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    A Favor for FDR
    A Favor for FDR
    A Favor for FDR
    Ebook320 pages5 hours

    A Favor for FDR

    By Derek Hart

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    About this ebook

    It was Germany, not America, which first split the atom. The US didn't have a clue until Einstein warned the White House some years after the Nazi research began. The man in charge of German nuclear research was Werner Heisenberg, a founder of modern quantum physics. His American counterpart, Robert Oppenheimer, was a scientific novice compared to Heisenberg.
    However, in the end, the difference between success and failure turned on the financial and political backing the two research teams received. The Americans were completely supported by their government, with millions of dollars spent to develop the national capabilities in nuclear science, while the German scientists suffered from lack of governmental interest, paltry funding and their own lack of vision.
    Even with these handicaps, it is historically amazing how far the German effort progressed and many of their findings were instrumental in the success of the American bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDerek Hart
    Release dateSep 12, 2011
    ISBN9781466144200
    A Favor for FDR
    Author

    Derek Hart

    Derek Hart is the prolific author of 28 action and adventure novels, known for their historical accuracy, while still maintaining a high level of entertainment. Romance is also a vital part of Derek Hart's trademark style and his novels generally appeal to men and women alike. Mr. Hart authored Secret of the Dragon's Eye, his first novel aimed at all age groups, which met with instant success and outstanding reviews. The author has since followed with Secret of the Dragon's Breath, Secret of the Dragon's Claw, Secret of the Dragon's Scales and Secret of the Dragon's Teeth. The final volume of the 6-episode series, Secret of the Dragon's Wings, will be available in November of 2018. He has since started a new series, post-apocalyptic in nature, with Minerva's Shield and Nike's Chariot. The third installment, Apollo's Plague came out in November 2017. Abandoned was published in March 2018 and Game Over premiered in June 2018. List of published books: Secret of the Dragon’s Eye Secret of the Dragon’s Breath Secret of the Dragon’s Claw Secret of the Dragon’s Scales Secret of the Dragon’s Teeth Secret of the Dragon’s Wings Claws of the Raven Danger Cruise Favor for FDR Crooked Cross Factor Tracks of the Predator For Love or Honor Bound Tales of the Yellow Silk Element of Surprise Seas Aflame Ice Flotilla High Altitude Low Opening Tangles of Truth Shadows in Replay Flag of Her Choosing Tidal Trap Dangerous (Poetry) Executive Firepower The CARLA Conspiracy The Wreckchasers Minerva's Shield Nike's Chariot Apollo's Plague Abandoned Game Over Mercury's Wings Before the Dead Walked Books coming soon: The Samuel Clemens Affair Pearl and Topaz By the Moon Darkly Broadmoor Manor Neptune's Trident Operation Sovereign Primary Weapon Saturn's Fire Tails of Thaddeus Enchanted Mesa Eagle Blue Last Guidon Excess Baggage Container Carta Codex Shipwreckers Romeo Tango The 5x5 Gang Desert Salvage

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      Book preview

      A Favor for FDR - Derek Hart

      A Favor for FDR

      by Derek Hart

      **********

      Smashwords Edition

      Published by

      Derek Hart on Smashwords

      A Favor for FDR

      Copyright - 2004 Derek Hart

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      This book is also available as print

      **********

      Table of Contents

      Dedication

      Foreword

      Preface

      Acknowledgements

      Introduction

      Prologue

      Chapter 1 - History Unwritten

      Chapter 2 - Failure to Communicate

      Chapter 3 - As a favor, Mr. President

      Chapter 4 - Myths & Legends

      Chapter 5 - Trojan Horse

      Chapter 6 - Complications

      Chapter 7 - The Things Men Do for Love

      Chapter 8 - Who Said Anything About a Mission?

      Chapter 9 - Things Finally Get Serious

      Chapter 10 - Games in French

      Chapter 11 - Toothpaste and Uranium

      Chapter 12 - The Passing of a Great Man

      Chapter 13 - Is it Really a Bomb?

      Chapter 14 - How Far Did They Really Get?

      Chapter 15 - To Start Anew

      Epilogue

      Conclusions

      About the Author

      Notes

      Critical Acclaim

      **********

      Dedication

      Dedicated to Michele Desjardins.

      Friendship tried and true,

      even during the most challenging times.

      A compassion and understanding

      uncommon in most relationships.

