So far we have a well developed novel around micro events and a back drop of war with decent information. As far as any of this ever been real, we observe that serious science questions are been simply ignored and this problem gets immediately worse in the next few chapters inasmuch as they are not even acknowledged let alone glossed over with a hand wave.
The attractiveness of a round craft is arguable in terms of aerodynamics and the mere fact so much was done experimentally tells us that this was not misplaced. The problem is that weight climbs exponentially as the craft gets larger and large is necessary in order to put in the large engines and life support. Add in duct work for airflow and i simply do not know where this design can go. And that is before convincing me that it will ever fly.
None of the UFOs ever showed much concern for aerodynamics which informs us that air flow is not ever used to manage thrust.
Thus i simply do not think that these craft can ever be built using airflow technology and we surely have plenty of failed attempts.
So far we are developing an interesting historical novel with interesting names and insights to the times.
.
Chapter VII
Allied Development of
Round Wing Plane During World War II
Nineteen forty three was
World War II's turning point. As the year ended, hostilities in
Europe continued with Germany
still appearing to be strong. But enemy reverses were occurring.
German confidence began to ebb
as American entry into the war helped roll back German armies in
North Africa, Sicily and Italy.
On the Eastern front the Russians with vast amounts of American Lend
Lease equipment were starting
to counter attack after a long period of German maiding.
In December 1943, a new
Commander, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, was appointed to lead the western allies, and the
same month three thousand British and American planes bombarded the
French coast in a single night
and a day, while another fleet of bombers sent Berlin sirens wailing.
Seven months later the enemy on the
western front would be in retreat, and Paris would surrender.
Control of the sea lanes
also proved to be as decisive as the winning of land battles. Thus,
17,000 merchant ships were
dispatched by the U.S. to keep the life-line open to England, Europe
and Russia, and the conflict's
balance of power tipped in favor of the allies despite staggering
losses to U-boat action. Britain had held
the breach till the American industrial colossus flowed over the
Atlantic onto
European shores and
turned the tide against Germany's short-gain fortunes.
By late 1943, growing
numbers of round wing planes from the Canadian valley had been
appearing over Europe. The round
wing pilots were graduate aviators of the Technical Training Flight
School located in the B. C.
Valley. General Caldwell was also the officer in charge of this
manpower training as well as Superintendent of
the entire manufacturing complex.
A war-time aircraft crew
consisted of six airmen, and on each round wing plane, a combined operational group always
included one Britisher and one Canadian along with the American
personnel. Scattered among various
crews were Australians and New Zealanders as well as a handful of Norwegians.
The new ships now boasted
sleek and smooth silhouettes with the flaps and outside surface
controls not distinguishable. The new
pilot class could execute intricate patterns either singly or in formation that made
those sighting the airborne ships gaze in wonder. Day and night over
England and Scotland, the great
bomber and fighter armadas heading for the continent, often reported
the presence of vanishing
lights thought to be extra-terrestrial; they would be seen one moment
and gone
the next. According to
the viewers there was one common denominator in all sightings. The
strange and aloof phenomena showed an
apparent affinity to watch over and protect the allied planes.
Jonathon Caldwell and his
wife loved their children, but each was particularly anxious about
their son who had volunteered as a
B29 bomber pilot and done several missions over Germany. A Olive, Caldwell's wife,
kept praying their boy would be safe. On one such daytime bombing
raid, young Caldwell felt a
presence he could not explain. Looking above him, he saw a huge,
round wing escort plane sailing
along at his same speed, like a mother hen. The round wing craft
wobbled in a friendly way. It flew on
and then repeated its wobbling which seemed to say hello to the
American fixed wing bomber below.
Guessing it was a salutary signal, the bomber captained by Caldwell
dipped its wings, and young pilot
Caldwell smiled and raised his hand in a V for victory sign. Reaching
target area over a heavy flak region,
the round wing plane on occasion dropped below the bomber and took
some
direct hits. But it
continued uriflinchingly through the danger zone. When Caldwell got
home that night he took his wife aside and
assured her, "Everything's
all right. I flew escort with our son today!" When the young
Caldwell got a furlough, he came home for a visit
and told a story. "Dad, I must tell you about the friendly round
wing bird that protected us on a raid.
