We squeezed past the man, finding a hotel style room with a nice bed, shelving, a writing desk, and a sink. No toilet.

‘Where’s the toilet?’ I asked.

‘End of the corridor,’ the man replied.

‘Comfy here?’ I asked.

‘They’re nice rooms, betters than the dorms, and you get some peace to work. I can lock the door, so I don’t wake with a Huskie sleeping on the bed, or a bear, or fox, or a Lemming in with me.’

I laughed. ‘They a bit stir crazy.’

‘Something that Hal says is Vietnam Syndrome,’ the man reported. ‘In the bush too long.’

Back in the corridor, Jimmy took a moment to get his bearings, leading me on. We poked our heads into a communal lounge, men sat reading, a few paying cards, then found a library - hushed voices and huddled men. The restaurant we found was nice, and they employed lady waitresses, the first women I had noticed here. We passed a few RAF “chaps”, a nod given, Jimmy stopping at a door with a sign. Brothel.

‘Well, they don’t mince their signs around here, do they,’ I quipped.

We entered. Inside, we found it warm and with subdued lighting, mood lighting, candles and dull lamps. Six ladies sat on sofas on one side, one at a desk on the other side. Two were oriental, the rest looked Canadian.’

‘Hi, boss,’ the lady at the desk said.

‘How many ladies now?’ He asked.

‘Twenty-four, boss.’

Jimmy faced me. ‘Massage with a happy ending. Thank you ladies, carry on.’

Outside the brothel, we followed the corridor to a central area with many corridors coming off it, and climbed the stairs.

‘The above-ground facility is nice in summer,’ Jimmy informed me as we climbed the stairs. ‘Rooftop bar and all.’

We opened to another reception, a foyer area with people coming and going, and climbed a second set of steps to a bar, brightly lit with natural light from large glass windows, a dozen men sat around drinking or eating.

‘Better for the men,’ I commended.

‘Better cinema now, and some of the men play instruments, so there’s a band. Our managers live in this part, as well as those engineers with good brains and delicate fingers.’

On the roof, we stood in a chill wind and put our coats back on, and I took in the rooftop bar, sturdy walls of logs. At the base of each wall ran numerous holes for snow and water to drain away. The barbeque looked a bit cold and lonely, and lacking attention. Peering over the wall, I could see half-submerged buildings right out to the horizon.

‘Grown a bit,’ I commented.

‘A permanent two thousand people here now, more in the summer.’

‘What’s our total tally at the factories?’ I wondered.

‘Eighteen thousand now, plus sub-contractors, and our main workforce earn way more than the national average for the States or Canada.’

I gave him a look. ‘Bit of a wages bill.’

‘Yeah, but we just about cover it with direct income. The radios, fridges, cars, trucks – they all make a profit. And the basic aircraft sales make a profit, so too the airlines. But the research is expensive, and big birds cost big bucks.’

‘How are the metal costs?’

‘Good. Our aluminium is very cheap, the alloys cheap; Po sends a ship once every two months, and that really helps. And half our staff pay rent back to us for their lodgings.’ He turned, leading me back down into the warm. ‘The combined revenue from things we make and sell covers the wages just about, but we have money from Po, from Kenya, and the Congo revenue is obscene.’

‘Made anything from the stock markets?’

‘Sat on countless millions, but I don’t want to sell yet. And we own businesses and land around the States now valued at sixty million. We won’t starve.’

‘How much is in the bank?’ I asked as we again descended to the bowels of Lemming Base.

‘Over seventy million, which - by today’s standards - is countless billions. And CAR is sat on twenty million quid.’

‘Our expensive train track?’

‘No longer a burden, since it’s mostly finished; we now run the trains and make a profit.’

Emerging at the same Huey hangar, we found our driver, and headed back to the Goose, engines soon turning over.

The following Monday I drove over to the Canadian Rifles base in the rain, finding that it had grown – again. Big Paul met me outside the admin building, directing me to the new American Rifles Brigade. They operated their own gate, their section fenced off, but seemed to be in the same camouflage uniforms – Stars and Stripes displayed on the shoulders.

Big Paul explained, ‘Four hundred of them, the best of the men pinched from the sponsored infantry, a tough bunch.’

‘They do all the training, with all the weapons?’ I puzzled.

‘Yep, the full range.’

‘Won’t Uncle Sam know what we have to play with?’ I queried.

‘Jimmy said time is running short, so … whatever. And they all learn to fly, expert standard, including the prop fighter.’

‘And the prop fighter?’

‘Yep. Driver, stop here!’ We pulled up.

Inside a large admin block, we found dozens of NCOs and officers coming and going, all with the Stars and Stripes on their shirts or shoulders.

‘Right, boss,’ a few said, nods given.

Big Paul led me to the C.O., an officer we had pinched and recruited, now wearing gold colonel “birds” on his collars.

‘This is Paul Holton – Mister Silo’s business partner,’ Big Paul introduced me as.

We shook. ‘No mistaking you, sir,’ the man said with a southern accent. ‘You got Machinegun Kelly.’

‘It’s not a label I like to wear,’ I pointed out, grabbing a seat, the door closed. ‘I’d rather be remembered for the aircraft.’

‘And damn good they are too.’

‘How’s the training?’ I asked.

‘Long, hard, tough, but we’re a mean bunch of dirt sucking bastards.’

I cocked an eyebrow. ‘Forgive my ignorance, but what is the role – of the brigade?’

Big Paul cut in with, ‘They’ll fight in Africa, do protection work, and offer up a hostage rescue team.’

‘Hired guns,’ the Colonel said with a smile.

‘With a strong loyalty to us,’ Big Paul added.

‘Hell, you feed and clothe us, so we jump to your tune,’ the Colonel offered.

‘You fly?’ I asked the officer.

‘It’s a requirement,’ he replied. ‘Land and sea and air. The boys all learn to drive just about anything, sail a boat, fly a plane, and parachute. If we go to fight, we improvise, we adapt, and we overcome.’

I hid a smile, picturing an old Clint Eastwood movie.

‘Sounds like a good credo,’ I offered. ‘Any fighter aces?’

‘We have a few that can fly anything, and our best lads can give your boys a run for their money.’

Big Paul put in, ‘Next week they learn how to steal a large cargo ship.’

‘Great fun,’ the Colonel commended. ‘Always something new.’

‘Been to the desert?’

‘All the boys have to complete an eight week desert course, followed by an eight week jungle course,’ the Colonel informed me. ‘In the desert we practice long-range navigation and survival. Hell, we even happened across a few Italians and said hello.’

‘You met Italians?’ I puzzled. ‘Where?’

‘They were all comfortable in their outpost, right smack in the middle of nowhere.’

‘And how many were left alive at the end?’ I asked with a disapproving look.

‘I could not honestly answer that question without incriminating myself, sir.’

I shook my head. ‘What did you make of the black soldiers?’

‘Superb fighting men, the Negroes in Africa,’ he enthused. ‘They never give up, and they’re as mean as a rattler in your boots. Those Italian fellas best watch out.’

I shook his hand, and we left them to prepare for stealing large boats.

Back in the Canadian Rifles bar, I asked about the American Brigade. Big Paul explained, ‘They’ll be based in Hong Kong on … private contract.’

My brow pleated. ‘Is Jimmy hoping that the Japs will see them, and start a war with States?’

Big Paul shook his head. ‘Nah, but we will film them fighting, and show it back here – all American heroes fighting the Jap aggressors, a few staged interviews.’ He shrugged.

‘Ah, the propaganda machine.’

‘Only two or three years before the Japs get frisky, so we’re gearing up.’

‘Why are they all pilots?’

‘Jimmy figures he’ll give them their own squadron, not just for Hong Kong. They’ll join the Nationalist Chinese, and attack the Japs in Manchuria.’

‘Didn’t that happen before? Mercenary American fliers?’

Big Paul nodded.

‘Brits still here?’

‘Around two hundred at a time, mostly in the summer; they all go out to Mawlini and train there. It’s a huge fucking base in the desert now.’

‘Haven’t put tarmac over our transponder, have they?’ I quipped.

‘Rudd has it, and the stuff they dug up. Still a shit load of diamonds not sold.’

After a warm drink we dropped in on the SAS section. Men were cleaning an MP5 lookalike with a long silencer.

I pointed at it, feigning ignorance. ‘What does that do?’

‘It’s a special 5mm weapon, boss; low velocity. You sneak up close and take-out a gate guard with it, nice and quiet.’

‘Cool,’ I said. ‘What other toys have they made for you?’

‘Better demolition charges, something called a Battery Grenade. It takes down a small bridge nicely.’

I exchanged a look with Big Paul. ‘Battery Grenade, eh.’

‘And we got a few smaller radios, always getting smaller, boss. And waterproof now.’

‘Do you fly?’ I asked the soldier.

‘We all fly, but not them fighter planes like the damn Yanks.’

‘They’re … going to be posted overseas, some to fly combat missions,’ I tried to explain.

‘They’re crap on the ground, that’s why,’ the Canadians joked.

‘I’m sure they’re not too bad,’ I offered before we left. In the car, I asked, ‘How do the Americans measure up?’

‘They’re good, some real stars in there; if not they’d be gone. A few do work for Task Force Delta part-time.’

‘How’s that going?’

‘Hard work trying to find any fucker worth shooting,’ Big Paul complained. ‘They all hide, so we just take out their bodyguards and lower ranks, blow up their houses and bars now and then.’

‘Any heat from that operation?’

‘One of our guys was caught and held, but we bribed a few guards and got him out of prison.’ He shrugged. ‘I think they know it’s us doing the shooting, and they don’t give a shit. Some of our ammo was found, I know the FBI has it.’

‘Still, they’d be short on proof,’ I noted.

‘We’ve sold that ammo around the States to sports shooters at a few clubs, gave a few guns away to hunters, so we can always point to the weapons being out there. After the ammo was found we dropped the damn machine that made them in the inlet in case the marks on the shells could be matched up.’

‘Good thinking. Expensive … machine, was it?’ I held my stare on him.

‘Jimmy OK’d it,’ he insisted.

Back at the hotel I joined Susan for lunch, Toby gurgling away happily.

‘I’ve arranged for three rooms to be knocked into a large suite for us,’ she informed me. ‘There’s space now.’

‘Oh. Good.’

‘At the western end, a view over the inlet.’

‘And our old house…?’

‘A senior man rents it with his family.’

‘Be rude to kick him out,’ I mentioned.

Jimmy came and joined us, playing with Toby in his cot. ‘Finished your review?’

‘Just about, but I haven’t seen cars and trucks yet.’

‘An Italian destroyer off Abyssinia just fired across the bows of a British destroyer.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘Are the children not playing nice?’

‘Relations between London and Rome are sliding. Before, the Italians crept into Libya and were more of administrators, this time it was an invasion. And their move into Abyssinia has pissed off the British Empire. But there are, apparently, Italian garrisons tight up against the Egyptian border.’

‘And if they start a scrap?’ I posed.

‘I doubt they will, and I am urging restraint. It would be … premature, although the Phoney War - as it was called, started before the Second World War, a good year before.’

‘Phoney War?’ I repeated.

‘British and German ships squared up to each other and fired a few shots, sailors killed.’

I nodded. ‘And Abyssinia?’

‘Abdi has deployed a force, now with the blessing of London, and there’s some stiff fighting going on, the Italians pouring in thousands of men for a push on Addis Ababa.’

‘Will we push them out?’ I asked.

‘No, since that would alter the build up to the Second World War too much. So Abdi will harass them, and supply the Ethiopians with weapons.’

‘He rebuilt his house yet?’

‘I would imagine so, and he recruited a few new wives. But his people do watch the coast with a renewed interest.’

Susan faced Jimmy. ‘Would you say … that we’re on track?’

‘In some areas we’re well prepared, but the temptation to attack the Italians right now is a problem. If their army fails, then the government changes, and that’s an unknown variable in the mix. I’m hoping … that by 1939 the Italian people will have had enough of fighting – not a thirst for conquest. That leaves Germany with less of an ally in the South. And if the Italian Government falls the Germans may have to occupy Italy early, and that will turn the ordinary Italian citizen against them.’

‘Which is desirable,’ I added. ‘The Germans leave the starting blocks, but soon lose the Italians.’

Jimmy nodded, now feeding Toby.

‘Have you decided on exactly what you’ll do in 1939?’ Susan probed.

‘No, is the simple answer, because it depends on Japan – and on US public opinion. We start with tensions in 1938, and we progress in incremental steps, ready to move early if necessary. So … it’s fluid.’

‘And after the war?’ she asked. ‘Where do you see the borders?’

