Trauen
“It was a good idea to locate here, Herr Doktor. There are never any tourists in Trauen.” Heisenberg reveled in the late-summer/early-fall weather; the peaceful sound of a light breeze in the trees – he’s managed to tune-out the sound of the cranes and other equipment during the ramp’s construction – so when the ramp was completed and the painters came to do their work, the silence was deafening at first.
Then, the engine-testing began. Several of them exploded – until they realized that regulating the combustion-chamber pressure was a necessity; it took VonBraun to figure that out, and when he did, the engines exceeded their thrust-goals.
The large building which housed the Bird itself was guarded day and night – as were every road for ten miles around. Buying out the local farmers had cost a fortune – but the Party had done so, to guarantee absolute secrecy. While engine tests were still being performed, what had really made it possible to get this far, this fast, was the fact that the nation was not at war.
He’d heard that Herr Hitler had contemplated invading France and Poland by late 1939 – and that he’d been talked out of it by Goering and others until the new generation of weapons were ready. He didn’t know much about such things, and like VonBraun, didn’t really want to know.
He was happy to have produced the powerplants which saw to it that the nation never paid a power-bill. He was still working on the bomb – and with Hahn at his side, it was closer to completion than he’d dreamed.
Yes, the Fatherland would be safe once he was done –
Interrupting his thoughts, Sanger said, “I’ll need your progress report by Tuesday, Heisenberg. The Fuhrer is insisting that we all stay on task.”
“Ja, Herr Doktor.”, replied Heisenberg. “I will have it for you. Hahn and I have determined that it will take only this much” – he held two palms together, in a shape that roughly equated to a mango – “to make a bomb.”
“Good. Very good.”, replied Sanger. “I don’t know about these things. You do. My job is to manage both projects, as well as to provide my design and input on the Bird. How is the separation process coming?”
“We have determined that the best way is to collect Plutonium chemically from the graphite control rods of the powerplant reactors, Herr Doktor. As only small amounts are created, we have teams harvesting the powerplants on a weekly basis.”
“Security?”
“The plant workers have been told we are simply changing the rods. Some have grumbled that we’re overmaintaining them, but that’s a minor thing. We just tell them to mind their own business.”
“Excellent!”, said Sanger, with a rare laugh. “Now – I want you to see something.”
They had been walking toward one of the buses which shuttled personnel to various parts of the by-now-huge Trauen complex. Heisenberg noticed that there were several important looking people on the bus. Boarding, he and Sanger were introduced by one of their innumerable aides, and given a seat.
They traveled the stretch between the research and administration facilities and the beginning of the rail-complex without words. When they reached the rail complex, Heisenberg noted that there was already a crowd gathered in the reviewing area about a half-kilometer away.
On the rail, steam coming from the supercooled fuel in the booster and the plane, sat the Silbervogel.
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Washington
“I don’t like it, Mr. President – not one damn bit!” Admiral King and Secretary of War Knox were in the Oval Office with Cordell Hull and President Lindbergh. They were poring over a map, drawn from memory, from a defected junior German SS officer.
“This fellow says that the Germans have built this contraption – it looks like a rollercoaster-to-nowhere – and the only thing he was able to learn about the project was one word – ‘Adler’- that’s German, for “Eagle”.
Hull continued. “This fellow is convinced that Hitler is going to start a damn war. He’s seen with his own eyes airplanes with no propellers that fly at incredible speeds. No, Mr. President, I don’t like it – not one little damn bit.”
Lindbergh sat behind his desk with fingers tented in front of him. After a moment, he spoke.
“Secretary Hull – how do you know this fellow didn’t concoct this story to get a free trip to America?”
Hull sighed. “Well, I don’t, Mr. President. But why would he say this if it weren’t true?”
“To get his name in the papers.”, Lindbergh said. “Until I have more proof, I’m not doing anything. Look,” he said, pointing to the front page of the Washington Post, which he held up for all to see. “Economists Fear Recession”, read the headlines. Lindbergh flipped to page five. “Germany Launches Von Richtofen – Largest Carrier Afloat” – in 16pt. type on page five, it didn’t appear ominous at all.
“If the Post isn’t worried, I’m not. I think they’ve got their priorities straight.”, Lindbergh said, putting the paper down.
