Mission to Britain Read online

  The young recruit was then beaten in the brig by one of Dugard’s buddies and would have died without the intervention of Dr. Feldman and the nationwide search for Professor James Brand. The search was initiated by a letter from Einstein to President Roosevelt. FDR gave Adm. Earnest J. King the command to find the young man who had so eagerly wanted to serve the nation and use him for the navy instead of being locked up in some civilian research institution. King assigned the task to his chief of staff, Rear Adm. Russel Willson, with instructions to find the young professor and bring him back to work for his staff. A team under the leadership of then Commander Jameson was sent to find him and bring him back safely, which started many an adventure for the newly dubbed Science Team.

  Jameson went down his checklist and reviewed each item with the other two officers. Most of the list included the standard requirements of anyone shipping out to a new posting. Weapons, ammunition, personal gear, piles of government forms, special orders, and a list of the people they were supposed to meet upon arrival in London. The team was briefed by members of Admiral King’s staff including Rear Adm. Kelly Turner who headed the War Plans division. They had also met with Major General Eisenhower who was Turner’s counterpart in the army. The navy had done a good job in setting up transportation to Britain, and once in the country, the British high command would be providing everything they needed to move about the country.

  These meetings were arranged by Field Marshal Sir John Dill who served as the top British liaison officer with the American Chiefs of Staff. Dill was very interested in getting more American involvement in the war effort and had been briefed by General Marshall and Admiral King about the unique capabilities of the American science team and specifically Lieutenant Junior Grade James Brand. Dill had discovered the young prodigy’s relationship with not only the two leaders of the American army and navy but also the budding relationship with the president of the United States. The field marshal communicated all of this information to the senior command in Great Britain and the prime minister. The British were going to open many doors for the team and the young genius but also to gain his trust and support for the British vision of the war strategy.

  As the three officers were looking over the list and making notes for additional supplies, James Brand walked into the room. He held a tablet of paper, a set of files, a few pencils of various colors and his constant companion, a Keuffel and Esser slide rule. Everyone on the team believed the young physicist talked to his K & E more than he spoke with real people, but with the slide rule, he always got an answer. Everyone looked up and noticed the perplexed look on the face of the young lieutenant.

  “Sir, I believe we should take several copies of my submarine report to Britain. I was thinking about what the field marshal said, and if we’re going to meet with their fleet ASW people and their Coastal Command leadership, we really should give them copies. Do you think Admiral Willson would approve my request?”

  Jameson did not smile but looked at the tall young man standing in front of him and wondered what went on in that magnificent brain. He knew James had been working up some figures on expanding the range of the newest airborne radar and developing ways to improve anti-submarine search procedures, plus numerous other pet projects. Now he was asking about getting approval to share top-secret documents with the British.

  “James, sit down and have one of these biscuits. Then we can discuss your request.” Jameson pointed at an empty chair and saw the young man finally look at the bowl of warm biscuits. He put his papers and slide rule down and quickly picked up a biscuit without saying a thing. Dr. Feldman saw this fast movement and decided to ask his favorite question.

  “When was the last time you ate something, James?” The doctor smiled as he looked at the scientist chew on a very large piece of biscuit. He waited until James swallowed, knowing it would be a few seconds until he received an answer.

  “Doc, I think it was this morning, but I don’t recall what I had or when.” He picked up the other half of the biscuit and slathered butter and jam on it, and in one swift motion stuck about half of it into his mouth.

  Captain Jameson now entered the conversation to provide backup to Dr. Feldman’s concern. “James, you have to eat regular meals. If you don’t, the doctor will haul you back to his hospital and stick a tube down your throat. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  James finally swallowed and then looked around the table to see if there was a glass of water or something to help him get all of the biscuit down his throat. Flannigan saw the expression on his young friend’s face and pushed his glass of water toward him which James quickly drank.

  The drink finally cleared the mass of sticky biscuit away, and he smiled sheepishly at the men around the table. Each man was not only a team member, but each of them had a special relationship with him. Jameson was the leader of the group and a scientist in his own right. He mentored the young man and kept him out of political fights common in the high command of the American navy and army. He looked upon James as a son, and James looked up to him as a stand-in for his deceased father.

  Flannigan was the big brother and protector. He saw in James a young brother who needed all the protection he could get. Not only was the young man bright, but he was also not afraid of getting involved in things better left alone. James was young, tall and strongly built, but he was still only eighteen and not quite the adult he thought he was. Flannigan and his security team were there to ensure not only his physical safety but also total secrecy.

  Dr. Feldman had treated Brand since the earliest days in the navy when he went up against a sadistic petty officer in his basic training class. The doctor was several years older than Flannigan, but at thirty years of age not quite the old man of the team. Jameson was the oldest along with Gunnery Sergeant Jones, but often the doctor felt he was a weary old man. He worried about the emotions of the young man sitting in front of him and knew that genius often burned itself up at a very early age. He and the other two officers would do their utmost to protect young Mr. Brand and also help him grow into full manhood. Feldman just worried whether the navy would allow this process to happen and not consume the young man in too many projects.