‘In an ideal world, Russia will be at its own border, and would have been persuaded to leave Poland. Germany will be occupied by the allied forces, Japan occupied by the Americans, but we then have to face a series of wars of independence, and communism – Korea being the first stumbling block.’

‘And the British Empire?’ she added.

‘India will go during the war, the British know they’re losing it,’ Jimmy said, still feeding Toby. ‘And I aim to prise them out of Africa by 1950. I don’t see an empire beyond 1950, just a Commonwealth.’

‘And the development of Africa,’ Susan probed, the most inquisitive she’d been for a while.

‘I would hope to unite Africa and develop it as before, whilst encouraging America not to make a few mistakes. I would create an “M” Group after the war, and we’d let them know who we are.’

‘They might just want to lock us up,’ I pointed out.

‘Why do you think we’re in Canada?’ Jimmy said with a smile. ‘Besides…’

‘Besides … what?’ I nudged.

Cookie stepped across. ‘There’s some US Senator here to see you, Jimmy.’

Jimmy stood. ‘Besides, history repeats itself,’ he said with a confident smile, and walked off.

‘Do you think he’ll bribe them?’ Susan idly commented, now feeding Toby.

‘Not directly,’ I said. ‘I think they’ll be allocated seats on the board of CAR, and I know we have a Congressman’s family in American Airlines with us.’

‘What changes do you think he’ll effect in post-war America?’ Susan asked, and I was a little disappointed in her.

‘The usual: better Mexican border, better attitude to the oil dollar, fewer futile wars – and a stronger economy. If we deal with Russia and China, then there’s no need to build up to the Cold War and go all paranoid.’

‘And the balance of power worldwide?’

‘Britain and America would be nuclear states, with technology forty years ahead of anyone else. They’d have 1980s bombers and nukes in 1945.’

‘Which may make them tempted to use them,’ Susan commented, making me puzzle her meaning.

‘They didn’t before, and they had the advantage,’ I reminded her. ‘After the Second World War, American B29s could have easily destroyed Russia and China. Russia took almost ten years to get near a point where it could attack with a nuke. And this time around Russia will be years behind even that.’

‘Where do you see us living, after the war?’ she asked, and for the first time.

‘Where would you like to live?’ I countered.

‘Probably the Congo, or Mombasa.’

‘Oh. Well … there’ll be plenty of work down there, so I don’t see an issue with that.’

It was a strange admission from Susan, but she had grown up there – allegedly. And after 1945, would we need the factories here?

The next day I sat doing a “Jimmy”, staring at the wall for an hour. I was thinking of the wages bill, our very large wages bill. Contacting the logging company we knew, the one with the mad director who liked flying and parachuting, I arranged a good deal on small logs, suitable for household fires and basement burners. A store of them was placed inside the gates of our factories under a roof, and anyone who wanted them could just grab them. Cold Canadian winters would not be so bad now.

I imported coal, because there were a few coal heaters around, and left it accessible for anyone who wanted it. Oil came to us anyway, so we made cans of it available at a third of the normal price, for the oil heaters in basements. I couldn’t do much about electricity, but I had taken a step towards warming up our workers, and saving them some money.

Next, I started on a large supermarket, what the Americans called a convenience store, and positioned it away from the town; it would not be as convenient as the local stores. I designed it myself, and it made good use of our fridges – but with glass doors. It consumed a fair bit of my time, but I thought that it was necessary.

After six weeks of hard work, and some builders that were feeling pushed, we had a store with long isles, trolleys, checkouts - and it was self-service. It opened to much fanfare on a grey and overcast day, the local housewives flooding in.

I had struck deals with local food producers to buy in bulk, and prices at the new supermarket were a third cheaper than elsewhere. Showing their husband’s wage slips got the ladies another ten percent off. The car park didn’t hold many cars yet, the local wives not much for driving their husband’s cars yet. We had a free bus service every half hour, so that helped. We even dispensed free plastic bags.

After the big opening, I said to Jimmy, ‘We can freeze the wages now, or at least slow any annual increases.’

‘Good thinking. It’ll all keep the engineers happy little bunnies.’

‘Susan … eh ... suggested we live in Africa after the war.’

He took a moment. ‘We don’t know her original remit, if it was to just keep an eye on us, or to interfere directly. If what we’re doing pleases her, then … all she need do is sit back and enjoy herself in your charming company.’

I wagged a warning finger.

The supermarket was a success, and the town’s stores didn’t die. Fact was, a lot of people ventured to Vancouver to shop. I added special sale items to the supermarket - jumpers, socks, hats, whatever I could find that was cheap to buy in bulk. Jimmy then showed me a sheet of statistics and - with all the goodies available - the average family here was about three times better off than their American counterpart, about five times better off than their Canadian counterparts. Well, I hoped the buggers appreciated it.

The winters here were cold, wet, damp, sometimes pretty, the odd day of sunshine, a few nasty storms down from the artic followed by storms off the Pacific which brought warm rain that melted the snow. A change of wind could melt four feet of snow, but then bring it back a week later.

I needed a project, and I wasn’t sure which one best suited me. These days, our engineers were shit hot, on the ball, and knew more than me. Cuba held my interest some of the time, reports of production and profits, staff levels, problems. I imported a ship full of cigars, and tried to sell them around the region. The supermarket stocked them, cheap Cuban cigars for the staff – their wives not too happy.

Palestine was being handled by Jack, Sykes and Timkins, even Rudd had a hand in it. But now the Arabs were attacking the British soldiers and administrators for allowing in the Jews, as well as attacking the Jews themselves. The new state now boasted almost a million people, an incredible figure for that time period, and a massive strain on very limited resources. Every spare piece of land was being utilised, and the provisional administration now directly seized Palestinian land - compensating the farmers well enough, but then dumping them at the border with their belongings. It was not long before the League of Nations began protesting the treatment of Palestinians by Israelis. Somehow, I figured that the League of Nations would have about as much luck with that as the UN would later on.

The Germans were still cooperating with our intermediary, and still receiving large sums of money. We suspected that the British knew, but they were not saying anything openly.

New Year, 1935

We saw in New Year 1935 in a positive mood, all projects ticking along nicely, but then the Germans went and reoccupied the Rhineland a few months early, an aberration in the timeline. Jimmy was not fussed since this timeline already had a few aberrations, breaking off from our time line around 1875. The Germans then admitted to re-arming, sooner than expected. 1939 might become 1938.

It was a worry, but Jimmy had always planned on being flexible, and to have everything ready a year or so early. He ordered up more land from the Canadian Government - east of the bomber assembly line, a new shed to be created, one capable of storing thirty aircraft. It would be a very expensive parking lot.

Looking at a Super Goose the next day, stood in the aircraft’s hangar and now wrapped up warm, I called for our chief engineer. When he arrived, also wrapped up, I asked, ‘How easy would it be to take a passenger Goose and fit a bomb bay?’

‘Well, there’s a big difference in the internal structure, and float structure.’

‘If someone wanted them – the older models – for a conflict, what could we do to make them useful?’

‘Their only use would be for maritime patrol, which is what the American Navy uses them for. A thirty mil cannon could be fitted, RPGs on the wings, that’s about it.’

‘What about depth charges?’ I asked.

‘They would be hard to fit.’

‘You know where the door is on the parachute variant?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Then how about a sliding rack of depth charges; they roll out and down. We would only want four, or six.’

‘That could work, but we’d have to adjust the weight distribution if they were large.’

‘Crab a Goose that the Navy already operates, and fit a slide, see what they say. If it works, they should be happy little sailors. And next, how about this: sonar.’

‘Sonar … on a plane?’

‘No, silly. She’s quite capable of landing on water, so when she sees a sub go under she lands, uses the sonar, detects the sub’s heading, and reports it. She can also set down every ten miles and use the sonar.’

‘Would only work if the sea was calm, but yes, when she’s down she’s a boat. Would have to be retractable, or it would break off when she lands on the water.’

‘I want a Navy Goose with both innovations fitted. And soon.’

He tipped his eyebrows, and headed off.

Thinking of nautical things, I took a trip down to San Diego on a Goose maintenance run. At the shipyard, I stood and stared down at a one of our subs. It displayed large holes along its top, that part of the hull not completed yet, its guts being fitted, dozens of pinpoints of white and blue light from welding torches giving the impression of earnest labouring, two hundred men working on her.

‘How’s the schedule?’ I asked.

‘We’re a week or two behind where we hoped to be, but progress is good,’ they reported.

‘How many are you working on at once?’

‘Three.’

‘If we rush to finish one of them, and test it, we might find things to alter on the others – before they’re finished.’

‘Well, if you’re happy with that. There is one that’s ahead. That could be ready for May.’

‘What happened to the one we tested?’ I asked.

‘Next dock. We cut her open, and now she’s on schedule. We normally fit the upper half of the hull towards the end of assembly; have to get everything in first. This new alloy is very good; light and strong. Have you that in mind for surface ships?’

‘If it’s suitable, and cost effective.’

‘We think we could reduce hull thickness with it. Some of your guys are building a small boat to see how that might work, a double hull with something called honey.’

‘Honeycomb layer,’ I correct him. ‘Show me.’

They led me to a small boat on blocks, the craft around twenty metres long.

I recognised one of our engineers. ‘Hobby project?’

‘We have little to do down here other than supervise, sir, so we’re experimenting with an alloy ship and a honeycomb layer. We’ll see how she holds up to being fired at. And her inner compartments are aluminium layers, so she’s lighter. The final inner layer of the hull is fibreglass, so she should buckle without breaking or leaking. Mister Silo did agree the work, sir.’

‘Expensive?’ I nudged.

‘Less expensive that replacing a ship that sinks, sir.’

‘True, very true.’

‘When will she be ready?’

‘A month or so, then we fit the engine, sir.’

‘Let me know, I’ll come down.’ I turned away, then immediately turned back. ‘Which engine?’

‘A marine diesel.’

I made a face. ‘How about … two aircraft engines side by side, two propellers, and let’s see how fast she goes.’

‘We were … planning on shooting at her, sir,’ they cautioned.

‘And you can, after we see how fast she goes, and how far it goes on its tanks.’

‘Expensive engines, sir,’ he cautioned.

‘If she can run away from trouble, she won’t be sinking, now will she?’

‘Well, no sir.’

‘And you can test the plating by mocking up a section; that’s what we’re planning on doing for the subs. So I authorise the engines. Make me a very fast boat, one that will survive being shot at.’

When I returned, it was with Jimmy, two Admirals waiting for us. The boat was in the water, waiting ready.

‘Tested her yet?’ I asked our engineers, the men stood with silly grins.

‘She’s bullet proof,’ they said. ‘She’s been shot at by a fifty cal rifle. But we haven’t torpedoed her yet.’

‘I wouldn’t expect her to survive, so don’t worry about it,’ I told them.

We boarded with the Admirals, everyone stood on the small bridge as our engineers took her out. It was a calm enough day, and clear of the breakwater they opened her up, the damn thing soon flying. She hardly touched the water.

‘That’s thirty-five knots!’ someone shouted. ‘Forty!’

‘God damn,’ an Admiral shouted above the roar.

Powering down, we turned in a circle, San Diego now far behind us.

Jimmy said to the Admirals, ‘You could put torpedoes on the side, move in fast – especially at night – hit a battleship and run. They’d never get their guns on you fast enough. One small boat could do a lot of damage to a large and expensive battleship.’

‘What’s the range?’ I asked our people.

‘We estimated three hundred miles at a steady cruise.’

I gestured an Admiral towards the controls. He powered the boat up and led us back, like a kid with a new toy. Then bang! He powered down.

‘What was that?’ I asked.

‘We hit something,’ people said, peering out. ‘There, a log.’

‘Check for damage,’ I said.

People peered over the side as our engineers checked below.

‘No leaks, boss,’ they reported.

‘There’s a mark on the side where she hit,’ an Admiral said. ‘No damage.’ He powered her back in. ‘Tough little boat.’

‘We’ve hit her with fifty cal rounds, Admiral,’ our engineer said. ‘And they don’t penetrate.’

Back on shore, and with the Admirals thanked and departed, I told our engineers: ‘I want it shipped over to Hong Kong. Then I want three more made. Well done, guys.’

Jimmy gave me a look, but said nothing. In the car, he said, ‘Hong Kong?’

‘Fast escape boat.’

‘Ah…’ he let out, nodding. ‘MacArthur leaving the Philippines. You did learn a great deal by watching old war movies.’

