1945 (51 page)

Harrison's face cleared. "That will be fine. Ah, Miss McCann ... ?"

Donovan spoke for her. "I'm sure Miss McCann would be delighted to serve as an unofficial administrative assistant while we sort things out—wouldn't you, Betty?"

Betty nodded solemnly.

There was a knock on the door and Mayhew's pained face appeared. "Mr. President, there are several people here who really need to speak to you right away."

The President glanced at his famous mantel clock and stood. "General Marshall, I'm going to have to do other things for a while. I really don't have a choice. Tomorrow I'll be addressing a Joint Session and demanding a declaration of war. Let's meet here at six this evening." As he started to stride from the room the President paused and glanced at Martel, who was visibly swaying as the adrenaline suddenly left him. "General, I want you and Martel to spend the intervening hours in bed here in the White House. Miss McCann, perhaps you could find someone to escort Commander Martel to the third floor. Then have whoever you find send a physician. General, you take the Green Room. Betty, have a physician attend General Marshall as well, if you will."

When Marshall made to demur, his Commander in Chief said simply, "That was not a request, General. I need you well."

As the meeting broke up, Kelly said disconsolately to Donovan, "And I didn't even get a chance to mention the Shooting Stars. We can strengthen their nose gear and launch them off the carriers."

Donovan smiled happily. "Oh, I don't think your idea will have been had in vain. Just wait for this evening."

Comforted, Kelly Johnson accompanied the small crowd as it exited the Oval Office in the President's wake.

1:00 P.M.

Lincoln's Bedroom

"Amazingly, there is nothing terribly wrong with you that a week in bed wouldn't cure," the attending physician told Martel. "But do not let that blind you to the potential seriousness of grenade fragments. In future avoid them if you possibly can."

Martel was almost certain the man was joking, his deadpan way of taking his patient's mind off the process of probing and prodding of the affected areas. That had not been a lot of fun, but it was over now, and the good doctor was busying himself with dusting, injecting, and rebandaging. Soon he would be gone.

Betty stood behind him, a little to his right, as if supervising. Framed by the early-afternoon sunlight streaming in behind her, she glowed like a creature from a higher plane, or so it seemed to Martel. Would the two of them really be alone at last? It hardly seemed possible. ... And yet,
snap,
the black bag achieved closure, and with a final admonition that Martel was to avoid any exercise, the good doctor walked the considerable distance to the door to Lincoln's bedroom, and was gone, leaving the door discreedy ajar.

With a barely visible hesitation Betty sat beside Jim where he lay gazing at her. Their hands sought each other, clasped. They drank each other in.

"I thought you dropped me, girl."

"No, never, Jim." Carefully not letting go of his hand, Betty leaned over and kissed him softly for a long time. Jim felt a single tear fall from her cheek to his as, exhaustion finally having its way with him, he sank into reverie, and then sleep.

6:00 P.M. The Oval Office

As the group was ushered in, each taking the same seat as the time before, the President spoke somberly. "There is more bad news, I'm afraid. German forces have completed their seizure of Greenland and Iceland. It will take us months to extract them. For a while we thought they were going after Bermuda as well. That turned out to be a simple airfield seizure, part of the Oak Ridge operation. Apparently the idea was to provide a refueling base for the bombers. We've captured the lot of them. They blew up their planes though. Other than that not much has changed in the last few hours. The country is going crazy of course."

The President shook his head, then continued. "Well, let us turn to the matter before us. General Marshall, rather than deal immediately with the underlying philosophy of your proposal or the details of execution, I would like to continue the demonstration just a little further."

"I'm not quite sure what you're after, sir," Marshall said after a puzzled moment.

"Well, we've seen the results of rubbing a few very sharp minds together here. I'd like to continue the process with focus on exactly how to apply our new-old weapons to best effect."

Marshall hesitated, clearly troubled. "Sir, I will if you insist. But I'm not sure a technique conceived to generate wild and woolly notions and extract the best of them is really suited to strategic analysis in a command situation. It certainly would never have occurred to me to use it for that."

MacArthur and Halsey both sat glowering. There was no need to ask them their opinion of this new development. Martel sat frozen in place; the faintest hint of receptivity to the notion would land him in very hot water indeed, and he had no wish to be a lobster for his country, especially since he understood and shared his superior's attitude regarding an intellectual free-for-all in the venue of command decisions.

Harrison, aware that somehow he was suddenly faced with a united military front, preemptively surrendered, but on his own terms. He supposed that such instant agreement on the part of all four of them — the lowly Martel seemed as negative as the others—probably had some basis other than prejudice.

"I seem not to have expressed myself well. I merely want to listen to your group—including General MacArthur and Admiral Halsey, of course—consider the tactical implications of these weapons and procedures. I've been thinking about this off and on throughout the day, and it occurs to me that at least half of the effectiveness of what you propose will depend on surprise, and therefore none of what we have discussed here should be revealed in a piecemeal fashion. But I suppose that is obvious to the rest of you."

Marshall nodded encouragingly. "Yes sir, any weapon will be most effective the first time out, and since we have the option of a strategic-level rollout, we should take it" He looked at Martel. "Commander Martel? Any counter-analysis?"

"Well, sir, as a pilot I want the best I can get every time I go up. As an analyst... the only counterargument for using these weapons as soon as we have them would be air-bridging them to England for use before the fleet gets there. The RAF will need all the help we can give it, and I expect we could have carriers waiting in place for them as soon as the first RATO'd Bearcats are ready. Conceivably two hundred juiced-up Bearcats might keep England in play while we finish gearing up."

Marshall smiled lopsidedly. "And do you believe that, Commander?"

"No sir," Jim answered prompdy. "I think the Ratcats should be kept under wraps until we use them all at once. With a weapons development like this, with such obvious tactical counters, surprise is everything."

