with. I am a fair-sized man, yet I found that armor heavy to carry around.
Estelle Karst was a small woman, yet she was willing to work maybe fourteen
hours, day after day, in an outfit which was about as comfortable as a
diving suit. But she had not complained.
Not all the heroes are in the headlines. These radiation experts not only
ran the chance of cancer and nasty radio-action burns, but the men stood a
chance of damaging their germ plasm and then having their wives present
them with something horrid in the way of offspring?no chin, for example,
and long hairy ears. Nevertheless, they went right ahead and never seemed
to get irritated unless something held up their work.
Dr. Karst was past the age when she would be likely to be concerned
personally about progeny, but the principle applies.
I wandered around, looking at the unlikely apparatus she used to get her
results, fascinated as always by my failure to recognize much that reminded
me of the physics laboratory I had known when I was an undergraduate, and
being careful not to touch anything. Karst started explaining to Manning
what she was doing and why, but I knew that it was useless for me to try to
follow that technical stuff. If Manning wanted notes, he would dictate
them. My attention was caught by a big box-like contraption in one corner
of the room. It had a hopper-like gadget on one side and I could hear a
sound from it like the whirring of a fan with a background of running
water. It intrigued me.
I moved back to the neighborhood of Dr. Karst and the Colonel and heard her
saying, "The problem amounts to this, Colonel: I am getting a much more
highly radio-active end-product than I want, but there is considerable
variation in the half-life of otherwise equivalent samples. That suggests
to me that I am using a mixture of isotopes but I haven't been able to
prove it. And frankly, I do not know enough about that end of the field to
be sure of sufficient refinement in my methods. I need Dr. Obre's help on
that."
I think those were her words, but I may not be doing her justice, not being
a physicist I understood the part about "half-life." All radioactive
materials keep right on radiating until they turn into something else,
which takes theoretically forever. As a matter of practice their periods,
or "lives," are described in terms of how long it takes the original
radiation to drop to one-half strength. That time is called a "half-life"
and each radioactive isotope of an element has its own specific
characteristic half-lifetime.
One of the staff?I forget which one?told me once that any form of matter
can be considered as radioactive in some degree; it's a question of
intensity and period, or half-life.
"I'll talk to Dr. Ridpath," Manning answered her, "and see what can be
arranged. In the meantime you might draw up plans for what you want to
re-equip your laboratory."
"Thank you, Colonel."
I could see that Manning was about ready to leave, having pacified her; I
was still curious about the big box that gave out the odd noises.
"May I ask what that is, Doctor?"
"Oh, that? That's an air-conditioner."
"Odd-looking one. I've never seen one like it."
"It's not to condition the air of this room. It's to remove the radioactive
dust before the exhaust air goes outdoors. We wash the dust out of the foul
air."
"Where does the water go?"
"Down the drain. Out into the bay eventually, I suppose. '
I tried to snap my fingers, which was impossible because of the lead
mittens. "That accounts for it, Colonel!"
"Accounts for what?"
"Accounts for those accusing notes we've been getting from the Bureau of
Fisheries. This poisonous dust is being carried out into Chesapeake Bay and
is killing the fish."
Manning turned to Karst. "Do you think that possible, Doctor?"
I could see her brows draw together through the window in her helmet. "I
hadn't thought about it," she admitted. "I'd have to do some figuring on
the possible concentrations before I could give you a definite answer. But
it is possible?yes. However," she added anxiously, "it would be simple
enough to divert this drain to a sink hole of some sort."
"Hm-m-m?yes." He did not say anything for some minutes, simply stood there,
looking at the box.
Presently he said, "This dust is pretty lethal?"
"Quite lethal, Colonel." There was another long silence.
At last I gathered he had made up his mind about something for he said
decisively, "I am going to see to it that you get Obre's assistance,
Doctor."
"Oh, good!"
"?but I want you to help me in return. I am very much interested in this
research of yours, but I want it carried on with a little broader scope. I
want you to investigate for maxima both in period and intensity as well as
for minima. I want you to drop the strictly utilitarian approach and make
an exhaustive research along lines which we will work out in greater detail
later."
She started to say something but he cut in ahead of her. "A really thorough
program of research should prove more helpful in the long run to your
original purpose than a more narrow one. And I shall make it my business to
expedite every possible facility for such a research. I think we may turn
up a number of interesting things."
He left immediately, giving her no time to discuss it. He did not seem to
want to talk on the way back and I held my peace. 1 think he had already
gotten a glimmering of the bold and drastic strategy this was to lead to,
but even Manning could not have thought out that early the inescapable
consequences of a few dead fish?otherwise he would never have ordered the
research.
No, I don't really believe that. He would have gone right ahead, knowing
that if he did not do it, someone else would. He would have accepted the
responsibility while bitterly aware of its weight.
