Cold War

“Muddling through is all very well, but how I am supposed to complete a concrete runway without any concrete or construction equipment!” Priestman couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“I thought the Corps of Royal Engineers was helping out?”

“Indeed, Lt. Colonel Russel is doing his best, but he has neither crushers to pulverise the stone nor a steamroller large and strong enough to compress and level a surface fit for a fully loaded Dakota — never mind a York. Steamrollers don’t fit in the belly of any aircraft the RAF has.”

“Could the Americans manage it in one of their Globemasters?”

“I’ve already looked into that. The problem there is that Globemasters can’t land on PSP runways, and until I have a steamroller, I cannot build a concrete runway — and neither can the Americans.”

Waite nodded. “I understand. I’ll let you know if I think of anything useful. Was there anything else?”

“Gatow doesn’t just need a concrete runway, it needs taxiways, hardstandings, and lighting to enable it to work 24 hours a day, but my main concern at the moment is Air Traffic Control. We’re pouring aircraft down the three air corridors as fast as we can. They all end up in Berlin air space, milling about until someone downstairs,” (meaning the Berlin Air Safety Centre) “sends them to either Gatow or Tempelhof, depending on what comes free first. This means that USAF aircraft from Frankfurt sent to Gatow and RAF aircraft sent to Tempelhof are crossing paths haphazardly. It’s bad enough in clear weather, but in case you hadn’t noticed Berlin seems to be shrouded in cloud half the time. Sooner or later there is going to be a mid-air collision, and when that happens, we’re not only going to have body parts falling out of the sky, we’re also going to have dead civilians on the ground. And did I mention the weather report is for pouring rain tomorrow?”

Waite nodded seriously. “You’re right, Robin. ATC is an accident waiting to happen and the Sunderlands coming in on Monday won’t make it any easier. Did you have any thoughts as to what we could do to make it better?”

“It’s not my area of expertise, but I would have thought more regulated traffic flow would help. I tried to raise the topic with Group Captain Bagshot, but he told me to stop interfering in his Airlift.”

“Hm.” Waite nodded and conceded, “Bagshot can be a bit wet. I’m not sure BAFO made a wise choice in appointing him to overall command.” While this was said sympathetically, both officers knew that there was nothing either of them could do to change the appointment.

“The Senior Flying Control Officer suggested that I go to a fully ground-controlled approach at Gatow,” Priestman continued, “— regardless of weather.”

“Could you?” Waite asked.

Priestman drew a deep breath. “Pilots hate GCA.”

That did not answer the question, so Waite waited while the station commander subdued the pilot within and admitted, “If I had enough controllers, yes. Visibility is too poor too often, and too many pilots are being thrown onto this airlift without familiarity with either the corridors or conditions in Berlin. The Senior FCO told me that continuous use of a GCA approach at Gatow would enable the BASC to hand Gatow-bound aircraft over sooner and focus on Tempelhof.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’m going to give it a try, but….” His voice faded, and Waite looked over alertly. Priestman met his eyes. “Off the record, Rex. Do you still think we can do this?”

“Keep a city of two million people supplied entirely by air?”

Priestman nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on Waite.

“Let me put it this way, His Majesty’s Government has committed itself without reservation and the RAF has a blank cheque for whatever it needs to get the job done. In just over one week we will have deployed every transport aircraft we have, but unless the United States is willing to make an equal commitment and deploy their entire cargo fleet as well, no. We cannot win this war alone any more than we did the last one.”