Dark Earth: 1947

1947: Part 3b

RAF Scampton June 12th 1947

She was a beauty, Gibson decided. A real beauty. She was made for war, certainly, but there was a grace to her that surpassed the Lanc and her raw power and size dwarfed the Canberra. Faster than a Spitfire, but with unprecedented range. One hundred and twenty five feet of shining silver skin and four hulking Rolls Royce Avon jet engines snuggled cosily into the roots of the gently swept wings. George Edwards and Barnes Wallis had done well.

RAF Scampton was one of Bomber Command’s most important and busiest airfields, supporting the operations of three Avro York heavy bomber squadrons and one English Electric Canberra pathfinder squadron, as well as assorted fighters, weather planes and transports. Today, it would play host to Britain’s newest super bomber, the Vickers Valiant.

Air Commodore Sir Guy Gibson VC, DSO and Bar, DFC and two Bars had flown before some exalted audiences in the past, but this one would have to take the cake. There was quite a crowd in the control tower – Air Chief Marshal Harris, Air Marshal Bigglesworth, Air Marshal Sir John Slessor, C-in-C Bomber Command, and the Secretary of State for Air. The first flight of an operational Royal Air Force strategic jet bomber was an important gesture in this brave new world. It would beat the American B-47 by a good three months, whilst the Russians were still fiddling around with their light bombers.

It would be the culmination of five long years of development, from the first exploratory studies at the height of the war in early 1942 to the formal report of the Tizard Committee in late 1943, which set out the parameters of what would become Air Ministry Specification B.35/44. It had called for a long-range bomber to replace the Lancaster, capable of carrying a 10,000lb bomb over a range of 4000 miles with a cruising speed of 600 mph and a ceiling of 50,000ft, along with a larger, superheavy aircraft that was still under development at Avro to replace the mighty York. In 1945, the new bomb had arrived.

“Ready to go, Willie?” Gibson asked his co-pilot, having completed their lengthy pre-flight checks and preparations.

“All good, Boss.” replied Tait. “Nervous?”

“Not nervous. Toey. Haven’t been this toey since we sunk the Mackensen.”

Gibson started the four Avons and pushed the throttles to the stops, sending Valiant WB.214 roaring down the runway into the bright summer sky, slipping the surly bonds and climbing upward into the sun split clouds and the footless halls of air. Once they had reached 20,000 feet, he spoke into the intercom.

“Righto chaps. Today’s flight is a nice easy test run to Fairford. We’re just going to take the scenic route - across the Channel and over France, the Low Countries, Germany and Italy for a speed run before turning back for home. Nice day for it.”

The flight was to be a clearly visible symbol to the world, and some nations in particular, of what Bomber Command could do.

Ten minutes later, the shores of England gave way to the jeweled sea and the small picturesque town of Walmington-on-Sea came into view forty five thousand feet below WB.214. A thunderous boom rolled in from the silvery plane far above in the sky, shattering several dozen windows, setting off a new alarm at the back and thoroughly disturbing what had hitherto been a pleasant morning. A small crowd gathered in front of the bank.

“Wilson! If you cannot turn off that alarm, shoot it!” stormed the manager to his assistant and the young bank clerk.

“Do you think that’s wise, sir?”

“Was that a German plane, Mr. Mainwaring?”

“You stupid boy.”

The first flight of the Vickers Valiant would be included in the 1956 film 'Bomber Command', with Richard Todd reprising his role of Guy Gibson from 1954's 'The Dam Busters'.

1947: Part 3d

British Sector, Berlin, Germany July 14th 1947
For the third time that night, Chas McGill wished that he’d made it into the Machine Gun Corps rather than the poor bloody infantry. He’d be back at Gatow with the Maxims, rather than keeping order on the blasted streets of Berlin with a rifle and a red coat. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had any experience with machine guns, after all. For some reason, that had counted against him.

The city was still recovering from the bombings and battles of the war, with the scars and ruins only partly repaired. The rubble and debris had mostly been shifted out of the British sector, but it would take at least five years to rebuild the shattered German capital. It was like a smashed ant’s nest in many ways, teeming with the Americans, British, French and the Russians all trying get one over on each other, with the Germans playing against all sides and the everyday men, women and kids trying to get by as they could.