1944 wore along with no great excitement on the surface. Karst got her new
laboratory equipment and so much additional help that her department
rapidly became the largest on the grounds. The explosives research was
suspended after a conference between Manning and Ridpath, of which I heard
only the end, but the meat of it was that there existed not even a remote
possibility at that time of utilizing U235 as an explosive. As a source of
power, yes, sometime in the distant future when there had been more
opportunity to deal with the extremely ticklish problem of controlling the
nuclear reaction. Even then it seemed likely that it would not be a source
of power in prime movers such as rocket motors or mobiles, but would be
used in vast power plants at least as large as the Boulder Dam
installation.
After that Ridpath became a sort of co-chairman of Karst's department and
the equipment formerly used by the explosives department was adapted or
replaced to carry on research on the deadly artificial radioactives.
Manning arranged a division of labor and Karst stuck to her original
problem of developing techn
iques for tailor-making radioactives. I think
she was perfectly happy, sticking with a one-track mind to the problem at
hand. I don't know to this day whether or not Manning and Ridpath ever saw
fit to discuss with her what they intended to do.
As a matter of fact, I was too busy myself to think much about it. The
general elections were coming up and I was determined that Manning should
have a constituency to return to, when the emergency was over. He was not
much interested, but agreed to let his name be filed as a candidate for
re-election. I was trying to work up a campaign by remote control and
cursing because I could not be in the field to deal with the thousand and
one emergencies as they arose.
I did the next best thing and had a private line installed to permit the
campaign chairman to reach me easily. I don't think I violated the Hatch
Act, but I guess I stretched it a little. Anyhow, it turned out all right;
Manning was elected, as were several other members of the citizen-military
that year. An attempt was made to smear him by claiming that he was taking
two salaries for one job, but we squelched that with a pamphlet entitled
"For Shame!" which explained that he got one salary for two jobs. That's
the Federal law in such cases and people are entitled to know it.
It was just before Christmas that Manning first admitted to me how much the
implications of the Karst-Obre process were preying on his mind. He called
me into his office over some inconsequential matter, then did not let me
go. I saw that he wanted to talk.
"How much of the K-O dust do we now have on hand?" he asked suddenly.
"Just short of ten thousand units," I replied. "I can look up the exact
figures in half a moment." A unit would take care of a thousand men, at
normal dispersion. He knew the figure as well as I did, and I knew he was
stalling.
We had shifted almost imperceptibly from research to manufacture, entirely
on Mannings initiative and authority. Manning had never made a specific
report to the department about it, unless he had done so verbally to the
chief of staff.
"Never mind," he answered to my suggestion, then added, "Did you see those
horses?"
"Yes," I said briefly.
I did not want to talk about it. I like horses. We had requisitioned six
broken-down old nags, ready for the bone yard, and had used them
experimentally. We knew now what the dust would do. After they had died,
any part of their carcasses would register on a photographic plate and
tissue from the apices of their lungs and from the bronchia glowed with a
light of its own.
Manning stood at the window, staring out at the dreary Maryland winter for
a minute or two before replying, "John, I wish that radioactivity had never
been discovered. Do you realize what that devilish stuff amounts to?"
"Well," I said, "it's a weapon, about like poison gas?maybe more
efficient."
"Rats!" he said, and for a moment I thought he was annoyed with me
personally. "That's about like comparing a sixteen-inch gun with a bow and
arrow. We've got here the first weapon the world has ever seen against
which there is no defense, none whatsoever. It's death itself, C. O. D.
"Have you seen Ridpath's report?" he went on.
I had not. Ridpath had taken to delivering his reports by hand to Manning
personally.
"Well," he said, "ever since we started production I've had all the talent
we could spare working on the problem of a defense against the dust.
Ridpath tells me and I agree with him that there is no means whatsoever to
combat the stuff, once it's used."
"How about armor," I asked, "and protective clothing?"
"Sure, sure," he agreed irritatedly, "provided you never take it off to
eat, or to drink or for any purpose whatever, until the radioaction has
ceased, or you are out of the danger zone. That is all right for laboratory
work; I'm talking about war."
I considered the matter. "I still don't see what you are fretting about,
Colonel. If the stuff is as good as you say it is, you've done just exactly
what you set out to do?develop a weapon which would give the United States
protection against aggression."
He swung around. "John, there are times when I think you are downright
stupid!"
I said nothing. I knew him and I knew how to discount his moods. The fact
that he permitted me to see his feelings is the finest compliment I have
ever had.
"Look at it this way," he went on more patiently; "this dust, as a weapon,
is not just simply sufficient to safe guard the United States, it amounts
to a loaded gun held at the head of every man, woman, and child on the
globe!"
"Well," I answered, "what of that? It's our secret, and we've got the upper
hand. The United States can put a stop to this war, and any other war. We
can declare a Pax Americana, and enforce it."
