Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) (7 page)

The reply was instant.

“Not a one, JP.”

Nelleson barked back immediately

“None at all?”

“None, George, none whatsoever.”

Dick Loveless looked at the two Doubting Thomases in front of him, and at the silent spectators, Burnett sat at the flight engineer’s panel, and Blockridge, the assistant flight engineer, stood beside him.

As he took in their concerns, Parsons and Jeppson came back into view, their checking of the bomb complete.

Parsons couldn’t help himself.

“Trouble, Major?”

His hand automatically checked the presence of his firearm.

“No, Captain, we’re just talking here.”

Loveless looked at Crail, silently seeking advice on whether to continue, or just disappear back into his greenhouse.

Crail bit the bullet.

“Carry on, Dick.”

“Okay, Major. I have absolutely no problem with this whatsoever, and I’ll tell you why.”

Loveless pushed the cap back, adjusting the headphones so he could hear his own words properly.

“For a start, the Nips started it. We didn’t… so they have whatever coming.”

The silence drew him on.

“Yes, we’re bringing something new and awful, but they’d use it on us for sure…” he waved his finger to emphasise his point, “You
know
they’d use it on us, so I have no problem with that.”

Parsons piped up.

“Well, they tried that plague stuff out at the start of this war, and on the Chinese in the last war, so we know they have no moral stops on killing hundreds at a time with anything they can get their hands on.”

George Nelleson jumped on that comment immediately.

“We’re not talking hundreds, we’re talking thousands, and not just military personnel either. We’re going to kill a fucking city here!”

Crail went to speak, but Loveless was faster.

“Yes, George, we are. We are going to kill thousands of people in one moment of light.”

He cleared his throat and continued.

“Is that any worse than killing millions slowly by starvation, eh? The Nips are starving, dying in their droves every day, because we blockade them and they can’t work the land. Any worse than shooting them down in their tens of thousands when we try and invade… when our soldiers too will be shot down in their thousands on the beaches and in the goddamned paddy fields, all because the war goes on and on and on, eh?”

“No but…”

“No, but nothing, George.”

He slapped his friend’s knee, trying to defuse the sudden adversarial tension.

“I don’t believe half of the bullshit that we were spoon-fed, no more than any of us do, I ‘spect.”

Loveless suddenly realised that everyman who could see was fixed on him, eyes staring directly at him.

“Err, don’t forget we’ve an aircraft to fly here, folks!”

The moment broken, the pilots and flight engineers looked over their instruments, the two naval officers relaxed their tensed muscles and leant against the bulkheads.

“Look fellahs, I really believe that this’ll shorten the war and save lives. I actually believe it’ll save Japanese lives too, in the long run. It has to, surely?”

He left that hanging for a moment.

The point had been debated and turned over many times before, but not in this situation… not on the flight deck of a B-29 less than an hour out from deploying the first atomic bomb ever dropped on an enemy state.

Such imminence of action crystallised thinking much more than debate in some warm and safe Quonset hut back on Saipan.

Burnett spoke up from the flight engineer’s position.

“Yeah, but look at Hamburg and Dresden. Conventional bombing was supposed to shorten the war, and look at what those RAF boys went through afterwards from the press and politicians. And that was normal bombs and stuff, not atomics. Just imagine what lies in wait for us poor doggies, eh?”

1st Lieutenant Fletcher, the navigator, joined in.

“Fair point, Ralph. Even Prime Minister Churchill had his piece of that action.”

“Yeah, exactly… plus Hamburg, Cologne, Dresden, and all the others put up a defence. These poor bastards ain’t got a chance.”

Crail couldn’t help himself.

“So it would all be fine if they could shoot us down, yeah? Well, in case you boys ain’t noticed, we’re already sporting a little extra ventilation, and that’s before we do the deed.”

His voice carried the humour he intended and again the situation relaxed perceptibly.

Crail’s mind had debated, listened to the words of others, and made a firm decision.

“And, for the record, I’m doing what I think is right, regardless of what the press might judge now or in twenty years’ time.”

“Amen to that, Major. Boys, I see we’ve a chance to stop this war here and now… I mean the nip part obviously. I also believe the shrinks and generals when they say it’ll affect the Commies too…has to.”

Loveless moved upwards, to make sure he could get his point over with his eyes and face as well as his mouth.

“We put the nips to bed with this bomb and that has to send a message to the Commies… don’t fuck with us, Uncle Joe, we’ve got something that’s badass as hell and we’re not afraid to use it.”

A number of nods showed his message was hitting home. Again, a message that had been heard before, but not under these circumstances, in this time frame, on this aircraft, nearing the coast of Japan.

“Think of the lives we’ll save then. Our boys have bled dry over in Europe, and have done well. Just think… we now, the few of us, could save them in their thousands, save European civilians in their millions.”

He sensed a new resolve amongst his comrades and chucked in a moment of humour to end his ‘presentation’.

“Anyways… what you bastards worried about? I’m the poor bastard who has to drop it.”

Not a laughing matter, but tension releases itself in strange ways sometimes, and they all laughed.

“Navigator, time to point Alpha.”

“Skipper, point Alpha, twenty-six minutes on this course.”

“Roger that.”

He took a deep breath.

“OK Guys, let’s get this done by the numbers.”

Crail checked his watch automatically.

It was 0729.

‘Miss Merlene’ flew on to her date with destiny.

Centerboard One was almost there.

“Course 018, prepare to execute, on my mark… three…two…one…mark.”