  James looked around the table at the three men he knew were not only his superior officers but also his friends. Finally, he put down the now empty glass of water and spoke.

  “Sorry, Captain, but I got caught up in the newest report on the U-boat attacks off Florida. It just skipped my mind. I will slow down and get some dinner tonight.” He smiled weakly at the three men and then picked up his slide rule, papers and pencils, and stood up.

  Jameson smiled and then spoke in a very quiet voice so no one could hear outside of the men in the room. “James, when we get to England, you will eat your meals, and you will not hide away. We will have several dinner meetings with the British, so you need to brush up on your manners and be ready to have conversations with lots of new people.”

  Jameson looked at Dr. Feldman and wished the doctor was coming along on this mission. He knew the health and well being of the young genius was going to be a challenge and would require constant vigilance. Feldman saw the look and decided he had better add his two cents to the conversation.

  “James, you need to eat three meals each day. You must not drink so many Coca-Colas, which you will have a hard time finding in London, let alone the rest of Britain. I have spoken with Pharmacist Mate Hamlin, and he has orders from me and Captain Jameson to keep an eye on you on this trip. If he sees you are not taking care of yourself, he will tell the captain you are not complying with his orders. So, eat your meals, drink your English tea and don’t kiss too many girls.”

  James smiled at the last comment as did Jameson and Flannigan. He knew these men not only were concerned about his well being but were true friends. He hoped he would be able to meet their expectations in the next weeks and months. People were counting on him to help find new ways or better methods to fight the war. Time was not on his side n
or were many of the leaders he had met so far on this journey.

  Jameson had told him many times about how individuals dealt with change. “In the military,” he said, “change happens slowly, if at all, and there will be many roadblocks along the way.” His advice was to press on and do what was not only right but also honorable. Time, James knew, was his other enemy.

  2

  12 March 1942

  Pan American Marine Terminal

  New York City

  • United States forces arrive in New Caledonia to establish a base at Noumea.

  • The President, by Executive Order, combines the duties of Commander in Chief United States Fleet and Chief of Naval Operations.

  Admiral Willson had called late in the evening and told Jameson to have his men ready for takeoff at 0700 at National Field. Admiral King’s plane flown by Lieutenant Commander Shoemaker would transport them to their first stop in New York City. Jameson made sure that Brand had his reports packed, especially several copies of his U-boat study, plus the materials they had received from Admiral Turner and General Eisenhower. Brand was unsure of what they would be doing in Britain, but he looked forward to meeting some of the people whose work had so influenced his thinking. He hoped to meet some of the British naval officers and people associated with Coastal Command to understand some of their tactics and newest developments. He would have a hard time sleeping this evening thinking about his first trip outside the United States.

  Flannigan was concerned about his men and how they would adapt to working with the British. He had known several British officers over the past few years in the Orient, and most of them seemed worthy Allies. In a pinch, they would spot you a beer or two. He had enjoyed meeting British Marines, who like their American counterparts, were a very small and elite force. The customs were similar as were some parts of the uniform. He had met one Royal Marine named Roger Atwood in Shanghai in 1940 who was a very pleasant person. They had become good friends and spent way too much time drinking pink gins and beer in some dodgy places in China. He thought Roger was on the HMS Prince of Wales, which sank on December 10 and wondered if he survived. If he was rescued, did he make it out of Singapore before the British surrendered? Perhaps he could find some answers while in Britain.

  Shoemaker and the R4D were waiting as usual at the airport, and the team of twelve sailors and Marines were off within a few minutes after stowing their gear. The flight would take about two hours. After they were aloft, Jameson told Flannigan and Brand they would fly to Britain on one of the Pan American Clippers the military had taken over for the duration. The flight would get them to Britain in two days instead of eight to twelve crossing the Atlantic on a ship. Brand was very excited as was Flannigan, who had flown on one of the giant Boeing 314s into Manila before the war broke out. He had heard one of the Clippers was destroyed by the Japanese in Hong Kong and wondered if it was the one he had seen before the war began. In any case, he was elated to fly over the North Atlantic instead of pounding his way through it on some small warship or troop transport with the Nazis looking for you.

  Upon arrival at the New York airport, they were met by two navy trucks which shuttled the men and gear to the flying boat terminal. They could see the once gleaming silver fuselage of the mighty clipper sitting just offshore, now dark gray with a huge American flag painted on its nose. Everyone could see boats going out to the plane moored next to a much larger barge. Brand wondered when the plane would take off, but as he was now a veteran of navy life he knew that he would be told every-thing he needed to know, whenever the navy decided it was time for him to know. Regardless, he was still excited just looking at the plane. He had seen many photographs in the past few years, and the size of the plane was enormous compared to the R4D he had flown to New York.

