Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) Read online

  By a miracle, the left wingtip swept over the top of a number of huts which, although unoccupied at the time, would have added to the risks for ‘Miss Merlene’s’ crew.

  Through the glasshouse, Loveless observed the approaching fuel bowser and fuelling station, the pair sat inevitably in the area through which the Superfortress would pass.

  He gritted his teeth, and a slow moan escaped his mouth as the aircraft took the shortest possible route towards…

  … towards…

  With a lurch, Dimples-nine-eight came to a halt less than four feet from the bowser, the nose stove in but not breached, the soft earth surrounding it like a rolled comfort blanket.

  “Crew out! Crew out!”

  Pilots and flight engineers switched off everything and undid their harnesses, as the others rightly broke world records in their haste to get outside of the death trap, the smell of aviation spirit heavy in the air already.

  Crail stood back as Fletcher dragged the unconscious Jones to the hatch and passed him out to the waiting Nelleson and Loveless.

  Jeppson, bleeding heavily from a head wound, stumbled past, disorientated by the crash-landing and the blood in his eyes. Crail grabbed him and guided him to safety, the heavy fuel fumes already causing his brain to ache.

  He dropped to the ground, ignoring the momentary pain, and urged the men to move away from ‘Miss Merlene’.

  Faithful to the last, the aircraft did not catch fire, and soon the crew were overwhelmed with rescuers of all shapes and sizes.

  Ambulances opened their doors and Crail counted the boys in one by one, sharing hugs and handshakes with each and every man.

  When all but he and Nelleson were loaded up, Crail saw what had happened to his aircraft, appreciating for the first time how lucky they had all been.

  But there was something else that suddenly exercised him, and he ran as best as his sprained ankle allowed, closely followed by his co-pilot, moving towards the gaping hole that used to have a tail attached.

  “Oh my lord!”

  Nelleson shared the sentiment, the absence of either man quite apparent.

  Both of them turned to look back down the runway, barely acknowledging the low run of ‘Necessary Evil’, a gentle wing waggle showing their relief at the incredible landing.

  The tail section lay virtually upright, no more than a degree or two out of the vertical.

  Three vehicles were in position, and both men could see rescuers moving slowly, unhurried, and lacking in urgency.

  A USMC jeep screeched to a halt.

  “You two’s wanna see the rest of your plane?”

  No second invitation was needed, and the pilots hopped aboard as the jeep sped off towards the other bit of ‘Miss Merlene’.

  The reason for the lack of urgency was soon apparent.

  Blockridge was sat smoking a huge cigar, courtesy of a US infantry officer who, despite still being out of breath from his ‘olympic’ run to assist, had found time to produce a Cuban to celebrate the incredible survival of the two airmen.

  A navy corpsman was working on Blockridge’s broken left arm, fussing around and gently scolding whenever the Staff Sergeant moved even slightly.

  Hanebury, a non-smoker, was coughing his way through his first Lucky Strike, still mentally examining his body for missing pieces and surprisingly coming up with negative results.

  Both men were surrounded by rescuers who wanted nothing more than to shake their hand, touch their uniforms, or do anything to acquire a modicum of the luck that had preserved them.

  The USMC jeep came to a halt, discharging Crail and Nelleson, who immediately set about burrowing through the crowd.

  The two NCOs stood and gave formal salutes, which were returned by the two pilots. All observed by a mixture of Army, Navy, and Marine personnel who now had absolute confirmation that all airmen were completely gaga.

  An Army Air Force Colonel arrived and ordered the four survivors into an ambulance, which immediately sped off to the sick bay, where the crew of ‘Miss Merlene’ were reunited.

  USAAF senior officers had planned to present Tibbets with a DSC the moment he landed. That went out the window the second that Enola Gay fell out of line.

  So there was no immediate presentation made to the crew of the first Atomic Bomb mission, but that issue was addressed when General MacArthur himself flew in to the repaired Futenma Air strip two days later.

  On his orders, ‘Miss Merlene’ had not been bulldozed into the scrap heap, but Seabees and Air Force personnel had recovered her carefully, preserving most of her remaining structure and integrity.

  Assessments were still being made as to what would be done with the historic machine.

  Her crew stood in a rough line within the medical facility as Macarthur waxed lyrical about their success and how the end of the Japanese war had come closer with their efforts.

  For JP Crail, Richard Loveless, George Nelleson, Ralph Burnett and Art Hanebury, there were well deserved DSCs. For everyone else, including the dead Mario Piccolo and the missing Al Cannington, there were Silver Stars.

  Centerboard One had lost two aircraft, with twelve personnel killed or missing.

  In Japan, the devastated Kokura had suffered over sixty thousand dead.

  1444 hrs, Wednesday, 29th May 1946, Office of the General Secretary, the Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.

  The first information had arrived with Molotov, through diplomatic channels.

  Subsequently, information arrived on the desks of Marshall Beria and Colonel General Kuznetsov, as NKVD and GRU sources became aware of the historic events in Japan.

  The GKO had been informed, and all but the ill Bulganin were present to hear Molotov recite the message he had received from the Soviet Embassy in Tokyo.