There were worse deployments than Berlin, he supposed. It had its benefits, with a pack of cigarettes or chocolates able to buy quite a few interesting items and services. Elsewhere in Germany, there was still the chance of Werwolf attacks from Nazi die-hards or getting caught up in the rough and ready work of Nazi hunters and vampire hunters. The other battalions of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers were in Tibet, the Falklands and the Sudan, which were slightly further away from home, if nothing else. Still, patrol duty anywhere was –

He stopped. There was a leg sticking out of the alley in front of him. Chas readied his rifle and moved forward carefully around the corner to investigate. It was a dead body alright. In an RAF uniform. With a red maw where the throat had been.

He felt the bile rise in his throat as he staggered backwards and was sick loudly on a shattered doorstep. When he recovered, he blew his whistle loud and long.

..........................................................................................................................................................................

George Smiley woke with a start at the sound of the telephone.

“Stationery Department.” he answered evenly, using the current cover name for the Secret Intelligence Service’s Berlin Station.

“Armstrong? This is Edwardson. Something has come up. Come down to the Scholzplatze and I’ll meet you.” It was young Peter Guillam.

“Anything important?”

“Nothing special.” It was the code they had been waiting for.

“Very good.” Smiley hung up and grabbed his coat. The game was ready

Half an hour later, Smiley walked up to the cordon of troops and military police that sealed off the alleyway, showed his identification and slipped through. Guillam nodded at him and they walked over to the body. Three RAF SIB men were speaking with McGill, whilst a photographer prepared to take a picture of the body. Guillam moved to speak with the detectives whilst Smiley touched the photographer on the shoulder.

“Hold up for a moment, Aircraftman…?”

“Deighton, sir.”

“We just need to take a look, Aircraftman Deighton. No pictures just yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two intelligence officers bent down over the body and exchanged a brief, whispered conversation.

“Throat ripped out, Edwardson. There should be blood all over the place, especially on the uniform.”

“Yes. The body was moved here after he was killed. The scalphunters should have fixed that. “

“Quite.” Smiley straightened up and moved back over to the waiting MPs. “Yes, that is one of ours. Do what you need to do. I suppose this will make it into the papers.”

“Certainly, sir. British airman, killed by some beast. They made mincemeat out of the poor fellow.”

“Mincemeat. A very apt description, Warrant Officer. Very apt.”

Smiley and Guillam walked off towards their waiting car and came in from the cold for the night. The game was just beginning, but the pieces were now set. This would be a masterstroke for the Circus when it blossomed. If it blossomed.
……………………………………………………………………………………………….....................................................

Within two days, the name of the suspect was released. Captain Michael Bakersfield, detached from Naval Intelligence to the Berlin Garrison. Three weeks after that, Bakersfield defected to the Soviet Union in a clandestine rendezvous in Constantinople.

The game had begun in earnest.

Very good points, Steve.

1.) The Soviets launched their advance once again so that the Poles weren't followed up by Allied troops; this came about as a result of statements by Churchill to the Soviet ambassador, which were aimed at worrying Moscow into action rather than being practical. The Allied thrust up into Austria-Hungary from Greece and Italy did allow some options not present historically. Poland did have some brighter points and the irony of the Polish flag on the Reichstag was something I enjoyed writing.

2.) Poland's king is a worry for the Soviets and the Polish communist government, but they have many fish to fry.

3.) It is that John Kipling and his survival does have a positive influence on his father.

4.) Britain is able to support parts of Europe with aid and subsidies only through immense sacrifice and harder times at home. There is something else at play behind the scenes. The Americans have pushed for freer trade, but there are still blocks between the blocs.

5.) There are vampires, but this was not their work, but a faked murder. The whole business was an SIS operation designed to send a false defector to the USSR to play merry havoc with their perceptions of their agents and networks in the West, discrediting some of the effective ones and praising the ones that have been turned.

Mincemeat was a reference to the WW2 deception operation, with "Bakersfield" being framed for the murder of a man who was already dead.

Guillam is Smiley's right-hand man.

Armstrong = Smiley's cover identity
Edwardson = Guillam's cover identity

Len Deighton is the photographer and Chas McGill is from Robert Westall's novel The Machine Gunners.

The scalphunters is a slang term for the dirty tricks/wet work department of SIS used by Le Carre.

