So were Vance’s thoughts on his son Tom. The last news had been from Mike Delaroy, his squadron commander, saying that Tom had been shot down just west of Guadalcanal and was missing. There was some hope that he might have survived—several of Delaroy’s pilots had made it back after being shot down. In the meantime Delaroy emphasized that Tom had been a first-rate fighter pilot, an ace with six confirmed victories, and that the Navy was still searching the area whenever it was possible to do so.
Now Vance regretted not telling the boys about Madeline. He had met her three years before, in Paris, where she was working for the American embassy. He was in France, negotiating the sale of Baltimore bombers for the Martin Company, and she had acted as a translator in the many endless meetings. She was French, young, Catholic, beautiful, and talented, fluent not only in English but also in Russian and German. It had taken all his courage to ask her out to dinner, where he found out that she was only twenty-eight, that she lived alone, and that she was determined to go to America.
Vance had never been a smooth talker with women. He had the engineer’s problem of being factual and direct. He felt awkward in courting a woman, and his compliments were usually delivered with painful obviousness. Yet it was different with Madeline. It was a cliché to say that they communicated without talking, but he soon saw that she focused her attention ferociously on him and seemed to anticipate what he would say. She was far too tactful to finish his sentences or to prompt him, but he felt she understood him as no woman, not even his beloved Margaret, had been able to do. It made decision making easy with Madeline, from which restaurant to choose to which dish to order.
Quite improbably they began an affair, which had now reached the point where Vance felt that they must marry, despite the war and their difference in ages. Madeline had gone to the American embassy in London just before France fell and within weeks was assigned to work with the emerging Free French organization. Vance’s work with jet engines brought him to Great Britain many times, and each time they found that the previous separation only enhanced their feelings for each other.
After all his years in the business, Vance had many chits out with friends. Ordinarily he never asked for a favor, feeling it might compromise his business dealings, particularly when he was negotiating for the government. But he wanted Madeline in the United States, and he knew that her language abilities would be invaluable to Consolidated. At first he contemplated going directly to Reuben Fleet, Consolidated’s leader, with the request, then thought better of it and simply forwarded her curriculum vitae to the firm’s personnel office, with a letter asking that she be considered for a position. Consolidated had replied by return mail, and Madeline had accepted a job as a parts chaser. But within weeks she had been promoted to a job where her language skills counted, working in “The Rock,” the seven-story concrete-block building where Consolidated’s headquarters was located. Only the top floor had windows, and Madeline often came home complaining of headaches from the fluorescent lights that dominated the drawing rooms. As busy as she was, she went tonight school to learn Spanish, adding another language to her repertoire.
All of this—his romance, bringing a woman to the United States, almost asking for a favor from a client—would probably not be approved by his sons, who were only four years younger than their putative stepmother. It was a recipe for trouble, and Vance knew it—and didn’t care. Still, until they learned Tom’s fate, Vance was going to keep the affair to himself.
The news that Tom was missing had hit Harry hard, for his concern for his brother’s welfare was heightened by the fact that he himself had seen no combat. After a very brief tour in England as a liaison officer with the Eagle Squadron, Harry had been pulled off to lead a mission to the Soviet Union to demonstrate how to use and maintain the Curtiss P-40s supplied by the Lend-Lease program. Then, against his violent protests, he was called back to Wright Field to head the fighter division of the Advanced Projects Branch, working directly under the legendary Ben Kelsey.
Two officers, a brigadier general and a colonel, smiled pleasantly as they eased past Vance, carefully sitting down four seats away to keep their conversation private. They apparently knew who he was, although he didn’t recognize them, both very young, neither man much over thirty. Two years ago, Vance knew every senior officer in the Air Corps. Now he was elated if he found a familiar face.