‘I’m waiting for them to make movies about the Battle of Britain with Spitfires, ME109s, Hueys, AK47s and MIGs. I want to see John Wayne say “Get back in the Huey, guys,” as he lifts off from Iwo Jima. I’ll take a copy back to our era and show they just how much we fucked up this timeline! And the film will have some dodgy Vietnam War music dubbed over it.’

‘Nostalgia … is over-rated.’

We looked in on the first submarine; that was coming along nicely. It needed a conning tower and a propeller, but possessed a few recognisable features inside when we had a look.

Seeing an exposed section of hull, double hull, I pointed. ‘What’s the yellow foam between the layers?’

‘It insulates, seals, but also adds some strength.’ He led me out of earshot of anyone. ‘It reacts with salt water. If the sub receives damage, it seeps out and hardens quickly. Right now you could poke a hole with your finger, but when it mixes with seawater it’s rock solid. When it’s all sealed, our people will make small holes and increase its pressure.’

‘Clever stuff. We making this tub to last a while?’

‘It may need to fight through a few wars, so yes. And … they’re expensive toys.’

‘Advanced sonar?’

‘For the time period, yes. It has long tubes connected to the outside, and they register small vibrations coming in from a particular angle. Simple, but calibrated by the scientists. It’ll also drop decoys that float at fixed depths, and it squirts ink like an octopus.’

‘Ink?’ I puzzled.

‘It’s a liquid that creates a huge ping-back for sonar; they’d think there were ten subs down below. When it gets to Vancouver they’ll paint it with a special black paint that stretches, it won’t crack. Then they’ll cover her with rubber blocks, finally a thick paint that’ll help to absorb sound. It’s like a stealth fighter, only underwater. And the final trick is the conning tower. If she crashes to the depths and gets stuck, the crew can squeeze into the conning tower, seal themselves in while a guy in a scuba outfit releases the bolts. It’ll rise slowly under control.’

‘And the poor old guy left behind?’

‘He’ll climb back up into the conning tower before the final clips are blown. The conning tower is assembled separately and dropped into place, clipped in, and bolted, a few rubber seals.’

‘A high survival rate,’ I noted.

‘On our bombers, we now have coldwater suits that the pilots can put on before ditching or parachuting; they could survive in the northern Atlantic for a few days. And recently they started looking at ejector seats for the fighters, two stage, and with rafts built in.’

‘All mod cons.’

‘It makes Hal feel safer when he flies,’ Jimmy quipped. ‘He’s getting on.’

‘Aren’t we all.’

We stayed the night in a hotel in Los Angeles, and set off at dawn for Canada, a bumpy ride through poor weather. Back at the hotel, Sykes was waiting for us. It was not good news. We grabbed food, and found a quiet corner.

Sykes began, ‘An Italian destroyer bumped a British destroyer in the Red Sea; it’s getting a little dicey. And the size of the Italian Army in Libya and Ethiopia is worrying London. The Italians secretly blame the British for the loss of their battleship, as well as for the supply of weapons to Abdi and others to attack them in North Africa.’

‘It’s too soon,’ Jimmy said with a sigh. ‘Is there any way to get the British Navy to keep its distance?’

‘Given that it’s the Suez shipping route … highly unlikely!’ Sykes responded.

‘Do they have anything they’d like us to do?’ I asked.

‘They would like – possibly foolishly – that we harass the Italians even more.’

‘That may lead to a further conflict,’ Jimmy pointed out.

‘The Royal Navy can handle the Italians,’ Sykes insisted. ‘It’s the damage to our own plan that’s the issue.’

‘This timeline already has aberrations,’ I pointed out. ‘Maybe the clock was supposed to come forwards a year or two.’

‘That’s true,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘Dr Singh studied many worlds, and some had the Germans winning a war in 1938, others with a Soviet-German pact dominating Europe. I chose this world because it was close, but it does seem to have a few variations.’

‘It’s 1935,’ Sykes reminded us. ‘And Germany is nowhere near ready.’

‘A war with Italy would -’ Jimmy made a face. ‘- not alter things that much, but would cause an arms race ahead of time, the loss of a few warships on both sides, at worst a ground campaign on the Egyptian-Libyan border that the British would win. But if that ground war dragged for a year or two, the Germans would join in early.’

‘If the Germans joined the war early,’ Sykes began, ‘the war would start in Africa, not in Europe. Poland may be spared the initial invasion.’

Jimmy raised a finger. ‘What a delightful outcome that would be. But I don’t think Poland would be spared, simply a delay of its fate.’

‘And there’s another matter,’ Sykes added. ‘Next year we see the Spanish Civil War begin, and the involvement of Germany, Italy and Russia.’

‘Everyone will be at the party,’ I quipped.

‘And a great many dynamics in play,’ Jimmy said, thinking and nodding. ‘If the Spanish were more pro-Britain, and less neutral in the war, it would assist us greatly.’

‘If Germany attacked Spain, its supply lines would be very long,’ Sykes pointed out. ‘And don’t forget, some two thousand Americans - and thousands of British socialists, will go and fight in Spain.’

‘If we make a move early, then the war will start in 1938 for sure,’ Jimmy said. ‘But, we came here to alter things, and Spain ties together many threads.’

‘We could just kill Franco and his cohorts now,’ Sykes suggested. ‘That may delay a move on the Spanish Government.’

‘It may, but is that what we want?’ Jimmy posed. ‘A delay, or a solution? Franco taps into the mood of some of the people, otherwise he couldn’t succeed. Same with Hitler. And an early start to the war helps in many ways. First, the Germans will not be quite so ready, and second … there’s Hong Kong and the Japanese.’

‘The world will be distracted,’ Sykes pointed out.

Jimmy nodded. ‘And the world will be focused on aggressors and dictators and many small wars. If we fight both sides at the same time it’s good for us, because we don’t risk the long exposure of our weapons. The Germans won’t get to see us fight in Hong Kong, and that may be critical to our efforts.’ Jimmy stood. ‘Cookie! Call a war council.’

Half an hour later, most of the gang were assembled, many of the scientists, a few up at Lemming Base.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Jimmy began. ‘And Mac.’ They laughed. ‘We have already seen a few aberrations in this timeline, and we’re creating plenty of our own. We came here to alter things, and to seriously alter the nature, duration, and outcome of the Second World War.

‘As we speak, the British and Italians are gearing up for a fight a few years early. That may be a natural aberration in this timeline, it may have something to do with us - and the first failed Italian incursion into Libya. However we got here, we have a situation now where the two sides may fight ahead of time. Such a conflict is likely to be that of minor naval battles, and some shooting on the Egyptian/Libyan border. Britain will not be invading Italy, or vice versa, and Germany is not ready to assist Italy.

‘The most likely outcome would be a few Italian destroyers sunk and damaged, a stalemate on the Libyan border, or a withdrawal of the Italians from both Libya and Ethiopia. Such a simmering conflict helps Britain to get ready, for minds to focus, but may also cause British casualties - and therefore cause anti-war sentiment in Britain at the wrong time.

‘But there are two other issues to consider. First, the Spanish Civil War: if this timeline is true, it will start next year. That civil war will involve British and American volunteers, and will result in Germany lending Franco a hand with bombers, and Russia trying to get involved. Italy will also be involved, so there will be many fingers in the pie. If we were to intervene in the Spanish Civil War, then a friendly Spain would help greatly during the war, a war that may well start in 1938.

‘That date is significant, because it coincides with the Japanese occupation of Canton, the surrounding of Hong Kong. If we were to fight in Hong Kong early, then our weapons would be seen by the wider world. We wish to avoid that, we greatly desire … to avoid that. So, a war in 1938 may suit us well.’

Mac raised his hand. ‘What if the Germans don’t start till later?’

‘We could always give them a nudge,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Besides, if Italy and Britain fight early, I’m certain that the Germans will get involved. Don’t forget, the German navy started to nudge the British Navy in 1938 – the Phoney War.’

‘How would it affect the preparations of Britain?’ Susan asked.

‘We’d give the British a nudge, and we’d be ready on time – even if they weren’t. Spitfires entered service before 1939.’

‘Given the Hong Kong flashpoint,’ Handy said, ‘we may as well get it done in one go. But do we have the resources to split ourselves?’

‘We have fuel air explosives that will have a dramatic affect,’ Jimmy replied. ‘And enough bombers to deliver them. We’ll have a nuke within months, and by 1938 we’ll have jet fighters and a good stock of the prop fighters. We’ll also have a few submarines that will seriously spoil an admiral’s day.’

‘And a ground war in Europe?’ Hal asked.

‘The last time, the outbreak of such a conflict was seen as inevitable, and Britain and France moved soldiers to Belgium ready. An early conflict may not have them in place, but we’d hope to get them there. The question is: how do we defeat Germany, whilst making its people wish never again to fight a war?’

‘A nuke?’ Big Paul asked.

‘I have no intention of using a nuke … unless as a last desperate resort,’ Jimmy responded. ‘We can damage cities enough without them.’

‘What if the Germans invade Belgium, Holland and France without us having troops on the ground?’ Hacker asked.

‘We’d land in Spain, and push east,’ Jimmy said. ‘Plus we’d make use of paratroopers in strategic areas. We’d also have the air advantage, because a week after the start of hostilities the Germans would have a serious lack of aircraft without holes in them. Their tanks and vehicle columns would be vulnerable; air power is key.’

‘The greatest danger,’ I began, ‘is that the Germans are halted, and move back to their own border, their army largely intact. They’ll stew for a while … and attack again later, but knowing our tactics.’

‘Then we want them to invade,’ Mac said. ‘To commit. And the further in they go ... the better.’

‘Yes,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘But if the British put a force in Belgium, do we let them get massacred?’

‘Dunkirk!’ Handy said, looking frustrated.

‘And the British Army will have men and machines tied up in the Far East,’ I pointed out. ‘Sat waiting for the Nips to attack, and defending Hong Kong!’

‘And they’ll be fighting a war in North Africa,’ Mac added. ‘Against the frigging Italians!’

Jimmy said, ‘It would be nice to effect a surgical strike, a knockout blow, which is still one of my hopes. But we also need the men and the machines gone, we can’t have the Jap Army just go home – and then hope for the best. We’ll inflict casualties … because it’s necessary.’

‘And civilians too,’ Hal noted.

‘This is not our era, this is 1935,’ I reminded him. ‘And the war will kill thirty million people.’

‘I’m aiming at a lot less than that,’ Jimmy emphasised. ‘So, opinions?’

Mac asked, ‘How’d we use our weapons, and drag it out a bit?’

‘By being stealthy,’ I responded. ‘With high altitude night bombing, with submarines, and with Special Forces. We affect the outcome battle by battle, and adjust the plan as we go. We keep a score card.’

Hal said, ‘And just when … does the States get involved?’

‘Not until they’ve been attacked or provoked,’ Jimmy pointed out.

‘So they sit on the damn sidelines?’ Hal asked. ‘While we fight?’

‘They did the last time,’ I pointed out. ‘And if we knock back the Japs in Hong Kong, no Pearl Harbour.’

‘I’ll try some propaganda,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘And I have a few senators and congressmen in my pocket. Still, it’s a pacifist congress right now.’

‘Do we need them involved?’ Handy asked.

‘To destroy the German land army and occupy Germany - yes we do!’ Jimmy stated. ‘With just the British, it will drag on. And then there are the post-war years, and the Korean crisis and others. Question is, do we let events unfold at their own pace, or do we make our own pace – and our own war?’

‘We set our own pace,’ Mac encouraged. ‘Seems like it’s just us anyway.’

‘That pace,’ Jimmy began, ‘would be to slowly harass the Italians in North Africa, to allow the tension between Britain and Italy to grow, to get involved in the Spanish Civil War, and to provoke Germany into involvement in North Africa ahead of time. We’d defend Hong Kong and provoke the Japs, hoping that the world is distracted. We make a plan, and we tie it all up in one go.’

‘And if the Germans move sooner?’ Sykes asked.

‘We both know they’re not ready, so if they move they’d do so in a half-hearted way,’ Jimmy responded. ‘Everyone give it some thought, and make your opinions known to me. In the meantime, I want the American Brigade to be rapidly increased in size, without losing quality too much. I want the Canadian Rifles increased as well, and the Nepalese Rifles.’

I faced Sykes. ‘How are the Nepalese coming along?’

‘Hard as nails, good fighters, very disciplined,’ he enthused.

‘How many?’ I asked.

‘Just over two thousand.’

‘Make that just over four thousand,’ Jimmy instructed. ‘OK, thank you everyone. And get thinking.’

Telegrams flew off to Rudd, asking for the Kenyan Rifles to be increased in size. We also asked him to send us as much money as he could, all reserves, and to sell diamonds. We then instructed Ngomo to create a British Brigade within the structures of the Kenyan Rifles, and to recruit six hundred men.