  The Clipper was 106-feet long with a wingspan of 152 feet, a range of 3,600 miles, and a top speed of 198 miles per hour. Its four large engines were mounted high on the huge wings that were so thick they had walkways in them so a mechanic on board could go to an engine from inside the plane and work on it while the plane was in the air. It also had variable pitch propellers, which were the first of its kind with full feathering capabilities. The size of the plane allowed it to hold up to seventy-four passengers with a crew of ten, plus a significant amount of freight. Brand could not wait to get on board and talk to the pilots. Maybe they will let me fly it for a while, he hoped.

  Jameson checked in with the Pan American desk people and found a very talkative assistant manager who must have been over fifty but was the most enthusiastic person he had ever met. Jameson inquired as to the flight and showed him his orders. Before the assistant manager could get a good look at the orders, a young Air Corps lieutenant came up to Jameson and saluted saying, “Sir, are you Captain Jameson?”

  Jameson looked at the young officer, returned the salute and said, “Yes, Lieutenant, I’m Captain Jameson, may I help you?”

  “Yes sir. My name is Boyd, and I’m here to assist you and to ensure everything goes smoothly. We received orders about your team this morning and have been moving people around to accommodate your men. If I can see your orders so that I might verify them, I will then get with base operations and get everything underway for your boarding.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m sorry if we’re causing you any problems or if some people are being delayed.”

  The lieutenant smiled, “Sir, there are about a dozen officers from the army who are not happy right now. Your orders bumped everyone, even a general. No sir, all is well and if there are any problems until we get you on board, just let me know.” The lieutenant took the field movement orders from the captain, stating he would return in a few minutes.

  The assistant manager finished talking to what looked to be a caterer and his assistant who were asking for his signature on several forms. He then started chatting up the captain. “Sir, my name is Marston, and I am at your service. The young lieutenant is a good young fellow, and when he came in this morning telling me there were changes in the manifest, he seemed very excited.” He paused, looking down at his pile of papers, making sure everything was in order.

  “I told the lieutenant that in all my years in the people moving business, first in trains and now in planes, priorities change. Our president and founder, Mr. Juan Tripp, told me on many occasions that changes will occur, and we must be able to operate smoothly despite those changes. Just like the war, you know. I mean we were told to be ready to do more commercial flights to Europe, then to the Far East, but the war changed things. Now we work for the navy and the army and do our best. Things always change right, Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Marston, they always do, which is why you’re good at your job, correct?”

  “Thank you, Captain, at least you understand. Some of those officers over there are not happy about being bumped from the flight. I’ll be back after I check on the loading of supplies for the flight. Lots of things to check and re-check, right, Captain?”

  Jameson was about to agree with Mr. Marston, but the man walked away and began talking to someone carrying another pile of papers requiring Marston’s approval.

  Jameson signaled for Flannigan to join him. He decided not to include Brand in the conversation because he could tell the young scientist was still looking in the direction of the plane trying to figure out lift characteristics, drag and all sorts of aeronautical challenges the plane faced. Jameson told Flannigan to bring in the men and their gear. He specifically asked that the radio gear be re-checked and when on board to ensure it was tied down in a way that would prohibit movement or bouncing during takeoff and landing. Jameson had been on many seaplanes including their recent adventures in a PBY out of Florida. Choppy waters meant things could get exciting and rough, and he hated to have the radio systems damaged.

  The Marines and two sailors who made up the team walked in carrying their gear. Each of the Marines had their sidearms, plus they were all carrying Thompson submachine guns. The other passengers, m
ostly military personnel, paid close attention to the Marines in their combat gear and wondered who these men were. It did not take long for one of the officers to come up and start talking to Captain Flannigan.

  “Captain, what are your Marines doing here; going on maneuvers or something?” The Air Corps major was without flight wings, so he was some operations or technical officer.

  “Sorry, Major, I cannot reveal any details of the mission or this team.” Flannigan looked straight at the major, but the major was undeterred and asked differently.

  “I understand, Captain. We’re all under secret orders to some degree but what are your men doing here at the Pan Am terminal?”

  Flannigan knew that no matter what, somebody was going to get upset, so he decided on the most direct approach. “Sir, I beg the Major’s pardon, but again, our mission is classified, and I cannot comment except to say we are here to board the Clipper.”

  The major looked at the captain then saw the non-coms bringing in their duffel bags. He returned to where he was standing with a large group of officers.

  Flannigan decided to retreat and call in reinforcements because there seemed to be a war party gathering. When he approached Jameson, he pointed behind him saying, “Sir, I think the Air Corps is about to make a big stink. They don’t like the idea that we’re taking some of their slots on this plane.”

  Jameson looked over the captain’s shoulder, saw a brigadier general moving toward them, and whispered, “Yes, the big chief of the war party is on his way now. We must now smoke a peace pipe with him.”

  Flannigan smiled because of the analogy to B-Westerns that were so popular. Like most of them, the natives were always restless. Flannigan moved away as the captain prepared for the Air Corps assault.