The room was rapidly filling up, and the air was already going bad with cigarette smoke. The building had once housed the Air Corps Museum. He recalled the big, airy structure and calculated that he sat about where the big Fokker C-2 transport the Bird of Paradise, the first plane to fly from the West Coast to Hawaii, had been placed. It was gone now, burned in a huge bonfire that destroyed the relics of twenty years, and the building was now cut up into a rabbit warren of tiny offices and conference rooms. Vance closed his eyes, said another prayer for Tom, then returned to searching the smoke-filled room for people he knew. A few old friends came over and spoke to him, and he nodded to others as they filed in to their seats. It was evident that this was a select group, engineers in the main but also the commanders of Wright Field’s aircraft and engine divisions.
Harry had told Vance at breakfast what the briefing was to be—a brief survey of the war, followed by a review of what was known of jet engine development around the world. The purpose was to evaluate the situation, determine how critically important a jet fighter was, and decide on how to remedy the disappointing performance of the Bell XP-59. America’s first jet had flown on October 1, demonstrating a very modest performance that fell short of that of the latest piston engine fighters. General Arnold was bitterly disappointed, and although he blamed himself for assigning the task to Bell, in typical fashion he ladled his anger out on everyone in the program, demanding a quick fix to match the bad news coming in from Germany.
The Bell aircraft had flown within a year, just as Vance had promised Sidney Hooker, thanks to incredibly diligent work on the engines by General Electric. But somehow, Bell had erred in creating the airfoil for the XP-59A. They had already used the highly successful NACA laminar flow wing on their new—and still untested—P-63 Kingcobra but had elected to use a fat, high-lift/high-drag airfoil on the XP-59A. It was inexplicable, given that the Bell engineers generally tended to the radical side.
As far as Vance was concerned, the failure of the XP-59A created a crisis in the jet industry, both in the United States and in England, and this meeting had better solve it. If it did not, the Germans might well own the air over Europe in 1943.
The implications of an enemy jet fighter force of even five hundred aircraft were staggering. The German jets could simply ignore the Allied fighter escorts and blast the Eighth Air Force bombers out of the sky in wholesale numbers. Far fewer jet night fighters could do the same to the Royal Air Force’s efforts. They could even eliminate the previously impervious Mosquitoes. With the bombing threat quelled and with it any possibility of invasion, Germany could turn its full attention to defeating Russia. The Me 262 had the potential of turning Germany’s current three-front war into a single Eastern Front conflict.
Vance was bone weary, with the pains from his last bailout—almost two years ago—flaring up with every change in the weather. His life had altered from the inspirational test flying of his youth to a montage of gloomy briefings in dozens of rooms like this, in the Pentagon, here at Wright Field, and at air bases all over the country, the only relief being the brief intervals he spent with Madeline.
There was a stultifying uniformity in the briefing rooms, all painted beige above the chair-rail line and olive drab below. Each one was equipped with a plain four-legged table, a plywood podium, and folding metal chairs. All the meetings were the same as well: crowded, poorly lit, too warm, too smoky, lubricated by quarts of dreadful GI coffee, and attended by anything from ten to a hundred men who were so busy on their jobs that they resented wasting time in meetings.
The lights flashed and Harry stepped to the podium. Va
nce was proud of him and confident that he wouldn’t do what almost every other briefing officer did: start the meeting with a bad dirty joke. Dirty jokes were the inevitable lingua franca of briefing officers, and while all were vulgar, few were funny.
Shannon laughed to himself, thinking, I’m getting to be a prude with jokes at a time when my love life is more exciting than it’s ever been. Madeline was an amazing romantic partner, utterly solicitous of his needs and, most amazing of all, responding so intimately to him that she never failed to climax just as he did. At times he wondered if her responses were genuine, but he knew from the look in her eyes, from the sweet satin sheen of her perspiration, from her breathing, that she felt exactly as he did. Sometimes after an unusually vigorous session she would, eyes still closed, press his hand and murmur, “Hot and sweaty, good, hot, and sweaty.” And it was good. And hot. And sweaty. He loved her.