At times I pretended it was you our there, dad, but I know you're too
old." (Caldwell was 45) The
parents smiled.
Unknown to the allied
airmen, these lights seen weaving among the formations on each
mission were operated perhaps by
friends they knew back home in Kansas City, Halifax or Manchester.
The illusive sky visitors
which resembled luminous balls of fire at high speeds were nicknamed
Foofighters. These round
wing planes were not out just for practice or pageantry or to confuse regular aircraft pilots
and observers. They had a purpose. They acted as a guardian system to
a target, often relaying
information back to London, allowing allied planes to take evasive
action.
They also took composite
pictures of targets before and after raids. When not busy, the planes occasionally buzzed
German formations, and- in a more serious vein, they also observed
the flight directions and numbers in
enemy formations headed for Britain. But of course they were not
available during the heroic Battle
of Britain that broke the back of Goering's Luftwaffe.
A brisk Atlantic traffic
of diplomatic and scientific personnel was also transported via the
planes, and
the round wing Technical
Air Command provided President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill
with a plane should
occasion demand.
But an unforeseen
misfortune, quite apart from technology or enemy threat, was to fall
upon the valley complex. The problem was
Caldwell himself. His innovations and leadership abilities became drained because of
his wife, Olive. She was on the brink of death. In fact, her doctor
finally told Cadlwell recovery
was hopeless; Olive was terminally ill. At best, she had a week to
live.
Caldwell's spirit
flagged, as had his supervision for some time. Others took the matter
into their own hands when Caldwell (a
Protestant) demanded that a priest be sent to say the last rites for
his dying wife (a Catholic).
The U.S. Air Force
liaison chief sent the urgent request to his Washington headquarters.
Because the matter of security was so
touchy, the U.S. Air Force requested help from the O.S.S. The O.S.S. moved immediately.
One of its top European agents, a graduate of West Point and a
confirmed priest, who had been
recalled to America for a new assignment, was contacted. He was known
only by his code name of Father
John, a devout but tough Christian as well as a soldier.
Father John was flown to
Seattle where he boarded another military plane. He alighted at the
B.C. valley in the uniform of
a Brigadier General, carrying a black, flat brief case initialed
Father John, S.J., inside of which there was
a bible, a note book, and two gold crosses. A nervous Caldwell met
him.
On seeing a military man,
Caldwell exploded, "I asked for a priest not a soldier."
Quietly Father John sat down his brief case.
"I am a Christian first, a priest second, and a Catholic third.
I serve a living Saviour." Caldwell
calmed down under the charisma and confidence of the big 6' 1"
priest.
When they reached the
bedroom where Olive lay dying, the post's medical officer stood by.
He confirmed that she had
but a few hours of life or a day or two at the most; she was in a
coma.
Father John unfolded from
his bag the smaller of the two gold crosses and hung it at the head
of the brass bed. The doctor and
Caldwell stood at one side of the room. The silence was deep as
Father John gave the ritual of
the last rites, annointing Olive's forehead with a mixture of blessed
olive oil and salt. Tears filled
Caldwell's eyes. His wife had been part of the round wing dream since
he had been a young man. She had
sacrificed everything to stay by his side when he had spent all his
abilities on the plan's reality in later
years. Now the one person who understood him and whom he needed most
was dying.
The soft spoken words of
Father John could again be heard: "Father God, I have done my
priestly duty to this soul who is
speeding on to her eternal rest. But Father God, I beseech You in the
Name of
Christ, to delay the
return of this soul to Thee." Father John's voice grew louder.
The priest then took the
larger cross and placed it before her eyes. "Evil spirit! In the
name of Jesus the Christ, I command you be
gone from this child of God!" Suddenly the woman in coma jerked
her head from the pillow and threw
an arm over her eyes to resist the gold cross. In a moment her body
trembled violently and she sat up.
The evil spirit had fled. Father John helped her to sit on the side
of the bed, and in a moment she put
her feet to the floor.