Ngomo was ordered to send fifty men to Libya, and to harass the Italians. Building projects in the Congo were slowed up to assist with the war effort; money would be needed. A few rail track projects were sidelined, but one new track was commissioned, one that cheekily followed the Egyptian side of the Libyan border, from our Saharan rail line deep into the country and towards the coast.

Po was asked to slow up any projects and to send us what money he could, and to ship more ore and oil to Canada. He was immediately worried. The remaining Kenyan Rifles in Israel were withdrawn, the Israelis now having to rely on their own militia, but we allowed forty instructors to remain in the Negev desert.

In Canada, we made plans and got busy. Stores of weapons were shipped to Kenya, some to Hong Kong, the mighty arsenal emptying. Our staff started to think that sales were booming. Our Cessna and Dash-7 aircraft were slowed up in favour of other aircraft, but much of our stockpile was shipped to Kenya, forty of the Dash-7s “donated” to the RAF in Britain. They were unarmed, but could have RPG pods fitted, as well as night sights. They could also be used for recon, and for small unit inserts.

Additional Boeing B11/4s were ordered by the Congo Corporation, forty of them for use in North Africa if necessary. They would be stockpiled for now. Production of our prop fighters was cranked up, and a new variant prototype designed. It offered a few enhancements, including more bomb stations on the underside of the fuselage. Engines had improved a little since the last variant, and the prop fighter would get a bit more power and fuel efficiency.

Production of the Goose and Super Goose were eased in favour of the bomber variant, even though we had orders for the commercial aircraft, and the jet fighter team were told to get a move on. They were tasked with producing the next variant quickly, eight prototypes for advanced testing, and to test the existing aircraft to destruction. Up to now we had been being gentle with the single prototype.

But most of the new emphasis was on the jet bomber. There was only one, and she was being treated kindly by pilots and ground crew alike. Jimmy ordered a second and third prototype as a priority. When those two were flying, the first was to be tested to destruction, an expensive exercise.

We requested of the British that additional RAF pilots learn how to fly the prop fighter and the jets, another hundred young men soon to be heading towards the subterranean delights of Lemming Base, and its pungent spa. Meanwhile, I headed off down to San Diego, to the shipyards, and met our engineers.

‘Those fast patrol boats; I’ll want ten, and quickly - we have orders for them.’

‘Jeez, that was quick.’

‘Yes, so get them made. Hire the staff, set up a team, and get on the case. Now, come with me.’ I led them to the senior managers. ‘OK, we have orders for the small fast boats, which is good, and I’d expect another twenty to be ordered in six months.’

They were pleased.

‘We’ve also discussed the subs with the British, and they’re keen, so I’m going to need you to hire extra staff, and get the subs finished well ahead of schedule. Cost is not an issue, time is. If all goes well, we’ll have orders for ten or twenty.’

They were pleased again, but already pushed.

‘Guys, I know you’re pushed, but be thankful that we have orders, and that you have well-paid jobs. Have inspection teams created for the subs, and go back over everything. If the initial trials are a disaster, you’ll all be out of work.’ I faced my engineers. ‘Bring down some men, and some paper systems.’

‘We tested the double hull,’ they said. ‘Navy fired at it with all sorts.’

‘And?’

‘It’s very strong, even on the receiving end of a twenty pound artillery piece. Navy were impressed.’

‘Good, that’s progress. When the first sub is ready and on its way to Vancouver you’ll all get a bonus. Let me know. Thank you, gentlemen.’

Back in Canada, I inspected the dry dock after landing near it, encouraging the builder’s foreman to finish it quickly for a bonus. At the hotel, I greeted Susan and the kids, then sat down and drew a picture. At the half-track factory, I got the senior men together. They had already been nudged to greatly increase production of jeeps and half-tracks, two hundred jeeps destined for the British in East Africa, sixty more half-tracks to be stored with the Kenyan Rifles.

‘Guys, I think we could sell a vehicle that’s not a jeep, and not a tank. Have a look at this drawing.’ They gathered around. ‘It has four large wheels, a lightly armoured base, a turning turret with a thirty mil gun and a fifty mil gun, and a radio. And that’s about it. The key feature … is speed; I’d want forty miles per hour from it, and over rough terrain, so a good suspension is key.’

‘What kind of armour?’

‘It doesn’t need to survive if put up against a tank, it would drive at infantry and shoot, so modest and light armour. If it can survive a fifty cal hit, that’s about enough.’

‘It looks like the armoured cars that the British have,’ a man noted.

‘Ours would be better,’ I said with a smile. ‘I want a prototype - real soon, and we’ll see how armour and speed is traded-off. Go to work, people.’

‘Would you like an aircraft engine in it?’ a man asked, making everyone laughing.

‘If it works, yes. But let’s see about fuel consumption, eh. And the cost of production. If we get it right, I think we could get orders for three or four hundred.’

They blinked, and got to work, and I went to have a look at the tank. The poor old tank had been hit many times, its surface scratched.

‘Poor baby,’ I told it, a soothing caress of its main gun.

Its chief engineer closed in. ‘Need something, boss?’

‘A thousand of these would be good.’

‘She’s a beauty, but expensive – and hard to make. But I did have an idea about pre-caste sections that could speed that up. But we’re short of metal.’

‘There’s more on the way, lots more, so grab what you need,’ I told him, still studying my wounded beast of a tank. ‘She needs some friends.’

‘She has a few.’

I faced him. ‘She does?’

‘Next door.’ He led the way. There, lined up with their guns drooped, sat thirty tanks in a line.

‘What a beautiful sight,’ I let out, the man greatly pleased.

‘They’re not fast, but they will take anything anyone anywhere has to offer, and smile right back at them.’

‘What’s the production time?’ I asked.

He made a face. ‘Right now it’s about three a month.’

‘Tell me you know of a way to get that figure up.’

‘I reckon I could turn out thirty of these beauties a month if I had a few extra men, a few extra machines.’

‘Tell your boss I sanctioned fifteen a month, when the ore arrives. But what about the engines?’

‘They’re working on a new version, and they reckon three months, sir.’

‘I can wait three months.’ I pointed. ‘Do they have radios?’

‘Yes, sir, run off the engine. They have a CO2 scrubber off the aircraft, filters so the crew don’t breath smoke on the battlefield, water and food stores inside – so they don’t have to get out, a water-heater from a Goose inside, so a cup of coffee when they need it. They have piss tubes –’

I whipped my head around. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Rubber tubes you can pee down - it goes straight out, and a bag for a sit-down whilst you’re inside, and a hatch to dump it in.’

‘Oh. Shell capacity?’

‘Fifty two,’ he said proudly. ‘Six thousand rounds of fifty cal ammo, and now one of those night sight things.’

‘Aiming and accuracy?’

‘It has a good telescopic sight that makes your eyes go funny?’

‘Sorry?’ I puzzled.

‘You have two eyepieces. One shows you the ground ahead with a two times magnification, and one with a crosshairs and adjustable magnification up to twelve times. You can see someone both small and large at the same time.’

‘I’d guess that you’re supposed to find the target with the smaller lens, then close your eye and use the larger lens.’

He shrugged.

‘Let me know if anything gets in the way of fifteen a month.’

In the hotel, I went and found Hal that evening. ‘Hal, how’s that Huey?’

‘She flies well enough, but the engine needs work, and it’s just the one engine at the moment.’

‘They’d come in handy in Hong Kong, hopping across the islands, doing inserts.’

‘Without a better engine, or two smaller better engines, she’d struggle with six men in the back.’

‘Has Jimmy said anything about it?’ I asked.

‘It’s not a priority, no.’

‘OK, I’ll chat to him about it, but they’d be useful for inserts. You seen the tanks?’

He nodded. ‘That armour they have – it don’t exist in our time, it’s new. Far as we know, you could hit it with a nuke and not bend it; one of those German 88s would bounce right off. We dropped a two hundred and fifty pound bomb from a fighter - and it survived a direct hit. That’s what a Stukka could chuck at it.’

Sitting with Jimmy later, Toby now asleep on me, I asked about the Hueys.

‘Sure, they’d be good for inserts,’ he agreed. ‘But we’d need a better engine, and right now everyone is flat-out busy.’

‘Well, when they get some time, I’ll give them a nudge. We only need twenty or thirty to drop the SAS in.’

Before I turned in, my residence now larger than anyone else’s, I found Hal again. ‘How about … same engine, very thin body, armour plated, thirty mil cannon on the nose.’

He stared at me. ‘That would be a Cobra then.’

‘Anti-tank function. Give it some thought.’ And I left him with that thought.

A few days later, Jimmy sanctioned a Cobra for the anti-tank role, especially in the desert at night. Even with our crude night sight it could chew up a tank from above, or a fixed enemy position, and the Italians or Germans would be powerless against it. Rommel, The Desert Fox, was destined to meet Hal in a Cobra.

Thinking of old war movies, I popped into the airfield control tower, and found the man operating the radio direction finder. ‘Listen, who makes these sets?’

‘They make them at the radio factory, sir.’

‘Ah, well – yes, of course they would. Thanks’. I descended a flight of steps and into the dimly lit radar room. Grabbing the team leader, I said, ‘How’s it going?’

‘The range gets better all the time, and the clarity. We now have a separate unit that you operate when you have a bearing; it gives height.’

‘Ah, clever stuff. Who … makes them?’

‘They make them at the radio factory, sir.’

‘Of course they do.’

I pointed my driver towards the radio factory, and found the factory boss. Shaking his hand, and not recognising the man, I said, ‘You make our radio direction finding kit and radar.’

‘Yes, sir, factory unit next door, all very secure and top secret.’

‘That’s … good. Got a paper and pen?’ He readied himself. ‘I want a mobile radio direction finder, fitted to a truck.’

‘We have them, sir,’ he said with a puzzled frown.

‘We do?’

‘Yes, sir, for remote airfields with no control tower. A few in central Canada.’

‘They work OK?’

‘Oh yes, sir, good range.’

‘Fine, then what I want is for a mobile version that could be used by the British Royal Air Force.’

‘Well, they are detachable, not built into the truck.’

‘Excellent. I want thirty units as soon as you can make them.’

‘I’ll get right on it, sir.’

‘They’d be shipped to Kenya when ready, with an engineer or two, and some instructions. Next: radar.’

‘It’s coming along, sir,’ he keenly reported.

‘And is it mobile?’

‘Just this we week started to fit a unit to a truck. Bit more bulk than the radio sets, and it needs a separate generator - a petrol generator.’

‘I’d like a mobile radar as fast as you can, then tested, then made robust – to survive a boat journey and then be used in the desert, and I’d like twenty of them.’

‘We’ll get right on it, sir.’

‘Send me a work schedule and time estimate at the hotel, please.’ I stood. ‘How are sales?’

He followed me up. ‘Great, can’t make enough of them.’

‘Oh, you know about radio jammers?’

‘Yes, sir, we make those as well.’

‘I’d want jamming sets with the mobile radio direction sets.’

‘We have a few dozen sat around now, sir.’

‘Good. Keep me posted. Oh, send a mobile set of each to the Canadian Rifles and give them instruction on how to use the sets, and second pair to the American Brigade.’

‘Right away, sir.’

When I informed Jimmy, he just nodded. ‘British are developing radar sets that have antennas twenty metres square. And at the moment, the Germans don’t think they’re necessary, and the Japs didn’t bother with them.’

A few weeks later, in the middle of a rainstorm, Churchill and Sykes landed on the inlet. We made them hot drinks in the hotel bar, bags taken in. And I handed our guest several boxes of Cuban cigars.

‘Kind of you, very kind of you, Mister Holton,’ Churchill offered.

‘They’re from my plantation in Cuba, so I’ll have them shipped to your club on a regular basis.’

‘Kind of you,’ he repeated, lighting up. ‘So, Mister Silo, and dear Mister Holton: you seem to be militarising Kenya, which makes some people, in some quarters, most nervous.’

‘They have nothing to fear,’ Jimmy told him. ‘But I am well connected in Africa, as well as everywhere else, and I see the Italians as a distinct threat to the region.’

‘As do we, as do we.’

‘So I’ll defend my interests if necessary, but not directly. The equipment we’ve been shipping will be handed over to your men in the area, with instruction: Jeeps, half-tracks, radio direction finding of aircraft, the works. And the Boeing fighters.’

‘That’s good of you. It’s unusual, highly unusual that the British Empire should take handouts for its military, but when it comes to you pair we are but the underdogs. But there are no signs of any clever aircraft heading to the region..?’

