Read Online Fail Safe by Eugene Burdick, Harvey Wheeler - Free Book Online
Authors: Eugene Burdick, Harvey Wheeler
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pleasant hum, like beehives heard at a great distance on a warm day. On a table in front of the console was a desk with a single telephone on it.
"All command posts to Condition Red, Sergeant," General Bogan said.
"All command posts to Condition Red," the sergeant repeated.
With an expert practiced gesture he ran his hand down the row of thirty switches and beneath each of them a light instantly glowed red. Identical green
lights above each switch went off.
"Verification?" Colonel Cascio said, looking at the sergeant.
General Bogan felt a flash of confidence as Colonel Cascio spoke. His aide knew every drill, procedure, maneuver, and manual of every room which served the War Room, and it pleased the General. Partly, he thought, because it confirmed his judgment of men, partly because Colonel Cascio's pure and simple ability was reassuring.
The sergeant wheeled and looked at the face of another machine. The machine did two things: it verified that the long central console was operating properly and it also confirmed that each of the command posts of SAC throughout the world was actually "cut in" and had received the "Condition Red." It was merely another precaution to make sure that no mechanical failure could occur.
"All command posts cut in and tactical control circuits operative," the sergeant said.
General Bogan picked up the phone on the table. When he spoke his voice would be transmitted over a network of transmitters on at least three frequencies to each of the SAC command posts.
"This is General Bogan at Omaha," General Bogan said. "I am ordering a Condition Red, not a 'go'; please confirm."
This was the "Condition Red" system. It was the step between alarm and action. It was the bringing of a massive network of men and machines to a condition of readiness. Fragments of the system would, in fact, be active, but the enormous bulk would merely come to a tense ready. Long ago the SAC researchers had learned that "color alerts" were confusing. For veterans of World War II "Red" was ominous. For others it simply meant a casual stop at a casual traffic signal.
Everyone in the widespread system knew that the ultimate alert simply meant a riding of tension, enormous preparation, an intricate series of precautionary steps. The moment that the switches were tripped and the words were spoken, a mechanism went into operation which was such a blending of the delicate and the gross, the individual and the chorus, that it was an orchestration.
As General Bogan listened to the individual duty officers confirm both the mechanical and spoken order he remembered something Colonel Cascio had said months ago about Condition Red.
It's like the start of a 100-yard dash, the colonel had said. Except that you keep coming through "on your marks" and "gets sets" and you hang there with sweat breaking out on your face and every muscle tensed to go . . . and the pistol never cracks, no one ever says
General Bogan never thought of it that way. But then Colonel Cascio had been a sprint star in college, had run the hundred in 9.6. Even now there was a rumor among the enlisted men that he could run the hundred in under 10 seconds. General Bogan had never asked but the colonel looked it; he had a jaguar-lean look about him. He kept in perfect physical shape, but never made a point of it. He never talked of his workouts at the gym, never lectured anyone on obesity or physical fitness. He merely kept himself taut.
When General Bogan finished receipt of the acknowledgments, the Condition Red order was completed. It was initiated by a man, checked by a machine, counterchecked by a man, who was countercounterchecked by another machine, and all men and thachines were carefully watched by other counterpart men and machines. The immense man-machine activated itself, checked itself, coordinated itself, re
strained itself, passed information to itself, carefully filtered incoming information, automatically tripped other systems that were
"All command posts to Condition Red, Sergeant," General Bogan said.
"All command posts to Condition Red," the sergeant repeated.
With an expert practiced gesture he ran his hand down the row of thirty switches and beneath each of them a light instantly glowed red. Identical green
lights above each switch went off.
"Verification?" Colonel Cascio said, looking at the sergeant.
General Bogan felt a flash of confidence as Colonel Cascio spoke. His aide knew every drill, procedure, maneuver, and manual of every room which served the War Room, and it pleased the General. Partly, he thought, because it confirmed his judgment of men, partly because Colonel Cascio's pure and simple ability was reassuring.
The sergeant wheeled and looked at the face of another machine. The machine did two things: it verified that the long central console was operating properly and it also confirmed that each of the command posts of SAC throughout the world was actually "cut in" and had received the "Condition Red." It was merely another precaution to make sure that no mechanical failure could occur.
"All command posts cut in and tactical control circuits operative," the sergeant said.
General Bogan picked up the phone on the table. When he spoke his voice would be transmitted over a network of transmitters on at least three frequencies to each of the SAC command posts.
"This is General Bogan at Omaha," General Bogan said. "I am ordering a Condition Red, not a 'go'; please confirm."
This was the "Condition Red" system. It was the step between alarm and action. It was the bringing of a massive network of men and machines to a condition of readiness. Fragments of the system would, in fact, be active, but the enormous bulk would merely come to a tense ready. Long ago the SAC researchers had learned that "color alerts" were confusing. For veterans of World War II "Red" was ominous. For others it simply meant a casual stop at a casual traffic signal.
Everyone in the widespread system knew that the ultimate alert simply meant a riding of tension, enormous preparation, an intricate series of precautionary steps. The moment that the switches were tripped and the words were spoken, a mechanism went into operation which was such a blending of the delicate and the gross, the individual and the chorus, that it was an orchestration.
As General Bogan listened to the individual duty officers confirm both the mechanical and spoken order he remembered something Colonel Cascio had said months ago about Condition Red.
It's like the start of a 100-yard dash, the colonel had said. Except that you keep coming through "on your marks" and "gets sets" and you hang there with sweat breaking out on your face and every muscle tensed to go . . . and the pistol never cracks, no one ever says
General Bogan never thought of it that way. But then Colonel Cascio had been a sprint star in college, had run the hundred in 9.6. Even now there was a rumor among the enlisted men that he could run the hundred in under 10 seconds. General Bogan had never asked but the colonel looked it; he had a jaguar-lean look about him. He kept in perfect physical shape, but never made a point of it. He never talked of his workouts at the gym, never lectured anyone on obesity or physical fitness. He merely kept himself taut.
When General Bogan finished receipt of the acknowledgments, the Condition Red order was completed. It was initiated by a man, checked by a machine, counterchecked by a man, who was countercounterchecked by another machine, and all men and thachines were carefully watched by other counterpart men and machines. The immense man-machine activated itself, checked itself, coordinated itself, re
strained itself, passed information to itself, carefully filtered incoming information, automatically tripped other systems that were
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