, depending on where the plant is. I plan on hitting it regularly until it’s shut down.”

  They all knew that bombing a German aircraft plant didn’t mean that production stopped; the enemy was just too adaptable. The best they could hope for was a sharp curtailment in production.

  “What about the ‘special squadron’?” Leahy asked softly, reluctantly bringing up the subject.

  Arnold had a look of distaste, “Sir, they have separate facilities on Iceland, at an auxiliary field, just like the 509th in the Pacific. You know they trained with Tibbett’s group, right? And their airplanes are modified just like his?”

  “Yes. I’m aware of that. Are we agreed, then gentlemen, that we’ll go to the President with a recommendation for 100 B-29’s, plus at least 6 F-13s, to be based in Iceland? The special squadron will also be provided for, if the President so decides.”

  “I’ll go on record again,” Arnold said firmly, “I’m absolutely against using the special squadrons in Europe.”

  “So noted, Hap.”

  Chapter 83

  9 February 1945

  Joel’s Office

  1000 Hours

  Mid-morning Challenge

  First Sergeant Bill Madsen looked in on his boss, who was slumped in his chair, distractedly staring out his window. Madsen shook his head.

  That poor guy doesn’t know which end is up, he thought wryly. Well, now or never, here goes.

  “Got a moment for somethin’ personal, sir?” he asked.

  Joel’s head popped around in surprise.

  He didn’t even know I was here.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, Bill. Come on in. What’s your problem,” Joel said, turning, and sitting up in his chair.

  Here’s hoping, Bill thought, closing the door behind him.

  “Actually, sir, it’s you.”

  Joel’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh?” he said.

  Madsen put his hands on his hips, and spoke like a father, “Ya know, sir, I’ve been in this man’s Army for more than twenty-five years and I gotta say, I’ve seen what you’ve got in every form it can take. Sometimes it ends pretty, and sometimes not, but take the advice of an older guy who’s been there and back, Colonel, and ask that girl to marry you. Until you do, you’re not gonna resolve this confusion in your head, and we can’t have you mopin’ around much longer.”

  Gad, I’ve got a lot of cheek, he thought worriedly, will he hand me my head?

  “What are you talking about, Bill?” Joel asked cautiously, with a faint look of disbelief on his face.

  Bill looked around again to be sure the door was closed. Gently, he said, “Sir, we all know you’re crazy in love with Susan; don’t you think it’s ‘bout time you admitted it, and did something about it? Really, sir, it’s startin’ to interfere with your work.”

  “Interfering with my work? How?”

  Ha! He didn’t deny it! OK, in for a penny, in for a pound, Bill thought.

  “Forgive me, sir, but like just now: you were lookin’ out the window instead of concentrating on that report; that’s not like you. And last week, after staff meeting, General Randolph asked me if you was sick, ‘cause you sat so quiet during his meeting. Now tell me, honestly, you were thinkin’ about her just now, weren’t you?” He smiled, crossed his arms, and waited.

  “How’d you know?” There was a trace of a smile.

  “Well, it might have something to with the sighs you can hear clear out in the hall, for one thing, sir!”

  “So you’re saying I’m acting like a love-sick kid, are you?”

  Bill laughed, “Those’re your words, sir, but if the shoe fits—.”

  Monday 12 February

  Joel walked up and down High Street, wracked with indecision.

  What if she tells me to go jump in the lake. I couldn’t stand t
hat. But I’ve just got to know. I’ve got to ask her. If she finds somebody else because I’m too scared to ask her, it’d be my own fault. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s all I can think about. Bill’s right, I’m letting my duties slip because of her. If she says no, I think I’ll die. Now I do sound like a love-sick kid. Oh, Susan, you’ve just got to say yes.

  Finding his resolve, he squared his shoulders, and went into Robert H. Harding Jewelers, to the tinkling of a little bell.

  The old clerk in the store clearly had seen this before, and kindly guided Joel as he made his selection. In the end, it was a ½ carat clear white diamond solitaire in a starkly plain setting of gold that he chose. The old gentleman quietly assured him that the establishment would change the setting for a modest fee, if she didn’t care for it. Lighter of wallet, but soaring in spirit, Joel left the store.