"Hm-m-m?I wish it were that easy. But it won't remain our secret; you can
count on that. It doesn't matter how successfully we guard it; all that
anyone needs is the hint given by the dust itself and then it is just a
matter of time until some other nation develops a technique to produce it.
You can't stop brains from working, John; the reinvention of the method is
a mathematical certainty, once they know what it is they are looking for.
And uranium is a common enough substance, widely distributed over the
globe?don't forget that!
"It's like this: Once the secret is out?and it will be out if we ever use
the stuff!?the whole world will be comparable to a room full of men, each
armed with a loaded .45. They can't get out of the room and each one is
dependent on the good will of every other one to stay alive. All offense
and no defense. See what I mean?"
I thought about it, but I still didn't guess at the difficulties. It seemed
to me that a peace enforced by us was the only way out, with precautions
taken to see that we controlled the sources of uranium. I had the usual
American subconscious conviction that our country would never use power in
sheer aggression. Later, I thought about the Mexican War and the
Spanish-American War and some of the things we did in Central America, and
I was not so sure?
It was a couple of weeks later, shortly after inauguration day, that
Manning told me to get the Chief of Staff's office on the telephone. I
heard only the tail end of the conversation. "No, General, I won't."
Manning was saying, "I won't discuss it with you, or the Secretary,
either." This is a matter the Commander in Chief is going to have to decide
in the long run. If he turns it down, it is imperative that no one else
ever knows about it. That's my considered opinion. . . . What's that? . . .
I took this job under the condition that I was to have a free hand. You've
got to give me a little leeway this time. . . . Don't go brass hat on me. I
knew you when you were a plebe. . . . O. K., O. K., sorry. . . . If the
Secretary of War won't listen to reason, you tell him I'll be in my seat in
the House of Representatives tomorrow, and that I'll
get the favor I want
from the majority leader. . . All right. Good-bye."
Washington rang up again about an hour later. It was the Secretary of War.
This time Manning listened more than he talked. Toward the end, he said,
"All I want is thirty minutes alone with the President. If nothing comes of
it, no harm has been done. If I convince him, then you will know all about
it. . . . No, sir, I have no desire to embarrass you. If you prefer, I can
have myself announced as a congressman, then you won't be responsible. . .
. No, sir, I did not mean that you would avoid responsibility. I intended
to be helpful. . . . Fine! Thank you, Mr. Secretary."
The White House rang up later in the day and set a time.
We drove down to the District the next day through a nasty cold rain that
threatened to turn to sleet. The usual congestion in Washington was made
worse by the weather; it very nearly caused us to be late in arriving. I
could hear Manning swearing under his breath all the way down Rhode Island
Avenue. But we were dropped at the west wing entrance to the White House
with two minutes to spare. Manning was ushered into the oval office almost
at once and I was left cooling my heels and trying to get comfortable in
civilian clothes. After so many months of uniform they itched in the wrong
places.
The thirty minutes went by.
The President's reception secretary went in, and came out very promptly
indeed. He stepped on out into the outer reception room and I heard
something that began with, I'm sorry, Senator, but?" He came back in, made
a penciled notation, and passed it out to an usher.
Two more hours went by.
Manning appeared at the door and the secretary looked relieved. But he did
not come out, saying instead, "Come in, John, The President wants to take a
look at you."
I fell over my feet getting up.
Manning said, "Mr. President, this is Captain deFries." The President
nodded, and I bowed, unable to say anything. He was standing on the hearth
rug, his fine head turned toward us, and looking just like his pictures?but
it seemed strange for the President of the United States not to be a tall
man.
I had never seen him before, though, of course, I knew something of his
record the two years he had been in the Senate and while he was Mayor
before that.
The President said, "Sit down, deFries. Care to smoke?" Then to Manning.
"You think he can do it?"
"I think he'll have to. It's Hobson's choice."
"And you are sure of him?"
"He was my campaign manager."
"I see"
The President said nothing more for a while and God knows I didn't!?though
I was bursting to know what they were talking about. He commenced again
with, "Colonel Manning, I intend to follow the procedure you have
suggested, with the changes we discussed. But I will be down tomorrow to
see for myself that the dust will do what you say it will. Can you prepare
a demonstration?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Very well, We will use Captain deFries unless I think of a better
procedure." I thought for a moment that they planned to use me for a guinea
pig! But he turned to me and continued, "Captain, I expect to send you to
England as my representative."
I gulped. "Yes, Mr. President." And that is every word I had to say in
calling on the President of the United States.
After that, Manning had to tell me a lot of things he had on his mind. I am
going to try to relate them as carefully as possible, even at the risk of
being dull and obvious and of repeating things that are common knowledge.
We had a weapon that could not be stopped. Any type of K-O dust scattered