Harry did not disappoint him, opening with a simple, “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” and flashing on the overhead projector. The words “Top Secret” appeared on the white screen behind him.
“I’m Major Harry Shannon, representing Brigadier General Oliver Echols, commander, among his many other duties, of the Army Air Force Advanced Projects Branch. I’ve been asked to give you a very short briefing, passing on the view of Army Air Force headquarters on the world’s military situation. I am then going to brief you on what is known of developments in jet aviation. The Advanced Projects Branch has developed several alternate proposals for the development of jet aircraft in the United States, and I’m going to ask for your opinions on which alternative we should adopt. You’ll note I said ‘alternative.’ We really do not have time to look into several ‘alternatives.’ The results of this meeting will be translated into action immediately.”
Vance swelled with pride. Harry was a professional, obviously the master of his material. He was self-confident, without being arrogant, his manner inviting both belief and questions. At breakfast, Vance had chided him about looking so tired and thin, but Harry had laughed it off, saying the work was good for him.
Harry began talking about the European theater, pointing out that the German offensive was continuing to advance in the Soviet Union, where it was now edging toward the oil in the Caucasus. “We frankly don’t know what will happen in the Soviet Union. They are trading land for time, and they have stopped losing masses of men to the Germans. They may not have any more to lose: we cannot tell, and they certainly do not tell us anything. But if the Communists can hold out through the winter, it will probably mean that Germany has lost the war.
“In North Africa, the Africa Corps’ advance had seemed to run out of steam, and the British had built up heavy defenses at El Alamein. We have to be careful in evaluating this theater—we tend to place too much emphasis on it. After all, the Germans are engaging some two hundred fifty or more Soviet divisions on the Eastern Front; in North Africa they are engaging no more than eight British divisions. It is obvious how they measure its relative importance.
“In the air, the British are continuing their strategy of night bombing of German cities. The Royal Air Force claims that the campaign is effective, but our own estimates indicate that it is not, at least in terms of reducing German production. Our own Eighth Air Force is just getting started. Between October 2 and October 8, we launched twelve hundred bombers at more than a dozen targets, some of them in Germany. We hope to double those efforts by mid-1943. By ‘bombing round-the-clock’ we plan to cut German war production at least in half.”
There was a subdued murmur of approval from the room; despite the fact that every man held an important position, few knew just how large the effort of the Eighth Air Force had become.
Harry followed with some tables showing the size of the forces involved, the number of aircraft available to the Allies and the Axis, and the losses each side had incurred. The most significant element was the relatively stable size of the German Luftwaffe, despite its losses. To Vance, this meant that despite the bombing, the Nazis were increasing production at a faster rate than had been anticipated.
Harry then confirmed Vance’s own opinion about the Me 262.
“The greatest danger that we see in the air war is the probable arrival of the German Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter in large numbers by mid-1943. If that happens, we will have lost air superiority for an indefinite period, until we can get our own jets into action. General Arnold puts the greatest importance on this and is determined to do everything he can to halt or delay the 262’s operational debut. There is no question in his mind that if the Luftwaffe were equipped with anything like the same number of Me 262 jets as they currently have in 109s or 190s, the Eighth Air Force would have to stand down. It could not endure the losses.”
No one spoke audibly, but there was a palpable buzz, a combination of indrawn breaths and profane mutters.
Next Harry switched to the Pacific.
“In June we won a fantastic victory at the Battle of Midway—in the future, it will probably be considered the turning point in the war. But the Japanese are fighting stubbornly on Guadalcanal. Essentially, we own the air during the day, but they own the seas at night.”
Harry paused for a moment to look directly at his father, Tom in both their thoughts.
Harry went on. “Despite the hard fighting, the prospects are good. We should be able to begin pushing the Japanese back by late fall or early winter. The war in Europe gets priority, as you know, but by next year we will have built up a big advantage in numbers, especially in aircraft carriers.”
Harry rapidly went through the other theaters of war—the Battle of the Atlantic, the Aleutians, China—and then turned to jet engine development.
