‘Anything unusual about it?’
Von Braun smiled knowingly. ‘You mean the reports about a traitorous American physicist?’
‘Wilson. You know about him?’
‘Not much,’ von Braun said, shaking his head. ‘I never met him or saw him. I only heard reports about his extraordinary presence as part of a research team involved in a top-secret project. I never found out what the project was, but certainly ideas and innovations were swapped across the firing range. The other establishment was even more heavily guarded than ours.’
‘Do you think Wilson had anything to do with the so-called Foo fighters?’
‘There were rumours about disc-shaped aircraft. Frightened whispers. No more than that. Certainly nothing of that nature was tested while I was at Kummersdorf.’
‘Do you believe disc-shaped aircraft were on the German agenda?’
‘Yes. I myself didn’t believe that such a craft could be made workable - I believed in rockets, not flying discs - but certainly Germany has a long history of research into vertical-rising, spherical or disc-shaped aircraft. In fact, the idea itself was first conceived by a German: the 19th century mathematician and aeronautical theorist Wilhelm Zachariae.’
‘A theorist,’ Fuller said impatiently, now listening, also, to the Glen Miller orchestra on the radio and wondering what had caused the famous band leader’s unexplained disappearance over the Atlantic. ‘Were his ideas ever put into practice?’
‘Yes. As early as 1939 Dr. Alexander Lippisch, at Messerschmitt, Augsburg, was developing his Delta-Rocket Jet ME 163 and testing its circular wing in the wind tunnel of the AVA company at Göttingen. Meanwhile, Arthur Sack, of Machern, near Leipzig, had for years been obsessed with the idea of disk-shaped aircraft. He tested various models at the model-airplane competition at Leipzig-Mockau in July 1939, with disastrous results. A larger, piloted model, the AS 6, was constructed at the Mitteldeutsche Motorenwerke factory in Leipzig and failed to fly during its test flight at the beginning of February, 1944, on the airfield at Brandis, near Leipzig. He tried again at Brandis in April 1944, but the airplane barely lifted off the ground. Shortly after, the Allied advance brought Sack’s experimentation to a halt for all time.’
‘Any more?’
Von Braun sighed, obviously finding the subject tiresome. ‘Not much. Viktor Schauberger claimed to have designed and constructed a small, remote-controlled flying saucer in 1940 in the Kertl aircraft company in Vienna. Reportedly, during a test conducted three years later, the saucer went through the ceiling, but by and large it was otherwise unworkable - like most of the other prototypes. Then there were the so-called flying wings, or all-wing airframes, of the Horten brothers, which excited the interest of your intelligence, but which in fact were of value purely for research into wind velocity and drag. Finally, as you doubtless know, by the closing months of the war there were many rumours in German aeronautical circles about the imminent appearance of radically different airplanes, without wings, tails, rudders or other surface protruberances, and powered by special turbines or jet engines. I think it unlikely that such projects were completed - if indeed they ever existed in the first place.’
‘Which gets us back to the rockets.’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Von Braun said.
‘What about Nordhausen, towards the end of the war? Were there other rocket engineers in that area?’
‘You mean Wilson again.’ Von Braun was sourly amused by Fuller’s interest. ‘More rumours,’ he said. ‘We heard that another group, heavily guarded by Artur Nebe’s most ruthless SS troops, had been shipped in from Kummersdorf to Kahla, which was not very far from Nordhausen. There were also rumours that a jetpropelled aircraft of unusual configuration, but possibly spherical or disc-shaped, had been test-flown over Kahla in February 1945. The results of that test, if indeed it took place, were not known, but in early April the Kahla complex was evacuated, as was Nordhausen, and that was the last I heard of Wilson.’
