Breakthrough

by Scott H Washburn

The next morning the inspection began. The train took them back to the Atlantic end where they toured the construction site for the enormous Gatun Locks. Work on the locks had begun only a few months earlier and had not progressed far, but the scope of the project could be clearly seen. Three sets of double locks, each one over a thousand feet long and a hundred feet wide, would raise a ship eighty-five feet to the future level of the lake. Massive steel forms on railway tracks were being filled with concrete continuously by an ingenious set of overhead cableways that carried an endless stream of gondolas, each holding six cubic yards. The iron support towers soared overhead and from their observation point, the men working there seemed like ants. Andrew looked on in awe. Even a Martian tripod would look like an ant next to this!

  “It’s so complex!” gasped Victoria. “How on earth did you ever figure this all out?”

  “Major Sibert, here, is in charge of the Atlantic Division,” said Goethals, indicating one of their escorts.

  Sibert came forward and explained how it all worked. “They’re using a slightly different system on the Pacific locks,” he said in conclusion, “but the goal is the same: to keep the concrete flowing to avoid any delays.”

  “Which reminds me, Mr. President,” said Goethals, “with the additional fortification called for, we are going to run short of cement unless more is sent to us. We stockpiled a good amount prior to the start of construction, but we are running through that quickly. I’ve sent repeated requests for more, but the deliveries aren’t keeping up. We can secure the sand and other aggregates locally, but we can’t make the cement here.”

  “Yes, yes,” growled Roosevelt, “the demand is enormous. We’re building new fortifications all over the country, you know. And until just a few years ago we imported more cement than we made ourselves. But new plants are opening up all the time. You’ll get your cement, Colonel, have no fear.”

  From the locks they moved to Gatun Dam, which would create the artificial lake. It was a huge earthen dam that stretched across the path of the Chagres River. Like so many things connected with the canal, it was the largest in the world. “The river was always the biggest challenge,” said Goethals. “The French tried to build a canal at sea level, but they never figured out how they would handle the enormous flow of the Chagres, which was right in their path. When we decided to build a lock canal and the lake, the river became an ally instead of an enemy. We will be closing the gates in the dam and start filling the lake soon.”

  The tour continued and the train took them back to Culebra Cut. Here the work, instead of building something new, was to take away something old - an eight mile long cut through the continental divide. The work dwarfed even the construction of the locks. A hundred or more enormous steam shovels dumped loads of earth and rock onto waiting railroad cars which carried it away to dump sites or to add to Gatun Dam. Like the bucket system at the locks, the idea was to never waste a moment. The shovels were in constant use and the trains shuttled in and out over a vast rail network.

  “My predecessor, John Stevens, was a railroad man,” explained Goethals. “He set this system up, and while we’ve expanded and improved on it, it’s still his basic design. We do most of the blasting at night and then spend the day carrying away the spoil.”

  “Ah, so that is what that noise was!” said Andrew. “We wondered about it.”

  “What are all those people up on the hills doing?” asked Victoria, pointing to the slopes of the mountains on either side of the cut, where swarms of men were at work.

  “Yes,” said Roosevelt, “I don’t remember this from my last visit. What have you got them doing, Colonel? By thunder, there certainly are a lot of them!”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” said Goethals. “That’s one of the things I most wanted to talk to you about. Those men are almost entirely refugees who have fled from the Martians. They are coming here in huge numbers. A year ago I had thirty-five thousand men working here. Today I have over a hundred thousand.”

  “A hundred thousand!” exclaimed Roosevelt. “But I know you don’t have that many on the payroll! Congress would have had a fit!”

  “I’m not paying them sir, just feeding them. And in return they are working. Up there where we can’t get the steam shovels. One of the biggest challenges we face is the landslides. We excavate in the Cut and then the rains come and the mountains start sliding down on us. The big slides kill men, wreck equipment, and force us to re-dig everything. For a long while we thought we’d just have to keep digging and endure the slides until the mountains finally reached the proper angle of repose. That could take years. But with all this extra manpower…” Goethals shrugged. “A Bucyrus steam shovel can move the same amount in a day as three thousand men with picks and shovels, but if I have a Bucyrus shovel and three thousand men, I’d be a fool not to use both.”

  “Very wise. And you are making progress?”

  “Yes, sir, we are. The number of slides has been reduced - although we’ll never be completely free of them - and we are ahead of schedule.”

  “But when will it be complete?”

  “The original completion date was 1915 or 1916. Even before the Martians arrived, we had that cut back to 1913. With the extra resources you’ve sent us and the extra manpower, I’m hoping we can be open for traffic by the summer or fall of 1911, sir.”

  “So, two more years?” Roosevelt frowned and his pince-nez nearly popped off before he could grab them.

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that’s the best we can hope for. However…”

  “What, Colonel?”

  “The refugees, sir. As I said, I am feeding them, but I’m not sure how much longer I can do that. Including the women and children there are over two hundred thousand of them and thousands more coming through the jungle or by boat every day. We’ve cleared jungle areas to set up camps for them and we have the women and older children planting crops to help feed themselves, but it isn’t enough. I’ve tried to import more food from some of the Caribbean islands, but they are facing their own refugee crises and food prices are going up fast. Unless I can get more from back home we could facing a major problem here, sir. I’m grateful for the divisions of troops you sent, we might need them if food starts to run out.”

