Dark Earth: Exercise Warhammer

Exercise Warhammer Part 4

The day was looking up, most definitely now that they were back on terra firma, Tom thought. It had been a quick hop of less than half an hour back from Garstedt to Bad Eilsen by Rotodyne and the sight of the sprawling headquarters of RAF Germany provided a curious contrast to the green fields and forests around the charming little town. There were half a dozen airstrips around the central array of buildings, all surrounded by bladewire fences, entrenchments and pillboxes. This was something of a distractor, given that the real base lay somewhere deep under the surrounding hills and woodlands, protected by a hefty layer of armour plate and concrete, but in peacetime conditions, the Air Force was hardly going to give up its comforts in favour of a more dwarven environment.

He would have been quite surprised at the sight of a troop of Super Centurion tanks bearing the roundel of the Royal Air Force Regiment had he not flipped through the glossy leaflet distributed to the journalistic pool prior to their departure from Garstedt, which had devoted a double page spread to the modernization and hardening of the RAF Regiment. Most of the visible defences of Bad Eilsen were quite conventional, mainly consisting of motorised infantry and rather formidable anti-aircraft guns, but he could see glimpses of heavily camouflaged SAGW launchers that he couldn’t quite identify out in the forest around the area and there seemed to be rounded tops of subterranean missile silos dotted around the edge of the airfield complex. It was difficult to focus upon them and his eyes seemed to slip past them if he didn’t make a deliberate effort to concentrate.

The circumstances of the flight had begun in a somewhat bizarre manner. After their return from the field with the Royal Marines, they had been met by a group of RAFG public affairs officers who could have passed for the original Brylcream Boys, smilingly greeted with complimentary chocolates and shepherded onto a flight of camouflaged Rotodynes in a smoothly efficient manner. Tom had always considered the Royal Air Force to be something of a combination between an advertising firm and garage mechanics during his own National Service and these particular Crabs seemed a bit too unctuous. He hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on it until just after they took off when the penny finally dropped.

He had leaned forward and tapped the fellow sitting in front of him on the shoulder to confirm his concern.

“Bailey?” The nice chap from The Times, who seemed to keep bobbing up in the same place as Tom, turned around almost immediately. They could barely hear the hum of the quietened engines from without, something he had become used to on his Rotodyne flights over the years and quite a difference from the old Wessexes.

“Ah, Mr. Fowler. Anything I can help you with?”

“It’s this part in the introduction of the Crab conspectus here. I’ve always thought that RAF Germany had its headquarters in Bielefeld. There’s no mention of it here.”

“I see. Have you ever met anyone from Bielefeld?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been to Bielefeld?”

Tom paused for thought. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Righto. Do you know anyone who has ever been to Bielefeld?’’

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, there you go. Officially, the offices and administrative buildings are there. Unofficially, I think you might be onto something.” Bailey paused meaningfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“Wonderful! You’re learning the rules of the game so fast! Anyway, I’d keep mum about Bielefeld if I were you, old boy. En Svensk Tiger, as my old tomte is want to say.” He gave an infuriating wink and then turned back around to his crossword.

Considering back on it now, there was something strange going on, but he had the kernel of an idea of what it was. Some sort of combination of illusion and repulsion sorcery was being used here, which made sense given the Royal Air Force’s enthusiasm for arcane augmentations and gadgetry. As the newest of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, at least on Earth, the RAF had wholeheartedly embraced both all manner of newfangled technology and the latest in modern sorcery in its efforts to carve out its own niche.

As they trooped off the Rotodyne onto the tarmac, they were met by a grinning squadron leader in dress uniform who stood with that cultivated easy casualness that he had encountered predominantly in the jet pilots of Fighter Command.

“Good afternoon, chaps, Squadron Leader Christopher Blair. Welcome to the Headquarters of RAF Germany. Follow me through to the briefing room we’ve got set up over here and help yourself to a spot of tea, if you like. Air Commodore Warburton has quite the presentation for you.”