Fuller knew the rest. At the end of the war, Germany’s scientific papers were hidden, and eventually found, in tunnels, caves, dry wells, ploughed fields, river beds and even dried-out cess pools. Also found across the length and breadth of Nazi Germany and its occupied territories were the well known V-1 flying bombs and V-2 rockets, as well as lesser known, but equally formidable, heat-guided ground-to-air missiles, sonic-guidance torpedoes, the highly advanced U-XX1 and U-XXIII electrical submarines, ME-262 jet-fighters, rocket planes that flew even faster than the Messerschmitts, the beginnings of an Atom Bomb project, and the prototypes for other, vertical-rising jet aircraft. Because of this, there was a race between the Allies and the Russians to capture as many of the rocket scientists and engineers as possible, as well as the invaluable technical documentation. Deals were thus struck between the conquerors and their former enemies, particularly with regard to those involved in rocketry and other advanced weaponry.
Along with 150 of their best men, General Dorberger, Walther Riedel, and Werner von Braun came to the United States to work on secret government projects. The Russians, however, also gained a wealth of documentation and material, including the V-2 rockets, buzz bombs, ocean-spanning surface-to-surface and surface-to air missiles found in Peenemünde; about seventy percent of the 12,000 tons of technical equipment stranded on the docks at Lübeck, Magdeburg, and the Gotha plant. They also captured 6,000 German technical specialists, including Dr Bock, Director of the German Institute of Airways Research; Dr Helmut Gröttrup, the electronics and guided-missile expert; and a particular aeronautical engineer, known only as ‘Habermohl’ and reported to have worked under the American, Wilson.
‘Why are you so interested in this Wilson?’ von Braun asked while glancing impatiently at his wristwatch. ‘Has he vanished completely?’
‘Yes.’
‘He was probably killed by the Nazis.’
‘That’s what was reported, but we don’t think it’s true. We have reason to believe that Wilson, when in Nazi Germany, was indeed working on highly advanced, supersonic aircraft of unusual configuration, possibly spherical or disc-shaped, and that he might still be doing so in a location I’m not allowed to disclose.’
‘You mean the Soviet Union? The V-2 they launched recently?’
‘No. Somewhere else. I can’t say where it was. But I can tell you that my government is seriously concerned with what Wilson might be constructing at the present time. Which is why we were so keen to place you and your rocket scientists under contract, irrespective of negative public opinion.’
‘I’m not sure I get your drift.’ Von Braun's command of English was admirable, as was his gift for casually easing people out of his house. He simply sighed, glanced again at his wristwatch, then stood up and stretched himself, which made him look even bigger than he was. ‘But I’m sure you know what you’re about,’ he added. ‘Your intelligence is thorough.’
Fuller stood up as well, then walked to the front door. Von Braun, acting as if he had been shaken out of a trance, said, ‘Oh, I see you’re leaving! Please, let me.’ He held the door open until Fuller had stepped outside and turned back to face him. ‘So why did you risk negative public opinion to put me and my men under government contracts?’
‘It’s imperative,’ Fuller said, ‘that we get into space before Wilson does. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Chuck Yeager has already broken the sound barrier,’ von Braun said. ‘So the answer to your question is “Yes”.’
‘Good,’ Fuller said, then he nodded goodbye, walked down to the car, climbed in and drove out of Fort Bliss.
Chapter Five Nichola Randall, already blonde and beautiful, was covered in mushy food and hammering the rim of her high chair with a rattle as if beating on a tin drum. At least that’s what it sounded like to her dad, Captain Dwight Randall, who winced as he ate his Cornflakes, even though he could not be angry with her, not even this early in a bleak morning in January, 1948.
‘Honey,’ he said, ‘I know you’
re just seven months old, but couldn’t you quieten it down just a little bit? Between you and those damned airplanes taking off, I can hardly think straight.’
‘Don’t blame my daughter,’ Beth said. ‘Blame the US Air Force and their planes. Always making a racket.’
‘Your daughter, I note,’ Dwight said with a grin. ‘I don’t get a look-in. You’d think
I’d nothing to do with her.’
‘Stop fishing for compliments.’