  Roosevelt frowned, and to Andrew’s surprise instead of reassuring Goethals that all would be well, simply said: “I’ll look into it.” Andrew glanced over at Ted who seemed surprised himself.

  They had lunch at Goethals’ house and then finished the day by looking at the Pacific end. More locks were under construction there along with a massive breakwater meant to deal with the Pacific’s large tides. “Almost no tides in the Caribbean,” explained Sydney Williamson, the head of the Pacific Division and the only high-ranking civilian on the team, “but on this side, the ocean can rise and fall twenty feet.”

  A quick tour through Panama City completed the day. There were no crowds lining the streets or cheering the President. In fact, most of the people looked rather sullen. “The locals aren’t happy with all the refugees coming in,” said Goethals. “The Panamanians are becoming a minority in their own country - and it’s only going to get worse.”

  They had dinner that night with Goethals and his top subordinates, some of the senior military officers in Panama, and their wives. A number of things were discussed, but it was Dr. William Gorgas who had the most to say. He was an army doctor who had worked miracles in eliminating Yellow Fever and dramatically cutting down on Malaria in Panama. When the French were trying to build a canal, a thousand men a month were dying from the twin tropical scourges. By fully embracing the theory that the diseases were transmitted by mosquitoes and then setting up programs to eliminate them, he had cut the death rate from thousands to less than a dozen a month from Malaria and to none at all from Yellow Fever.

  “But now, with all these new people swarming in,” said Gorgas, “I’m fearful that we may see a resurgence. We’ve got tens of thousands living in close proximity to swamp areas where the mosqui
toes breed. I don’t have the manpower to drain or treat those swamps with oil. And I certainly don’t have room in our hospitals to handle the thousands of new patients which could result.”

  “So what are you suggesting, Doctor?” asked the President.

  “More supplies in the form of quinine, wire screens for windows, netting for beds, mosquito traps, and oil for the water. But primarily I need manpower to distribute the supplies and see that they are used.”

  “What about the refugees, themselves? Couldn’t they supply the manpower?”

  “Perhaps in time if we can make them understand the necessity. But please understand, sir, we tried that here when we first took over. It didn’t work. The natives have lived this way for generations. They saw no need to change. It wasn’t until we supplied our own men - at least as team leaders - that we started to make progress.”

  “William, you can’t seriously suggest that we divert workers from the canal for this project of yours,” said Goethals. “We can’t afford it. Not just the time, but every damn mosquito you kill will cost the government ten dollars!”

  Gorgas smiled. “But think if one of those ten dollar mosquitoes bit you, George. What a loss to the country that would be!” Goethals snorted, but Gorgas went on. “Actually, I wasn’t suggesting that any of the canal workers be taken for this.”

  “Well, who then?”

  “We have two infantry divisions stationed here now. I haven’t noticed them doing much of anything lately, Mr. President.”

  “What?” exclaimed General Thomas Barry, commander of the XI Corps, the senior army commander in Panama. “You can’t be serious! They’re here to defend the canal from the Martians! Not mosquitoes!”

  “I understand that, General, but as far as we can tell, the Martians aren’t anywhere close at the moment, but the mosquitoes are. And I wasn’t suggesting that all your men be put to this task. Perhaps one regiment from each division on a rotating basis.”

  “But…”

  “Doesn’t seem unreasonable,” said Roosevelt. “Keeps the men busy, let’s them get familiar with the surroundings, saves lives.”

  “But, sir!” said Barry.

  “Draw up a proposal, Doctor.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Gorgas.

  The following day was the meeting Andrew was there for, the one to discuss the defenses of the canal. They met in a brand new headquarters building on a hill overlooking the Gatun Dam. Victoria was off on an outing with Mrs. Goethals, but the President and Ted came with Andrew; indeed the meeting was for the President’s benefit, not Andrew’s. General Barry was there with a few of his staff, along with a navy commander, named ‘Blue’ who represented Admiral Hugh Rodman, commander of the Atlantic naval squadron, but most of the men in attendance were from the Corps of Engineers led by Colonel William Bixby, the man charged with building the fortifications. They had maps and diagrams and a huge sand table showing the entire canal area in marvelous detail.

  Bixby started things off with a general overview of the situation and the challenges facing them. “Mr. President, as you can see from the maps, we have a massive undertaking facing us. We have an isthmus approximately thirty miles wide in a straight line with the canal running through it which we must defend against attacks coming from either direction. It won’t be possible to run our defenses in a straight line, so we are probably looking at nearly a hundred miles of defenses at a minimum. Much of the ground, like near the Culebra Cut, is extremely difficult and even in the flatter areas we need to deal with the jungle.

  “However, we also have some advantages. The very jungle which will make construction difficult will also serve to protect us in the short term. The Panamanian jungle, which stretches along the isthmus fifty miles or more on either side of the canal, is as thick and as nearly impassible as any in the world. From what we know of the Martian machines, they will find it extremely difficult going, perhaps even impossible. Of course they could probably burn their way through using their heat rays, but that will take a great deal of time and give weeks of warning of what they are trying to do.