Crail dropped the right wing and adjusted the B-29s course as the mission moved over point Alpha and turned for the bomb run to Kokura.

In the nose, Loveless checked and re-checked the aerial photographs of the Kokura Arsenal, specifically the configuration of the northeast corner, his precise target for dropping L-9.

The rest of the crew applied themselves, making sure that their particular area of responsibility was right up to the mark, ensuring that they did their bit to the absolute best of their ability.

The last weather report had talked of a slight worsening of conditions, but nothing that would cause an abort.

Loveless was calling the shots now.

His calm voice delivered the adjustments required, and the pilots acted, bringing the B-29 into the correct approach.

The navigator supplied his information in a steady matter of fact tone, suggesting nothing of the inner tension he felt… they all felt…

The intercom came to life.

“Navigator, Pilot…two minutes to release point.”

Crail acknowledged and gave Nelleson the nod.

The bomb bay doors were opened, illuminating the Little Boy with natural light.

Jeppson took the opportunity to re-examine L-9 before he made the required report, and saw nothing untoward, other than the wounded tail plane.

“Pilot, Bomb Bay, doors fully open… weapon is ready.”

“Roger, Bomb bay.”

Crail looked Parsons, his eyes seeking a required response.

“Major, the mission is a go, Release is authorised.”

He nodded at the naval officer, the final hurdle overcome in a few words.

“Pilot, Bomb-aimer, release authorised.”

The process was left until the last moments to ensure that every opportunity for a safe and accurate launch was available.

Crail had rehearsed this moment.

“Pilot, crew, stand by for release… we are about to drop our bomb, and show the world that war has no place in our future. Good luck to us all. Pilot out.”

The thought settled in the collective minds as the final seconds ticked away, and then individual brains made their own minds up concerning what was about to pass.

Crail…
just hold steady, Marlene baby, nice and steady
…

Hanebury…
get it done, Lovey, and get it done right
…

Parsons…
Please God, let this be righteous
…

Burnett…
They have it coming
…

Nelleson…
Sweet lord, what am I part of here
…

Fletcher…
Don’t fuck with America!
...

Jones…
Kill to stop the killing… are we right… really right?
...

Loveless……………………………….
that’s it!

“Bomb away!”

Everyone on ‘Miss Merlene’ understood that as the B-29, suddenly nine thousand seven hundred pounds lighter, rose instantly.

The procedure now called for a hi-speed turn, placing the rear towards the epicentre of the burst.

Hanebury, the man who would now have a direct view of L-9’s act of immolation, already had the goggles on, an item that he had strict orders to wear to protect his eyes.

A timer, initiated the instant L-9 fell away, came to life fifteen seconds later.

The timer did its job, and the altimeters were made ready to activate the device, once the barometer had told them it was at its designated height.

The barometer was simple but considered insufficiently accurate to initiate the device by itself.

At six thousand, seven hundred and seventy-two feet, the barometer membrane curved sufficiently to complete the circuit, fully arming the altimeters.

They registered the rapidly decreasing height.

At one thousand, nine hundred and two feet, they permitted an electrical impulse to ignite the three Mk15M1 Naval gun primers.

Fifty-eight seconds from the moment the bomb left ‘Miss Merlene’, those primers ignited the cordite charges, which in turn propelled a modest sized uranium projectile into another, smaller piece of uranium.

A total of one hundred and forty-one pounds of enriched uranium collided at nearly one thousand feet per second.

Catastrophically so.

The reaction took place in a micro-second.

Its effects would be felt for a thousand years.

At first, there was light.

A pure light, all-powerful, and a clear pre-cursor to something truly horrible.

Then there was fire.

A huge ball rolling upwards and outwards.

The pressure wave was tangible, and those on the observation bird watched in awe as it rammed through the air, seemingly carrying all before it.

Thousands of people died in an instant, blast and fire claiming lives without effort.

The wave bumped ‘Miss Merlene’, and Crail and Nelleson gripped their controls with firmer hands until it passed.

“Pilot, tail. Check in.”

There was silence.

“Pilot, tail, check in, you okay, Art?”

The voice that came back quite clearly belonged to Art Hanebury, and it equally clearly carried the true horror he had just witnessed.

His procedures had required him to report successful ignition and, although the sound and shockwave had done the job for him, Crail was a stickler.

Normally Hanebury would have been on the ball, but this was not normal, and his eyes had been assailed by a vision of hell that had never been seen before.

“Tail, Pilot, ignition confirmed… sorry JP… I mean, Major… I mean… my God…”

Crail thumbed his mike.

“Yeah I know, Art, we all know… horrible thing… worse than we could have imagined… but it had to be done.”

Hanebury pursed his lips unobserved and lashed out at the metal surrounding him, splitting his hand in a bloody thwack.

He bit back the pain.

“Roger that, JP. I know… but that’s…,” again unseen, he nodded towards the huge mushroom cloud that rose above the destroyed city of Kokura, “… that’s just so awful.”

Loveless seized on the slight pause.

“Then we must all pray that it’s the last time atomics are dropped on any one.”

More than one brain continued the thought.

‘… and maybe they are right… if it’s that horrible then we might just’ve ended war as we know it!’

The thought sat comfortably and eased many minds.

Crail consulted with Parsons, who issued the order.

“Pilot, radio operator. Send Dante, repeat, send Dante. Confirm.”

“Radio, pilot, send Dante. Over.”

“Roger. Out.”

As Staff Sergeant Jones sent the mission success code word, ‘Miss Merlene’ flew on, leaving behind death on a biblical scale.