  Chapter 84

  14 February 1945

  Union Lake

  Late afternoon

  Proposal

  Joel picked up Susan at the temporary building being used for Alexander Hamilton Junior High School, and drove to their picnic spot at Union Lake. Here and there, patches of snow from the last storm still clung to shady spots. The lake was mostly frozen, with dark water showing in areas. The trees hadn’t begun to bud. Still, there was a calm, quiet beauty to the location; they were far enough from the airfield that even engine noises didn’t interfere.

  “This is where we got caught by that storm last summer, remember?” he said, smiling.

  “Oh, yes. Say, isn’t that the tree that was struck by lightning? That was scary!” she said pointing.

  “Maybe it is. Let’s walk down there and see.”

  The air was cool, but not as cold as it would be when the sun set. They strolled hand in hand to the tree, and saw blackened marks on the tree’s trunk. Joel turned to her, still holding her hand. Her wonderfully blue eyes were wide with anticipation. He swallowed hard.

  “Susan Johansseson, ever since I first saw you that day at Alexander Hamilton, I’ve been totally enchanted by you. Never in my life have I met such an intelligent woman. We’ve been through so much together since then. I dream about you at night, and think about you all day. You’ve totally taken over my conscience and sub-conscience, my days and nights. I have fallen completely, totally, head-over-heels in love with you. I can’t stand to be apart from you. I love everything about you. The hours crawl for me until we can be together again. I desperately want you to be my wife. Susan, will you marry me?”

  He pulled the little white box from his pocket, and snapped it open. His heart was pounding wildly, and his mouth was dry.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she gasped, “Oh, Joel, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes! I thought you would never ask! Yes, I’ll marry you!” She held him so tightly it almost hurt. Almost. Joel’s heart sang.

  The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Susan proudly showed all her friends the diamond. Her girl friends and fellow teachers were all a twitter.

  “Susan, how wonderful for you!”

  “So he finally came around! Good for you!”

  “I’m so happy for you, Susan.”

  “Oh, he’s so handsome! What a beautiful couple you make.”

  Millie hugged her. “Isn’t it wonderful? Both of us get to marry such wonderful men. I’m so excited for you. Wait ‘till I tell Charles!”

  Even Awful Agatha, her landlady, smiled kindly. “I thought he was coming around to see you a lot, dear. I hope you’ll both be very happy. He’s a fine looking young man.”

  “There is no way you’re taking this ring back now, buster!” Susan laughingly informed Joel when he mentioned that she could change the setting if she wanted. “I like this just fine, thank you. You’re on the hook, and I’m not letting you off!” She pulled him close and held him, laughing.

  At the air field, Joel’s back was pounded in congratulations. Even General Randolph joined in, “You’ve chosen a great beauty, Joel, and she’s a fine person too. Congratulations to both of you.”

  First Sergeant Bill smiled in satisfaction as he said gruffly, “Maybe now we can get some work done around here, sir!”

  Chapter 85

  26 February 1945

  Joel’s House in Millville

  1930 Hours

  Plans

  “Joel, I’ve spoken with my folks again, and they just can’t come for the wedding. Dad can’t get off work, and train tickets cost so much, even if they could get them. Going to a wedding doesn’t rate a very high priority, I’m afraid.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” Joel grimaced. “My mom still wants us to come to Colorado for the wedding, but we’d have the same problems getting tickets, and we’d still have to get your folks there too. I hate to say it, but I think we’ll just have to get married here in Millville, and go see our folks later when we can. Unless, of course, you just want to call the whole thing off!” He laughed at her reaction.

  She put her hand on her hip, and waggled a finger at him, “Oh, no you don’t, flyboy! You’re committed now. No use trying to wiggle out of it, either! I’m going to marry you if we have to stand in front of a Justice of the Peace!” She playfully pounded on his chest, then hugged him.

  “OK, OK, can’t you take a joke? It’s not like I can’t get a refund for the ring!”

  “Oh, you’re just horrible to say such a thing! That ring is never going to leave my finger. You know that, don’t you?”