Beads of perspiration
showed on Father John's forehead and his eyes turned upwards. "We
praise and thank Thee for thy
faithfulness, Oh Christ," he repeated.
No one moved as Father
John stood erect and waited. Suddenly, for all to see, there stood at
the foot of the bed, a fullsize,
three dimensional figure. All knew instinctively He was Christ.
Seconds went by as a soft light brighter
than day bathed the room. Then Olive Caldwell looked around and
exclaimed,
"What are we doing
here?" The Christ figure faded but around Olive there remained a
glow. The spirit of a living and healing
Christ had filled her.
They all went into the
living room where Olive served coffee and cakes to Father John and
the doctor.
She beamed all over.
"Please stay with us tonight," she begged Father John. But
the big American priest of
Scottish descent excused himself and affectionately said his
farewells.
As he left, he cautioned
the Caldwells, "Don't make that room or this house a shrine. We
serve a living Christ; He is not
confined to a room - He is everywhere."
(The record of that visit
is among the O.S.S. papers of Father John, located in the National
Archives.
See Epilogue about Olive
Caldwell's recovery and retirement years.)
The valley complex was
back to normal and Caldwell's vigour returned. The glowing success surrounding the
performance of the new round wing air arm caused people in high
places to respond. Towards the end of the
war, the allied round wing complex had two memorable occasions that
came close to being called
holidays. The first of these events occurred in late December of
1943, when President Roosevelt and
Prime Minister Churchill visited the aerospace complex along with
their host Prime Minister Mackenzie
King.
The three personages had
arrived in the private railway car of President Roosevelt after
crossing into
Canada at Winnipeg,
Manitoba and proceeding west into the British Columbia Valley. An
American band met the train and
played the National Anthem and Hail to the Chief. A British band, the
Royal Fusiliers, played God
Save the King and ended up along with the American band in playing
the anthem, O Canada.
The leaders stayed a day.
On addressing the airmen, President Roosevelt touched each of their
nerve centers when he told them
they were not the forgotten men of the war about which they had been grousing. The
President dropped a secret: "You men are being trained for what
is intended to be the most secret and
decisive project of the war. Stand -ready," he said, "for
that moment when we shall call you to deliver
the greatest rebuke to the Nazis on behalf of your countries. For on
that day when you are called be
ready to climb into your new round wing armada and cross the top of
the world to destroy the enemy in
an hour's time!"
When the cheering
response quieted down, Churchill rose and with a few apt phrases said
he agreed on behalf of his nation,
that the men of the valley had not been forgotten but were actually being trained "for
one quick knockout blow of the iniquitous Nazi scourge that has taken
over Germany."
The idea to destroy
Germany in a single round wing strike is attributed to the planning
of Roosevelt and Churchill.
Later, in speaking to one
of the station's top executives, Churchill is said to have remarked,
"Into this valley with its awesome
power of round planes, we English speaking people have placed all our
hope for shortening the war -
in case everything else should fail."
President Roosevelt had
caught that vision of the military relevance of the round wing plane
back in 1936. He shared it with
the British and Canadian heads of state. Later, it was that
cooperation between the three nations that
enabled Jonathon E. Caldwell and his staff to make President
Roosevelt's dream become reality.
On September 18, 1944,
Station Commander General Caldwell ordered a full review of his 3,000 airmen at eight a.m. The
unsuspecting airmen assembled, waiting for a routine inspection.
Suddenly out of the sky
one of their own 98 foot craft appeared and the attention of all the
airmen was riveted on the descending
machine. As it touched down close to the formation right on a
prescribed circle, a thousand voices
murmured in unison: "Peaceful landing."
Then out from beneath the
round wing plane the assembled airmen saw emerge the figure of a
tall, smiling, immaculately
dressed soldier covered with ribbons. As he left the shadow of the
craft, a cheer went up from the ranks of
men. The flight officer yelled "Attention!" As General
Eisenhower shook hands with Station
Commander Caldwell and other officers, the entourage moved to the
assembled troops. Three thousand
allied airmen saluted their chief in honor. An airman boasted later
the cheers could be heard in
Vancouver. Before "Ike" had reached the troops, he was
joined by a second figure in a black beret who because
of his victories in North Africa had recently been made a Viscount.