“Gentlemen, this entire briefing is top secret, but the most sensitive portion of the briefing is found in the next few slides. Some of it is pretty raw—crude drawings and long-range aerial photographs. But I think you’ll see enough to help you point the way for the future here.
“Most of you are familiar with how a jet engine operates; for those that are not, let’s look at the following three slides. Don’t ask me for more information than presented here right now, and let’s try to hold our questions to the end of the session.”
Harry explained the very simplified diagrams, showing how a jet engine sucked in air, compressed it, injected fuel into the compressed air, ignited the mixture, which expanded explosively to drive a turbine wheel that in turn drove the compressor. The equal and opposite reaction of the jet of hot air passing out the rear of the aircraft propelled it forward.
“Next, I want to show you the jet aircraft that have flown to date.”
The first projection was a good drawing of the Heinkel He 178, with the notation that it had flown on August 27, 1939.
“We think this must have been a rush job just to prove the concept of a jet engine, for it is obviously too small to carry any significant weapons. It apparently flew a few times, and is now in the air museum in Berlin. That’s where we got this sketch, from a foreign national employed in a cleanup crew there. He dropped it off at the Swedish embassy, and someone was kind enough to provide it to the British. Next, please.
“This is the Italian Caproni Campini—it is not a true jet, for it uses a piston engine to drive the compressor. It made its first flight on August 28, 1940. The report we have says it was very slow, less than two hundred mph. Not much has been heard about it since. Next, please.
“The Heinkel He 178 must have been successful, because Heinkel flew the first twin-engine jet fighter in history sometime in April 1941.”
The blurred image of a pretty little twin-engine jet fighter flashed on the screen. “There were Swedish ships in the harbor at Warnemunde. Some Allied sympathizer took this photo and, with some supplementary information, had it passed on to us. Warnemunde, as you know, is where the Arado factory is located. It is just a few miles north of the Heinkel factory at Marienehe. At first this was identified as an Arado, but the lines of the wings and the fusel
age clearly indicate that it is from Heinkel.”
As he spoke, the bulb in the overhead projector burned out. “OK, let’s take ten while we get this bulb changed.”
Half of the group filed out to go to the latrine or grab a breath of fresh air, and Harry came over to where his father was sitting.
“How am I doing, Dad?”
“Great. I’m proud of you, Son. How did you get so inside that you’d be chosen to brief this material?”
“I’m not kidding myself, Dad—being Vance Shannon’s son is a big help. That’s why I want you to get me back into combat—in the Pacific, if possible.”
“I’ll try, Harry, because I know you really want it, but the fact is you are probably too important here to let go. I know how their minds work. When a commander latches on to a man like you, he won’t give him up, especially to go to combat. That’s where he wants to be himself! And I wouldn’t blame him.”
“Dad, it doesn’t even have to be in fighters. I’ve checked out in everything on the field here, B-17s, B-24s, A-20s, everything. Just get me a slot. I’m trying myself, but I don’t think my requests leave the field.”
Vance looked at him, realizing Harry had no idea of what he was asking. Vance knew the right people and could—and would—get him transferred. But what if something happened to Harry then? Vance would feel responsible for the rest of his life. It was irrational. Harry could be killed tomorrow, flying in a C-47 to a meeting. But the feeling was there. Harry would never know what it was—until he had a son of his own.
The lean staff sergeant who’d replaced the bulb in the overhead projector signaled to Harry, and after a check to be sure that everyone was back in the room, Harry went on.
“As I was saying, this is the Heinkel He 280, flown in April 1941 and probably in limited production right now. We estimate a top speed of about five hundred miles per hour, but it is too small to have much range, so it will have to operate as an interceptor. It’s one of the first German planes to have a tricycle landing gear, and we understand that it has an ejection seat for the pilot. Next sheet, please.
Roaring Thunder: A Novel of the Jet Age (Novels of the Jet Age) Page 7