      Foreword

      ALSOS - 1. Greek for sacred groves; a garden or park of amusement and athletics. 2. Codename for the Allied secret operation to locate the Nazi nuclear reactor somewhere in Europe. It was supposedly named after General Leslie Groves, head of the Manhattan Project for World War II US nuclear weapons effort.

      Preface

      It was Germany, not America, which first split the atom. The US didn't have a clue until Einstein warned the White House some years after the Nazi research began. The man in charge of German nuclear research was Werner Heisenberg, a founder of modern quantum physics. His American counterpart, Robert Oppenheimer, was a scientific novice compared to Heisenberg.

      However, in the end, the difference between success and failure turned on the financial and political backing the two research teams received. The Americans were completely supported by their government, with millions of dollars spent to develop the national capabilities in nuclear science, while the German scientists suffered from lack of governmental interest, paltry funding and their own lack of vision.

      Even with these handicaps, it is historically amazing how far the German effort progressed and many of their findings were instrumental in the success of the American bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

      But just how far did the Germans really get?

      That question may never be satisfactorily answered, for the Americans made certain that German research notes, documentation and test results were not only never published, but often destroyed or their existence actually denied. Much of what we do know is based solely on speculation and very little has been written about the subject, since there isn’t much evidence one way or another, except from certain biased individuals who participated. Besides, some of the story sounds more like science fiction, or the ranting of a desperate nation. Yet there is some underlying circumstantial evidence that gives one pause.

      There were some very disturbing and fascinating indications that the German effort never really considered an atomic bomb as a practical weapon, since using such a powerful and not fully understood device might bring more destruction upon Germany than its use would justify. What is far more interesting were their theories regarding nuclear reactors and controlled fission applications.

      Disputed facts coupled with incorrect interpretations provide a foundation for unsolved mysteries. Perhaps one of the most controversial and unsettled issues that has prevailed since the end of WWII is why, given the facts that German scientists discovered nuclear fission, worked intensively to build a reactor, had access to all the basic ingredients - heavy water, uranium and two cyclotrons, did they not proceed to develop a weapon of mass destruction?

      Armed with these facts at the time, it became a matter of great urgency for the Allies to evaluate the status of German science as the war progressed. The Normandy invasion would have been a total disaster if an atomic bomb greeted the landing troops.

      At the urging of Albert Einstein, who communicated directly with President Franklin D. Roosevelt - the Manhattan Project, the effort that would ultimately develop an atomic weapon for the Allies, was formed. It then became a matter of the most critical urgency to know what stage of research had been reached in nuclear fission in Germany. Did the Germans have the bomb? How close was the race?

      In response to this situation, the US government through the OSS (forerunner of the CIA) commissioned a super-secret mission to evaluate the status of German science and to assess their progress in the area of nuclear fission. ALSOS was the code name for the joint military/scientific expedition sent into occupied Europe and they succeeded in capturing scientists, seizing uranium supplies and concluding that no such plans for a bomb were seriously underway.

      So what were the Germans up to then? Werner Heisenberg, Niels Bohr, Lisa Meitner, and Otto Hahn were gifted German scientists, all great minds capable of reaching the same conclusions as the American team. Were they morally against the bomb’s development or did they just not understand the technical problems and concluded its development was not feasible? We may never know, because they publicly denied the possibility that such a bomb could be built, even after learning about Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

      Yet certain evidence suggests that the German team not only knew how to build an atomic bomb, but also decided against using it. No matter what the reasons were for abandoning the project, it is startling to delve into the alternative choices. Atomic power took on an even more advanced role in the German plans, far surpassing the simplistic approach of just a bomb.

      After the Americans dropped their nuclear bombs on the Japanese, the British interrogation team told the German scientists the news. Their initial reaction was complete disbelief, then anger and finally horror. Several of the members fell into deep bouts of depression, fearing that their work had somehow aided the Allies in their quest for this ultimate weapon.

      Several weeks after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Dr. Werner Heisenberg was recorded saying, I went to see Dr. Bohr in 1941, to ask his help to convince scientists on both sides of the war to cease work toward this bomb. Now look what has happened?

      Acknowledgements

      To David Burke, who was instrumental in the research required for this book, as well as his intimate knowledge of The Little White House, FDR’s presidential retreat near Columbus, Georgia. The author was granted several extensive tours of the site, as well as access to scores of documents and artifacts associated with President Roosevelt’s visits to the private cottage during the war years. David’s fascination and dedication to the legacy of FDR was critical in providing historical credibility for this novel.