  Beria held four messages. One in support of Molotov’s, and two from another continent, their content almost taunting him.

  And one other.

  He read out the communication from the NKVD rezident in Japan, which did little more than confirm everything that Molotov had said.

  Stalin waited for the three other messages, already apprised of most of their content during a brief telephone conversation an hour previously.

  Beria continued.

  “These two messages, Comrades, are from agents placed within the Amerikanski atomic programme. They warn of a likely immediate use, but are unable to speculate on the target. They also speak of a higher capability than previous suspected.”

  “Meaning what exactly, Comrade Marshal?”

  “Meaning, Comrade Molotov, that they have more devices than we expected, and are ready to use them.”

  Beria had decided to keep part of the message from Agents Alkonost and Gamayun secret for now, for fear of making himself look inept.

  The communication from the Imperial High Command was for him and Stalin alone.

  For once, Stalin was calm and collected in his response, offering direction to the assembly.

  “Comrades, we must consider this attack and new information carefully, and not make hasty judgements.”

  Stalin looked at the old clock and made a swift calculation.

  “We will reconvene at seven. Use the time wisely, Comrades. Polkovnik General Kuznetsov, ensure that our Japanese allies are made aware of everything we now know.”

  The GRU commander nodded his understanding.

  “We will deal with our intelligence failures another time.”

  The flatly delivered statement more than successfully carried the intended threat.

  “Until seven then, Comrades.”

  The meeting broke up.

  “Comrade Beria, a moment please.”

  The door closed before Stalin spoke again.

  “Now, Lavrentiy, what else do you have to tell me?”

  There was no way out for Beria, and he knew it.

  “Comrade General Secretary, I did not consider it prudent to reveal everything from the messages I received from our agents, not before informing you first.” />
  Stalin didn’t bother asking why he hadn’t been told over the phone; he understood Beria’s game perfectly.

  Beria passed across the Alkonost and Gamayun messages, adding the Japanese one as an afterthought.

  The silence was deafening, although the effect upon Stalin was marked, his face flushed and his eyes narrowed.

  He read the first message again, this time slowly and aloud, punctuating his recital with the occasional look at his man.

  [priority code] QQQ

  [agent] Alkonost

  [date code] 250546d

  [personal code as an authenticator] FB21162285

  [distribution1] route x-eyes only

  [distribution1] AalphaA [Comrade Marshal Beria]

  [message] Higher production of uranium weapons confirmed A+. Minimum double suspected B-. Use is imminent A+ Groves. Possibly deliberately misleading project staff. Own view B+. Successful test on plutonium bomb A+ self-observed. Increased security threat to self. Interaction impossible. Hotel-Eagle.

  [message ends]

  Message authenticates. Codes for non-compromisation valid.

  RECEIVED 12:58 29/05/46 B.V. LEMSKY

  Beria readied himself, and was right to do so.

  Stalin skim read the next two messages, his anger slowly overcoming him.

  And then he cracked.

  “What the fuck are we doing finding out now, eh?”

  The messages were thrown at Beria with vigour, although their lack of aerodynamic form meant they missed their intended target.

  “You’ve failed… failed me… failed the party… failed the Motherland!”

  Beria shrank back as Stalin rose and advanced on him.

  Gesticulating wildly, Stalin put the whole thing in a nutshell.

  “We have Raduga underway, intent on hitting them before they have themselves organised, both politically and technically, and now I find we are so fucking far behind that I might as well toss fucking acorns at them!”

  Beria wisely remained silent as Stalin’s finger waggled, both in accusation and in indignation.

  “What do we do now, eh? Let the bastards bomb the Motherland from Vladivostok to Archangelsk, cover the land with their atomic bombs? Raduga is smart… Raduga is an excellent idea… but it’s not a war winner by any means, not like these… these terror bombs are.”

  He turned away, seeking solace in a cigarette and a sip of his tea.

  He returned to staring at Beria, his eyes burning into the NKVD leader’s very soul. Deliberately seating himself, Stalin seethed and plotted, reasoned and schemed.

  His eyes betrayed processes in his brain, processes Beria chose not to interrupt, although his own mind was already working on responses to the changed world situation.

  Suddenly the NKVD head realised that he had been caught up in a maelstrom of ideas, and had missed something extremely vital.

  Stalin was looking directly at him, and with chilling intent.

  “Comrade General Secretary?”

  “This changes nothing, except makes our plans more urgent, Lavrentiy.”

  Stalin rose dramatically, invigorated by a renewed sense of purpose and belief.

  “This is an opportunity for us… we must exploit it politically. These bombs… they bring issues, do they not?”

  The GKO had been briefed on the likely effects of an atomic explosion, and it had made sufficient impact for Stalin to remember it now.

  “We must use everything we have to foment unrest. Agitate in every political arena we can. Make the continued use of these weapons unimaginable to the capitalist’s workers… make the politicians scared for their own positions… agitate… undermine… confuse…”

  Stalin stopped and moved towards the window, recalling Vasilevsky’s briefing, and the ideas that resulted.

