California, then ship refined products back. That blocked the port twice per cargo. Now, we have refineries in Siberia and that saves us a lot of shipping. Only, it’s still a marginal solution.
“It’s not just Vladivostok. The backlog of shipping is causing congestion in all the ports down the West Coast. Rail yards are full because the trains can’t unload until they have a ship to unload them into. The ship can’t take the cargo because it’s still waiting to unload the previous lot at Vladivostok. Then, we’ve got the railway problem in Siberia itself. We’re double-tracking the railway and building relief lines as fast as we can but we still can’t get the job done fast enough. For all that, the equipment needed to enlarge the railways comes by sea, and the ships are backed up all over the place.
“One final thing. Take a look at the map. Look how close that shipping thrombosis is to Japan. Bombers in the Japanese home islands could take off, bomb the stacked up cargo ships and return home without ever leaving sight of their bases. Do you know what it’s costing us to persuade the Japanese not to interfere with that lifeline? A free hand in China’s just the start of it.”
Dewey sighed again. “Look, Senator, I’m sorry if I’m ranting at you, but this shipping problem is keeping everybody awake. The C-99 is the solution to the whole problem. It may fly low and it may fly slow but it has the range to take off from anywhere in the western United States and fly to an airbase in eastern Russia. It can carry 400 men, or 100,000 pounds of cargo per flight. The C-54 carries 50 men or 10,000 pounds of cargo. That means that a single C-99 can carry the human payload of eight C-54s and the cargo payload of ten. It can do all that while flying three times as far. And it doesn’t stop there. The C-54 and the C-69 are basically passenger transports. They have small doors and that gives them problems handling bulky cargoes. The C-99B onwards have clamshell doors in the nose that are big enough to handle whole vehicles. We could
“Senator, don’t think of the C-99 as a slow, low-flying aircraft. Think of it as a very fast, amphibious, high- sailing merchant ship. In the time a Victory Ship takes to get from the West Coast to Vladivostok, unload, and come back, the C-99 can lift the same weight of cargo and bypass the ports completely. All it needs is an airstrip and we are building those by the score. It bypasses the ports, bypasses the rail system and means we can route supplies far away from Japan. We’ll still need merchant ships. There are some bulk cargoes that even a C-99 can’t handle but, for the rest, the C-99 is it.”
Symington thought over the whole situation, his eyes fixed on the picture of the mass of shipping piled up outside Vladivostok. It would be easy to create a scandal over the C-99. It was a big, expensive aircraft and its performance figures didn’t look good. But, what he had just been told made sense. It left him with a choice between making political capital for his party by embarrassing the Government or supporting the interests of the country. He was a Democrat, a holdover from the Roosevelt administration. To a party political man this was a gift. But, to Symington, that wasn’t a choice. No honorable man would put his party before his country.
“Thank you Mister President. The situation is quite clear to me now and my initial impressions were quite wrong. I must ask your forgiveness for wasting your time. My committee will say nothing about the C-99.”
“Senator, may I ask a kindness of you? Obviously the problems we are having with port congestion must remain completely secret but it would do much good for public morale if the capabilities of the C-99 were publicized. The good with the bad, low speed: low ceiling but great range and payload. Perhaps some color pictures might be released. I understand the orange and silver color scheme used by the Air Bridge aircraft photographs very well. I think the people would be encouraged and cheered by the news that your Committee has expedited the aircraft that brings their boys home on leave. There’s nothing secret about the C-99 itself. We could even have some newsreels made.”
Symington smiled broadly in response. This was true politics, two men resolving their differences and coming to an agreement that benefitted both. “I think that is an excellent idea, Mister President.”
After Symington left, Dewey relaxed in his chair. The case made for the C-99 was a powerful one. It was true, but it was only part of the picture. It was also important that people be taught to see any six-engined aircraft with orange markings as just another transport from the Air Bridge. That brought another thought to mind. Senator Symington was an honest man and an honorable man. This meeting had proved that. He was a good candidate to be informed of the real secret that lay behind the C-99. When the time was right, of course.
“Well, that was unexpected.” Captain Bob Dedmon closed the cockpit canopy panels and settled comfortably into his seat. The cargo manifest was on a clipboard in front of him. Ten spare R-4360 engines for an F-72 group and a mass of spare parts, propellers, tires and electronic gear. Plus ammunition and drums of lubricants. Enough to keep the group going for a week or more. A total manifest of 35 tons.
Outside, a cinema newsreel crew had been filming the apparently endless column of trucks bringing up equipment that vanished through the giant clamshell doors in the nose and into the belly of the C-99B. She was a new bird. This would be her first flight to Russia and that was the apparent subject of the newsreel. It had been a well-made piece. The news crew had wound up the tension as the weather reports came in. Would it be possible for the C-99B to make the flight? The plane was too slow and didn’t have the ceiling to climb above bad weather so a good forecast was critical. Then, the message had come in from Anadyr in Russia. All clear, good weather all the way. The flight was on.
Dedmon had never expected to be the subject of a newsreel; privately, he’d thought the interview he’d given was a disaster. He’d tried to explain what flying the big transport was like. How the huge double-deck fuselage acted like a sail and caught every hint of a crosswind. How flying it felt like steering a house from its front porch. But also what the flights achieved; tonnage delivered directly to the people who needed it, troops brought back for the short leave with their families that they had all so richly earned. He’d tried to say how much getting the supplies through and bringing the people back meant to the pilots on the Air Bridge, but he’d made a complete stumbling mess of it. He didn’t realize that the emotional, semi-articulate explanation of how the C-99 crews thought and felt had the ring of truth that a polished, professional, effort would have lacked.
“Never thought we would be movie stars. Engineering, ready to go. Full power engines three, four, two, five, one and six in that order. Nose doors closed. Check cargo secured.” Dedmon glanced out at the transport. The C- 99A had its cockpit buried in the contours of the nose and the pilot couldn’t see much of his aircraft. Modifying the design to include the nose loading doors had meant the cockpit had to be moved to a bubble on top of the fuselage. From there, he could see the whole aircraft.
“All engines full power. Ready to taxi out.”
The big transport moved slowly onto the taxiway and waddled down towards the runway. Sitting so high off the ground gave the crew a tremendous sense of power; they overlooked everything. It was as if they were watching the working of the airfield from a moving control tower. Dedmon glanced down. There was a little C-94 in front of them. It was a small utility bird, the military version of the Cessna Skymaster. He could hardly see it. That was a safety problem worth bearing in mind. “Navigator, got the flight plan?”
“Sure thing Captain. North to Alaska, over the Bering Straits to Anadyr then inland to Khabarovsk. Flight time, estimated 20 hours. Assuming we don’t open her up properly.” The C-99 was quite a bit faster than the published data suggested although there were strict orders against revealing that fact. The explanation was that the unrevealed extra speed was their ace in the hole, to get away from fighters annoying them.
“Radio message sir, from the C-94 in front. He asks what our plans are.”
Dedmon snorted. Viewed from the perspective of the tiny utility aircraft, the C-99 must look like a massive monster towering high in the sky. The thought gave him an idea. “Cargo deck, start opening the clamshell doors. Radio, patch me though to the C-94. Dedmon waited until the connection was made and the rumble of the nose doors showed they were opening. Then he spoke to the C-94 pilot, “I am going to eat you!”
The blinding snowstorm that had grounded pretty nearly everything north of Petrograd had eased off a little but the white stuff was still coming down hard. It was a matter of great personal satisfaction to Flight Lieutenant George Brumby that his little detachment of antiquated biplanes, the only Australian aircraft operating this far
