make
their writ known to Dwight D. Eisenhower, the theater commander.
He agreed to the mission and its time of execution, but did not give an
opinion on whether it should be executed high or low. Jacob Smart was
accorded a private audience with Mr. Churchill to describe the low-level
scheme. The imaginative Churchill, a lifelong lover of surprise raids,
responded enthusiastically. He offered four crack Royal Air Force
Lancaster crews to lead the Americans to the target.
Smart replied that the Lancaster bomber and the Liberator had differing
characteristics of range, load, altitude and speed, and that it would
be impossible for the two types to maintain close formation on the long
journey to Romania. Mr. Churchill yielded. Smart did not have to bring
up the additional consideration that American airmen would resent the
implication that they could not find the target themselves.
The whole art of war consists of getting at what is on the other
side of the hill.
-- The Duke of Wellington
3 ZERO RAIDERS
While the inner circle of the U. S. Army Air Forces was buzzing with
Smart's daring low-level proposition, the R.A.F. furnished ostensible
proof that low strikes by heavy bombers were too costly. Twelve Lancasters
assailed U-boat engine works at Augsburg, Germany, and five returned. Wing
Commander Guy Gibson took nineteen hand-picked Lancaster crews to destroy
the Mohne and Eder hydroelectric dams and flood the industrial Ruhr. Three
planes aborted after take-off. Sixteen bombed from an altitude of sixty
feet, and eight returned. The gallant Gibson was awarded the Victoria
Cross, Britain's Medal of Honor. Bomber Harris remarked, "Any operation
that deserves the V.C. is in the nature of things unfit to be repeated
at frequent intervals." It was a matter of plain arithmetic. If you lost
half your sixteen planes on a mission, four raids afterward you would
have one plane. The U.S. Air Force in Europe demanded 25 missions of a
combat flier by day, and Bomber Harris insisted on 35 by night.
Jacob Smart flew to Britain to confer with the airman he wanted to
assume operational planning for Tidal Wave, Colonel Edward J. Timberlake,
dean of the Liberator combat school, who had just brought his Traveling
Circus back to England from the winter campaign in Africa. Timberlake had
promoted squadron leaders to commanding rank, including Group Colonel
K.K. Compton, who was to lead the force on Tidal Wave. As Jacob Smart
braced him, Timberlake was relinquishing command of the Circus to Addison
Baker, one of his squadron leaders, and moving up to command of the 201st
(Provisional) Combat Wing, a cadre charged with converting the onflow
of new B-24's and crews to a battle might. Timberlake accepted Smart's
challenge to take over the thousand and one details of Tidal Wave,
and began picking out the experts he needed.
As his operations officer, Timberlake selected one of his Circus squadron
leaders, a slight, sharp-witted youth from Racine, Wisconsin, named John
Jerstad, who suffered the nickname "Jerk." Major Jerstad had flown so many
more missions than his quota that he had stopped counting them. He had
come far since his first raid, after which he reported to interrogations,
"I never saw so much flak!" Jerstad kept a notebook of lessons learned
in combat; he had brought his men through many a dire sky engagement,
including a 105-minute running battle with the "Yellownoses," Goering's
smartest fighter group. Jerstad wrote his parents, "I'm the youngest kid
on the staff and it's quite an honor to work with Colonels and Generals."
The navigation officer of Timberlake's planning wing was a New York State
school teacher, Captain Leander F. Schmid, retired from combat but
prepared to fly to Ploesti as the target finder. Two outstanding Britons
joined the wing, Group Captain D.G. Lewis, R.A.F., an expert on