He was Bernard L. Montgomery and
he came forward to join the Commander-in-Chief of all the allied
military scattered throughout
Europe. The British airmen took up the cheer again, and quickly the
Canadians and Commonwealth buddies
added voice as the Americans in final crescendo raised the roof of
the valley. Montgomery
addressed the airmen in an overlong dialogue. Eisenhower summed up
his own thoughts in less than
half an hour. He told the assembled airmen, "the moment for
which you have been trained, the time when
you will be called to strike the enemy - is not far off."
The allied war leaders
later toured the giant aerospace facilities. As General Eisenhower
talked informally with Caldwell,
a young genius in his mid-forties, General Eisenhower praised him: "There is no way we
can adequately express our thanks for what you have done for the
allied cause and for freedom."
The allied leaders had
left a station in Britain before daylight Pacific coast time. By way
of Iceland, Greenland, Baffin Island
and Hudson Bay they had flown non-stop watching the sun rise over Port Churchill,
Manitoba and racing ten times faster than the speed of sound to their destination, they sat
down with friends for a Canadian 'breakfast of ham and eggs, over
seven thousand miles away from
the shores from which they had departed.
Upon leaving again, they
would be back in London, England, on a leisurely trip of about two
hour's time.
Another momentous
occasion arose at the end of 1944, almost a year after the visits of
the allied political leaders. The
valley's air station had been on constant alert in late December.
Something was
imminent.
On the last week of the
year, the huge 500 fleet of round wing planes took off early one
morning for Germany. The preplanned
targets were "strategic German cities. Roosevelt had vetoed an
earlier attempt that month by
Allied and German Generals including Eisenhower, Patton. and Von
Runstedt to end the fighting in the
west. Now the round wing air arm was on its way to execute the end of
hostilities in Roosevelt's own way.
The terrible lasers had not yet been installed in the new round wing
planes but in their holds several of
the planes carried the new atomic bombs while the others carried bomb
bays full of block buster
explosives.
As the planes appeared
over German skies in mass, a long cigar-shaped craft was seen by
several squadron leaders as it
watched from high above. The first targets were reached and orders
given to prepare bombs and finally
"bombs away."
But not one plane could
release its cargo of destruction. All electrical circuits connected
with the bomb delivery were dead.
Radios too were silent. Finally, in consternation, the fleet followed
the lead ships and turned back to
Canada. They landed without incident, and maintenance men examined
the planes. Then, as if on cue, the
entire fleet became electrically functional again.
High above, a
cigar-shaped craft of giant proportions moved off into the unknown.
Allied intelligence
sources say the Germans under Hitler lost earlier technological
blessings from the aliens when the Nazis
embarked on a plan to use their five round wing planes to bomb major
American cities including New York
and Washington. The enemy intended dropping new instruments of mass destruction called atom
bombs which the Germans had produced at about the same time as the
allies.
The first Hiroshima was
to have been New York. Hitler himself is said to have ordered the
raid. The planes left Germany. But
what happened thereafter is unknown.
Did the extra
terrestrials prevent the planned deaths of so many countless humans
and the mass destruction of cities? It
seems most likely. Here is why:
The alien who visited
Roosevelt in 1943 had told him the extra-terrestrials were totally
aware of the new round wing plane then
being developed by Caldwell and group. The alien reminded Roosevelt it could be
used as a blessing or an evil. He warned the President not to use it
for evil purposes. Reminded of
that warning while authorizing the German strike, President Roosevelt replied, "Let's
forget the aliens! We now have the round wing planes — we intend to
use them."
Just as important as the
words of the exra-terrestrial who visited Roosevelt in 1943 is the
warning of the alien scientist sent down
to earth's aerospace valley in British Columbia. When he departed in 1943, he
reminded Jonathon Caldwell and company, "Don't try to use the
new round wing planes to destroy
your present enemy, the Germans! It will turn out that your ultimate enemy has not yet been
revealed. For the present, the round wing planes are for your
protection only."
