American Under Attack Read online

  “I’ve got you!” Joel shouted gleefully, and dove toward the other plane.

  Von Schroeder didn’t see him; Joel roared down behind him, and flashed past, shouting over the radio, “Guns! Guns!” Round one was his!

  Again, they flew to opposite ends of the field. At von Schroeder’s command, they started toward each other. Among the men watching them were von Schroeder’s staffel [squadron] mates and Joel’s small entourage.

  The two airplanes flashed past, and as Joel expected, von Schroeder turned left and climbed with him; both were going nearly straight up only about 100 feet apart, canopy to canopy. When von Schroeder saw him, Joel chopped his throttle – von Schroeder climbed as Joel’s airplane slowed. He snapped in behind the German’s tail.

  “Round two! Gotcha!” Joel shouted over the radio.

  Von Schroeder was shouting too, but in frustration and anger. He’d seen his men watching him; he had to win at least once!

  As they were flying to the starting position, the radio announced; “Return to the field at once; there is a thunderstorm about to cross the field.”

  Von Schroeder banked obediently toward the airfield, and Joel joined him. They landed, and taxied to where ground crewmen quickly tied down the aircraft. Von Schroeder stood aloof and said nothing as they waited for the storm to pass.

  1230 Hours

  Fight Concluded

  The storm passed, and the German Colonel informed them the contest could resume. The airplanes had been refueled.

  Joel again carefully checked his airplane. Von Schroeder was clearly exasperated at the American’s excess care.

  Don’t pop a gasket, Baron, Joel thought. The two men mounted their aircraft, and started engines.

  For the third contest, they again began at the extreme ends of the field. Joel had been thinking.

  He’s broken left every time – I bet he’ll to do it again.

  Von Schroeder’s Me-109 shot past. Joel turned up and rolled to his right. There he is! Von Schroeder had repeated his left turn, and was climbing. They flashed past each other, Joel now turning as hard as he dared to his left, still climbing. Von Schroeder turned to his right, taking him away from Joel. Rolling into a right turn, Joel tried to get behind his opponent. Von Schroeder would have none of it, and turned more tightly to his right than Joel could.

  They began to joust, with Joel trying to gain the position on the German’s tail, and the German dodging away. The way to resolve this, Joel knew, would be to slow his aircraft, and turn more tightly, inside the other plane’s path. With so little experience in this plane, Joel didn’t dare risk slowing too much, which could cause a stall and spin into the ground.

  Von Schroeder nosed down a bit, turning to his left. In seconds, with Joel starting to catch up, he turned right.

  Wait! He’s repeating himself; he feints twice one way and then turns the other.

  Instinctively, Joel slowed slightly, and began a left roll. Just as he thought, von Schroeder was mechanically turning back to his left, to evade his attacker. Instead, he flew all but in front of his opponent, and Joel had won again!

  The German snapped, “We will go one last time,” his voice brittle. They returned to the starting positions.

  Joel knew he’d be smart to let the German win once, but he shoved the thought aside. He had decided to see if the haughty von Schroeder would continue his left break habit; he deliberately slowed down as von Schroeder roared past him.

  Sure enough, there he is, Joel thought. He let the German see him, then slammed the throttle forward, and banked very hard to his right.

  Von Schroeder dove after him. Joel raced toward the ground, turned to his right, and skimmed along the open countryside fifty feet above the not-yet-ripe wheat. A glance over his shoulder proved that von Schroeder was in hot pursuit. He let the German gain on him, and then made a very tight, air show style low altitude right turn, his wingtip parting the green wheat stalks. He hoped von Schroeder would be surprised; he was. Joel went straight up and rolled to his left. Von Schroeder had turned wider than Joel, and was slightly below him, giving the American the advantage, which he took savagely. Now, he was on the Baron’s tail.

  They climbed, twisting and turning, back in the direction of the airfield. Joel predicted most of von Schroeder’s moves, and countered them.

  He’s still trying the twice-one-direction fake moves! Finally as they crossed the field itself, Joel went for the kill; “Guns, guns, guns!” he shouted over the radio.

