General Donovan said, “and it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. But perhaps I should let Commander Fleming explain how we came by it. After all, it’s MI-6 who should be thanked for finding it and getting it out of Germany.”
Everyone looked at Fleming, and he reflexively sat up a little straighter. At least Donovan had given credit where credit was due, but no one had told him he’d be leading the briefing. Trying to hide his nervousness, he pulled the document toward him. “Yes, well . . . Mr. President, this is a translation of part of a larger report that was discovered last month by two French operatives working under deep cover at a Nazi research facility near the Baltic.”
The copy was bound by brass fasteners and sealed with a paper strip that read TOP SECRET—EYES ONLY . The cover sheet bore the report’s Section Six code name: BLACK UMBRELLA . Fleming tore off the strip and opened the document to the first page. “We’re uncertain of exactly how the operatives came by this report since both were apparently arrested by the Gestapo shortly after it was passed to the resistance movement in Paris. We’ve verified its authenticity, though, and furthermore believe that it came from the office of a German scientist working at the highest levels of the German Army’s weapons development program.”
“Dr. Wernher von Braun,” General Donovan said. “He’s their leading expert in the field of rocketry. Before the war, he was involved with a civilian effort to build a manned rocket ship . . .”
“A rocket ship.” Roosevelt’s voice was icily skeptical. “I see.”
“. . . until he was conscripted by Nazis to do military research. Very little had been heard from him since then until he emerged as technical director of what my people and Section Six believe to be an effort to build long-range ballistic missiles. Acting on reports that the Germans were apparently conducting rocket research near Peenemünde, on an island off the Baltic coast, MI-6 recruited two French resistance operatives, code-named Silver and Gold, to penetrate the facility and search for information.” A glance at Fleming. “Commander, please continue.”
Fleming picked up the thread. “Until recently, Silver and Gold had given us little to believe that the Nazis were making much headway. According to them, their rockets tended either to blow up, sometimes even before they left the ground, or veer wildly off course and crash in the Baltic. So there wasn’t much to worry about, really. However, beginning late last year, it appeared that the Nazis had taken a new tack and were apparently shifting their focus to develop something other than missiles. It wasn’t until we received this report and translated it”—he tapped a finger against the top page—“that we knew what this was.”
“And that is . . . ?” Harry Stimson asked.
Fleming hesitated, but Donovan didn’t. “Mr. Secretary, the Germans intend to build a manned rocket vehicle capable of attacking the United States.”
No one said anything for a moment. The room was so quiet, Fleming heard an automobile horn blare on Pennsylvania Avenue. “Pardon me?” President Roosevelt said at last. “They mean to build a
what
?”
“Preposterous,” Cordell Hull muttered, his Tennessee accent drawing out each syllable as an indictment of its own.
“I know it seems far-fetched,” Donovan said, “but my science lads have studied the report, and they assure me that it isn’t as absurd as it sounds.” Sliding the report away from Fleming, he turned a couple of pages to a brief preface and pointed to an initial “S” that had been signed to it. “They think this stands for Eugen Sanger, an Austrian physicist who is believed to be working for the Luftwaffe. If that’s so, then this alone gives the report credibility. About ten years ago, Sanger conducted research at the University of Vienna and made major advances in rocket-fuel mixtures. He also
Everyone looked at Fleming, and he reflexively sat up a little straighter. At least Donovan had given credit where credit was due, but no one had told him he’d be leading the briefing. Trying to hide his nervousness, he pulled the document toward him. “Yes, well . . . Mr. President, this is a translation of part of a larger report that was discovered last month by two French operatives working under deep cover at a Nazi research facility near the Baltic.”
The copy was bound by brass fasteners and sealed with a paper strip that read TOP SECRET—EYES ONLY . The cover sheet bore the report’s Section Six code name: BLACK UMBRELLA . Fleming tore off the strip and opened the document to the first page. “We’re uncertain of exactly how the operatives came by this report since both were apparently arrested by the Gestapo shortly after it was passed to the resistance movement in Paris. We’ve verified its authenticity, though, and furthermore believe that it came from the office of a German scientist working at the highest levels of the German Army’s weapons development program.”
“Dr. Wernher von Braun,” General Donovan said. “He’s their leading expert in the field of rocketry. Before the war, he was involved with a civilian effort to build a manned rocket ship . . .”
“A rocket ship.” Roosevelt’s voice was icily skeptical. “I see.”
“. . . until he was conscripted by Nazis to do military research. Very little had been heard from him since then until he emerged as technical director of what my people and Section Six believe to be an effort to build long-range ballistic missiles. Acting on reports that the Germans were apparently conducting rocket research near Peenemünde, on an island off the Baltic coast, MI-6 recruited two French resistance operatives, code-named Silver and Gold, to penetrate the facility and search for information.” A glance at Fleming. “Commander, please continue.”
Fleming picked up the thread. “Until recently, Silver and Gold had given us little to believe that the Nazis were making much headway. According to them, their rockets tended either to blow up, sometimes even before they left the ground, or veer wildly off course and crash in the Baltic. So there wasn’t much to worry about, really. However, beginning late last year, it appeared that the Nazis had taken a new tack and were apparently shifting their focus to develop something other than missiles. It wasn’t until we received this report and translated it”—he tapped a finger against the top page—“that we knew what this was.”
“And that is . . . ?” Harry Stimson asked.
Fleming hesitated, but Donovan didn’t. “Mr. Secretary, the Germans intend to build a manned rocket vehicle capable of attacking the United States.”
No one said anything for a moment. The room was so quiet, Fleming heard an automobile horn blare on Pennsylvania Avenue. “Pardon me?” President Roosevelt said at last. “They mean to build a
what
?”
“Preposterous,” Cordell Hull muttered, his Tennessee accent drawing out each syllable as an indictment of its own.
“I know it seems far-fetched,” Donovan said, “but my science lads have studied the report, and they assure me that it isn’t as absurd as it sounds.” Sliding the report away from Fleming, he turned a couple of pages to a brief preface and pointed to an initial “S” that had been signed to it. “They think this stands for Eugen Sanger, an Austrian physicist who is believed to be working for the Luftwaffe. If that’s so, then this alone gives the report credibility. About ten years ago, Sanger conducted research at the University of Vienna and made major advances in rocket-fuel mixtures. He also
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