      To Carla Malerba, who continues to assist the author with her ongoing research, providing extensive material about the Italian theatre of war during WWII, specifically in regards to the Anzio invasion, Rome during German occupation, and a family narrative, which added immensely to the authenticity of this book.

      To the Manhattan Project Heritage Preservation Association & David M. Vickio - Executive Director, who supplied answers to several hypothetical questions from the author, as well as providing timelines and details that added immensely to the historical aspects of this story.

      Cover Art by David M. Burke

      Introduction

      Franklin Delano Roosevelt built the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia, in the spring of 1932. FDR visited the area to bathe in its warm waters as part of his polio therapy for many years before building the home, which doubled as a presidential retreat. It was during his stays at the Little White House that FDR saw first-hand the concerns of his rural neighbors and conceived many of the visionary programs that lifted the country out of the Great Depression.

      Roosevelt’s Little White House is a national treasure. All Americans should visit this historically important landmark, to learn more about its important role in shaping our nation’s history, and its contribution toward the modern political era.

      The Little White House draws more than 100,000 visitors annually, more than any other Georgia state historic site. The historic park is located ¼ mile south of Warm Springs, Georgia on Highway 85/Alternate Highway 27.

      For more information and a calendar of events, please visit

      www.gastateparks.org or www.fdr-littlewhitehouse.org

      **********

      Prologue

      April 19, 2004

      Warm Springs, Georgia

      Secrets Revealed

      The clouds were dark and hanging low, cutting off the mountain scenery with steady rain. It was a cold and dreary day. Michael Brock tried to relax, but he just couldn’t find a spot that was comfortable. He wanted to look out the window at the passing countryside, but the constant fog and drizzle blotted out any view.

      Along the highway they came, a short caravan of black limousines following the long low hearse along Georgia Highway 41. The soaking steady downpour added to the dreariness of the funeral procession. Winding through the Georgia hills north of Columbus, the snaking parade of headlights headed past Pine Mountain, to shine eventually on the headstones of a church cemetery in the quaint town of Warm Springs.

      The twin wrought-iron gates were open wide and Michael could see the traditional green awning draped over the burial site. There were several black umbrellas lined up near the church sidewalk, men waiting to offer protection to the few passengers. The cars all slowed and rolled to a stop, Michael’s door opening almost immediately.

      This way, sir, spoke a pleasant voice, a hand outstretched.

      Brock used it to pull himself out of the low backseat. Stretching slightly, he took a look around, especially noting the tiny cemetery. What possible reason could there be for his father to wish to be buried so far from home?

      Mike was emotionally drained and the extensive funeral arrangements had taken their toll. His father had passed away at the grand old age of 86, making the trip to Heaven while asleep. His son was still dealing with the loss of his best friend and role model, when he discovered the stipulations of his father’s will were very precise. As the good son, Michael made every attempt to honor his dad’s unusual wishes. So here he was, in Warm Springs, Georgia, of all places, far from their home in suburban Chicago.

      The memorial service was being held at the First Baptist Church and a plot had been purchased many years before. Robert Mitchell Brock was to be laid to rest near a stunning grand old oak tree, the ground always blanketed with shade or fallen leaves.

      Welcome, my son, said someone standing nearby. I’m Pastor Lawrence Cobb.

      Michael turned and was greeted with the solemn but pleasant face of the church pastor. He was probably in his mid-60’s, with gray at the temples, but looked a spot older with the horn-rimmed black glasses. They shook hands.

      I really appreciate all that you have done, Pastor Cobb, Brock said with genuine gratitude. It was all rather last minute and rushed.

      We are honored that your father chose our little church cemetery for his final resting place, said Pastor Cobb. Please come inside. Everything is ready.

      There were only a few people in the narthex, where the open casket would be available for viewing for only a few hours. Following that was a memorial service and finally prayers and last rites at the gravesite.

      Michael took one last look at his father. The embalmer had requested photographs to assist his art and the son was pleased. His dad looked asleep, at peace, but with just the slightest smirk, as if he was having a good dream. It was how he looked when alive, except his eyes were closed.