  The German Colonel’s voice was angry; they were ordered to land at once. Schroeder is in hot water now, for sure! Joel thought, laughing, The Baron’s zero for four!

  As they climbed from their airplanes, Joel saw that von Schroeder was sweaty, red-faced, and very angry, clinching his fists.

  “Curse you!” he shouted at Joel. “You shamed me in front on my men! I demand satisfaction!” He threw a flying glove at Joel’s feet.

  He wants a duel! Is this guy nuts?

  Joel forgot the ambassador’s advice in his excitement.

  “You are no pursuit pilot, Baron!” he said with sarcasm, “you’re pathetic; you fly mechanically, like a poor student. I predicted every move you made! Perhaps you are better suited to transports or bombers!” There could hardly be a greater insult to a pursuit pilot!

  Von Schroeder’s face was black with rage, “I will kill you! I will kill you if I have to follow you to America or to Hell!” He shouted and then snapped his mouth shut as his Oberst [Colonel] stamped in front of him.

  Joel moved away in alarm. Von Schroeder stood at stiff attention as he got a stern dressing-down from the beet-red Oberst. Joel understood only parts of it; the Oberst was talking way too fast, his arms flying. The meaning was clear enough, though.

  Abruptly, the Oberst turned to him, and said through clenched teeth, “You are dismissed, Oberleutnant. No longer are you welcome here.”

  Colonel Bigsby raised his eyebrows in an “I told you so” gesture, and walked with him toward the waiting car.

  On the way to the Embassy, Joel felt a little smug knowing he was the first American to fly the ME-109. What a report he would have for the Air Corps Technical Division! But deep inside was a profound disquiet over what von Schroeder had said.

  Chapter 4

  24 June 1936

  American Embassy, Berlin, Germany

  0930 Hours

  Departure

  The next morning, a somber Colonel Bigsby interrupted Joel as he was writing his report.

  “Lieutenant, I have news,” he said. Joel stood and waited expectantly.

  Colonel Bigsby said seriously, “you will be declared persona non grata if you are not out of the country within twenty-four hours. Pack your bags, son. There’s a British Airways DC-3 leaving Templehof just after noon today. You will be on it.”

  “What does this mean, sir?” Joel asked him.

  “It means a permanent blot on your service record if you are still here tomorrow. It could mean an international incident if the Gestapo arrest you and forcibly put you on an airplane. Be in the lobby ready to depart by 1100 hours,” the Colonel said forcefully.

  “Yes, sir. Did they discover I’m an engineer, sir?”

  “No, Lieutenant,” he answered “you really embarrassed the Luftwaffe, and the Baron, and they are reacting to it the strongest way they know.”

  At fifteen minutes to 11:00, Joel was packed and ready. Several embassy personnel in the lobby were listening intently to a German radio broadcast.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “A German light bomber crashed at the Berlin airport, but nobody was killed; a Lieutenant General Walther Wever and his aide were on board.”

  “Wever – is that the Wever who’s Chief of Staff of the Luftwaffe?” Joel asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him; he’s called the ‘Billy Mitchell’ of the Luftwaffe,” the embassy staffer said, “He’s their biggest proponent of heavy, long range bombers.”

  “It would have
been a huge loss for the Germans if he’d been killed,” Joel said.

  1941

  Chapter 5

  19 August 1941

  First Air Force, 135th AAF Base Unit

  Millville Army Air Field

  Officers Club

  0815 Hours

  Spanish Situation

  “Well, well, isn’t this interesting?” said Major Henry as he ate his eggs.

  “What’s that, Jimmy?” Joel asked.

  Henry rattled the newspaper, “The New York Times says that the Germans have sent large numbers of quote ‘administrative advisors’ unquote into Spain, and not just to Madrid. Herr Dr. Goebbels says they have come at ‘Generalissimo Franco’s express request to aid in the mutual development of modern society structures as part of continued great friendship with Germany.’ Reuters says that they’re all young, fit men, but are not soldiers.”

  “Yeah, and Donald Duck is a pig!” said Joel. “May I see that?”