  “Another advantage is that once the Gatun Lake is filled, it will create a barrier across nearly half of the isthmus. This will relieve us from having to fortify the entire length of the line immediately.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” said Andrew, getting up the nerve to speak. “While the evidence we currently have indicates that the Martians do not like large bodies of water, there is no conclusive proof that they can’t cross them. For all we know, their machines might even be able to operate underwater like a submarine. The lake might not prove to be the barrier that you hope.”

  Bixby didn’t appear the least put out being questioned by a man half his age. He simply nodded. “Yes, that’s certainly true, Major. But we must accept the fact that there is no possibility of instantly constructing an impregnable line of fortifications—two lines of fortifications, actually. It is going to take time. Possibly a length of time comparable to the construction of the canal itself. That being the case, we must concentrate our efforts on the most vulnerable spots first. Those areas are clearly the ones nearest to the coasts, where the Martians can move most easily.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Later, if we are given the time and resources, we can extend the defense lines to enclose the lake and give us continuous defenses. I might add, that once the lake is filled and the Atlantic locks completed, we will be able to move warships onto the lake to bolster our defenses in that area.”

  “Uh, sir,” interjected Commander Blue, “the admiral instructed me to remind you that he objects to employing his ships in such a fashion. The restricted waters of the lake and the likely short ranges at which the Martians would have to be engaged could prove extremely hazardous. He feels that any support the army requires can be provided just as effectively by ships on the open ocean.”

  “Yes, Commander, the admiral has already made his views known to me,” said Bixby.

  Roosevelt cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Commander, please let Admiral Rodman know that I expect him and the navy to give whatever support is required to defend the canal. If that means bringing his ships up onto the lake, then that is what he will do!” Blue nodded nervously. “But, do continue, Colonel. You say your initial efforts will be concentrated near the coasts?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.” He walked over to the model and took up a long pointer. “We propose to construct a string of concrete forts from the oceans to the shoreline of the lake. The Atlantic side is by far the easiest job since the lake will be closer to that coast. On the west side of the canal we will build five forts following the line of the Media River. On the east side, about three miles from Colon, we will only need two forts. These forts will be constructed with all-around defense in mind and mount heavy guns. Initially, we can connect the forts with trench lines dug and manned by the infantry. Later, when we have time, we can replace these trenches with concrete.” Bixby pointed to the locations on the model.

  Walking around to the other side he continued. “The Pacific side is going to be far more work, I’m afraid. The two lines will each be over twenty miles long and some of it through extremely rough territory. Just as we don’t know if the Martian machines can negotiate deep water, we also don’t know how well they handle mountains. So we’ve had to make some assumptions about what will or will not prove to be impassible to them. We realize this is a risk, but we really have no choice at this time.” The pointer touched a long string of tiny forts leading from the Pacific coast, up over the mountains, and then to the lake. Andrew could see just what a daunting task it would be to build them. “We are hoping that fire from the forts and other supporting guns and ships will be able to close off any pathway that we can’t physically block.”

  Bixby moved over to one of the large wall maps. It showed the isthmus and had it divided into a grid pattern. “In fact, controlling the artillery will be the key to the defense. Ultimately, we will have hundreds of guns in
place here and we plan to create a system using observers with telephone lines, combined with a central plotting facility to allow us to concentrate their fire against any point of the defense.” He pointed from the forts to various squares on the map. “Assuming the Martians don’t hit us everywhere at once, we should be able to smash any attack as it occurs.”

  “That’s very good, Colonel,” said Roosevelt, nodding. “But suppose…”

  He was interrupted by a nervous-looking corporal who came in and handed a note to Commander Blue. The man quickly read it and then looked up in surprise.

  “Trouble, Commander?” asked Roosevelt.

  “Uh, I’m not sure, sir. This is a message from Admiral Rodman. He says that there is a German light cruiser, the Emden, approaching at high speed. They have signaled asking if you are here and if so, if one of their officers might meet with you as soon as possible?”

  “Indeed? Well, certainly, let him come.”

  “Yes, sir!” Blue hurried out.

  “It will probably take him a few hours to get here, sir,” said Bixby. “Shall we continue?”

  “Of course.”

  From the general overview they proceeded to specifics, principally the construction of the forts. “We plan to construct them of concrete, of course. From what we’ve heard, that has proven to be a material very resistant to the Martian heat rays.”

  “I believe that Major Comstock can comment on that,” said the President. “Right, Major?”

  Andrew, surprised and pleased that the President seemed to know about his trip to Niagara Falls, nodded. “Yes, sir. The Ordnance Department has recently completed a series of tests using a captured Martian heat ray and concrete has proven to be the best material we’ve found to defend against it. A slab only six inches thick was able to resist the ray for some time at five hundred yards with only some cracking and crumbling. At longer ranges the ray had very little effect at all. When we consider that the heat ray has almost no physical impact like an artillery shell, it ought to be possible to build defenses with concrete much thinner than commonly in use.”