theirs, rather than a strategic concern of yours.”
“Then they’re wrong about that, too, Franklin,” Donovan said flatly.
“Are they indeed?”
“Will you listen to me?”
“Of course,” Roosevelt said. “How can I refuse?”
“As it has been explained to me, the Air Corps tactic for Europe is massive bombing from high altitude of German military targets by heavy bombers, B-17s and B-24s. The Air Corps believes that the massed heavy armament of a large flight of carefully arranged bombers can throw up a relatively impenetrable wall of fire against German fighters.”
“And you don’t think they can?”
“Not against German fighters, armed with cannon, that are flying three times as fast as the bombers,” Donovan said.
“The Air Corps disagrees with that, of course,” Roosevelt said. “And they also believe that the Germans are a long way from having fighters powered with jet engines off their drawing boards.”
“The first flight of a jet-powered German aircraft took place on August 27, 1939,” Donovan said, “at an airfield near Berlin.”
Roosevelt looked at him sharply.
“The Luftwaffe will flight-test within a month or so one of the twelve Messerschmitt ME-262 fighter planes currently being built in underground, bombproof facilities in Augsburg. The ME-262 is powered by a centrifugal Junkers 004 engine, designed by a man named von Ohain, which is supposed to be a great improvement over the radial jet engine they’ve used up to now.”
It was a moment before Roosevelt spoke.
“I was about to insult you, Bill, by asking if you were sure of your information,” he said. “I won’t do that, of course. But do you realize what a spot you’re putting me in with the Air Corps?”
“If the Germans get these fighters operational, Franklin, we will not be able to accept the losses they will inflict on our bomber force—either in a tactical sense or a public-relations sense. That, I respectfully submit, is indeed a strategic consideration.”
“And how do you suggest we stop them?” Roosevelt asked.
“That would be the Air Corps’ business,” Donovan said. “Once they recognize the problem, I’m sure they’ll know how to handle it. My people tell me that manufacturing jet engines is considerably more difficult than building piston engines. Not only are they more complex, but they require special metals and special metallurgy. If we can take out the smelters, the special steel mills, or the machining facilities, perhaps we can slow down their development. I doubt if we can stop it, but I think we should be able to slow it.”
“Damn!” Roosevelt said.
“I don’t think we can ignore the problem. It will not go away, Mr. President,” Donovan said.
Roosevelt turned and glared at him, his eyes cold, his eyebrows angrily raised. “What exactly is it, Colonel Donovan,” he asked icily, “that you wish me to do?”
“Mr. President, I respectfully suggest that you tell the Air Corps you have given COI intelligence responsibility vis-à-vis German jet aircraft, and then direct them to turn over to me what intelligence they have in their files.”
Roosevelt snorted. “That’s all you want, their files?”
“I want the authority to look into German jet planes,” Donovan said. “And I don’t want to be in competition with them while I’m at it.”
“They’re not the enemy, Bill,” Roosevelt said, his temper now in check.
“Their intelligence, Franklin, is being evaluated by Air Corps officers who simply cannot ignore their knowledge that every one of their superiors, every one of them, is dedicated to the theory that heavy-bombardment aircraft can defend themselves. None of them wants to hear about any challenge to that devout belief.”
They were back to first names. The crisis had passed.
“Very well,” Roosevelt said. “George Marshall’s going to call at five this afternoon. I’ll tell him then.”
“Thank you,” Donovan said.
“Anything else?”
There was a just-detectable hesitation before Donovan said, “No, Sir.”
Roosevelt picked up on it. “Yes, there is,” he said. “Let’s have it.”
Donovan shrugged. “I’d like to know what’s happened to Jim Whittaker,” he said.
“Would you, now?” the President said coldly.
“Chesly and I were friends for as long as I can remember,” Donovan said. “As you, and he, and a certain lady are old friends.”
Roosevelt’s head snapped toward him. There was fire in his eyes again.
Oh, God! He thinks I’m talking about Whatsername, his lady friend! I simply forgot about her.
“And what lady would that be, Bill?” Roosevelt asked.
“Barbara Whittaker,” Donovan said quickly.
“Oh, yes,” Roosevelt said. “How is Barbara?”
Now he thinks that the famous glower has made me back down!
“She’s probably more than a little upset,” Donovan said. “She hasn’t heard a word from Jimmy since he called her from San Francisco.”
“If