  A glance at the article confirmed what Henry said. Joel thought the Germans have co-opted Spain in such a way that they might be able to maintain the façade of neutrality.

  “Say, I’ll bet the Brits are plenty upset,” the Major said thoughtfully. “Now, their Gibraltar garrison’s at risk for invasion from the inland side and the Med; that’d be tough to defend.”

  “No doubt about that,” Joel said, “but I wonder what else they have up their sleeve? Is this a ‘friendly invasion,’ if there is such a thing? Think about it; if the Iberian Peninsula is Hitler’s new playground, he could threaten shipping going into the Channel or the Med.”

  “Yeah, if they wanted to be openly hostile,” the Major said thoughtfully, “but the Nazis could also use Spain as a transshipment agency and bring in strategic materials using Spain’s so-called neutrality.”

  “Say, that ‘d be whole new bucket of worms, alright.”Joel said. “I think I’ll see what G-2 has to say. May I borrow your paper?”

  Headquarters Building, Room 214 G-2

  Joel found the men in intelligence well aware of the situation described in the Times.

  “It’s a lot worse than this article lets on, Major,” one told him. “From what we know, the Germans have put their people into nearly every major bureau in the Spanish government, at all levels. For all practical purposes, Spain is now a German vassal.”

  “So, Franco makes the ‘decisions,’ but the Nazis control how or if they are carried out, is that it?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s it. We haven’t heard how the Spanish military is taking it. If I had to guess, I’d say that the Spanish Air Force will greet them with open arms, and welcome every Messerschmitt and Heinkel the Germans will give ‘em.”

  “What about the Spanish Army?” Joel asked.

  “That’s an unknown, Major,” said a studious looking Captain as he peered through his rimless glasses. “I doubt they’ll be anxious to let the Nazis take control, but the Germans have them in a tight place. Most of their hardware, tanks, artillery, even rifles, are German; all the Nazis would have to do is cut off the supply of parts, and the Spanish Army would grind to a halt.”

  Joel said, “Could the Nazis could use Spain’s neutrality to get strategic materials?”

  The captain blew out his breath. “Wow. Hadn’t thought of that, sir. That could open up South America and the Caribbean as sources of rubber, oil, and bauxite.” He made some scribbled notes on a pad already filled with them.

  “How’s FDR taking all this?”

  “Sir, we heard he hit the roof and has been burning up the transatlantic phone lines with Churchill.”

  “I’ll just bet,” Joel said.

  Chapter 6

  20 August 1941

  1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

  Washington, D.C., The White House

  1000 Hours

  Oval Office

  Franklin Roosevelt leaned into the telephone, gripping it hard.

  “Winston, I have confirmed what you told us. It is outrageous! Congress is debating whether to declare war against Spain. The newspapers are clamoring for it. As much as I agree with that sentiment, and I do, I assure you, on the face of it, there is precious little legal reason we have for doing so. They have finessed us! The Spanish ambassador is all smiles and unctuousness. He says their status is unchanged, they are, as he put it, ‘unalterably neutral,’ which is pure unadulterated rubbish.”

  Churchill growled back, “Our feelings are mutual, Franklin. Parliament are prepared to direct the government to declare war as soon as cause is found, but just as with congress, we have no legally justifiable rationale as yet. We are watching them as hawks; the least violation of the Neutrality Act will bring our wrath down upon their heads. In the meanwhile, there is little we can do but watch.” He sighed heavily.

  Roosevelt said, “Reuter’s in Lisbon says that a huge new oil refinery is being built on the Spanish coast not far from Seville—.”

  “Yes,” interrupted the Prime Minister, “we have men there. It is next to the port town of Punta Umbria, on the peninsula in the river Odiel. They apparently had planned this for some time, as the ground was prepared a year ago, and the docks are nearly complete. My concern is from where they will obtain the feed stocks for the refinery. Using neutral hulls, they could bring oil from the Middle East or even Venezuela or Brazil. It is too soon to calculate the refinery’s capacity, but in terms of sheer physical size, it’s at least as large as the Romanian facilities at Ploesti.”