On May 6, 1945, World War
II ended in Europe as Germany, in the absence of Hitler, surrendered unconditionally. Even as
the allied generals accepted surrender at Eisenhower's Heims School Headquarters, at 2:41
A.M. French time, May 7, a fleet of 500 round wing planes dropped
down from
60,000 feet and plummeted
to a 3,000 foot elevation over beleaguered Berlin. There, in mile
long letters executed by the
round wing planes, German civilians and Russian troops below stared
up at the huge lighted sign which
spelled out in English the word SURRENDER. The Germans had
capitulated after five years, eight
months and six days of the bloodiest conflict in history.
Neither side had been
able to use their round wing planes for destruction of each other -
neither the
allies 500 planes or the
Germans' five.
Earlier on the evening of
May 5, when the surrender was first announced over the BBC radio,
allied soldiers and Englishmen
and women had jammed downtown London. Trafalgar Square teemed with masses of singing people,
the lights came back on, and in front of Whitehall huge crowds
shouted impromptu for Prime
Minister Churchill. As the Prime Minister appeared on the balcony, he
stuck his
cigar trademark in his
mouth and raised his hand in a V for victory symbol. Then the
cheering crowd
stopped as all heads
turned upwards. The entire London sky as in Berlin was filled with
strange speeding lights.
Unquestionably they spelled out one word -VICTOR Y. In his first
public admission of the aerial
phenomena, the British Prime Minister tried to explain that the
formations above were one of the secret
weapons the allies had chosen not to use in winning the war. As the
heavenly lights disappeared across
the English countryside, they left in their wake a mystery - which no
one on the allied side spoke of
again.
Across all Britain the
airborne formation flew in slow parade. As the round wing plane
assemblage moved on in silent
tribute, the huge word VICTORY blazened over the home towns of many
young Scottish, English, Welsh
and Irish pilots and crewmen.
From the countryside
below, jubilant Britains occasionally saw packets attached to small
parachutes flutter down from the
strange birds. Retrieved, the finders noted the packets contained
dozens of letters on RAF stationery with
British stamps affixed to the envelopes. Each packet was wrapped in a
special binder which said:
"Finder, please take to nearest Postmaster!"
The next few days, across
the British Isles, the letters from the sky were being delivered to
cottages and flats by the score.
On opening one such letter a lonely Englishwoman, worrying about her
son, might have read: Dear
Mom. . . Sorry I've been away so long. But soon I'm coming home. . .
Love, your son.
During the next week the
jubilant British sang, danced, paraded, and worshipped as each in his
or her own way threw off the
shackles of years of war-time regimentation. But, quietly, the
British War Office had planned another
surprise that to this day has never been told except to those in the
know.
In the early morning
blackness of May 15, several giant round wing planes dropped out of
the overcast and hovered above a field
on an island off the Scottish coast. Bright lights shone down on the
turf as the machines sat quietly
down, each on its tripod legs. And from the stairs below each craft,
young Britishers stepped down
with their few belongings and moved silently away into the darkness.
Shortly thereafter,
twelve assembled fishing boats took aboard over 480 young men and
headed for the mainland. The fishing
boats normally hauled "goods vans" southward to major
coastal cities. But the skippers had been called
by the Ministry of Fisheries for a special task that morning. Sworn
to silence, only the skippers knew
they had been asked to pick up nearly 500 war heroes. As the young
men huddled on the cold deck
of one of the ships, an old Scottish fisherman, obviously trying to
goad the young passengers into
revealing their point of origin, remarked slyly, "Aye, mon! I've
seen everything now. All you lads
spending your days on that forlorn island while the rest of the world
was busy fighting a war."
Above the boats, over 20
strange craft blinked their lights in farewell as the young airmen
looked up and smiled with nostalgia
for their air training home in far away Canada.
In the morning, as dawn
broke over Scotland's most northerly village served by rail, a long
Royal Scot steam train stood slowly
puffing and waiting. The town's industry, a nearby cannery, had not
yet opened. Meanwhile the
young warriors who had manned the world's greatest World War II
inventions, assembled at the station.