The RAF’s briefing room was not cosy and cluttered like the Royal Navy’s on Heligoland, nor an ad hoc conversion as that of the Marines, but rather a well-appointed dedicated facility replete with large mapboards and a crystal screen showing a satellite image of Northern Germany and its immediate environs. The tea was rather good and the RAF’s array of biscuits, ranging from tea cakes and Viennese whirls to Scotch shortbread and jammie dodgers, typified their youthful exhuberant extravagance; they even had coffee at the back of the room, which was pounced upon by the Americans and Continental types with a tad too much enthusiasm, whilst the British contingent looked on with bemusement. As they settled down in their seats, the doors were opened and a party of RAF officers entered, lead by a tall man heavily adorned with gold aiguellettes and a very large array of medal ribbons, reflecting his exploits in the Second World War, Korea and the Middle East.

“Very good, gentlemen. As of this afternoon, RAF Germany fields 1248 combat aircraft in 52 squadrons, close to our full mobilized form, whilst Strike Command stands ready as immediate reinforcement as per our plans. Further forces from Fighter Command and Transport Command are associated in a support role as appropriate. In circumstances outside of the parameters of this exercise, this available force would be increased, naturally. The initial flow of reinforcement aircraft and personnel will be completed within 24 hours from the initiation of Warhammer. We currently have the aircraft of both Royal Canadian Air Force Europe and the forward deployed Commonwealth squadrons under our operational command for the purposes of the exercise.

Our role is fourfold – command and control of 2nd Allied Tactical Air Force, NORTHAG’s aerial defence force; defence of the air approaches to the British Isles through Northern Germany and the Low Countries; aerial strikes against enemy forces in the European theatre; and direct air support of the British Army of the Rhine and other allied land forces. We have dispersed our various tactical air forces from their eighteen peacetime bases to their field locations, which of course will remain unspecified. We have full operational control of Army area air defence assets as part of our coordination role in wartime and our radar stations extend our picture of the potential battlespace well beyond our immediate area of control, providing detailed information for not just the Supreme Allied Commander Europe and the command of Allied Forces Central Europe, but also to Allied commands in Northern and Southern Europe.

In the form of the fighter and interceptor force, the English Electric Lightnings and Supermarine Sunstars, we have the capacity to control the airspace above our tactical area. The Merlin and Spectre strike forces give us long range hitting power that only the Americans can rival and none can better. Our Harrier attack fighter-bombers provide the British Army and our allies with the best close air support in the business and we have full confidence in their capabilities. Whilst the Hawker Hunters and the English Electric Canberras of the Royal Auxiliary Air Force, are regarded by some as a legacy force, both types are in service with our very best squadrons and remain fully capable of carrying out their missions in any conditions.

You have heard from the Royal Navy on their vital role in the execution of Warhammer and no doubt the Army will follow along with their own perspective on the morrow. The Navy and the civilian ships called up have and will transport much of the heavy equipment of the Army from their bases at home, but the Royal Air Force is in the process of moving over 160,000 men, their arms and supplies from the British Isles to the Low Countries and Germany and we are ahead of schedule. The air bridge is firmly defended by home and European based fighters and missiles, allowing the rapid reinforcement of both divisions assigned to the permanently deployed corps of the BAOR. As the Hawker-Siddeley HS.681 enters service with the Royal Air Force in greater numbers, our capacity in this regard will be greatly multiplied, just as the Atlas has already done so.

Whilst the emphasis of much of what you will see and hear in your time with us today will look at our role in the event of war, RAF Germany also plays a significant part in the peacetime life of Germany. We provide a range of support and services to the civilian population of our hosts, ranging from aerial photography and surveying, search and rescue for lost children, communications coordination and aerial transportation in the event of significantly bad weather. It points the way forward for cooperation, not just between our two nations, but between all the countries of the Free World. Now, are the any questions?”