  He was serious now, “Yes, I feel the same way. Let’s see what we can arrange at Millie’s church; Stanton Township First Baptist, isn’t it? Would you like that?” He cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.

  A visit with the pastor brought his blessing and congratulations. He checked the church calendar.

  “Well, you young folks are in luck. The church is available the afternoon of the June 10th. I’ll just write it in; 2:30 p.m., you say? Good. Now, have you gotten a license and your blood tests yet? I must have those a few days before the ceremony, you know. Don’t wait; it may be February, but June will be here before you know it.”

  He smiled warmly at Susan, “If you’re like every other bride-to-be my dear, you’ll find there’s barely enough time to get everything ready. Stay in touch with me, will you, or the church secretary, especially as the time gets closer. June is the favorite time of year to get married, and I’m sure somebody’ll want the date you’ve chosen if you have to change. Be sure to let us know if you want the Congregational Room for a reception; it’s in pretty high demand, too. We can seat about 250 or so in that room. Do you think you will have a band?”

  Susan glanced quickly at Joel, “We haven’t decided that yet, Pastor.” In truth, it hadn’t crossed either of their minds.

  Joel made a note on his ever present pocket tablet about the license and blood tests. In the swirl of excitement around their engagement, he mustn’t let such details get lost.

  Chapter 86

  12 April 1945

  Off the East Coast of Iceland

  0313 Hours; Sunrise

  Secret Hideaway

  U-56 rocked uneasily in the rolling, gray-green waters, her engines at full stop. She hovered at periscope depth while Kapitanleutnant Herbert “Bo” Schuster surveyed the waters around them. In truth, the seas weren’t all that bad, it was just that the round bottomed submarine wasn’t designed for surface roughness no matter how gentle. Alone among the crew, Schuster felt the slight twisting in the roll his old ship experienced with each wave. Her hull had been badly damaged in that British depth charge attack in 1939, and they’d never gotten it exactly right.

  Schuster was only thirty-seven, but his hard eyes looked twice that age. His reddish blond beard was showing the gray that had already begun to fleck his head. Worry lines around his blue eyes were deeply etched in his pale submariner’s face.

  U-56 was an early Type IIC, built in the late 1930s; most of her contemporaries had long since been sunk or salvag
ed. Indeed, the first reaction of the yardmaster when she limped back into port was to scrap her. Somebody somewhere decided to retrofit her as a one of a kind covert supply boat. It had taken two years; she’d been gutted, her hull lengthened, and compartments for cargo, both human and materiel, built in. She had limited armaments, only four torpedoes forward and none aft, and a couple of deck guns, but that kind of war wasn’t her purpose anymore. With modern batteries and the latest in powerful, silent motors, she served her new function well.

  Schuster spotted the signal light on shore, and checked the horizons again; British ships rarely sailed in these mostly uncontested waters, and American ships never, but he simply couldn’t take the chance.

  Nothing, empty seas; good. He elevated the periscope, and made a quick survey of the sky. Again, nothing.

  Grunting with satisfaction, he triggered the periscope signal light in acknowledgement to the men ashore, and lowered the instrument. This date had been carefully chosen; tonight there would be a full moon. If there was some unexpected delay, they could work into the night with at least some visibility.

  “Shore party, prepare to disembark,” he said softly, as if someone might overhear him. The coxswain repeated the command over the boat’s intercom.

  “Take him to the surface,” Schuster told the helmsman.

  Schuster’s crewmen were well trained, and within twenty minutes, two heavily laden boats struck out for the rocky coast. There was a narrow “beach” they could ground on, more coarse rocks than sand, but it had sufficed before. As he watched the progress of the boats from U-56’s sail, a third boat was preparing to launch, this one carrying the replacement personnel for the covert weather station. He always sent his Exec on the personnel boat, reluctant to leave his sub at such a vulnerable time.

  When the personnel boat was a hundred yards away, he submerged to periscope depth. No sense giving the Brits a fat target, should they wander this way. An hour later, the sub resurfaced and the empty boats were taken aboard. A signal from shore told him the boat with the returning personnel had launched.