‘We’ll hold them in reserve till they’re needed,’ Jimmy informed our guest. ‘And right now there’s no war to be interested in.’

‘I’ve spoken to the RAF pilots returning from the Lemming Base,’ Churchill began, and I hid a smile. ‘And they inform me of some quite fantastic aircraft and inventions.’

‘They’ll be available to you, when needed,’ Jimmy emphasized.

Churchill slowly blew out a pawl of grey smoke. ‘And still no interest from south of the border.’

‘The American President has asked questions,’ I said. ‘And we explained that our advanced equipment would be made available to them in a war, and not otherwise.’

Churchill nodded slowly. ‘And this new army of Englishmen in Kenya?’

‘For use in the Congo,’ Jimmy said. ‘It’s a large territory.’

‘Indeed it is, larger than Great Britain. But you also have a brigade of Americans training here. You do like to round up stray dogs.’

‘I have an idea,’ Jimmy began, ‘that if those Americans were to be seen to be fighting for our interests in Africa – as a volunteer unit – then it would awaken some interest south of the border. Not with Congress, but with the people - the voters.’

‘You are indeed a crafty individual, Mister Silo, since I fear that America has no stomach for involving itself outside of its own borders.’

‘Very true,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘So if you see a volunteer American unit popping up, be so kind as to make them welcome – as freedom fighters, fighting against fascism.’

‘I shall have a reporter with a keen lens and a sharp pencil standing by when the time comes,’ Churchill said with a smile. ‘Now, might I be so bold as to ask about a delicate matter, perhaps an indiscretion on the part of our RAF officers. We are aware … of a German scientist, who claims to know how to make something called an atomic bomb, a bomb that our best chaps say would make a very big bang if detonated. And we hear that you yourselves have made some very big bangs in Lemming Base.’

I was concerned.

Jimmy said, ‘And did your smart chaps say how long it would take to make such a bomb, and at what cost?’

‘A smart answer, Mister Silo, a smart answer. They said it would take ten years, and cost enough to worry the treasury greatly.’

‘And do you believe that we could have made such an investment?’

‘I would not have believed a rocket plane if I had not seen it with my own eyes, so I have a great curiosity … as to just what you pair can magic up.’

I was about to skip a heartbeat.

Jimmy said, ‘The answer to your question … is that we have developed an atomic bomb, and that we could drop one from a plane on a target eleven thousand miles away, and that a single bomb could kill everyone in London in an instant.’

Our guest lowered his cigar, appearing unwell. Staring, and looking horrified, he said, ‘Do you fully grasp the gravity of that statement?’

‘Better than you’d expect. I can see the rise of Germany, and I’m as concerned as you are. But I have no intention of dropping the bomb on anyone, since the consequences would be too terrible to comprehend. Having said that … if a war threatened I would discuss its use with you, if you had the stomach for the mass murder of women and children in their hundreds of thousands. It’s one thing to kill enemy soldiers on the battlefield, another to attack their families at home. And we must all wonder, Mister Churchill, if you would ever sanction such a use of it.’

‘It would appear … that you have already given a great deal of thought to its use, and its horrible consequences. But would not such a weapon force a peace?’

‘Would it?’ Jimmy countered. ‘If you told the Germans about it they’d laugh in your face. If you demonstrated it, they would go away and play nicely until such time as they had their own, and they’re already thinking about the bomb. And then what? They destroy London, you destroy Berlin, they destroy Birmingham, you destroy Munich. All that would be left would be ashes, and who would be the winner? If they had twenty bombs, and you had twenty bombs, you could kill every last person in Germany, and they could kill every last person in Britain.’

Churchill re-lit his cigar, taking his time. Shaking the match, he tossed in into the ashtray. ‘Once Pandora’s Box is opened, the results could be terrible for this world.’

‘Pandora’s Box … was left with hope inside,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘And that hope is me. If we have the bomb, and if it’s used in the right way at the right time, then the world will know its horrors, and the war will swing our way. But after the use of the bomb, other countries would desire their own bombs. Russia, Japan, and the world at large would change to a new age, an atomic age, and we would all lose some sleep.’

Churchill faced Sykes. ‘You knew of some of this detail?’

‘A very long time ago,’ Sykes answered, and my heart skipped a beat again.

Jimmy stood. ‘Come with us.’

Upstairs, the scientists and the gang were waiting, all curiously observed by our guest. Jimmy showed him to a seat, and sat opposite, a computer on the table.

‘Computer,’ Jimmy called. ‘Display images of Churchill’s state funeral.’

A wall came to life, black and white newsreel of the mourning at Churchill’s procession. “The nation says goodbye today to its greatest wartime hero…” sounded out.

Our guest observed the images in silent shock for ten minutes.

‘Computer, display wartime images of London during The Blitz,’ Jimmy called.

Black and white newsreel appeared, houses on fire, or crumbling, Churchill seen inspecting damage. He glanced around at the others, who stared back dispassionately.

‘Computer, display images of London, 2012 Olympic games.’

Coloured images filled the wall, holding our guests attention for five minutes.

‘Computer, display images of Red Square parade, 1984.’

The communist leaders waved, their armaments on display below.

‘Computer, display image of Hiroshama after the atomic bomb was dropped on it.’

The ghost city appeared, everything destroyed.

‘Computer, display images of the international space station, 2010.’ We observed the images of the space station floating serenely above the earth for a few minutes. ‘Computer, display images of London Heathrow airport, 2010.’

‘Dear god,’ our guest let out.

‘Computer, display images of welcome back through the time portal of Jimmy Silo.’

Images appeared of the crowds. “Jimmy Silo is back safely through the time portal…”

‘End images.’

Everyone focused on Churchill. ‘Time … portal?’ our guest repeated.

‘The aircraft we invent are very clever, and that’s the thing about mankind - its thirst for knowledge, to be ever moving forwards and inventing knew things. Radios get smaller, yet a hundred years ago they would have been seen as witchcraft. Jet planes fly high, when a few years ago the Wright Brothers wondered if man would ever fly. What, Mister Churchill, will they invent in a hundred years? What … clever devices?’

Churchill took in the faces. ‘These clever aircraft, and the atomic bomb … you, you already knew how to make them.’

‘We did,’ I said. ‘We’re not from this time period, we’re from the future. We came back in time … to help fix a few things.’

‘Fix?’

Jimmy began, ‘The next war will cost thirty millions lives, the one after that will cost around two billion lives, followed by plague, famine, earthquakes,’ Jimmy explained. ‘And what if the Germans had an atomic bomb? What would the world be like? And if someday every country had the bomb, and a war started, what would it cost the world. You see, Mister Churchill, when an atomic bomb goes off, it leaves behind a mess that lingers for years. Set off enough of them, and that mess will kill every living thing on this planet, every blade of grass.’

‘And why have you revealed all of this to me, save the Prime Minister?’

‘During the war, you’ll be the coalition leader,’ I mentioned.

‘And if you turn left when you should have turned right, the very future of the world turns with you,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘You, sir, have a destiny, one which we knew about a long time ago.’

‘And you hope to recruit me to your way of thinking?’

‘You’re working under a great misconception,’ Jimmy told him. ‘You have no choices in this matter, and if you were in London and I was here … I could press a button and you would cease to exist. You, sir, will do what’s right for the British people, and what’s right for this planet, for now and in the future. From this moment onwards you’ll think nothing of yourself, and think only of helping us to prevent a future war that will kill most everyone on this planet. You don’t just represent the people of Britain, you represent those British subjects yet to be born, babies screaming out through time for you to do the right thing, babies that will be adults when atomic bombs rain down on them.

‘You will help me to guide this world away from destruction, or so help me I’ll drop you from a plane at thirty thousand feet and see how well you bounce!’

I blinked. So did our guest.

‘Cookie,’ Jimmy called. ‘A whiskey for our guest; I think he needs one.’

I needed one as well.

Churchill sipped his drink for a minute, saying nothing. Without looking up, he began, ‘I would like to think … that I would have done the right thing at the right time, and that I would have been man enough to take on such a Herculean task as this without any bullying. But I’m not entirely sure.’

‘We are,’ Jimmy offered. ‘We have absolute confidence in you.’

Churchill took in the faces. Addressing Sykes, he said, ‘You knew all along,’

‘I idolised you when I was a boy,’ Sykes replied. ‘I’m more than hundred years old.’

‘A hundred?’

‘That’s nothing,’ Sykes said. ‘Jimmy is heading for three hundred.’

‘Three … hundred years old?’

Jimmy nodded. ‘In our day and age we have wonder drugs that stop you from ageing. And the soldiers we train – we inject them with a drug that makes them stronger, as well as immune to most diseases. That’s why they’re so fit. When war breaks out we’ll inject your soldiers and they’ll all fight like demons. Their wounds will heal quickly.’

‘Dear god, such wonders amid such horrors. And this group? These … Africans?’

‘Everyone here is a time traveller,’ I said. ‘And the Africans, they’re the smartest people from our era. They invent the clever stuff.’

‘The Africans?’

‘In the future,’ I began, ‘the countries of the world melt around the edges, and people travel freely and live well. No wars, no hunger; black, white and Asian all living in harmony.’

‘A utopia!’

‘Got to get there first,’ I said.

‘If your future is so agreeable, why do you need to fix the mistakes of the past?’

‘That’s a secret for now, and we’ll explain it later,’ I said. ‘One step at a time.’

‘And what do you expect of me now?’ our guest asked.

‘Now we’ll brief you on a few things, after you’ve had some food and rest,’ Jimmy began. ‘And we’ll make some plans for winning the next war.’

The following morning I found Jimmy, Mac and Churchill stood over a map.

‘If the French fall so quickly, then a small probing attack in Belgium does nothing to the overall benefit of the war,’ Churchill complained.

‘Correct,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘But at the threat of an attack, do you not commit a token force at least, and if not – what message do you send to your French allies?’

Churchill nodded. ‘We throw away a regiment for the sake of solidarity. Pah! And the Spanish, you say, may be turned?’

‘Tricky,’ Mac responded. ‘They’ve no stomach for taking sides.’

‘The air war is the key,’ Churchill insisted. ‘We have the English Channel that both keeps the German tanks out, but a re-supply of France hampered.’

‘Air war by itself will not dislodge the Germans from France,’ I pointed out.

‘Indeed no,’ Churchill agreed. ‘We need a toe hold.’

‘Which brings us back to Belgium,’ Mac said, jabbing at the map. ‘We could hold out in a pocket for years with superior air power!’

‘There is some merit to that argument,’ Churchill agreed. ‘And as they line up to attack it, we bomb from the air; a killing ground in no man’s land.’

‘Still not enough,’ I said.

‘We would also go in from the south,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘An attack on the toe of Italy would bring the Germans down to us, stretched supply lines being hampered by accurate bombing day and night. We’d fight our way north, inflicting heavy losses, then move through Austria.’

‘Weaken their grip around the neck of France,’ Churchill noted, ‘Then a toe hole becomes a rung on a ladder. The trick … is to probe from many angles.’

‘And land in the Balkans,’ Mac said. ‘Split their forces over a wide pigging area.’

Later, I sat with our illustrious wartime leader for a cup of tea. He noted, ‘Your Mister Mac has a good head for military tactics, yet utilises the vocabulary of a common street cleaner.’

I smiled. ‘He heads up our public relations, our diplomatic section.’

‘You make light of the situation, Mister Holton, a very grave situation.’

‘There’s no point in saving humanity … if we lose our own humanity along the way. You need to stop and smell the flowers, to appreciate just what it is that you’re fighting for.’

‘Profound words … from someone who appears so young.’

‘In our time, I was the President of Africa, and leader of the United Nations for a while – what you’d call the League of Nations. I also raised three daughters that time around, and one went on to become the British Prime Minister.’

‘She must have been a headstrong lady to want the job, and someone with a strong stomach to deal with the double-talk and scheming wretches that walk the corridors of power.’

‘She is … unique,’ I quipped.

‘Your time ... sounds to be full of great wonders.’

‘And … great horrors. I sat in my office and watched each day as the number of people dying from a plague rose by the millions, helpless to do anything. Jimmy, he had the antidote in his blood, and went down to the local hospital, extracting his own blood to inject others to try and save them. He gave so much blood that we nearly lost him.’

‘He has a very old head on such a young body, I have noted. And I was surprised to learn that he speaks a great many languages, both Russian and Chinese, which I found wretched languages to try and comprehend.’

‘He speaks many Africa dialects as well.’

‘He is a true humanitarian, whilst I admit to my prejudices,’ Churchill admitted.

‘A young man cares for his family,’ I quoted. ‘An old man cares for his tribe, but a great man cares for those he has not yet met.’