One of the Americans shot up out of his seat. “Air Commodore, does RAF Germany have sufficient strength to hold the Red Air Force in a potential conflict?”

“Our position has consistently been that we have full confidence in our capacity to, in association with the other national contingents in Second Allied Tactical Air Force, carry out whatever tasks the Supreme Allied Commander may instruct us to do.” He pointed at a Dutch journalist who had his hand raised in a somewhat more sedate fashion. “Yes?”

“The Koninklijke Luchtmacht plays a significant role in the defence of Northern Germany. What is their role in Exercise Warhammer and what areas require the most significant modernization?”

“We have a very close working relationship with the Dutch, and with the Belgians for that matter. Both are playing support roles in the current exercise and specifically, the Royal Netherlands Air Force will be providing an opposition force for tactical aerial combat simulations tomorrow afternoon. Whilst it is not for us to comment on Dutch military procurement, the Fokker Degen is an absolutely spiffing bit of kit and right up there with the best fighters in Europe; replacement of your Hunters and Deltas with fully modern aircraft, whichever they may be, will be an absolute boon for the entire of our Allied command.”

Bailey leaned over to Tom and raised up his notes to cover his mouth. “Bit of a contrast with the Andrew there. It seems that the Air Ministry is trying to put in a good word for our poor old aircraft manufacturers for the Benelux contracts.”

“With over 300 Dutch and Belgian orders each, I can see why they’d be a bit keen on it. The Yanks and the French are the major competition?”

“So it would seem, but I’ve heard some talk that they may be looking northward as well. In any case, our chaps don’t quite have as much largesse to throw around as our cousins across the water, so a little good word here and there doesn’t go astray.”

“One would hope.” In the midst of their little conversation, Tom had missed the last question, something from the correspondent of the Manchester Guardian about comparative fighter armament; their journalists were always rather warlike and technical in their temperament, what with the paper being one of the most stridently jingoistic of all the British newspapers.

“Thank you, gentlemen. We will now repair outside, where a selection of our aircraft are on display for your inspection. Following on from that, you’ll each be joined up with the squadron that will be hosting you. Group Captain Foyle will distribute the relevant chits to you for all that.”

“It will be interesting to have a look at some of them up close, don’t you think?” Tom asked Bailey as they headed out to the waiting fighters.

“Always tends to be. Planes aren’t really my area of expertise - I leave that to the likes of Bill and John here. What do you fellows think?”

“There won’t be too many surprises, even if RAF Germany gets the pick of the planes and pilots. It won’t be the first time either of us have seen some of them before, either, eh John?” The first chap, presumably Bill, spoke with a soft Canadian accent.

“Not by a long stretch, old man. Now, if they had some of our Tornadoes out here rather than back at the CFE for testing, then it would be interesting. That will be one beauty of a kite.”

“So it really is as good as they say?”

“Yes. Mach 1.5 on the deck and 2.5 up high. Doesn’t quite have the bombload of an F-111 or an Excalibur, but it is a magnificent fighter. Winkle has been trying one out for the Andrew and he said it has the measure of the Phantom in his view; Zura thought so as well when he was back from over the pond.”

“No small part of familial loyalty in that assessment?” Bailey smiled wryly.

“Ha! You would say that, wouldn’t you, Simon. Always looking for an angle. No, this is the plain and simple. Damn good plane. Now, that Thunderbolt that Barnes Wallis has come up with, that is a different case.”

“Oh, come on John. Vickers have done one heck of a job there. I know your lot would have preferred an American-style solution to the issue, but Barnes knows bombers and this is a strike bomber, pure and simple. They needed something to replace the Canberra in the L.B.S.F. and it does that extraordinarily well.”

“And expensively.”

“Like I always say in the Express, we don’t have the economies of scale that the Yanks, Russians or even Chinese have, but we’ve managed to make it so far. A lot of countries out there have Canberras that we won’t or can’t sell TSR-2 to, so Thunderbolt is the best bet.”