  “Yes, yes, yes…we have an opportunity here. Frighten the European allies with the after-effects of this bomb… play it up as much as possible… target the Amerikanski as Vasilevsky plans… break them inside and out… and when they are about to collapse…”

  Stalin turned quickly, making Beria start.

  The look demanded an answer from the NKVD chairman.

  “And when they are about to collapse, we initiate Raduga, Comrade General Secretary?”

  “We initiate the preliminary phase of Raduga immediately, Comrade Marshal.”

  Stalin paused for a moment, drank the last of his tea, and with studied care, replaced the cup in its saucer.

  “Make sure the fucking Turks can do their part in this. Without them… just make sure the useless bastards get their part ready.”

  Beria could only nod, the Turkish part in the whole operation had always been a sticking point, but an unavoidable one.

  Stalin continued, suddenly enthused.

  “But we create a new Raduga, one we can adapt with every new development. If our Japanese allies can still provide their part of the operation, then let us revisit the plan, and make it more than it was.”

  After a few minutes of quieter, clandestine discussion, the General Secretary and head of the NKVD went their separate ways, reinvigorated by new plans and objectives, having been handed part of their needs by the Allies themselves.

  Raduga had grown.

  There was no huge response from the Empire of the Rising Sun to the Centerboard strike, save that of outrage and condemnation, of accusations and national resilience; certainly nothing to make anyone think that the Japanese had been struck a heavy enough blow as to change their national view, or undermine their commitment.

  On Monday 3rd June, Tibbets finally got to drop L-11, turning the city of Hiroshima into a sea of fire.

  The following Friday, 7th June, Little Boy L-10 fell from ‘Big Stink’, piloted by Lieutenant Colonel Thomas J Classen.

  Beneath the B-29, the naval installation, port, and town of Yokosuka was obliterated, the attack being the final straw for the Battleship Nagato, which sank in shallow water for the loss of all but two of her crew.

  The fourth Centerboard mission was scheduled for Tuesday 11th June 1946, destined for the city of Hakodate.

  It was never flown.

  When you realise the value of all life, you dwell less on what has passed, and concentrate more on the preservation of the future.

  Dian Fossey.

  Chapter 152 – THE MIKADO

  0958 hrs, Monday, 10th June 1946, the Oval Office, Washington DC, USA.

  The atmosphere was taut.

  Water and coffee eased dry throats, as nerves gnawed away at the men waiting by the radio, the US Naval signaller checking he had the correct settings for the hundredth time.

  The clock inexorably moved its hands to the ten o’clock position and, to the second, the silence was broken by the soft orchestral strains of ‘Kimigayo’, anthem of the Empire of Japan.

  Just over a minute passed before the music faded out and was replaced by an announcer, declaring the identity of the main speaker.

  Shōwa-Tennō, or as he was known outside the Empire of Japan, the Mikado… Emperor Hirohito.

  The tension inside the Oval Office was incalculable.

  A soft voice started to speak, the words translated immediately by a white house linguist.

  “To our good and loyal subjects. After pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our empire today, we have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to an extraordinary measure.

  We have ordered our Government to communicate to the Governments of the United States, Great Britain, and China that our empire accepts the provisions of their joint declaration.

  To strive for the common prosperity and happiness of all nations, as well as the security and well-being of our subjects, is the solemn obligation which has been handed down by our imperial ancestors, and which we lay close to the heart.

  Indeed, we declared war on America and Britain out of our sincere desire to insure Japan's self-preservation and the stabilization of East A
sia, it being far from our thought either to infringe upon the sovereignty of other nations or to embark upon territorial aggrandizement.

  But now the war has lasted for over five years. Despite the best that has been done by everyone--the gallant fighting of our military and naval forces, the diligence and assiduity of out servants of the State and the devoted service of our 100,000,000 people--the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage, while the general trends of the world have all turned against her interest.

  Moreover, the enemy has begun to employ new and most cruel bombs, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives. Should we continue to fight, it would not only result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization.

  Such being the case, how are we to save the millions of our subjects, or to atone ourselves before the hallowed spirits of our imperial ancestors? This is the reason why we have ordered the acceptance of the provisions of the joint declaration of the powers.

  We cannot but express the deepest sense of regret to our allied nations of East Asia, who have consistently cooperated with the Empire toward the emancipation of East Asia.

  We also thank the Soviet Union for its most recent support and friendship.

  The thought of those officers and men as well as others who have fallen in the fields of battle, those who died at their posts of duty, or those who met death in other ways, and all their bereaved families, pains our heart night and day.

  The welfare of the wounded and the war sufferers and of those who lost their homes and livelihood is the object of our profound solicitude. The hardships and sufferings to which our nation is to be subjected hereafter will be certainly great.

  We are keenly aware of the inmost feelings of all of you, our subjects. However, it is according to the dictates of time and fate that we have resolved to pave the way for a grand peace for all the generations to come by enduring the unendurable, and suffering what is insufferable. Having been able to save and maintain the structure of the Imperial State, we are always with you, our good and loyal subjects, relying upon your sincerity and integrity.