  “Even should they use the output only for themselves, it would still deprive the Allies of that much oil,” Roosevelt said.

  “I believe that we shall soon see that the capacity is far beyond what Spain itself can consume; that can only mean that they intend to supply the Nazis.” He pronounced it “Nasties.” “How they do so may be one of the reasons we both are searching for, Franklin.”

  “Perhaps. My suspicion is that they will transport it over land, perhaps via rail through France. Proving what they are up to may be very difficult, absent the capability to overfly their territory. Without such clarity, neither of our legislative bodies will entertain declarations, Winston. I propose that we form a joint, clandestine effort to emplace people in the proper situations, either within the refinery staff or perhaps within the rail system to gain us the knowledge we lack in this regard. Perhaps General Donovan can suggest the appropriate personnel on our side.”

  “I quite agree, sir. Our SAS have already begun; kindly advise me of your arrangements so the two groups can coordinate and not tread upon each other.”

  Roosevelt said, “I shall, of course. Now, I must prepare a ‘fireside chat’ and attempt to reassure our nervous populous, and especially the newspapers, that for now, our hands are tied. This may be far easier said than done, I fear.”

  “Indeed,” Churchill replied dryly, “I must myself attempt to temporarily dampen the fires whilst searching for the fatal chink in the Bosch armor. We must speak often, Franklin, for our mutual benefit. Good morning.”

  Chapter 7

  Sunday, 7 December 1941

  Bachelor Officers Quarters

  Millville Army Air Field

  1130 Hours

  Shock

  Joel sat in the Day Room, reading a Colliers Magazine, when an excited young Lieutenant suddenly burst through the door.

  “The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor! They sank the fleet! Guys, we’re at war!”

  “What! Say, are you crazy? Why would the Japs attack Pearl Harbor?” someone responded.

  “Yeah, well, turn on the radio, you’ll see,” the Lieutenant was adamant.

  The beat up Stewart Warner console radio was turned on. When the tubes warmed up, it burst into voice, “—and reports from the Hawaii Territory are that the Air Corps has also been struck hard. All of the pursuit planes at Hickman Field Army Air Field – I believe that’s right – at Hickman Field near Honolulu City in the Hawaiian Island chain, in the South Pacific – all those aeroplanes have been destroyed or damaged to some degree
. To repeat our earlier bulletin, a massive force of Japanese airplanes in at least two waves has bombed and sunk all the Navy ships at berth at Pearl Harbor, in the U.S. Territory of Hawaii. First reports are that half a dozen capitol ships are sunk, and human losses are in the many hundreds.

  “This was taking place as representatives of the Empire of Japan and our government met in serious talks to forestall war. I don’t understand. I’m at a loss for words, ladies and gentlemen. I am shocked. We have been attacked by surprise, without warning, and without declaration of war. How can that be? Civilized nations don’t attack one another without provocation or declaration of war. Further bulletins will be forthcoming, I am sure. Stay tuned to this network for the latest information.”

  Joel felt a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. A dread sense of foreboding came over him; the young Lieutenant was right; America was at war.

  1942

  Chapter 8

  24 February 1942

  Gotha Waggonfabrik, Gotha, Germany

  1330 Hours

  Projekt Rheinwasser

  Obertstleutnant [Lieutenant Colonel] Freiherr [Baron] von und zu Schroeder sat in the director’s office at Gotha Waggonfabrik (GWF), reviewing GO-447 flying wing design concepts for the secret Rhinewasser project. He, the Director, the Chief Engineer, and the Chief Engineer’s assistant had just finished an awkward, silent lunch. He watched as the Director made a quiet telephone call before the meeting restarted.

  “Now then, what have we here?” von Schroeder asked, holding a drawing. Von Schroeder was a decorated pilot, an accomplished leader, even a card-carrying member of the National Socialist Party, but he was no aircraft engineer. He knew he was way out of his element with these highly educated men, but this was his responsibility as head of the project. To make matters worse, his adjutant, who was an engineer, was sick in hospital. Von Schroeder was on his own.