“In my experience, the Colonel is not at all subtle. That message could just as easily have read, ‘Ground the sonofabitch.’ ”
Stevens chuckled, earning himself a dirty look from Bruce.
“Grounding you might make sense, Richard,” Stevens said. “From this side of the desk, perceptions are a little different.”
“The arguments I made are still valid,” Canidy argued. “And to refresh your memory they were (a) that the Air Corps is already bitching about our photorecon missions; and (b) that laying on a mission we would have had to fight over would have called unwanted attention to the Fulmar Werke.”
“So are my counterarguments that you’re pretty far up in the scheme of things for us to lose you if you get shot down,” Bruce said. “But that’s over. What you have to do now is convince me there are reasons why we should not just tell the Eighth Air Force what we need, and have them do it. Or even why it is necessary to bring Ex-Lax out by air at all. Why shouldn’t they come out on a British submarine? ”
“Arrogance,” Canidy said.
“I beg your pardon? My arrogance, or yours?” Bruce asked.
“Mine.” Canidy chuckled. “I want to take a good look at the field on Vis myself,” Canidy said. “I arrogantly don’t trust anybody else’s enthusiastic opinion of how good it is. I don’t want to lose Ex-Lax, or whoever we bring out later, at stop VII because of pilot error. I want to make that landing and takeoff by myself, so I can tell somebody else how to do it.”
The look on Bruce’s face, Canidy thought, was not one of acceptance, but he thought Stevens understood.
“I can also argue,” Canidy continued, “that we don’t want to involve the English in this operation any more than we have to. If we start demanding space on their submarines, they are going to want justification.”
He stopped again and looked at Bruce. After a moment, Bruce made a “give me more” gesture with his hand.
“We have the B-25,” Canidy said, “already rigged for this sort of passenger-haul mission, with auxiliary fuel tanks and even seats. If we ask the Air Corps, they’re going to have to modify one of their aircraft, and they will naturally ask questions.”
“Unless we let them use our B-25,” Bruce said.
“I was afraid you’d think of that,” Canidy said. “And I’m prepared. I think we would have trouble getting it back from them. If they get their hands on it, David, they’re liable to remember it’s on loan. Think ‘lawn mower,’ as in borrowed from next-door neighbor.”
Bruce shook his head.
“And for a crew?”
“I thought about asking for an Eighth Air Force volunteer, ” Canidy said. “If he turns out okay, we can draft him, permanently. If he doesn’t, we send him back.”
“Just a copilot?” Stevens asked.
“No,” Canidy said. “Before we sent him to Switzerland, I was planning to take Stanley Fine. And then, before we sent him to Australia, I was going to take Jimmy Whittaker. Now, I think Dolan.”
Bruce’s eyebrows rose again.
“Why Dolan?” he asked.
“He’s an old pilot—” Canidy began.
“That’s what I mean,” Bruce interrupted reasonably.
Chief Aviation Motor Machinist’s Mate—formerly, until physically disqualified, Chief Aviation Pilot—John B. Dolan, USN, had, after twenty-six years of service, retired from the Navy to go to Burma and China with the Flying Tigers as a maintenance officer. Afterward, he had managed to acquire a reserve commission in the Navy as lieutenant commander and had been sent by the Navy to England as the aviation maintenance officer for Operation Aphrodite. That was the code name for an attempt to convert worn-out B-17 aircraft into radio-controlled flying bombs, to be used against the German submarine pens at Saint-Lazare, which had proven immune to attack by conventional aerial bombardment.
Eisenhower, his patience with Air Corps-Navy squabbling exhausted, had turned Project Aphrodite over to the OSS. Dolan had been delighted. Canidy had been put in charge of the project, and he had known Canidy at the Pensacola, Florida, Naval Air Station when they had both been in the American Volunteer Group. Dolan had correctly guessed that Canidy would not watch his every move the way the Air and Navy brass had been doing.
“We intrepid birdmen have a saying,” Canidy said. “ ‘There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots.’ ”
“Very interesting,” David Bruce said.
Colonel Stevens gave in to the temptation. “And where, Richard, would you say that profound observation leaves you?” he asked innocently.
“Why, I thought you knew, Colonel,” Canidy