1947 Part 4a

Bay of Biscay, North Atlantic, April 29th 1947
The deep blue Royal Navy skyship moved through the wispy clouds with a rhythmic hum. Captain Charles Jordan stood at the edge of the crystal observation platform with his companion, gazing at the dozens of dots that littered the azure blue of the ocean far, far below them.

“I never thought manticores came in packs, Captain.” remarked Commander William Wetherbry.

“I wager they don’t. It may not be a Pacific size pack, but it is certainly a small party down there.”

Exercise Manticore, the Royal Navy’s first major postwar fleet exercise, had been going on for the last six days. It had seen the largest battle fleets the Atlantic had seen for years circling around each other like a pair of shadowboxing giants. No less than fifteen assorted aircraft carriers, nine battleships, twenty cruisers, twenty submarines and over a hundred destroyers and frigates were organized in three large task forces ranging across the broad expanse of the ocean sea between Lyonesse and Cape Finisterre.

The White Fleet was as a large troop convoy with a heavy surface and carrier close escort consisting of Nelson, Rodney, Implacable, Theseus, Achilles, four escort carriers, four cruisers and twenty escorts, covered by the Blue Fleet task force of Ark Royal, Invincible, Malta, Eagle, King George V, Lion, Superb, eight cruisers and thirty seven destroyers and frigates. Opposing them was the Red Fleet of Victorious, Formidable, Gibraltar, Ocean, Prince of Wales, Temeraire, Dragon, Vanguard, nine cruisers and twenty four escorts and the twenty Amphion-class fleet boats of the First and Second Submarine Squadrons. Several vessels of the Royal Canadian and Royal Australian Navies took part in Manticore, with an American observer contingent under Rear-Admiral Burke attached to various vessels and to the omnipresent skyships that saw all from their airy patrol stations.

The initial submarine attacks had been repulsed by the outer frigate screen and patrol aircraft of the White and Blue Fleets, but had succeeded in ‘sinking’ two merchantmen and a fleet oiler over the previous 24 hours as a patch of rough weather had constrained carrier operations. The helicopters and multi-role fighters on the escort carriers could detect and drive down snorkeling submarines from the surface out beyond their optimum engagement range, but the undersea performance of the streamlined Amphions was substantially improved from their wartime configuration. Something more would be needed to turn the tide back to the escort carriers, particularly with the new developments that lay on the horizon.

The two battlelines had only been able to clash twice in two inconclusive long range engagements that saw little decisive damage done by either side as the Blue Fleet had managed to keep the Red battleline at arms-length from the convoy. Restrictive conditions of engagement were in place as part of the rules of the exercise, with an action on equal terms to be avoided; the Allied participants felt as if the true performance of the Royal Navy’s battleships was being deliberately underplayed. The whole purpose of this stately oceanic quadrille was in many ways for show, demonstrating what the Royal Navy could do in what it still very much regarded as its own ocean and teasing at capabilities.

The cruiser forces had seen rather more contact, with one White, three Red and two Blue ships ruled sunk in a series of night battles; the Helmover torpedo had proved decidedly unwieldy but devastating at medium ranges. On the third day, the former Kriegsmarine heavy cruiser Schlieffen, now converted to a target ship, was hit by four weapons, sinking very rapidly afterwards. Increasingly, however, it was the firepower and reach provided by the carrier forces of each fleet that offered the most potential for development.

The aircraft of both fleets had been sent out on continual raids and interception missions, with the respective defensive firepower of over hundred and fifty jet Attackers and Sea Hawks proving a difficult obstacle for the Firedrakes and Spearfish of either side to break through, whilst the nimble Hawker Sea Furies and de Havilland Sea Vampires were encountering rather more success. Neither the Red nor the Blue Fleet had managed to sink any of their opposition’s carriers, as the combination of long range radar, well directed fighter screens, magical defences and multi-layered anti-aircraft fire proved to be a tough nut to crack. Wetherbry and the other USN observers considered that their different doctrine and numbers could comfortably break the deadlock. Jordan thought they were more than likely correct.