“What about the Lion, chaps? Will that be a winner for Gloster?” Bailey ventured into the conversation, eager to shift its focus before it retrod familiar territory.

“Hard to say.” began Bill reflectively “It is more of a niche aeroplane, concentrating on ground attack and smashing up tanks with that big bloody gun. That makes it attractive to some and a bit too specialised for others.”

“Yes, it won’t get much in South America or the Middle East, I’d wager, except maybe Israel. There are a few potentials here on the Continent and bigguns at that - France, Italy, Greece, Austria and Germany. We know the Jerries are working on something in response to the same conundrum, but if an arrangement can be reached, there is some potential.” John mused thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

The first fighter that loomed up in front of them was a de Havilland Spectre. It’s large wings tapered back in a near delta above the large intakes of its twin Gyron engines, whilst four Skyblade missiles were carried on its fuselage and four smaller Firebolt heatseeking missiles sat ready on its inner wing stations. A quartet of 1000lb bombs rounded out its armament, showing that the Spectre truly lived up to its repute as a multi-role fighter-bomber.

“I gather you chaps are pilots of some sort. Have you flown one of these before?” Tom ventured to Bailey’s friends, trying to make conversation. He was naturally a bit perturbed when all three of his erstwhile companions burst out laughing.

“Yes, yes I have. The first one, to be precise.” said John.

simon darkshade ,

Exercise Warhammer Part 5: Down in Harrier Town

As the hearty laughter died down, Bailey's acquaintances drifted off to the other side of the tarmac to inspect a curious looking helicopter, but Tom's attention was drawn to a very familiar aircraft that stood next to the Spectre. Its sharply swept wings and stretched fuselage identified it as one of the more modern developments of the venerable single engine fighter, but it could not be mistaken for anything other than a Hawker Hunter. This was the jet that had helped win the Korean War, the jet that had ruled the skies over the Middle East back in '56 and the jet that up until recently, had been the most ubiquitous in not only the Royal Air Force, but the Western world. Now, they were waning in numbers, but still provided what many considered the most effective ground attack fighter-bomber in the British arsenal.

Tom’s eye was caught by something on the fighter’s nose. Flags. Two white crescents on green. Two white crescents on red. Two azure dragons on gold. Four red stars within red pentagons. Two red stars. And one black swastika. Well. They had certainly got around.

“Shame they’ll be gone fairly soon. Still, nigh on twenty years is a good innings in anyone’s book, especially in this day and age.”

Tom turned to see a dogged-looking fellow in a grey suit with receding black hair and a sturdy walking stick that he seemed to carry more as a weapon than an aid, who stood looking on at the Hunter thoughtfully.

“What will they do with them all?”

“I dare say the majority will go into storage for the Royal Auxiliary Air Force or the War Emergency Reserve or even the Welsh and Scottish mountains. We don’t quite have the same conditions that the Yanks can call upon, but I'd wager we have ways and ways of keeping our old planes ready.”

Tom nodded. Whilst the precise arrangements of the Royal Air Force's reserve stocks of aircraft were a closely kept secret, there were enough stories going around regarding hundreds of old jets kept deep underground in temperature controlled caverns for there to surely be at least something of substance to them. The RAF was notorious at keeping hold of as much kit as possible, which had lead to one of Tom's more interesting freelance pieces when he'd followed up rumours of an old abandoned airship hanger packed with brand new Spitfires on some remote craggy island off the west coast of Ireland. He'd made it out there before being politely asked to leave by the local constabulary and an unsmiling black-suited fellow who had slapped a D-notice on the whole business and intimated that it would be better for him to not return for a few decades or so.

This chap here was quite right. Oh, the old airfields out in the Empire had much the same as what the Americans did - dozens, if not hundreds of planes plonked out in the middle of carefully chosen deserts in South Africa, Australia and India, but here at home, the weather and the lack of space meant that they usually went inside or underground.

He turned back to the fellow next to him, who seemed to be standing a bit strangely; Tom couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps a bit more inocuous conversation would tease some more snippets out for his piece.