‘As for the US Air Force, don’t forget it’s our bread and butter. Here we are in a
tract house in Dayton, Ohio, secure as little bunnies in their burrows. What more
could we ask for?’
‘A house outside Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. A little home of our own.’ ‘Time will bring us everything.’ Dwight finished his Cornflakes and pushed his
plate aside as another F-51 jet interceptor roared overhead. Nichola gurgled happily
in her high chair, banging away with the rattle and smearing food over her face, but
Beth rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t bear it another minute. Still as slim as an
adolescent in loose sweater and slacks, she had short-cropped auburn hair and the
face of a lovely urchin, full-lipped and round-cheeked. They had only been married a
year and were still in love, Dwight hoped, but Beth was increasingly frustrated by life
on the base and by Dwight’s heavy workload with the ATIC, the Air Technical
Intelligence Centre, located here in Wright-Patterson AFB. If anything, his workload
had become even heavier since the start of the UFO flap, last year. In the seven
months since then, he had virtually worked around the clock and it was giving them
problems. Now Beth, ironing the clothes by the window, was looking disgruntled. ‘When are you going to get a few days off?’ she asked.
‘Soon.’
‘You’ve been saying that for months.’
‘Our new boss is arriving this morning, so I can’t ask immediately, but as soon as
he’s settled in, I’ll put in my request for some leave.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
The telephone rang. Carrying his cup of coffee, Dwight leaned across the table,
kissed Nichola on her messy cheek, then picked up the phone.
‘Captain Randall,’ he said.
‘Hi, Dwight, it’s Bob,’ said his friend and sidekick at the ATIC, Captain Robert
Jackson. ‘Are you awake yet?’
‘I’m just about to leave.’
‘I’m at the office already.’
‘Bully for you.’
‘I’m gonna make your day, Cap’n.’
‘Oh, how?’
‘We’ve just received a classified Memorandum for the Record from our
Commanding General. It states that last September General Nathan Twining, Chief of
Staff of the United States Army, wrote to Brigadier General George Schulgen,
Commanding General of the Army Air Force, expressing his belief that the UFO
phenomenon is something real, that it is not, quote, visionary or fictitious, unquote,
and that the objects are disc-shaped, as large as aircraft and... wait for it... controlled.’ Dwight whooped with delight, making Beth stare at him, surprised. He couldn’t
contain himself because for too long he had been working on a project that many
thought was a waste of time, if not downright idiotic. Twining’s letter would give the
project validation, as well as priority, and Dwight felt good about that. He therefore
grinned like a schoolboy and gave a puzzled Beth the thumbs-up.
‘According to the memo,’ Bob continued, ‘the letter wasn’t intended to support the
extraterrestrial hypothesis, but came about because US military fears that the UFOs
might be Russian have been exacerbated by the knowledge that the Soviets tested
their first A-bomb last November.’
‘Right,’ Dwight said. ‘I thought that might get them jumping.’
Bob chuckled. ‘Anyway, because of Twining’s letter, the Army Air Force is going
to establish an official UFO investigation unit with a 2A classification. Called Project
Sign, it’ll be located right here, in Wright-Patterson, with you in charge and me
remaining as your sidekick. We’re to start it as soon as we can, but no later than next
month, so you better get your ass over here, Cap’n.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Dwight said. Exultant, he hung up the phone, gulped the rest of
the coffee, put the mug back on the table and tightened his tie. As he slipped on his
jacket and reached for his peaked cap, he saw Beth’s sulky face.
‘Whoops!’ he softly exclaimed.
‘What’s up?’ Beth asked. When he told her, she said, ‘There goes our vacation. A
2A classification is second only to top priority. You’ll be working night and day with
this new project. I’ll hardly see you at all.’
‘I won’t, I promise.’ He placed his peaked cap on his head.
‘Send me a postcard,’ Beth replied. ‘Let me know how you’re keeping.’ Dwight smiled uneasily, then gave her a hug and kissed her. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be
back in time for dinner. Have a good day.’