      Michael listened as best he could to the memorial service, but he was lost in memories, remembering all the things he hadn’t told his father. Of course he battled guilt at harsh words exchanged in the past or unfinished business, but found himself smiling more often than not. They had a respectful relationship, which grew closer as they both grew older. Yet there had always been a part of his father’s past that seemed mysterious, unexplained, and perhaps even secret. His mother couldn’t account for her husband’s moments of dark brooding either, which didn’t last long, but were always initiated by certain news headlines. Those bouts of irrational anger were especially bad when the threat of nuclear terrorism or proliferation of weapons of mass destruction were discussed by the news media.

      Then the mood would pass suddenly, as quickly as it had arrived, his father once again the practical prankster, full of humor and jest. Michael thought fondly of their times together, deciding that his father had been a fair and loving man, all things considered. Brock senior was an engineer by profession, where his son had opted for the public speaking circuit, eventually achieving the status of respectable expert in business motivational messages.

      Even as the few locals shook Michael’s hand before departing after the graveside service, the entire funeral seemed unreal. When his mother had passed away several years earlier, friends and relatives gathered at the house by the score, where an almost party-like atmosphere took place. There was a ton of delicious food and people generally had a good time remembering Claudia Brock.

      This was so different.

      Then Michael realized he was alone.

      He took one last look at the casket. Goodbye, Dad. I’ll miss you. Just remember God has a sense of humor too.

      He bowed his head in a short prayer of farewell, and then gave a nod to the gravediggers. They lowered the coffin into the ground.

      Will you be heading back to Chicago now? Pastor Cobb suddenly inquired.

      Brock was a bit startled by the unannounced arrival of the minister at his side again. No, I think I’ll spend the night here, before heading back to Atlanta sometime tomorrow. I might take in a Braves game while I’m here, if the rain lets up.

      You should take time to see the Little White House while you’re in Warm Springs, Pastor Cobb suggested. You might find it very enlightening.

      Little White House? Michael wondered. What’s that?

      It was President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s private hideaway, which he built before he became president, the pastor related. There’s actually a lot of history surrounding the house, if you’re into that sort of thing?

      Michael nodded enthusiastically. I love history, especially World War Two. My dad fought in Europe, though I don’t know much about what he did. I couldn’t ever get him to talk about those days.

      Pastor Cobb smiled and said, Well then, I think you should take the time to tour the site. They have a brand new museum with wonderful displays and mementos.

      Michael Brock shook Pastor Cobb’s hand again. I will. Thank you again for everything. It was a lovely eulogy.

      I’m pleased that it was meaningful for you, my son. I’m sure your father was quite proud of you. With that the minister strolled back to the church, keeping under his umbrella.

      The limousine driver was very cooperative with Michael’s change in plans, since he was paid for the day. After asking for directions from some local townspeople, the big black car drove to the entrance of the Little White House. Along the scenic road they went, to end up near a parking lot, which actually had quite a few cars and tour buses filling many spaces.

      The limousine pulled up to the curb at the visitor’s entrance to the historical park.

      I probably won’t be that long, Mike told the driver. Do you want to see the museum too?

      No, sir, that’s okay, the man replied. You take your time. I’ll just take a nap under that big tree.

      Okay, Brock said, climbing out, the rain slacking off to nothing more than mist.

      Michael went to the ticket window and purchased admittance, entering directly into the modern new museum. He spent several hours winding his way past the various displays, reading and absorbing the history with relish. Exiting outside again, Mike took a deep breath and appreciated the beautiful site, surrounded by lush green trees, a peaceful quiet permeating everywhere. He strolled leisurely along the paved path, while looking at his pamphlet to get his bearings. Up ahead was a magnificent display of native rocks shaped to represent the outline of each of the 50 states. He spent time at each marker, marveling at all he was learning in such a short time.

      Like a magnet, however, the Little White House beckoned to him. He walked past the bump gate, peered into the guest or servant’s cottage and looked up at a series of giant spotlights camouflaged as trees amidst the Long-Leaf Pines that surrounded the site. What suddenly caught his attention, however, was a metal plaque by a Blackjack Oak, glistening from the fresh rain. Michael went to take a closer look.

      He was in for quite a surprise.

      The bronze plaque was secured firmly to a black-iron post by the base of the tree.

      It read:

      In honor of Captain Robert M. Brock

      This plaque is dedicated to his promise to

      The President of the United States

      Franklin Delano Roosevelt,

      Which he kept!