‘Sounds like an old proverb of some sort.’

‘It is, it’s a Jimmy Silo saying from a hundred years ago. And he’s widely quoted in our era, very widely quoted.’

‘He’s a socialist?’

‘He’s much more than that. That word wouldn’t describe him, since – like the rest of us – he sees great potential in blacks, Asians and Russians. It’s about mankind, not any particular nation, and it’ll be a long time before the nations of this world stop trying to compete with each other.’

‘My focus has been on Britain, and our empire, but a study of the map has opened my eyes to the structures of that which may follow a war -’

‘And who ends up on top. You’ll lose your empire, but gain jobs and businesses; a hard adjustment, but an inevitable one. Trying to hang on to your empire will simply stain the sands of time with the blood of a few former colonial citizens. You can beat the child all you like, but it will still grow up and defy you. So do you want the children to like you, or to hate you?’

‘It will be a long time … till I finally grasp the changes ahead of me, I’m afraid.’

‘And you’ll have to be very careful what you say, and how you say it. When you leave here you’ll need to be an accomplished actor and a world class spy.’

‘Another adjustment that I’m not looking forwards to; one wrong word … and it could mean disaster.’

I nodded. ‘You’ll find that when you’re back in London, you’ll think as you did. And Forsyth and Sykes will help all they can.’

‘Forsyth is a master spy and chameleon for sure,’ Churchill stated. ‘I would never have guessed. Some part of me worries over the infiltration of our government at the highest levels, but you have had time and foresight on your side.’

‘The Germans will never penetrate your government, but many of your spies have Russian sympathies. After the war they’ll give away your secrets.’

‘And do you know who these particular gentlemen are?’

I smiled. ‘Of course we do, and they’ll meet with accidents during the war.’

‘Foresight is indeed the ultimate weapon to wield,’ he said, nodding.

‘Jimmy had knowledge of the world before, and it took six attempts to fix all of the problems.’

‘Six? By god.’

‘When he informed the various leaders who he was - and what the future held, they tried to use it for their own political advantages.’

‘Rest assured, my friend, that the knowledge you have imparted to me … makes me sick to my stomach. I will not so much be utilising it, as praying I can walk the path as best I can without making a mistake – a mistake that will cost everyone dearly. I curse myself for having arrived at this juncture without the fortitude to face it with a smile - as you do.’

‘You’ll be fine. Last time around you won the war.’

‘Yet left the empire in tatters, an enlivened and angry Russia at our door.’

‘Have faith.’

That afternoon, many of us gathered around a map of the world and thrashed out ideas with our guest, plans made, ideas exchanged. After a three-hour session our guest headed off for a nap, and I tended my kids, feeding Toby, Mary not one for feeding her younger brother.

That evening, Churchill dined with Sykes and Jimmy, and in the morning had a long briefing on things to come in the timeline, our guest frustrated by not being allowed to take notes. In the evening we spoke about the atom bomb.

Churchill said, ‘When the British cabinet, and no doubt the American President, hear of your progress on the bomb, they will question your suitability as guardian, and its location. They will want it closer to home, and under their control.’

Jimmy told him, ‘When you go back, explain to your counterparts that we are well advanced in research, and suggest a joint effort, with British soldiers helping to protect the facility – and with a British financial contribution. That way they’ll be happy with security, and with their co-ownership of the project. Then, a month later, send a note to Americans to explain that.’

‘And might I enquire as to the money already committed to his project?’

‘A large figure,’ Jimmy said with a smile. ‘So ask them to contribute whatever they feel is reasonable.’

‘And this ploy … with the Americans?’

I said, ‘Quite often, the best way to get someone’s attention … is to ignore them.’

‘You aim to make our American cousins jealous.’

‘It should cut short a long process,’ I explained.

With Churchill and Sykes departed, chatting away and thick as thieves, we all returned to making things. I went to see about half-tracks carrying mobile radar, but was grabbed by the tank people. They had the shell of a four-wheeled armoured car, an engine installed, now driving the thing around and belching smoke.

‘How fast?’ I asked.

‘She’ll top forty, sir.’

‘And with a heavy turret?’ I pressed.

‘Close to forty, sir.’

‘Armour?’

‘The base has multi-layers, so it’s lighter. We fired at it with RPGs, and they dented the armour without breaching it. Fifty cal rifle makes a scratch, but won’t penetrate.’

‘Good. And the turret?’

‘We have one made ready, testing the armour this week hopefully.’

‘Excellent work. When you have a workable prototype, I’ll want to use it to ride to the shops in.’ They laughed. ‘Cost and production?’

‘You’d get eight of these for one tank, sir,’ a man pointed out. ‘We have the chassis of a lumber tractor, so they can be assembled quickly, the engine is from one of our small trucks, and the armour is quick enough to assemble. The only new component is the turret, and we have the same turret fitting as on the tank, only scaled down.’

‘Good work. But start on a large bogey for it to tow behind - two wheel and four wheel variants, to keep stores in. The wheels should be big, but it wouldn’t need any armour. Thank you for the quick work.’

In the tank shed, I found my excitable and keen tank manager. ‘How’s it going?’

‘More ore than we know what to do with now, sir. Smelting plant is on three shifts!’

‘Good. Listen, I want a few new vehicles. To start, I want a tank with no turret, just a driver.’

‘Just … a driver?’ he puzzled.

‘It would tow a broken down tank.’

‘Ah, a recovery vehicle.’

‘But with the same armour. That vehicle would tow a four wheel bogey with supplies in, and that bogey would need some armour.’

‘For extra shells,’ the man realised.

‘Yes. On the tank recovery vehicle, I’d want a hatch or two leading to a compartment for four soldiers; they’d be mechanics to fix the tank. And I want a hook and grab set-up so that the recovery vehicle can hook a broken down tank under fire and tow it off – without the crew getting out to fix a chain and getting themselves killed.’

‘Good idea, sir.’

‘Then, when we have those, I want you to take a look at the new lightweight tank -’

‘I’m already working on that, sir.’

‘Well, I’ll want one of those with eight wheels, twice as long, with the engine well forwards. At the rear I want a compartment for eight soldiers to fit in, and doors that open out.’

‘Should be easy enough with the existing chassis; we have a long one.’

‘How many people do we have that can drive a tank?’

‘Oh, six or seven I’d guess. The men who test them.’

‘I want a tank school set up out the back, and I want groups of Canadian Rifles brought down and taught how to operate them in turn. Say … two days for each group.’

‘I’ll get right on it, sir. The vehicle testers don’t have much to do – they can teach.’

Back at the hotel, I notified Jimmy of my tank training, and of the support vehicles.

He nodded. ‘Take a dozen tanks to the training ground that the Rifles use, after you’d built a tank depot and some sheds, then ask for volunteers to form a new tank squadron. They can give feedback on the tanks, and when ready they can teach the other Rifles. But make sure that they know not to advertise those tanks, or their capabilities.’

I ventured out to the training area in horrible weather, a Rifles Major with me. He liked tanks, and blowing shit up. We found a muddy field that would do, a fence to be organised, guards, sheds, a new admin block and barrack block. He had a few people in mind, who also liked tanks and blowing shit up. I left it with him, and suggested that we would ship a few to Kenya soon for desert training.

I revisited the new tank compound when the weather allowed, always finding builders working hard, raising sheds or laying concrete. The new green sheds allowed one tank inside, some shelter from the elements as the mechanics worked on them. The Major had set about recruiting men, and many would need to study hard in the tank factory in order to repair the tanks. Most of the Rifles were excellent with engines, and the crossover would be quick.

The tank factory was soon populated by soldiers, all having an induction on how the armour worked, then a lecture or two from Mac and Handy on tank warfare with small toys on a map. The testing field behind the factory was now always alive with activity, one huge sodden muddy expanse.

At the training ground, the soldiers had constructed a firing range on a gently sloping hillside. It stretched out into the distance, four hundred yards wide and two miles long, targets consisting of white painted oil drums, or tanks made from wood and then painted grey. The soldiers had marked out the range from five hundred yards outwards, up to three thousand yards, large signs displaying the various distances. The first rounds fired at the wooden tanks went straight through, detonating beyond. They could see that the wooden tanks were damaged, but not blown up. And they liked to blow shit up. A new strategy was called for.

They found old trucks at a scrap yard and bought them cheap, painting them grey. When hit, the trucks exploded. The oilcans put in place were filled with sand. When hit, they exploded. Next came moving targets. Concrete roads were laid at a thousand yards, winches set up, concrete walls erected with earth padding. A broken down old lorry would be towed across the range, the aim being to follow it and to fire at it. It took some practice.

They then had their new drivers and gunners fire whilst advancing, reversing, or traversing sideways, varying degrees of success achieved.

‘Stabilised guns?’ I suggested to Jimmy.

‘No!’ was the firm answer.

With the tank compound finished, we housed twelve tanks up there, and sixty men. The Canadian Rifles Tank Brigade had been formed, its primary function being to help develop the tanks, the methods, and the skills, and – when ready - to teach all Rifles the basics.

My first four armoured cars were driven to the tank depot with myself accompanying them on a visit, the tank crews getting to play with the new vehicles, and to test them. I grouped the men and stood on a tank.

‘A tank is no good without shells, no good without fuel, and no good without support. You can fire on a village and damage it, but you can’t abandon your tanks while you go mop-up the enemy infantry. The way it would work … would be a tank attack to do the damage, and to destroy their tanks and trucks, artillery pieces, or their strongholds. You then have the light tanks to go around the village and clean up, followed by infantry. It all works together as a team effort, and you need to practice that.’

I asked the Major to recruit additional crews to man the lightweight tanks, twenty vehicles earmarked for him. They would soon be followed by the tanks without a turret, and finally the armoured personnel carriers. It was a long way from flying and parachuting, but we had plenty of volunteers for the new Brigade. The supply bogeys turned up, soon hitched to the lightweight tanks and used to carry shells around, the depot’s fence pushed out further. They received their own fuel supply and storage tanks, hoses rigged up to feed the thirsty tanks, the depot always a hive of activity when I visited.

Twenty half-tracks were delivered a week later, more men needed again, and I sent them twenty jeeps to use. With the weather improving, I pencilled an exercise for them, a large exercise that would involve live firing. I found a small hill below a large hill, observers to be sat atop the larger hill.

On the day of the exercise, our tanks journeyed twenty miles in column, a very long column. At the prescribed hill they fanned out into formation and blasted old trucks and white oil barrels. Behind them came the support vehicles, who made a base under a group of trees. The lightweight tanks followed their larger counterparts, and when ready sped through the gaps, firing at the hill, driving quickly. They were followed closely behind by the half-tracks, the vehicles soon disgorging men to assault the poor old hill. With the hill well and truly pounded, they created a defensive perimeter and set up tents for the night. In the morning they withdrew, chewing up roads as they went. It was a good first test, discussed at length by the Major and his senior staff, Mac, Handy, Jimmy and myself.

With the tank lads inventing and refining tactics, the Italians were feeling their losses in North Africa. Our people had been ordered to “wound and withdraw”, and the poor Italian enlisted man was suffering, the hospital ships that were journeying home always full. But misery for the men did not mean misery for the politicians; they kept at it.

An Italian artillery shell had landed on the Egyptian side of the border, minor wounds accrued by British border guards, and an Italian warship had again fired across the bows of a Royal Navy warship, the British public getting used to the idea that the Italians may want a scrap. Since the Italians had invaded both Libya and Ethiopia, right was on the British side – at least in the British press.

When the weather improved in Canada, we welcomed a high-ranking delegation from the British Government, Churchill returning with them. We had sent a Super Goose for just their party – extra fuel, and they made the journey in one leg, the feat impressing them greatly, a little concern over the frozen tundra below them as they crossed the artic circle. They had been glad to finally exit the aircraft and to stretch their legs on our airfield, a bus bringing them around to the hotel.

At the hotel they dumped luggage in rooms, warm drinks made, food offered. They downed the drinks, ate some food, and opted to go to bed, and to meet in the morning. Fair enough, most were getting on in years.

In the morning we met downstairs, several dining room tables pushed together. The current Defence Minister began with, ‘We thank you for sending the aeroplane, indeed a short journey considering that we are halfway around the world. And a most impressive journey.

‘As you can imagine, we were most … interested, if that is the correct word, in your work on the atomic bomb, and are reliably informed by our colleague Mister Churchill that you are willing to share what you have learned in a … joint project.’

‘We are happy to do so,’ Jimmy responded.

‘And might we enquire … as to the stage that the project is at?’

‘Our first test detonation will take place within weeks.’