"Quite remarkable to think it first flew in the 40s."

"Yes, we did have quite a few things flying around back then."

"Ah, were you flying back then?"

"Yes, I had one of these girls back in Korea, for one last fling. The Americans do like to talk up their Sabres from back then and they were bloody good kites, but ours could also smash up the Reds on the ground as well as knock them out of the skies. We could also take atom bombs on the Hunter. Damn fine plane. Second best one I've flown."

"What would the best plane be then?"

"The Spitfire, of course. A real pilot's dream. And never, ever call it a plane. It's an aeroplane."

Tom stopped. He now knew who this man was. "Thank you very much, Air Vice-Marshal Bader. What brings you out to Germany?"

"Officially, the Air Ministry called up all of our Shell planes for the air bridge, so I came over to keep an eye on things. Really? Bit of a favour for old Biggles."

"There you are, Mr. Fowler! Ah, Douglas! Warby mentioned that you were stomping around the place. Seeing Marseille and Hartmann later?"

"Maybe, Bailey, maybe. Things seem to get awfully busy these days. Cheerio, old boy."

"Pip pip, Bader." Bailey smiled at the remarkably natural gait of the man as he walked off. "Remarkable fellow. Seen what you were after yet?"

"I don't think my editor was really after too great a depth of technical details. There'll be a time for someone to do the swansong of the Canberra and all that, but I might as well see some of the others before they send us out into the field...to do what, exactly?"

"See how the Harrier squadrons commune with the spirits of nature, apparently. The chaps seem to think that this part of the whole press endeavour is to make sure the Harrier gets frontpage coverage in Germany and seeing Douglas out here confirms it. A few pictures of RAF and Luftwaffe aces next to the planes will get attention from here to Munich. Clever."

"That makes an awful lot of sense. So, what next?"

"How about the Supermarine Sunstar here? It gets a bit forgotten between the Merlins and the Lightning, but I'm sure you could raffle up some guff about the legacy of Mitchell and Smith." Bailey strolled over to the Sunstar, clearly recognisable with its graceful curving wings and twin vertical tail above its pair of reheat Rolls Royce Olympus turbojets. "Beautiful yet deadly and the best in its class."

He was right of course, Tom thought. The English Electric Lightning was the world's best interceptor and the Hawker-Siddeley Merlin had no peer as a long-range strike fighter, but the Sunstar was the powerful and reliable air superiority fighter that the RAF's air defence relied upon. Over Germany and Europe, the triple-layered protection of the British Isles, built as it was upon the outer layer of the Delta IIs and Arrows out over the seas, the Sunstars in the middle zone and the Lightnings and Saro Phoenixes at home, was pared back to only a dual level arrangement, but it was a formidable one nonetheless. The Germans were certainly coming to the same conclusion.

"Wouldn't it make more sense, as some of the American fellows have said, to cut back on the types of planes in service and standardise more, though?"

"On the surface of it, yes. That is why Fighter Command shifted the Merlins and Spectres over to Strike Command and consolidating on the Big 5; even then, there is a fair bit of pressure from the Treasury to cut that back to four, if my sources are correct. Here in Germany, the aim is to field five types - Harriers, Lions, Lightnings, Sunstars and Tornadoes - backed up by the longer range strike aircraft in Third and Fourth TAFs - Merlins, Tornadoes and Thunderbolts. There is a fair bit of industrial policy and politics, both Imperial and domestic, wrapped up in the whole business."

"You left out the Spectres."

"Yes. It is a damn fine kite, as the Brylcream Boys are want to say, but it will be pushing ten years old soon. The sheer bally pace of aircraft development, the 'white heat of science and technology' as that Socialist fellow says, is going at breakneck speed and shows no sign of stopping. The Hunters, the Deltas, the Spectres - they all ruled the roost back in 1956 and even in 1960 were frontline planes. Give it two or three years and they'll be by the wayside and comfortably in reserve."