The firepower of the new medium automatic anti-aircraft guns and guided rockets on the cruisers and destroyers of the fleets had substantially added to their defensive capacity, particularly when combined with the proximity fused warhead and advanced RDF suites. The three Tiger class heavy cruisers of Blue Fleet were adding to the formidable name they had made for themselves in the Pacific War, with their rapid fire 5.25” and 3.75” AA batteries ruled as breaking up several raids by Red Fleet attack bombers before they were able to reach launch range for their guided bombs, aerial torpedoes, 24” Hellhound rockets and Blue Cheese anti-ship missiles.

The conventional firepower of the fleets was well matched, with strong defences slightly blunting the terrible swift sword of carrier airpower that had astounded the world in 1944 and 1945, but the shadow of the atomic bomb sat heavily on the shoulders of the commanders of all three task forces and on the Admiralty. The AWRE at Aldermaston had estimated that a bomb design suitable for carrier based bombers of the Fleet Air Arm would be ready late next year. Until then, the RNAS’s land based Stirlings and the redoubtable Sunderlands would provide a marginal interim strategic capacity for the Andrew’s half dozen atomic bombs. Jordan and Wetherbry had discussed it the previous evening over pink gins in the officer’s wardroom.

“A fair sized fleet down there, Captain Jordan. There was a big fleet at Crossroads as well. Was.” Wetherby had teased gently.

“Yes. The A-bomb is quite a worry. For the Reds, that is.” smiled Jordan.

“What would you do in their shoes?”

“Oh, I don’t rightly know. Probably enjoy a long stay at home.” Jordan glanced at his watch. Yes, it was about time. “Listening to the wireless.”

He reached forward and switched on the small set on the sideboard wireless. There was a brief period of silence, then the electronic pips from far above that had become so familiar.

“God Save the King, old boy.”

1947 Part 4c

1947 saw the beginning of two conflicts in South East Asia that would shape the next decade. The French and Dutch colonial holdings in the Far East had been restored to them from the hands of the Japanese, largely by the force of arms of the British Empire, in 1944 and 1945, despite the wishes for independence by nationalist movements in both the Dutch East Indies and French Indochina. The period since the war had been marked by growing political tension and mounting violence. This was to be the year when both saw the transition to open conflict.

The Dutch East Indies had been in a state of flux since their liberation in 1944, with strong British, Australian and Indian forces firmly establishing order on the main islands by early 1945 and suppressing regional outbreaks of nationalist rebellion. The most notable of these was an uprising in Soerabaja in May 1945, where a revolt of local nationalist militias was decisively suppressed by a reinforced Indian infantry division supported by RAF fighter-bombers and a brace of cruisers. South East Asia Command was largely loathe, however, to commit to any large scale restoration of full Dutch authority.

A Dutch expeditionary force comprised of troops from Europe and KNIL exiles from Australia numbering two divisions arrived in August 1945 to relieve the Imperial forces for operations against the Japanese home islands, but rather than herald a return to normalcy, the return of the Dutch Army marked the degeneration of festering post-liberation troubles into outright revolution. Declarations of independency of an Indonesian state were issued by separate groups on Java and Sumatra in October 1945 and the radical permuda youth groups openly clashed with Dutch forces on the streets of Batavia, Yogyakarta and Soerabaja.

The surrender of Japan saw the return of the Admiral Karel Doorman’s Royal Netherlands Navy East Indies Squadron and the Royal Netherlands Marine Brigade from Allied operations in the Pacific in early 1946. The two aircraft carriers HNLMS Tromp and HNLMS de Ruyter provided much needed air support against revolutionary forces on the ground with their powerful Sea Furies and Corsairs. Republican held areas were soon reduced to large pockets on Java and Sumatra. The Marines soon pacified the few nationalist elements on Celebes, which had always accepted Dutch rule rather more sedately that Java and Sumatra. The Moluccas, having been liberated by Australian troops in 1943, proved similarly acquiescent.

Dutch Borneo remained largely under British and Australian military administration as stubborn Japanese holdouts were cleared with fire and sword by the Commandos. The harsh lessons of 1942 regarding the defence of Malaya and Singapore ensured that no British commander would ever again take the security of Borneo for granted. North Borneo and Sarawak recovered from the Japanese occupation as best they could under their popular White Rajahs and provided a stark contrast to the nebulous status of the south of the island.

The Netherlands in early 1947 found itself under mounting political and economic pressure from the United States and the Soviet Union to make sweeping concessions and come to a political arrangement with the Indonesian nationalist forces. In contrast, Britain and France offered their generally amity in the form of limited logistical support for what looked to become a guerilla war with no end. This pressure was in turn applied to the General Spoor, the military commander in the Far East, who ordered a plan for a comprehensive offensive in Java.