That shocked them.

‘Then … the project has been completed,’ the minister floated.

‘It has, but we have much additional research to do yet,’ Jimmy explained. ‘We are also looking at ways to drop the heavy bomb from an aircraft.’

‘Indeed, or there would be no point in possessing such a device. And the view of the Canadian Government?’

‘We were waiting to hear from you, and to meet with them afterwards. If they had no wish for the bomb to be developed and tested here, we would move the project elsewhere, hopefully with your kind assistance. Possibly to Kenya or Somalia.’

‘We would be happy to assist. But would this be a joint project, with joint control?’

‘It would, although it would be fair to say that once you have your own bombs – in the years to come - they would be under your direct control, and under the control of no one else. Those bombs that I develop here would only be used if a consensus was reached between us, and I seriously hope that they would never be used.’

‘As do we all, I’m sure. Do you have any thoughts ... as to the best way to expedite this project?’

‘I would suggest that you put together a trusted team of your best scientists in this field, top army officers assigned to it, and they would be based here with us, both observing our progress – and lending a hand. They would, however, need to maintain absolute secrecy.’

‘Of course. And what of our financial contribution?’

‘I would see that aspect of our arrangement effect the delivery and substance of any bombs that we may make for you. We’re paying for our own research, but you may wish additional research, and to make your own bombs at our facility. Such additional elements would be at your expense, since they’d be at your request.’

‘That would seem fair and reasonable.’

‘How much would you like to donate towards the research?’ Jimmy bluntly asked.

‘We have discussed it at length, and we would offer to commit four million pounds per year for the next five years. Would that seem … reasonable?’

‘That money would go towards those aspects of the research that would be skewed towards yourselves, some on general research, but it is acceptable. Would you like your own security staff present?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Since the base cannot be reached by anyone, and you have Canadian soldiers present, we see no need at the moment for our own soldiers to be present.’

Jimmy took a moment. ‘Gentlemen, you may be tempted to create your own research facility in Britain, to supplement what we do here. Such a move would put what we do here in the limelight, and as such would not be acceptable to us at this time, and for the next few years.’

‘We’ll … discuss that, yes.’

‘It is a condition, since any facility in Britain would be seen – it’s a small island. Here, the facility cannot be seen.’

‘Then, provisionally, we accept that condition, subject to review in the future.’

A telegram was handed to Jimmy. He read it. ‘A high ranking delegation of Americans will be here in the morning.’ Jimmy faced Churchill. ‘Did you notify them as I requested?’

‘We did, a week ago, and they were … most interested that the message be clarified and repeated.’

‘Then, gentlemen, I suggest that you enjoy the facilities, since tomorrow we will talk together to our American cousins.’

After the meeting, I said to Jimmy, ‘Would we … hand them nukes?’

‘No, they’ll develop their own, but not till 1944 or so. Still, what they believe will happen, and what actually, happens, are two different things.’

‘And the nice man in the White House?’

‘He doesn’t dare be left behind.’

‘Four million quid a year?’ I posed.

‘It’s a big number, considering, a very big number. But they’re being coy, and they’re sharper than they look. They know whoever gets the bomb gets the power, and the global respect, and the global prestige. And they know that all their tanks are worth nothing without a nuke behind them. Beside, the original Manhattan project cost fifty times that amount.’

We welcomed the American party the following morning, the group flying up to us on their Presidential Goose, the Vice President along with a few aides, no less than six Army generals in tow. We laid on an honour guard of Canadian Rifles outside the hotel, then ringed the hotel with armed men.

Around a group of tables pushed together the visitors assembled, much thanks and praise for our sponsorship of the soldiers south of the border, and the continued soup kitchens. The British and American parties greeted each other, idle chit-chat swapped.

When everyone settled, Jimmy began with, ‘Mister Vice President, you are our honoured guest, so why don’t you start – since you obviously have something of urgency you wish to discuss.’

‘Well, as you know, you requested of our British friends that they disclose to us your interest in the atomic bomb project, and its potential as a weapon. We’re reliably informed by our British friends that you are conducting research, and may have made some breakthroughs. We are, naturally, very interesting in starting our own project, or possibly a joint project to save on costs.’

‘A sensible approach,’ Jimmy commended. ‘And yesterday the British Government committed scientists to the project, and the funding of four million pounds a year towards research.’

The Americans eyed the British delegation. ‘Then our British friends believe the project to be sound in its science and in its potential,’ the Vice President noted. He asked Jimmy, ‘Do you have an idea of timescale and cost?’

‘The cost … has already been incurred, and the first bomb will be tested in eight weeks.’

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, hard stares adopted by the Americans.

Jimmy added, ‘You are, of course, welcome to send observers.’

‘You believe … that you could detonate a bomb … in eight weeks?’

‘We’ve already detonated a very small practice device,’ Jimmy said.

‘And the outcome?’ the Vice President nudged.

‘It blew down every tree for a mile in any direction.’

They stared. ‘A mile … radius. One bomb?’

‘A very small bomb,’ Jimmy emphasised. ‘In eight weeks we’re going to test a larger one.’

‘And what do you see that one doing?’ the Vice President asked.

‘Well, let’s not think of it in terms of trees. If it was detonated in Central Park, New York, it would destroy every building up to the rivers.’

The room lost a few more degrees of temperature.

‘May I enquire, Mister Silo, why you developed it in secret?’

‘That’s a simple question to answer, and one that I knew I was right about when I walked amongst trees that had been blow down like matchsticks. If Britain develops a bomb, then Germany may develop one as well, followed by Russia, and Japan - and yourselves of course. Then Britain may feel that it needs ten bombs, soon to be followed by the other nations. That may lead to fifty bombs in the hands of each nation. And that, gentlemen, is the number required – according to my smart scientists – to kill every last person on this planet; starting fires, throwing dust and radiation into the air. Within a year, all life on this planet would end, not a blade of grass left.

‘So you can see why we need security and secrecy, because all any warring nation would need is just the one bomb. If New York was destroyed, the economy of America would take fifty years to recover. The same goes for London: just the one bomb to destroy the economy of a nation. And if Britain possessed ten bombs, and German or Italy had ten bombs, and they used them on each other, then every last person in Britain would be dead, every last German, every last Italian. And who would be the victor in such a conflict?

‘You can survive a war with regular bombs and guns, gentlemen, but no one will survive a war with atomic bombs. All your enemy needs … is for one high-flying plane to get through, and you lose Washington or New York; just the one plane to get through. So as soon as the wider world learns of the bomb, then the world will become a very dangerous place. Whoever has it first will be able to dominate the other nations by implication of its use. As a deterrent it will be excellent, since complete destruction is assured for those that threaten you.

‘But could you, Mister Vice President, order your aircraft into the sky at some future date, knowing that you won’t be defeating an enemy state, that you will be wiping out their country, their culture, and even their history. That none would survive. Twenty million, maybe fifty million men, women and children killed.’

There was a long pause.

Churchill said, ‘The race is on, gentlemen, to prevent the technology ever falling into the hands of those who might use it for threat or gain. And even when we do possess such a horrific weapon, I pray none of us ever has to live with the knowledge of using it.’

The Vice President finally said, ‘As you say, it is a race, a terrifying race, the winner of which would collect the prize of the entire world, whether that be by threat or coercion. May we adjourn for an hour?’

‘We’ll reconvene at 2pm, after lunch,’ Jimmy offered.

Upstairs, I said, ‘You just woke him up, I think.’

‘And I don’t know how they’ll react. Most likely they’ll want to match the British input, then to increase the input, then to develop their own bomb.’

At 2pm, and after I had fed Toby, we reconvened, the Americans having made a few calls with one of their own scramblers plugged in. The Vice President began, ‘We’ve discussed the matter, and with the President, and would like to match the British input of men and money.’

‘It all helps, and you are most welcome,’ Jimmy said.

‘We’ll put together a team of our best scientists and send them up to you.’

‘There are a few small conditions … of cooperation, Mister Vice President.’

‘Conditions?’

‘First, I want a written agreement that all research will be conducted at our hidden facility, far from prying eyes. You may have your own soldiers or FBI there if you wish. I want a written agreement that you will not create a research facility of your own in the States until such time as we agree to it. You may be tempted to conduct your own research, but that would just let other nations know that you’re interested in the feasibility of the bomb, and that may spur them into action.

‘Once the research is at an advanced stage, we will simply hand it to you, you don’t need to parallel what we’re doing – and at the risk of it becoming known. Further, I would like that the three parties here sit down at some future date and decide how many bombs are to be produced, and who has them, where they will be stored. I want a three-way decision on that matter, or you’ll have to start from scratch on your own – and it cost us forty million pounds to get this far.

‘This, gentlemen, is a joint project, and should either of you believe for a foolish moment that you could go it alone, I’d remind you that I have aircraft readily available to you that fly at thirty thousand feet and at six hundred miles per hour, and could fly eleven thousand miles and drop an atomic bomb. For you to match those aircraft it may take you the next six or seven years, possibly ten. Or you may simply have them handed over to you – by us. The price that we ask for that ... is that secrecy is maintained, and that you do not give the game away with your own research.’

They exchanged looks.

Jimmy added, ‘And some of you have asked in the past, and recently, why we don’t make such aircraft available. The reason … is the same as why we would not sell an atom bomb to someone. We don’t want an arms race, but we are happy to offer you a hidden - and ultimately very secret, knockout blow should you need it. Such a weapon is most effective … if kept secret. If everyone in the world knew, then no one would ever think to attack you until they had atom bombs and highflying planes. The effect of disclosure … would be that aggressors start to design smarter weapons – and bide their time till ready.

‘But I would add this one statement. If, at a later date, the nations assembled here were convinced that an aggressor nation was within years or months of developing their own atom bomb, I would see no problem in that nation being attacked in advance, to stop them from completing their research, our own atom bombs used.’

It was heady stuff, the visitors quietly shocked, much to think about.

I faced a US Army General. ‘What do you think, about keeping it secret?’

He took a moment. ‘The Germans developed submarines and used them to great effect in the last war, so now everyone wants submarines. It’s the same principle: if they have one, we want one, and vice versa. The latest craze is aircraft carriers. Better to keep it secret for now.’

The second General said, ‘Your aircraft set the standards, and others try and copy; that’s a race in itself. Everyone wants to fly faster and higher than the other guy. If we can’t shoot down a bomber, then the bomber gets through.’

I said, ‘Someone could put an atom bomb on a submarine, sail it undetected into New York, up the river, and bang! Even if they don’t have highflying aircraft, there are other ways to deliver it.’

They exchanged looks.

‘We’ll put together a working group,’ the Vice President suggested, ‘and meet again when ready, if that’s OK?’

‘Of course,’ Jimmy offered, a glance at the British, who nodded.

With the American and British delegations both departed, I said to Jimmy, ‘I figured we’d not reveal it till later.’

‘The Italians brought forwards my plans by a year or so. Besides, we’ll slow up the research, but keep them happy.’

‘And America in the “M” Group?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t see that happening till after the war. I just don’t see them accepting my directions.’

As the weather turned warm, twenty British scientists turned up, dispatched to Lemming Base whilst the weather was nice, so as not to shock them - too much. They were followed by twelve American scientists, who came accompanied by six military police officers and four FBI agents. The FBI asked nicely if they could vet everyone, so we pointed towards our own FBI liaison, who they seemed to have overlooked. The FBI guys still wanted to go to Lemming Base, so we let them.

I had large posters made up, red backgrounds with white writing, and had them sent to the base. The first one said, ‘Everything here is secret. Discuss it with outsiders and you will not just lose your job, you will go to prison.’

I had the same posters put in many places around the various factories, especially the radar factory. That factory had been busy, keen to impress me, and had now fitted radar to a half-track. But a day over rough ground and the radar was in no fit state to operate. A re-design was organised, plus a dampening unit as a base for carriage by a half-track. Housed on green army trucks, the radars operated well enough, and the Rifles received training in the use of radar.

My tank Major received two radar sets on trucks, and two radio direction finding sets, and was told that from now on all exercises must include radio and radar – to simulate an enemy air threat. Without any prompting from me, he slapped twin fifty cal machineguns on a half-track and created an anti-aircraft battery. And, after some bribery and coercion, a pilot took off in a Dash-7 dragging a drone that the engineers had made up. The drone was balanced so as to fly level, and hung at the end of a three hundred yard wire that played out slowly after take-off.

