“Sir, what we have now are prototype weapons. Each is unique, and we have no idea which will work best. Nor,” he admitted reluctantly, “are we totally confident either will work at all. This is all unexplored territory. Someday we may be able to wheel atomic bombs off an assembly line like Ford does cars or tanks, but not now. I doubt that we could have any more bombs for another several months.”
Truman thought that over. “Then we cannot afford to run leisurely scientific tests, can we?”
“Sir?”
“General, I do not think we can afford to waste one third of our atomic resources on a field test. The scientists may think it desirable, and, under other circumstances, I would also. But we do not now have that luxury. How long would it take to crate the things up and ship them off to Europe?”
If Groves was surprised by the idea of them going across the Atlantic he didn’t show it. While the whole atomic bomb project had been started to counter the possibility of the Nazis having an atomic bomb ahead of America, the apparent collapse of the Third Reich had changed everyone’s focus from Germany to the Pacific. Now the president wanted them shipped to Europe, with the Soviets as the new target. God help the Russians. Did they have any idea what they were getting into? For that matter, did the United States?
Groves explained that the scientists were in wide disagreement over what might happen when an atomic bomb was detonated. Some felt it would simply be a large bomb, a big bang that left a large hole in the ground, while others forecast the end of the world. As a practical man, Groves leaned toward the former opinion. A lot of the scientists were concerned about radiation, something he barely understood, but many leading scientists said it would dissipate quickly and be of little or no consequence. The simple truth was that no one really knew what would happen when an atomic bomb detonated. Theories were wonderful things, but the truth would come out when the first bomb went off. If it went off.
Groves took out a notepad and scribbled. “I’ll have to check. If we shipped them by boat, perhaps the scientists could work on them en route.”
“Good.” Truman decided he liked the testy but aggressive Groves.
“We will have to get the B-29s off Tinian.” Groves referred to the squadron that had been rehearsing carrying and dropping very large bombs and was now in the Pacific. Only their commander, Colonel Paul Tibbetts, knew what type of bomb was contemplated. “If you’re not aware, Mr. President, we planned to use the B-29s because of the bulk of the bombs, as well as the range of the planes.”
“I had wondered, and assumed something like that.”
“The B-29s also require much longer runways. I spoke with General Marshall, and he assures me that runways in England are being lengthened as we speak. Some Eighth Air Force staffer actually used his brain and anticipated the arrival of B-29s.”
“Excellent. Now, General, in your opinion, do the Russians know what we are doing?”
Groves paused. The scientists were all security nightmares. They had little understanding or concern regarding the political world. Many were so downright utopian regarding the universality of science, they’d be on the phone blabbing everything they knew in a minute if they hadn’t been sealed off in New Mexico.
“Sir,” he said solemnly, “if I were a betting man, I would say it’s almost a sure thing that the Commies know what we’re doing. When we cleared these people to work here, their early socialist leanings weren’t important because Russia was our ally and we were fighting the Nazis. We desperately needed their brains and didn’t much care about their politics. Now that the Reds are our enemies, the FBI is scrambling all over the records of some of our people and having a field day trying to trace their personal contacts. I can only say that I would be very surprised if Russia doesn’t know what we are up to and that we are extremely close to success.”
Truman nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, General.”
The meeting was over. He stood and saluted again. Truman rose and shook his hand. “General, we may have it in our power to end this war and change the world for a very long time. I sincerely hope your bombs work and that you can get them into use before it is too late.”
Seconds after General Groves left the Oval Office, Secretary of State Ed Stettinius and Secretary of War Henry Stimson entered.
“You heard?” Truman asked, and the two men nodded. He had decided not to have the other men present for his meeting with Groves. He had thought it might intimidate Groves into being less than candid. Now he thought that Groves might be intimidated by a grizzly bear with hemorrhoids and not much else. God help the errant scientists who got in his path.
Stettinius took a seat. “At least we now have a clearer understanding of Stalin’s motives in attacking now. He wants victory before we get the bomb.” Stimson nodded agreement and reached for coffee.
“Yes,” said Truman. “In a little while we will have the greatest weapon man has ever known.” If the damned infernal thing works, he thought. “With that in mind, that son of a bitch Stalin has struck now while we don’t have that weapon deployed. He is trusting that this war will leave him with most of Europe as a fait accompli, and that we won’t use the bomb to help retake what he has stolen. What a calculating bastard!”
Stimson shrugged. “It is pretty much as we suspected.”
“Damn.”
“Mr. President,” Stimson continued, “we are now trying to figure out who has been passing on information regarding our atomic project. When we are successful, we can assess the amount and quality of the data we have lost and then forecast just when the Soviets might have an atomic bomb of their own. My own guess, however, would be within three to five years.”
“At which point,” said Truman, “we would be equals as nuclear powers. If Stalin has control of Europe when that occurs, we will have no opportunity of defeating him militarily.”
“That’s right,” Stimson agreed.
“Then,” Truman said thoughtfully, “it’s now or never for us, just as it is for him.”
“One other thought,” said Stimson. “What will Churchill say when he finds out that these atomic bombs are going to be in England?”
Truman grinned. “I have no intention of telling him.”
• • •
General Mikhail Bazarian looked at the gutted vehicle a few feet in front of him on the road to Potsdam and tried to stifle his rage. The tanker truck was totally destroyed. Even the tires had melted, leaving the truck’s axles on the ground. The blackened and grinning skeleton behind the steering wheel mocked Bazarian’s growing impotence. This was the third oil or gas tanker truck he’d lost this week and he would not be getting any more vehicles or fuel to replace them. If this kept up, the situation for his army could quickly go from annoying to critical.
Just a few days ago, he had gotten the word from Zhukov’s headquarters-no more oil or gas. For the foreseeable future, he would live with what he had. Bazarian had heard rumors of a massive attack on Soviet petroleum sources but had discounted them as enemy propaganda. Now he wondered. He always understood that a great deal of oil had come through Lend-Lease, although that had been officially discounted by political officers who denied the Soviet Union’s reliance on outside sources as being contrary to the spirit of the revolution. Bazarian sniffed. Some people still thought the world was flat.
But what he had not counted on was the destruction of his precious reserves by saboteurs. The corpse in the truck cab would give him no answers. The dead Russian soldier could not even tell him how he had died. Had he been stabbed or shot? Poisoned or strangled? Bazarian’s money was on him having been stabbed. It had happened before.
At least, Bazarian thought, the situation was not totally dire. He had received and kept two divisions of Romanians. They were shit soldiers whose country had surrendered and changed sides. They were poorly trained and equipped, but there were nearly 25,000 of them and they would make marvelous cannon fodder when the time came to storm Potsdam. They would go first, and his own men, still numbering more than 20,000 themselves, would follow into whatever breach the Romanians managed to make.
His artillery was still intact and their ammunition stores were adequate to support the attack. His tank strength, however, had not been fully restored. While he had managed to pick up a half-dozen precious T34s and their crews as replacements for the older tanks he’d lost, the same fuel restraints had denied him the opportunity to work with the new troops and increase their effectiveness. The only reason he’d gotten the T34s was because they were in bad mechanical shape.
Again on the positive side, the powers that be seemed to have totally forgotten about the foolish Russian
