Jamie Fredric
Last Op
Home of the Free
Because of the Brave
All Gave Some
Some Gave All
For All Those Who Served
Prologue
RAF (Royal Air Force) St. Mawgan is located on the southwest coast of England just ten minutes north of the popular seaside town of Newquay (pronounced ‘Newkey’). Originally a civilian airfield, it was “requisitioned” at the outbreak of World War II as a satellite base of nearby RAF St. Eval. During the period 1940 to 1941, the Germans bombed St. Eval because of its strategic importance.
In June 1943 the U.S. Army Air Force took over the base and carried out a number of major improvements. A new control tower was built and the main runway was widened and extended, turning it into one of the widest runways in England. Reopened as a Coastal Command base in 1951, it was used for maritime reconnaissance, flying Lancaster and Schackleton aircraft.
Beginning in 1956, the Vulcan, a jet-powered, delta wing strategic bomber, was flown by the RAF, then replaced in 1962 by a more improved Vulcan B2. The new aircraft featured more powerful engines, a larger wing, an improved electrical system, and ECM (electronic countermeasures). The Vulcan was the backbone of the United Kingdom’s airborne nuclear deterrent.
On October 2, 1969, an RAF crew flew the Nimrod XV230 aircraft to its base at St. Mawgan, where the Nimrod maritime operational training unit (MOTD) was formed.
Since 1962, two jets in every major RAF base were armed with nuclear weapons. They were on standby permanently under the principle of QRA (Quick Reaction Alert). Vulcans on QRA were to be airborne within four minutes of receiving an alert, as this was identified as the amount of time between warning of a USSR nuclear strike being launched and the time it would arrive in Britain.
In 1965 Prime Minister Harold Wilson and President Lyndon Johnson signed an agreement to store U.S. nuclear depth bombs at St. Mawgan for the Dutch Navy’s ASW (anti-submarine warfare) aircraft and for other members of NATO. Similar weapons for U.S. and British aircraft were also stored at this base.
The MK 57, a tactical nuclear weapon, was designed to be dropped from high-speed tactical aircraft. It had a streamlined casing to withstand supersonic flight and weighed about five hundred pounds. It was later reclassified as the B57.
B57s were under U.S. Marine Corps guard at RAF St. Mawgan.
Chapter 1
The piercing sound of a high revving engine shattered the silence of the quiet English countryside. Traveling along a dark, narrow two-lane road, the red car hit speeds up to one hundred ten miles an hour on the straightaways. The driver handled the 1275cc Austin Mini Cooper ‘S’ like a race driver, shifting gears rapidly just before putting the car into a slide around the curve. Then he simultaneously hit the clutch, shifted again, then stepped on the gas. Five inch J wheels dug into the blacktop.
There was little room for error. Lining both sides of the road were Cornish hedgerows, made of large stone blocks on either side of a narrow earthen bank, held in place with interlocking stones. But Derek Carter knew this road even better than the very street he grew up on.
For twenty-five years he’d lived with his parents, in the same house, on the same street in Bodmin. After graduating high school, he worked as a caretaker for the local primary school.
He’d driven the infamous Bodmin Moor at its worst, with fog so thick he resorted to hanging his head out the window, trying to follow a painted white line down the middle of the road. An even greater and more exciting challenge was driving a road without lines under the same conditions.
Adverse conditions, a feel for the road, a car responding to his slightest touch. That’s where his love of driving began.
Then two years ago he landed a position at RAF St. Mawgan. Although the job was again as a caretaker, he was grateful to finally be out of Bodmin.
He rented a one-room flat over a clothing store in the center of Newquay, not far from the Sailor’s Arms pub, a popular hangout for locals.
He practiced the route night after night. He had nothing to say about the time, nor the place of the drop. All he had to do was drive.
Every curve, every road imperfection had been memorized. He knew what lay beyond each individual curve. Fifty yards past curve number five was the first of two turnoffs, leading into open fields and private property. The second was twenty-five yards past curve number nine. If he suspected he was being followed, one of these turnoffs might be his only chance to lose the vehicle.
With each practice run he tried driving faster, pushing it, trying to knock minutes off his time. He even attempted to make the drive without headlights, but the road was too dark, the risk too great. He wasn’t that crazy.
He glanced quickly in the rear view mirror. His instructions were to be sure that no one followed him to the rendezvous point. No one. The drop had been made on time, in the exact location specified, at the fork in the road, then five paces to the left of the signpost. Within seconds of picking up the package, he was back on the road.
The package. Just a large envelope, sealed inside a plastic bag. He’d tossed it on the passenger seat, not giving it a second thought. His only concern was making the delivery, not what was inside the envelope.
Still no sign of headlights behind him. Now, there were only four more miles to go to the quarry where he’d meet his contact. All he had to do was hand over the envelope, then pick up his money. After that, his drive to Poole should only take three hours, and with twin ten gallon fuel tanks, he wouldn’t have to stop, giving him plenty of time to catch the ferry to Cherbourg. From there he intended to disappear into the French countryside.
China clay is highly decomposed granite, rotted by the action of water. Powerful jets of water are directed against the sides of the pit, washing away everything in their path. The clay, together with sand, stones, etc., is carried to the bottom of the pit. After repeated washings, the clay is separated from the waste, pumped up to the surface, then undergoes further washing and filtering. The resulting waste is conveyed to the top of the burrow and tipped out by special apparatus. Once sand and impurities are removed, the clay is taken to a long, one story building with a furnace at one end and a tall chimney at the other. The floor is heated, the surplus moisture is extracted, and finally, the clay is loaded into railway trucks for transport.
Gearing down, Carter turned off the main road onto Peters Hill Road. As instructed, he drove past the first quarry to the end of the road, then he crossed Old Pound Road to the next larger quarry.
He brought the Cooper to just under twenty miles an hour. Driving past a set of buildings, he glanced at a lighted sign above the door on the first building indicating it was the office. The next long building appeared to be the drying facility. Both buildings were dark inside. He turned left, then made a right at the fork. His instructions were to drive to the top of the clay pit above the water-holding pond; then he was to wait.
Driving up the hill, he flipped on the high beams, then followed a narrow road for about a hundred yards. The tires kicked up white clay residue, spraying the powdery substance across the car’s underbelly and lower door panels.
He turned on the overhead light and glanced at his watch. Ten minutes early. Shutting off the headlights, he left the parking lights on. Opening the glove box, he removed a pack of Players No. 6 cigarettes, the most popular brand in England. He tapped the bottom of the pack, then drew one out between his lips. Tossing the pack into the glove box, he opened his door, got out, then lit the cigarette with a disposable lighter. He took a long drag, making the tip of the cigarette glow red hot. Leaning back against the car, he slowly blew out individual rings of smoke, watching each one dissipate into the air.