The Dash-7 flew over the tank range at three hundred feet, the Dash-7 flying at full power, and was duly fired upon from below. Approaching the airfield, the drone was cut lose and allowed to drift down in a controlled crash. It was shredded with holes, fifty calibre holes. Mac then modified the next drone, and when it was hit it exploded. Well, a real plane might explode. The Dash-7 pilot eventually recovered – fully believing that they had fired at the drone from a tank, the anti-aircraft battery puzzling what the hell they hit.

Jimmy heard about the drone, and ordered fifty made-up with frames of alloy and covered in paper and plastic, bags of soot to be placed inside. Prop fighters were adjusted to have a tail clip, and now took off every day, to be seen over the range area being shot at by other prop fighters diving down. A burst of soot would result in a barrel role from a cocky pilot. Once landed, the drones would get a covering of paper again, new soot bags fitted.

To top that, I put a paper target on a frame above a lightweight tank. It drove down the tank range at speed, zig-zagging, a prop fighter attempting to strafe it, some rude radio chatter taunting the pilots. We lost a few tyres shredded, quite a few, but we were developing the skills for later.

The American Brigade received training on the tanks, on the use of radar and radio direction finding, and on strafing the tank target. Their numbers were growing, the new recruits stunned by the range of activities they were involved with, and of everything they had to learn.

The next exercise that I created involved a great many aspects of integrated warfare, and took some planning; more so for the officers than for me. I found a hill near the first one we had blown to pieces, and built a make-do wooden camp that looked passable from a distance. We threw camouflage nets over the buildings and trucks, and knocked man-sized targets into the ground, paper images of soldiers in grey glued onto a thin wooden layer. The Rifles possessed trip flares, so the flares were scattered around, and our Jumping Jack land mines were modified to just go “pop”. Petrol cans were dumped in trucks and buildings; if they were hit they would blow up.

I assembled the senior officers of the Canadian Rifles on a fine warm day, Jimmy, Mac, Handy and Big Paul all observing. ‘OK, gentlemen, this is your exercise. At the following map reference is – we believe - an enemy stronghold. It is rumoured to contain bunkers, tanks, artillery and infantry. As soon as you’re ready you’ll drop SAS in at height, two separate groups from opposite sides, to scout the area. Make sure that the plane is not seen or heard at the enemy base.

‘Once located, an assessment will be made of numbers, strength, positioning, and you’ll radio that detail back. There’s a rough dirt airstrip at the following coordinates, which could be used for inserts, so long as aircraft fly below one thousand feet within ten miles of the enemy position. That’s one thousand feet.

‘You will move on the enemy position and destroy it, making use of six tanks and their support vehicles, six light tanks, four half-tracks, ten jeeps – plus a radio and radar truck, one anti-aircraft truck. Those are the only vehicles available to you. You will maintain constant radio and radar checking routines, and if you see the drone you’ll fire on it.

‘Umpires will be on hand with ketchup, and the wounded will be taken seriously and treated properly, and brought out. First aid skills will need to be properly demonstrated. If you see a light tank with a target on top you’ll call in an air strike, have planes standing by ready. Oh, and above the hill in question we have three movie cameras, so don’t screw it up. You can watch the film later and comment. You may begin.’

They dropped the SAS teams in from fifteen thousand feet, five miles from the target, the teams walking through the night to reach vantage points above the target. I was there in the control room when they radioed the details, and compared the detail to what I knew was there.

The next day the recon force landed by Dash-7, flying low enough to worry everyone on board it. They scouted the area south of the target as the main convoy trundled slowly north. The following evening the tanks were in place in the next valley, a plan put together. After midnight, the SAS crept down and scouted around at close quarters, using silenced pistols against wooden man-targets. Once shot, the targets were kicked over. They set diversionary charges on timers for just before dawn, and withdrew.

When those charges went off, the SAS and the recon unit sniped at the man-sized targets, mortars firing smoke onto the target area as the tanks approached. The lightweight tanks flanked around to draw fire, the main tanks moving into the open and blasting at the buildings and trucks, radio chatter directing them from the SAS units above. Petrol cans exploded for effect.

The lightweight tanks attacked from the side, firing as they advanced, moping up. A drone appeared overhead, engaged by the anti-aircraft truck, as well as a few snipers. With infantry surging forwards, the umpires followed. Man-targets were shot up, grenades tossed into trenches, buildings cleared. A flare was tripped, ketchup squirted, a few rude words uttered. Mac’s Jumping Jacks caught a few people, more ketchup applied, wounded dragged out.

Then the spotters on the hill reported a column of enemy tanks approaching from the north. The infantry withdrew at a pace, the main tanks covering the retreat as an air strike was called. Our prop fighters swooped down and shot at the tank column, dummy RPGs fired. The SAS and recon units withdrew to an RV point, picked up in jeeps before being sped away.

The debrief lasted the whole of the next day, the film watched several times, positioning and timing criticised. Overall, we were very happy with it. We were small in numbers, but were developing the skills needed so that they could be taught to larger numbers; it was a blueprint. I gave the American Brigade extra training on the tanks for a week, and issued them the very same exercise, the results pleasing.

Two of our fast boats then turned up in the inlet, everyone keen to have a go. I gave one to the Americans, one to the Canadians, and told them to practise with the craft. The other fast boats were aboard a large cargo vessel and heading for Hong Kong. Finding people daft enough, we added a little extra armour to the wheelhouse of one of the craft and used it for strafing practice, the damn boat turning so quickly that it was hard to get the firing angle on it. One overly keen pilot misjudged, dipped a wing in the water and cart wheeled. He got out, the object of his frustration picking him up. Scratch one prop fighter.

Then one day in July, a beautiful sight appeared on the inlet, a big black submarine. No one was allowed near it, the onlookers kept back. It had waited for a suitably calm spell off the coast of California, and had then powered itself north alongside a US Navy destroyer, making the last two miles alone – and proud.

The gang inspected it at length, the sub powering down the inlet to the dry dock the next day. Inside, high and dry, our people got to work. They inspected the hull, finding it well made, then began to slap on a horrible green paint that dried yellowish-green. It would plug leaks, and would stretch, not crack. Poor old sub, she looked like a damn banana.

With the horrible yellow stuff dry, they began affixing rubber blocks that were four inches square, a glue used to stick each block down, as well as to its neighbours. Each block had a top and bottom, different sizes because of the curvature of the hull, some of the blocks perfectly square for flat sections. The horrid yellow colour was slowly covered, and disappeared on the third day. When I clambered down to her, I stepped on the rubber. It was not bouncy, but not solid either. They applied a coating of black goo, slapping it on thick. It dried smooth and taut, would stretch and not crack as the sub altered depth. They painted on three layers, the combined covering a thick outer layer for the rubber blocks.

Inside the sub, all sorts of gadgets were now being installed, some existing equipment removed. Venturing inside, I was surprised by how light and airy it was - plenty of headroom, the walls all painted white. The bunks were tested, plenty of legroom, and then folded away. When folded up, the room they were in seemed spacious, a detachable table at the centre. I found four showers, four toilets, a good-sized galley with seats for twenty or more at a time, electric rings on the stove.

The captain’s chair felt great, and I could imagine being in a battle with a destroyer above me. The equipment ranged in front of me seemed to be from a period later than the Second World War, certainly not like the films I remembered of unshaven men with sweat stains.

When the sub was ready the US Navy wanted a look, so we simply said that it wasn’t ready, and that we’d check the safety first. I could hear the grinding of teeth down the phone.

The dry dock flooded, the sub rising, its tethers released. They lowered a walkway, and we boarded with ten engineers, as well as Mac and Handy. Out of the dock, she was towed behind a tug for half a mile, a US destroyer just happening to be passing. The tug crew released the tow and caste off, and we were adrift.

Jimmy took the captain’s chair, the engineers at the control stations, Mac and Handy observing. ‘Start battery engines.’

‘Batteries on, readings normal, engines started.’

I could hear a quiet hum.

‘Air filters on.’

‘Air filters on, working, pressure good, CO2 scrubbers on, working.’

‘Status of ballast tanks?’

‘Ballast tanks at nominal pressure, neutral on the surface, air reserves … full.’

‘Ahead slow’

‘Ahead slow, five knots, blades turning.’

Jimmy lowered the periscope and peered through whilst still seated. ‘Clear above, apart from that destroyer. Rudder left ten degrees.’

‘Rudder left ten degrees’

‘Rudder neutral, please.’

‘Rudder neutral.’

‘Rudder right twenty degrees, please.’

‘Rudder right twenty degrees.’

‘Rudder neutral,’ Jimmy called.

‘Rudder neutral.’

‘Well, she turns OK,’ Jimmy commented. ‘Set depth to ten metres, down plane.’

‘Ten metres set, down plane.’

People looked up as air gushed out of tanks, and we slipped under.

‘Smooth,’ I said. ‘Quiet.’

Jimmy peered through the periscope. ‘Destroyer crossing our front, two thousand yards. What readings do you have?’

‘Sonar has her.’

‘Phones have her screws, showing her moving port to starboard. Readings estimate … two thousand yards.’

‘Set depth to thirty metres, down plane.’

‘Thirty metres.’

Another quiet gush and we dipped lower.

‘Should my ears be popping?’ I asked.

‘Are they?’

‘No.’

‘That’s because the hull is taking the pressure instead of us. Ahead flank.’

‘Ahead flank. Ten knots, fifteen knots, twenty knots, twenty-five. Steady at twenty-five knots.’

‘That destroyer is now three o’clock to us,’ someone called.

‘Will they hear us?’ I asked.

‘Hope not.’

‘Active sonar!’ someone reported sounding excited.

‘It’s OK, they won’t use depth charges,’ I said.

‘Destroyer turning out to sea, parallel heading.’

‘Change heading to one-eight-zero.’

‘One-eight-zero, aye.’

The sub tilted.

‘That supposed to happen?’ I asked, grabbing hold.

‘It turns like an aircraft,’ Jimmy said. ‘A tight turn with planes employed.’

‘Cool.’

‘Destroyer heading out to sea, screws ahead, probably a merchant vessel.’

‘Can we sink something?’ I asked, getting a look.

‘Change heading to two-seven-zero, quarter speed, periscope depth.’ Jimmy peered through the periscope without leaving the chair, turning a dial with a reading displayed. ‘Someone take a guess at the radio frequency of that destroyer.’

‘I can scan the frequencies,’ someone offered. ‘But she’d have to be transmitting.’

‘I know what frequency the US Navy usually use,’ a man offered. Jimmy changed the radio frequency on a set next to his left elbow. ‘USS Vanguard, this is Jimmy Silo, do you copy?’

‘This is USS Vanguard.’

‘Silo for Vanguard, do you know where we are?’ Jimmy teased.

After a moment, they came back with, ‘We lost you, Mister Silo.’

‘See if you can acquire us again, we’ll always be within two thousand yards – as we are now.’

‘Eh, sir, how you using a radio submerged?’

‘It’s a waterproof radio,’ Jimmy said, our motley crew laughing. ‘Down scope, right full rudder, due north, set depth to thirty metres, please.’

Ten seconds later we could here the destroyer pass overhead.

‘Periscope depth, ahead slow.’ Jimmy turned the dial. Lifting his radio microphone, he said, ‘We’re behind you, Vanguard.’ To Mac, he said, ‘Load dummy torpedo.’

‘We only have dummies in her,’ they said as they rushed down the sub.

‘Ready firing station,’ Jimmy called. ‘Come to bearing two-zero-zero.’

‘Fish in the tube,’ Mac reported over the intercom. ‘Closed and checked. Oh, it’s in tube two.’

‘Open tube two.’

‘Tube two showing flooded.’

‘Mac, can see the water light?’

‘Yeah, red light now on.’

‘How does the torpedo know to start its engine?’ I asked.

‘A sudden jolt,’ Jimmy explained. ‘But it must have seawater contact in two places to complete a circuit to arm itself. Standby to fire. Fire two!’

‘Two gone, screws in the water, counting. Five … four … detonation below the water.’

‘Did we just sink their destroyer?’ I teased.

‘Let’s hope not. Surface, blow tanks.’

‘Surfacing.’

From the conning tower, we could see the Vanguard circling. We opened a lid with rubber seal and tried the radio we found there.

‘Vanguard, are you OK?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Yes, what was that?’

‘That was a practice torpedo. If it was for real, you’d all be swimming right about now.’

‘I’ll have to report it, sir, I think we may have damage.’

‘I’ll be happy to pay.’

We slowly returned to our inlet, odd looks from passing fishermen. And I must admit, stood atop the conning tower of that sub I felt good; everyone one should have their own sub at the end of the garden. At the dockside we disembarked, twenty engineers boarding with two of our scientists, a cook and a doctor. They would now test her thoroughly, a full three month work-up.

Part 5A