'Yeah,' Beth said flatly.
She was already returning to her ironing when he left the house and walked
quickly, too eagerly, to the ATIC offices, located at Wright Field. Saluting junior and senior officers en route, he looked fondly at the aircraft flying overhead, under grey clouds being pierced by weak sunlight. Recalling Beth’s sulky face, he was ashamed of his own eagerness, but knew that it could not be helped. The truth of the matter was that he was too easily bored and, though still loving Beth, was having problems
adjusting to the domesticity of marriage and fatherhood.
During the Second World War he had been a B-29 bombardier and radar operator,
flying to India, China and the Pacific with the original B-29 wing. Though returning
to college after the war, he had kept his reserved status, flying as a navigator in an Air
Force Reserve Troop Carrier Wing. This had only increased his low-boredom
threshold for normal life, so immediately upon receiving his degree in aeronautical
engineering, he married Beth, whom he had met at college, then went back on active
duty. He was posted straight to the ATIC, which was responsible for keeping track of
all foreign aircraft and guided missiles, and he and Beth moved into married quarters
here at Wright-Patterson.
Beth was the beloved only daughter of Joe McGinnis, an amiable car salesman and
his good-humoured wife, Glenda, both Dayton residents. Their benevolent
parenthood had turned Beth into a fine woman, a loving, loveable wife, but one not
familiar with life on an air base. They had been here for a year now. During that time,
Nichola had been born, but Beth was increasingly desperate to kick off the shackles
of Air Force protocol and be nearer her parents in Dayton.
Like Mr and Mrs McGinnis, Beth was good-humoured and quick-tempered, which
had made for some tempestuous moments when the first small, inevitable
disillusionments of marriage were setting in. Unfortunately, Dwight’s growing
fascination with the UFO phenomenon, which he found more intriguing than the
tracking of foreign aircraft and guided missiles, had revitalised his flagging interest in
the peacetime air force, even as it increased Beth’s frustrations by keeping him away
from home more often. Trouble was brewing, he realised, and he didn’t know how to
deal with it.
His sidekick
, Air Force Captain Bob Jackson, was in the operations room of the
ATIC with their only assistant, a pretty blonde WAC corporal, Thelma Wheeler, from
Huntsville, Alabama. Bob, in his late twenties like Dwight, was a recruiting officer’s
dream in his Air Force uniform, with short-cropped dark hair, a sleekly handsome
face, and a ready smile that always made Thelma squirm with pleasure. When Dwight
entered, Bob was sitting on the edge of the WAC’s desk, obviously flirting with her
while leafing through the morning’s mail, but he looked up and grinned when he saw
Dwight.
‘Lo!’ he said. ‘Our supervisor has arrived! I thought that phone call would get you
of bed.’
‘I was already out of bed.’
‘Tell it to the marines.’
Thelma touched her piled-up hair with exploratory fingers and asked, ‘Would you
two like a cup of coffee?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ they replied in unison.
Thelma pushed her chair back, stood up, and went into the small kitchen, looking
attractive at this hour of the morning in her standard WAC skirt and blouse. Dwight
thought there was something going on between her and Bob, but he couldn’t be sure
of it. Right now, Bob was removing his admiring eyes from the door through which
Thelma had disappeared and instead casting a more thoughtful gaze around the one
room that constituted the operational centre of the ATIC.
It was a spartan office, with a few desks, lots of filing cabinets, typewriters, phones
and a mountain of paperwork, most of it technical information sheets for official UFO
reports. The walls were covered with incident maps, charts and graphs showing most
of the reported UFO sightings, including the Foo fighters of World War II, the
Scandinavian sightings of 1946, and the wave of American sightings that had started
with the two famous incidents in Washington State in July the previous year. So far, the coloured pins on the maps revealed no definite, or linking pattern, to the
flight paths of the reported UFOs, apart from a general northerly direction of retreat.
PHOENIX: (Projekt Saucer series) Page 6
