A thousand suns

‘Yes, Stef, the extra fuel tanks give us the range we need to get there and a little more, but not enough to come home. After we’ve done our job, we’ll attempt to land, or bail out over there.’

Pieter snorted. ‘They’ll bloody well skin us.’

‘If it all goes to plan, by the time we bail out or land, the Americans will be our allies.’

‘And what if we say no?’ asked Pieter.

Max shrugged. ‘The Major says we can go.’

‘And the Russians carry on with what they’re doing,’ added Stefan.

On that point they all looked at Max. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

All four men were fully aware of the savage revenge the advancing Red Army was exacting from their German foes. It was common knowledge that they were not taking prisoners. Rumours had spread of many atrocities that had occurred to straggling German forces, even the liberated civilians left in their wake. And now they were on German soil and hungrily advancing across the country, surrounding Berlin and spreading west and southwards. They knew Germany was to be obliterated and most of its people massacred, and when the war ended, the Russians would surely demand access to what was left of the Fatherland under Allied control to complete their bloody act.

‘Fuck it, I say we do it. We’ve been running from the enemy for too bloody long,’ Pieter said, the shadows of doubt banished from his mind.

Max looked towards the other two.

Hans stopped tapping his mug and looked up at Pieter and Max, still unsure.

‘Come on, Hans, let’s stick it to them,’ growled Pieter.

‘Yeah, okay,’ said Hans, looking to Pieter.

All three men turned to face Stefan.

‘How about you?’ asked Max.

The young man looked awkward under the gaze of his older colleagues. ‘I’ve got family near Sprenberg… three sisters.’ Stefan looked at Max with eyes reddened from fatigue. He didn’t need to add any more to that, the men knew what fate awaited them when the Russian army arrived.

‘I say yes, too,’ Stefan added quietly.

Pieter reached out and punched the lad’s shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit, boy.’

The men looked to Max for the deciding vote. ‘And so, Max, what about you?’ asked Pieter.

Max stubbed his cigarette out and drained his now cold coffee.

The men are waiting for you to say yes.

The plan was a good one. It could work, it really could. They had the element of surprise, and the American B-17 was the perfect conceit, the air was full of them. Crossing France would be the dangerous part of the mission. Beyond France, across the Atlantic, they would be home and dry. New York had no air defences, she had never needed to have any.

It could be done.

Manhattan Island was the target. Max knew very little about the city of New York, but Major Rall had informed him that the island was the commercial heart of the city, and it would be a Sunday morning when they arrived with the bomb. Civilian casualties would be minimised.

But, there would still be several thousand people who would inevitably die.

Rall had not discussed the bomb in detail, only that it was a new ‘explosive formula’ one thousand times more destructive than that being used currently by the American bombers. This one bomb would do as much damage as the combined payload of fifty of their B-17s.

Imagine, Max, it will seem to them as if we have the power to conjure four squadrons of heavy bombers out of thin air, anywhere we want.

He could see how frightening a thought that might be to the Americans, safe these last four years, on the other side of an ocean. It could possibly be enough to convince them to step in and save what was left of Germany from the Russians, if for no other reason than to prevent the communists from getting their hands on this magical, powerful formula.

And there is the key, Max: mutual distrust between the Americans and the British on the one hand, and the Russians on the other.

It really could work. And if it did, there were many, many more German lives that would be saved by this than would be lost on a Sunday, on Manhattan Island.

There’s a simple arithmetic at work here, Max. One or two thousand of them for God knows how many of us at the hands of the Russians. When they’ve taken Berlin, do you think their revenge will stop there?

Rall’s faultless argument had boiled down to simple arithmetic. A few thousand American lives, to save millions of German lives. And on that basis, Max could see that they had to give this thing a go. There was no choice. But he was drawn back to the haunting image of total destruction that was Stalingrad.

‘This really is to end the war?’ he had asked the Major.

Rall had nodded. ‘God help us if it doesn’t. With such a bomb as you will be dropping, it would be insane for any further war after this to happen.’

Pieter, Hans and Stef were waiting for an answer. He knew they were all hoping for the same answer. He owed them at least that.

‘All right, I will tell the Major we will do it,’ said Max.

Major Rall looked up at the sound of rapping on his door. ‘Enter,’ he called loudly. Max walked in and saluted smartly.