“I’ve seen that ship on Swedish newsreels at their embassy here, Mr. President.”, said Secertary Knox. “Did you know that it’s built on the Japanese Shinano-class hull? The Nips and the Krauts have been trading plans for nearly ten years. It was the Krauts who convinced the Nips to drop their plans to build battleships. They converted this hull shape to a carrier. They’ve got six building in Kure and Sasebo now, and the Krauts have four more building in Hamburg and Kiel. And, if they get some of these — ‘propellerless aircraft’ on them, who knows what they could do!”
“And what do you propose we do about it, when the average American doesn’t care what happens in Japan or Germany – and is more concerned about next week’s rent?”
“Pray.”, said Knox. “It’s almost too late to do anything else.”
Admiral King’s face grew red. He knew this better than anyone. The Essex class aircraft carriers wouldn’t be ready for anything other than testing until perhaps 1943 or ’44 – and the new aircraft from Grumman and Lockheed, while good designs, weren’t the class of aircraft the Germans had designed. The main battle-line of the American navy was based on second-generation dreadnaughts – huge battleships with cage-tower masts and guns which could fire a shell twenty miles.
One of these aircraft had a range of five hundred miles – and who knew if the Leutnant from Trauen, Germany was telling the truth – and what this contraption was for.
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Trauen
Sanger and Heisenberg walked to the podium together, as the two heads of the respective projects. Sanger was the speechmaker; he spoke briefly about serving the Fatherland; a new era; the usual. They walked to their places, and sat.
Walking to the Silverbird from the ready-shack was a man whose photo had appeared in many magazines and newspapers; Hauptmann Adolf Galland, hero of the Spanish Civil War and a bit of a rogue. Heisenberg thought him a show-off; Sanger thought he was perfect.
Waving to the crowd, Galland climbed the ladder to the cockpit; was helped into the single seat and strapped in. Sanger turned to Heisenberg, and said “We had the devil’s own time producing a pressure-suit. It was necessary in the event the cabin-pressure failed. I’m hoping that Hauptmann Galland doesn’t find it too uncomfortable. I borrowed a page from your ‘book’, Heisenberg – there’s a recirculating pump in the cockpit that’s hooked up to the suit – he should stay nice and cool.”
Heisenberg nodded. He was anxious to see the Bird fly.
So was everyone. Tests, retests, checks, rechecks – then the technicians began walking away. A klaxon sounded. Sanger nudged Heisenberg; they both put on sunglasses.
A loudspeaker droned a sonorous countdown – “…drei; zwei; ein….”
A brilliant flash – and the massed-thunder of the six engines in the booster split the very sky in front of them in a shock wave which was felt through the feet of every spectator. Involuntarily, Heisenberg put his hands over his ears, as the sound got louder, seeming to shake the very ground under them.
Restraints fell away from the rail, and the Silbervogel began to move – slowly at first, then exponentially faster. Suddenly, it was out of immediate sight, moving down the rail at a frightening rate of speed.
Galland, in the cockpit, used his radiomicrophone to read the gauges. “250; 300; 400” – he read the speed in kilometers per hour – “I’m off! Airborne!” The audience saw the Bird, now almost vertical, being chased by six yellow-orange flames and a massive shockwave.
Then, it appeared that the craft exploded. The crowd gasped – then realized that the craft hadn’t exploded – it has simply created a massive shockwave due to its speed.
The audience had witnessed the crossing of the sound barrier.
In unimpeded vertical flight, the Silbervogel attained an altitude of a little under eight kilometers, at which point the booster flamed out and was automatically jettisoned. The Silbervogel’s main engines automatically engaged, driving the craft higher.
At this point, its velocity was enough to take it to the stratosphere.
The main engines were disengaged at twenty kilometers, just as Galland nosed the Bird over. His speed could only be estimated at this point; there were ships in the Atlantic which were listening for his radio-beacon overhead; the data collected could be analyzed later for speed.
Silence. Above him, Galland saw blackness. Below, he saw the curvature of the earth. The feeling was much like falling; perpetually – in retrospect, Galland was glad he’d only had coffee to drink that morning. “Surfing” the shockwave created by such speed was still unreal – he had taken a pencil from his flight-suit and let it drop; watching it drift slowly down meant that the craft was nearly weightless due to the combination of speed, forward motion, and gravity.