"In that case, wouldn't it be a better solution to grab the bull by its horns and shear back the extraneous types from the active fleet."

"I wouldn't like your chances of shearing a bull, Mr. Fowler; I must remember to mention that to an old minotaur chum of mine back in Blighty." Bailey smiled irascibly. "All jokes aside, it makes fine sense from the outside, but it would be a brave Air Ministry that would do it in this political environment, both at home and abroad. You'd actually be more likely to see it from Eden than Stanley Barton; you know how he bangs on about supporting our vital industries and their workers as one of the keys to total defence. If Labour get in next year in '64, and it can't be discounted, you could see some surprises, though."

"Such as?"

"I'm hearing a few whispers about Phantom."

"Really? That would be quite a turn-up; I can't remember us buying an American plane since..."

"Since the last war, yes. Apparently, there seems to be something in the works surrounding a quid pro quo to do with Harrier and Phantom that Labour is a bit more open to than the Tories. Just a whisper, though."

A whisper that he had quite adroitly passed onto Tom, slipping it in quite naturally. Fowler had reasonably developed journalistic antennae when it came to a story and what came naturally, but this seemed a bit too convenient. It wasn't the first time he'd been fed a story too delicious not to leak; he could only surmise that there was more to Mr. Simon Bailey than his friendly enthusiasm. Or maybe his heightened paranoia was simply a function of an early start and a lack of strong drink.

Before he could reply or think further, a howl of engines came in from very low as four Harriers streaked across the airfield and hovered down to land in their inimitable fashion. It was time to head out into the field, it seemed.

..........................................................................................................................................
The field headquarters of B Flight, No. 15 Squadron were rather less salubrious than their normal based back at RAF Bückeburg, consisting of a dozen extremely well camouflaged tents, carefully disguised hides for their half dozen Hawker Siddeley jump jets and various vehicles coveted in bushes. Coming in from the air, it had been impossible to spot until they were almost directly overhead, although Tom wagered to himself that the Russians had means beyond the naked eye to observe them with.

This was one of the great raison d’êtres of the Harrier in RAF Germany, this notion of dispersal into the field - or forest, in this case - for the provision of close air support that was not completely contingent upon fixed airfield, which were perceived as early targets for the Red Air Force or Soviet missile strikes. As part of Warhammer, all twenty Harrier squadrons had been dispersed to over one hundred WARLOCs, or war locations, across Western and Central Germany; the similarity of the term to certain other words had apparently lead to the RAF and Air Ministry receiving some interesting predawn visits by the Office of the Witchfinder General, but the matter had been resolved after some intense discussions.

The squadron public relations officer had proved particularly wont to wax lyrical about the multiplicative effect on the RAF’s tactical airpower in the defence of Germany supplied by the Harrier.

“You know, Mr. Fowler, the Harrier really has a, a, a multiplicative effect on our tactical air power in the role of the -“

“The defence of Germany?”

“I say, you’re a clever one, what!” Flight Lieutenant Hamilton-Massingbird granted Tom a look of some approval, as if he’d given him a profitable tip for the Grand National.

Tom silently prayed for the conversation to be interrupted in a decisive yet socially appropriate manner, such as a rook falling on his head or a sudden reversal of the Earth’s magnetic poles, but his entreaties went in vain, for his accompanying journalist now entered the fray. The chap was from the Manchester Guardian, you see. All storm and fury.

“Flight Lieutenant, you’ve been quite explicit about the advantages of Harrier deployment arrangements. What about the disadvantages?”

“Well, being out in the dark and wild forests of Germany isn’t quite as nice as the officer’s mess back at base.” The Royal Air Force man stuck firmly to the script of arrant fop, almost as if the powers that be had decided upon cliche as the best press strategy; it seemed to Tom as if a covey of mandarins (if covey was the best collective noun for the Civil Service; he was leaning more towards 'an interdepartmental dither') had ruminated roundly over brandy and cigars down at t'club one evening that the Foreign Secretary seemed to make an artform of it, so why not make it policy, eh, old boy?