On May 29th 1947, three Dutch infantry divisions launched Operatie Product, a large scale attack on positions held by the Republican Army in Java, breaking their poorly armed lines with comparative ease. Key targets seized included prosperous plantations, deep water ports and oil refineries. The operations were described as ‘police actions’ to restore order and were hailed in the Hague as a step towards the end of turmoil in the East Indies. The international view was rather different, with a ceasefire forced by the League of Nations, largely driven by American outrage at what was perceived as heavy-handed aggression against a legitimate independence movement. Product was not the harbinger of the end of the independence struggle in the Dutch East Indies, but rather merely the beginning.

French Indochina had been the scene of heavy fighting on the great advance from Malaya to Japan, with the Allied armies aided by both French and native resistance movements in expelling the Imperial Japanese Army. Chief among these was a strongly nationalist and communist guerilla force called the Viet Minh, who were particularly strong in rural Tonkin. Clashes between the Viet Minh and French colonial forces began in late 1944 as the latter began to reassert their full authority. By late 1945, much of Tonkin was in open rebellion, with the cities of Hanoi and Haiphong only nominally controlled by the French Crown.

1946 saw the French Army’s Corps Expéditionnaire en Francais Extrême-Orient arrive in Indochina in force, concentrating around Saigon in the south as their strength built up before taking Haiphong with an amphibious landing in March. As the Allied world celebrated their great victories in London with the Victory Parade of 1946, French Crusader tanks drove into Hanoi to a rather less rapturous reception. The Viet Minh fell back from the cities into the deep fastness of the jungles and mountains in the extremities of the country. There was relative quiet, at least for the moment.

The French Air Force committed almost 300 aeroplanes to the Far East, nearly all of them older British aircraft now replaced in frontline European service, such as Hawker Hurricanes, Bristol Beaufighters and Armstrong-Whitworth Manchesters. This would not be a land for jets, not yet. They roamed the skies above Tonkin, above Annam and above Cochinchina, but did not find any easy targets. The enemy was watching. Watching and waiting.

The troubles began along the Chinese border, as they had often done in the past. Groups of Viet Minh guerillas crossed the rough border terrain from their camps inside Imperial China to attack French garrison posts at night with rifle fire, grenades and mortars, before slipping away like creatures of shadow. The French advantage in firepower could rarely be focused in enough time and the trickle of casualties from Northern Annam began to turn into a steady stream as one year ended and another began. In all the forts and garrisons along the rough hills in the north of Indochina, there was a constant sense of being watched from the wild, of eyes that did not sleep.

A large scale attack occurred at Cao Bang on February 21st, but this time the French were ready, illuminating the night with starshell and sorcerous power so that their tanks, fighter-bombers and heavy artillery could finally get down to the grim business of killing. Over 700 Viet Minh were killed and a large part of the command of the Viet Minh border force perished in the lengthy pursuit. Encouraged by success in open battle, French forces pushed out from Hanoi and began rolling back the guerillas from the lowlands. Attempts at negotiations by the Viet Minh were turned down.

Marshal Leclerc’s command in Haiphong began planning for a grand encircling offensive to capture or destroy the leadership of the Viet Minh, initially scheduled for June. The Communist troubles experienced in France in early 1947 put paid to any swift reinforcement from home, with the allocated troops redirected to keeping order in Marseilles, Lyons and Paris and guarding the key railways and factories surrounding them. The Paris Mob had once again been awakened and, as ever, would not be easily quieted.

A smaller scale version of the grand offensive was ordered for early September, codenamed Operation Lea. It would be a key moment in the careers of four men – Leclerc, the Viet Minh leader Ho Chi Minh, his field commander Vo Nguyen Giap and Captain Jacques Clouseau of CEFEO Intelligence. One would be retired, one would become famed around the world, one would be very lucky and one would go to the guillotine. On September 14th 1947, Lea began.

(From Chapter 1 ‘War in Peace’ in ‘The Great Struggle – South East Asia 1945-1955', J.W. Lennon, Random House, 1972)

The Dutch face insurmountable odds in the East Indies given their smaller size forces compared to France.