“Just think; if we get those in perfect balance, we can stay up here indefinitely. But how would one get back down again?”, Galland thought to himself. He checked his instruments again; simple and elegant, there was an analog calculation device which gave him longitude and latitude – something which couldn’t be done in a conventional aircraft due to cloud-cover. This gave him all the information he’d need, along with the two chronometers, to perform the second part of his mission.
He’d been watching the “is/was” (as he called it), plus the two chronometers on his panel; soon, he’d have to nose the craft downward over the western Atlantic, and begin his mock ‘run’.
The test which Sanger had devised was simple. Strange; almost laughable, but simple.
Both the primary chronometer and the analog calculator reached the predetermined points at the same time – this meant that the engine thrust-yield was spot-on; another confirmation which he could give Herr Sanger.
Galland nosed the Silbervogel over into a shallow dive. Denser air stabilized the craft, and made the second phase of his mission easier.
He pressed a button on the panel, and heard the motors behind him whine as the bay-doors opened inward (at that speed, anything which opened outward would have been immediately torn away). He checked the secondary chronometer, which gave him the exact drop-point. He watched intently as the two instruments, chronometer and calculator, reached the same point – the drop was automatic at that point; the only thing he had to do was maintain the proper altitude.
About 50 kilometers off the American coast, a bomb-shaped canister dropped from the weapons-bay of the Silbervogel. This triggered an autoswitch which immediately closed the bay doors.
Galland nosed the craft up, and fired the engines.
The impact slammed him into his seat, and took him skyward again to complete the rest of his journey. “What do the Americans say?”, he thought. “Piece of cake? Ja. Piece of cake.” He settled in for the journey home – which wouldn’t take long.
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Sanger turned to Heisenberg. “Now, we wait.”
“How long, Herr Doktor?”, said Heisenberg.
“A little over an hour and a half.”, said Sanger. The crowd was already getting leaving the bleachers; there was a tour of the facility planned while the test-flight was in process.
Heisenberg was bored during the tour – there were people from the Luftwaffe and the Todt Organisation taking alternate turns telling those-present how this was a great day for the Fatherland; a great victory for German technology. While Heisenberg had not expected Chancellor Hitler to attend, in retrospect, he understood why Hitler would not have missed this one for anything.
An hour come-and-gone, they assembled back at a different set of bleachers, a couple of kilometers away. Nervously, a lot of the assembled multitude smoked cigarettes and gossiped among themselves. Suddenly, several ‘clicks’ on the ever-present loudspeakers, and the voice of Adolf Galland was clearly heard, along with two of the control-room personnel.
“Silbervogel, preparing to land. I have visual.”, said Galland, although his voice sounded like it was squeezed through the ether, much like listening to a shortwave radio.
“We have you on radar, Silbervogel.” Some additional directions were stated in the form of mathematics – Heisenberg understood the principles of navigation, but not the language – and then, just as suddenly, he noticed a small silver speck, impossibly high; if it were a normal aircraft, it would be below any possible horizon.
Gradually, the speck grew larger; took on form and detail; moved a bit in the air; changed attitude, and began a descent-in-earnest.
The field in front of them was newly-paved concrete; clearly demarked and now lighted, even though it was not 2:00PM. Its wings and tail extended, the Silbervogel now nosed up; then deployed its landing-gear.
Touching down on the field, the bird streaked down the runway, its national markings on tail and wings now clearly visible. It stopped right in front of the bleachers.
Trucks and technicians sprang seemingly from nowhere; producing a ladder and opening the cockpit door, the techs helped a slightly-stiff Hauptmann Galland from his seat to the tumultuous cheers of the spectators, including Chancellor Hitler and his entourage.
Adolf Galland had circumnavigated the earth in less than two hours.
“Now, it is up to me.”, said Heisenberg, under his breath.
“What was that, Heisenberg?”, said Sanger.
“Oh, nothing, Herr Doktor. I have much to do.”
Much to do indeed, thought Heisenberg.
(Next – Eagle’s Nest – Part V)
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