"That's not quite what I meant, sir, and I think you know it. What limitations to operational range and weapons load does VTOL from grass airfields entail, that, say, operating off roads and in small villages."

Hamilton-Massingbird's grin evaporated and even his accent seemed to roughen slightly. "On the first matter, that is classified. On the second point, that is also classified. What I can say is that if we put a flight of fighter-bombers in any one of these charming, lovely German villages around here, it would not only stick out like a dragon in dark sunglasses trying to pass itself off as a winner in Worcestershire midget beauty contest, but it would also result in said charming, lovely village copping it from enemy guns and rockets rather sharpish. There is a lot more space out here, for now."

The Guardian firebrand seemed mollified, or as mollified as they tended to get. "The reinforcing squadrons from Strike Command have a dual role, both here in Germany and also on the northern and southern flanks in Scandinavia and the Med. Have you noticed any difference between their relative acclimatisation and experience in exercises because of this?"

"All of our Harrier units are capable of operating in a variety of climes and circumstances right here in Germany. It is an awfully big place, you know. So, no. There isn't any great gulf noticeable between the home based forces and RAF Germany. There is a great deal of cross-over between us all, really, just like the heavies."

"You're referring to Bomber Command? They're not involved in Warhammer for some reason." Tom was fairly sure of the reason, but allowing a chap to educate an ignorant civvie was one way of getting him to run off a bit too much at the mouth.

"Yes, they are at home and elsewhere for various reasons, including keeping some cards out in the open. In different situations, SACEUR would have the Light Bomber Strike Force in France and so forth, as well as the Valiants and TSR-2s operating from Britain assigned to the Allied Strategic Air Force."

"How would heavy bombers operate in an air combat environment over Germany?" There went the Guardian chap again.

"Like all of our forces, with great care, planning and skill. Operating from home as well as the Harrier dispersal gives more airfield space for the reinforcement air bridge, as well as the contingents from the Commonwealth air forces."

"Can the Commonwealth really get enough strength into the Continent in time to make any difference? There are a lot of calls on their forces, after all, in the Middle East and Far East, for example." Tom thought that he might be onto something here.

"They do and they have. You are forgetting one thing - The Plan. Kicking that into gear again is a key part in our active and reserve capacity."

Of course. The Plan.

Before he could pounce on the idea, his compatriot beat him to the punch.

"What about the Army Air Corps and the Royal Flying Corps? Are the recent increases a factor in the role played by your Harriers?"

"I can't really speak for the Army, but I know someone who can."

"Oh?" Tom was somewhat intrigued. They weren't supposed to hand over to the Army until the morning.

"Yes. Have you ever met a dragon?"

The historical Light Bomber Force was made up of English Electric Canberras in the 1950s. The initial aim back in 1952 was for 560 light bombers and it grew towards this over the next 3 years, peaking at 27 squadrons and 390 Canberras in 1955, 24 in Britain and 3 in Germany.

On Dark Earth, it peaks at 640 Canberras in the late 1950s before they are gradually replaced by newer aircraft; 240 were in service in 1950 with Bomber Command, with these all gone by 1963, when this story is set. The Canberras referred to here are the last five squadrons in RAF Strike Command service; the Canberras have been replaced as frontline bombers in the Far East Air Force and Middle East Air Force and only serve as photo reconnaissance planes at this point.

Thanks Steve for the detailed comments.

Bailey, being part of SOE, tends to align more with a view friendly to the US and Anglo-American cooperation. He is trying to get the story leaked, with an aim of discrediting opposition. The Phantom deal is likely.

The Guardian fellow is, as you say, onto something, but his prescription for urban camouflage, so to speak, wouldn’t work quite yet. The RAF is trying to fit a lot of aircraft onto a finite number of airfields.

The last sentence, as heralded in the introduction, suggests some interesting times ahead.