The wail of the bag pipes was heard, and this music to Scottish ears came in a
medley of homecoming tunes played by the Bank of the Scots Guard from Edinburg castle. The band
had come up on the train. As the last "all aboard" was
sounded, the engineer called to the fireman,
"It's a three hour run to Edinburgh. We'll have an hour's stop
while these passengers stretch their
legs and get the biggest and best breakfast the city of Edinburgh can
dish up. All other trains take
second place, even if we meet up with King George himself!"
But London was waiting
for the special train. Prime Minister Churchill was on hand. And so
was King George VI, accompanied by
His Majesty's Coldstream Guards. As each man disembarked from the train, they lined up and
received a handshake and a medal from the King. On the medal were
inscribed the words: FOR VALOUR
BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY.
The demob officer had
already spoken to the young heroes. "For the remainder of your
lives, you men
must be content to know
of the courage with which you served the cause. But remember! You can never share the
secret of the round wing plane with anyone, as difficult as this
order may seem to be. But someday, in
the wisdom of the top brass, perhaps somebody will be allowed to
tell. I hope we are still alive by
then." The Britishers melted into the crowd and headed for their homes. Each carried a
paper giving him a choice of honorable discharge or revolunteering
for the Roundwing Plane Service.
In Canada, the airmen were discharged at Ottawa; the Americans were taken to Tacoma,
Washington. Today the identities of those pioneer airmen are not
known, but on the wall of the Canadian Air
Minister is a plaque referred to as the Silver List. Engraved there
are the names of approximately
five hundred Canucks.
The Regiment of Royal
Fuseliers who had been employed mainly as security forces in the B.C.
Valley during the war years, got
home to Britain in 1947. Some of them had left Scotland by round wing
plane but all were returned by
train to New York and then by ship to England.
The United States emerged
from World War II as the world's undisputed superpower. Before the
war ended she had become the
world's leading shipbuilder. She had supplied the allies with more
shipping
tonnage than both Britain
and the U.S. possessed in 1939.
Her expansion of
conventional air power enabled the allies to dominate the European
skies. And once engaged on the
battlefields, the United States had trained and equipped twelve
million armed men deployed with over 50
allies on various fronts, while still providing the Russians with
massive ship loads of Lend Lease armament.
And when the war was over and rebuilding of the continent began, it
was the American Marshall Plan
that got the Europeans, including the former enemy, back on their
industrial feet.
From 1941 to 1945, the
U.S. War Council had managed to divert scientists and technicians to
the Manhattan bomb project
while still carrying on with the manufacture and delivery of
conventional armament, not to mention
the added brain power required to research and produce the
(Jefferson) round wing plane project
that eventually housed a small city of workers. The costs were shared between the three allied
powers based on population ratio.
The audacious total
American war-time achievements had been burdensome in taxes. The
national debt rose from 50 billion in
1940 to over 250 billion dollars in 1945, nearly nine tenths of this
amount expended on winning the
conflict to liberate Europe and the Pacific.
Quite apart from the
manufacture of conventional war apparatus, the industrial miracle of
the allies, shared mainly by the
U.S.A., was that a revolutionary air arm of round wing planes, and
their trained crews had been developed
in secret, without disrupting the effort of the country's six million
men and women military labor
force. Unevitably, the secret was not perfectly kept, but leaks in
every case were
plugged before serious
breaches of security could occur.)
Although the war ended in
victory for the allies, the Americans were always acutely aware that,
if need be, the scales of Justice
would have been tipped in their favor, had they introduced the
advanced, round wing plane and its
awesome laser power. Yet in spite of the disastrous war that bled
America (and the world) of so
much of its valuable resources, she still managed to carry herself and the globe
into a new age of free flight that before the century ends may become
the prime mover of people and
commerce.
Said Canad's beloved
scientist and World War II General A.G.L. MacNaughton: "Isn't it
ironic that it took a war to bring about
such scientific achievements?"
Winston Churchill called
it the "unnecessary war." President Eisenhower agreed.
And to the young English
boy who asked his grieving mother, "who won the war in which
daddy was killed?! she replied, "No
one — everybody lost."
Sixteen million fathers
and sons never came home. And nearly ten million innocent civilians
who died in the flames of war would
have agreed, had their voices been able to cry out.
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