Marshall nodded and looked to the President. "Anything else, sir?"

"Well," the Commander in Chief said slowly, "I'm no strategist, not even an amateur one, but this begins to remind me of politics. I know Martel said before, and you all agreed, that the fleet mustn't go up against the Luftwaffe. But now I'm hearing that we actively want as big an initial air battle as possible."

Heads nodded thoughtfully.

"So what better," Harrison continued, "to tempt the Luftwaffe out over the water than twenty carriers and their attendant vessels?"

MacArthur laughed. "Since we can anticipate that the Germans will be doing their level best to tempt
us,
all we have to do is pretend to fall for it and go charging up the channel. Pure Plan Five, eh, Admiral?"

Admiral William "Bull" Halsey just smiled as he contemplated the prospect of Luftwaffe butt scattered to the four winds as his fleet steamed up the English Channel like they owned it.

While Halsey contemplated his version of Heaven, a place where subtle strategy and brute force were connubially intertwined, Jim, with a sudden sense of vertigo, looked over at Kelly Johnson. Kelly was looking at him with an expression similar to his own: It began to look like the better part of the US Navy would be going head to head with the Luftwaffe on the basis of what they had said here this day.

MacArthur spoke again. "There's about a fifty-fifty chance we'll arrive after the RAF has been knocked out, but with British ground formations still fighting. A surprise bloody nose to the Luftwaffe could make all the difference in a landing. If it gave us time to ferry in some jets it might win us the war."

"This would be a good a time as any to mention your other thought, Kelly," Donovan said quietly.

"What? There's more?" asked Harrison.

Martel and Donovan carefully did not look at each other.

"Just one thing, as far as I've come up with, sir," Kelly said.

"Which is?" the President gently prodded.

"Shooting Stars, sir."

"That's the Air Force's P-80 jet fighter that nobody seems to like very much, right?" The President asked.

"Yes, sir. The first version was underpowered and the newer one has control problems. But it is a jet, sir, and certainly good enough that pilot skill and surprise would be more important than specs in a fight with a262. Anyway, we could catapult them from the carriers. They'd have to land on RAF fields, of course, but if the British are still fighting they will surely control some airfields even if they can't get planes off them."

"How many Shooting Stars do we have available?"

"Approximately three hundred by the time we sortie,"

Marshall said. "We'll want to spread them on-deck throughout the fleet, since they would take up too much room belowdecks. That's fifteen per carrier, and one launch only, since they can't land on a carrier deck. But if the fight goes on long enough they can refuel in England and return for another round. Admiral Halsey, what shall we do with the Bearcats the 'Stars are replacing?"

Halsey had the unbelieving look of a man who hears reindeer on his roof. "The jeep carriers were earmarked to carry our entire inventory of Shooting Stars, sir. We'll just swap in Bearcats. In fact after the 'Cats launch off the jeep carriers they can rendezvous with the main carriers. There'd be no trade-off at all!"

Martel stirred. Marshall looked at him inquiringly.

"Uh, Kelly, you're sure the noses can be quickly reinforced to stand up under the catapult launching?" Jim asked.

Kelly shrugged. "Lockheed builds 'em, so I'd better be."

"Of course. I just wanted to be sure." Jim paused, then dove in. "The thing is, with P-80s in the picture the optimum disposition of the fleet changes."

Halsey started to swell dangerously.

"Not the fighting ships," Jim added hurriedly, "just the jeeps and the lame-duck carriers. What they're going to carry."

"Right. Just don't tell us how to fight the batde, Commander," Marshall added.

"Wouldn't dream of it sir," Jim replied fervently, "but I do think that given the time constraints we ought to look at our logistics very carefully in light of what we've come up with here."

"Go on."

"Well, I was suggesting before that we use the lame-duck carriers as bridges, but maybe that job would be better handled by the jeeps, and we send in the lame ducks with the fighting ships."

"They'd be more than 'lame,' Commander, they'd be
sitting
ducks. It's not just that they'll be slow. They'll be running with skeleton crews."

Jim shrugged. "Yes sir. War fighting is a dangerous job, and sometimes you have to do what you have to do." He pushed away an image of Trevor Harriman voluntarily absorbing the blast of a grenade. "Or maybe fifty miles behind the fighting ships. That should be close enough."

"Close enough for what?" Halsey asked suspiciously.

"Close enough to launch the P-80s and get the hell out of town," Jim said simply. "That way we could have a lot more jets in the air a lot faster, and if a problem cropped up with the nose gear it wouldn't be a problem in the main batde group."

"A problem in the main battle group would be a problem over the side," Halsey said dryly.

"Exacdy, sir. Since the backup group would have nothing else to do, the flight crews could take their time if they needed to and fix whatever it was that came up."

"Well, maybe," Halsey said. "What about your 'Bearcat Bridge'?"

"Jeep carriers for that, sir."

"Hmm. That works. We had jeep carriers ferrying the P-80s anyway, so a couple of them will be free."

"Gendemen," Marshall intoned, "perhaps the President doesn't need to hear this level of detail."

"Perhaps not," the President agreed. "But would someone like to summarize what we've come up with here? Miss McCann?"

"Yes sir," Betty said, flipping through her notes. 'Twenty-five hundred RATO'd Bearcats, some of which will sail with the fleet, some of which will rendezvous with the fleet
en route
via the 'Bearcat Bridge.' Two thousand RATO'd Mustangs will fly to England, launched from carriers five hundred miles off the coast. They will not, I gather, see action until the fleet arrives. Three hundred Shooting Stars will accompany the fleet on partially activated carriers for one-time catapult launch at the onset of batde. Four hundred and fifty Phantoms."