“Were you hurt?”
“Not at all and neither was you. I mean… no we had gotten away from the petrol when we saw him lining up on us and dove for cover. He wasn’t interested in us… just the petrol and he got it all. I guess this is how the Jerrys must have felt near the end when they didn’t have any more planes to protect them and the Yanks and our boys just roamed free shooting up anything that was moving during the day. I guess what that tells us is that we are in a similar situation after a month of these attacks. Imagine they have enough planes to roam around even in areas that they have already shot up. Enough planes to just go where you will and shoot up anything on the ground worth the bullets. Now I know how the Germans felt near the end.”
“And how was that.”
“They must have felt kind of hopeless. Kind of like it’s getting near time to quit and end this. That we’re defenseless… utterly defenseless.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“Turn it off now will yeah Brian. I’m done talking for now.”
“Sure thing Bob… sure thing.”
General “Hap” Arnold paced around the room. All eyes were glued to his unwavering pace as he strode from one side of the room to the other then abruptly turned and headed back to the other wall. He had not been feeling well but this new challenge seemed to invigorate him. He was thinking just before his staff came with the latest news about the Second Battle of Britain. One more job to do before I retire, was his general thought pattern. He was day dreaming about that retirement when they knocked on the door of his office. It was a nice office but not too ornate. Nothing like Ike’s .
The news he had been given was going to require an immediate decision. One that could win or lose this newest war. Well that’s why they paid him the big bucks as he overheard someone say a while ago. Kenney was nominally in-charge of SAC but he was the one who had to deal with this information and he was the one who had to tell Kenny to start the countdown or not.
Much like Ike’s D-Day decision this one would probably win or lose the war. He had none of Ike’s negotiating powers or even a modicum of political savvy. He just got the job done. That’s why he supposed he survived several career destroying episodes concerning his unwavering support for Billy Mitchell, his being labeled a drunkard and his run ins with Morgenthau and by extension Roosevelt himself. Somehow his talents always won him a second/third and even forth chance.
The news he had to act on consisted of three reports. One: stating that the RAF was on its last week or two of existence. Two: the VVS has committed all the planes they were going to commit to their attack on Britain and the odds will never be greater for success in attacking the Soviet Bear where it counted. Three: General Kenny reported that he could be minimally operational in 7 days and could in theory carry out the attacks that SAC was designed to accomplish.
Minimally operational… what the hell did that mean? Kenney had been so brilliant in the Pacific. Was this new concept beyond his reach? Was he too tactically orientated? Had he been elevated beyond his abilities? Too god damn late to change horses in mid-stream now. LeMay would have been the better choice but you had to go with the horse you rode in on or some such lame excuse. It really was too late to change commandeers. Wait that was not the correct word.
All of these thoughts were rampaging through his brain when things started to get all jumbled up. He couldn’t think straight. All he could do was to keep pacing back and forth even that was getting more and more difficult. SHIT! he was having another heart attack or stroke. Shit!… what was he thinking so hard about… why was he walking back and forth? Who were these people and why were they looking at him? Why couldn’t he move his left arm. Oh hell here it came… THE PAIN the all too familiar PAIN! He had to fight through this and make some kind of decision… but what about. It was all he could do to keep from falling down.
“Hap… you okay?! JEESUS SOMEONE CALL THE DOC!”
Henry Harvey Arnold hit the ground with a sickening thud. His head bounced off the floor and a red stain started to form almost immediately. This alone probably would have killed him but he was dead even before he hit the ground.
It was late in the day and hot in the office. General Spaatz was actually nodding off when he heard a commotion coming from down the hall. He was stunned and shocked and couldn’t actually move for a full minute when he was told about Hap. He knew about the other heart attacks, but he had no idea that Hap was so close to death, so fragile. The possibility that Hap would die suddenly never seriously entered his mind. He figured that after this latest dust up that Hap would retire, and he would be the most likely candidate to take his place, but this was way too soon to comprehend. It would take him a few days to come to grips with the reality that his friend was dead. Yet he did not have a few days.
When he asked what could have upset Hap he was told about the news that Arnold was dealing with. No wonder he was under so much pressure. No wonder poor Hap’s ticker had stopped. Poor Hap. These were war winning or losing choices that had to be made and made now. It was almost impossible for him to concentrate as he poured over the reports that Hap had just dropped and scattered all over the floor when he collapsed. A few of the pages had poor Hap’s blood on them. Poor Hap.
He had to take command and take command now. The order to start the long planned operation would take a week to be fully implemented, and the RAF did not have much time left. The Soviets would not be distracted and might start to wonder about where the USAAF was and why they had not assisted the RAF with more planes and pilots. Why were the B29s not bombing their cities? Any day now they could shift their forces back to the targets that truly mattered. The kinds of targets whose destruction had help defeat Germany and ground the Luftwaffe. The only kind of target that the few remaining atomic bombs could have a devastating effect on and thus cripple the Red Army for a good 6 months. With Britain effectively out of the war they could shift their attention back to what undoubtedly was the prize… to what really mattered… to their oil fields at Baku and Ploesti. They could be well on their way to ringing their oil production facilities with those cursed rockets that took out our first attempt to use the Bomb in this war.
The time is now! This is for you old friend…
“Jensen get me Ike. We have a war to win and I’m sure Hap would have wanted us to carry on. Get me Ike… NOW! We go and we go big! Operation Hap is a go! Get me Kenny after Ike. We go with all we got, and we go now!”
Chapter Sixteen:
The Battle Rages On
The hole where the first bomb that fell on the British Isles was just starting to erode after 4 weeks. It hadn’t been touched since the 1000 KG bomb was dropped prematurely by the TU2 S Bat when the bombardier hit the wrong switch shortly after crossing the Channel from France. Our particular bomb was a split second faster in being released and hit the ground ahead of its twin. The bombs landed about a kilometer West Southwest of the South Foreland Lighthouse in the chalky white Dover soil close to the famous cliffs of Dover. The white scar stands out quite well from the surrounding green grass of a pasture gone to seed. The sheep who used to graze there having been moved and eventually slaughtered and put in cans for soldiers in the British Army to eat.