      (1943 – 1945)

      Michael stared at the metal plate, wondering if it referred to his father.

      May I help you, young man? asked a pleasant female voice from behind him.

      Michael turned around to discover a sprightly woman of perhaps seventy years or more, snow-white hair and fair complexion making her look almost like an angel. She was peeking out from under her umbrella with genuine interest.

      Brock thumbed over his shoulder. I was just wondering about that plaque. I knew my father trained at Fort Benning, but I wasn’t aware he had ever met President Roosevelt.

      You’re Robert Brock’s son? she asked with nervous excitement.

      Yes, Ma’am, I am, Michael replied, uncomfortable with her reaction. However, if it’s the same Robert Brock on the plaque, I’m not sure.

      She smiled, though it was reserved and uncertain. You look like your father, in the photographs I’ve seen of him, so I think it is. He was a wonderful man.

      Michael was surprised. You knew my father?

      Well, I didn’t actually know Captain Brock, she replied. But your father made quite an impression on the President and he never forgot his contribution. We just dedicated that plaque a few months ago. As hard as we tried, we couldn’t get your father to join us for the ceremony.

      He was not feeling himself this past year, I’m afraid, Brock said. In fact, he passed away just last week. We buried my father in the cemetery at the First Baptist Church in Warm Springs this morning.

      Tears welled up in her eyes and she reached for a handkerchief from her purse. I am sorry for your loss, young man.

      Thank you, Michael said, holding his hand out to steady her if need be. Would you like to sit down or I can get you something to drink?

      No, no, I’ll be all right. The news just made me sad.

      I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.

      She patted his forearm. Now never you mind. I’ll be just fine.

      Michael had to ask. Did my father really know FDR?

      She smiled at him with just a hint of pity, taking hold of Michael Brock by the elbow. Come with me, young man. We have some things to share with you.

      Mike did as he was told, always respecting his elders. They walked past the Little White House and up the paved walk towards the new museum. She paused to look down on the parking lot, now almost filled with vehicles of every size and description.

      I’m May Stevens, by the way, the woman introduced herself. I’m one of the locals that still remember some of those days. I worked here during the spring of 1943, assisting physical-aid nurses at the pools. That was over sixty years ago, mind you. Perhaps I was a bit of a busybody too, since I was always snooping around, but you know how young schoolgirls can be?

      Brock chuckled at her candor.

      My auntie was a favorite of President Roosevelt’s, because he loved her nut cake, Miss Stevens went on. They were neighbors, you might say.

      I see, Brock said. He was pleased at the good fortune that had brought him in contact with someone who actually lived during those tumultuous times. So he stood still and drank in all the history she shared.

      The park grounds are operated by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources. The six-room Little White House, casual in style and furnishings, reflects FDR's desire to rest and be comfortable during his visits to Warm Springs. With its easy chairs, mementos and paintings, the house still looks much like it did the day he died, on April 12, 1945.

      After her thumbnail description of the site, Miss Stevens took Michael Brock to meet someone. A park employee rolled up in his wheelchair, a big man with huge hands, dressed in the ubiquitous green uniform. His hair was cropped very short and a mischievous smile lit up his face.

      David Parke, I want you to meet Michael Brock, she chirped.

      Pleased to meet you, Parke said, shaking hands warmly. Welcome to the Little White House.

      Thank you, David, Michael replied. Ms. Stevens has been very generous with her time showing me around.

      May was so excited to tell Parke the news that she nearly burst. David, Michael’s father was Captain Robert Brock.

      David Parke’s intelligent brown eyes widened considerably and sparkled with delight. You don’t say? Now this is an honor. He held out his hand again, which after another even more enthusiastic grip, he hesitated breaking. What brings you to our Little White House this rainy afternoon?

      I just finished burying my father in the First Baptist cemetery, Mr. Parke, Michael said. After he passed away, I discovered he wanted to be buried in Warm Springs, of all places. I didn’t have a clue as to why, until Ms. Stevens told me my father spent some time here.

      Parke frowned, his furled eyebrows expressing his sorrow. I’m sorry to hear about your father, Mr. Brock. From everything I’ve read, he was a very special man and President Roosevelt grew very fond of him in a short period of time.

      Michael was more than just fascinated, but before he could pursue a line of questioning, Miss Stevens took care of the preliminaries. I think it’s time you filled Michael in on the details, don’t you, David?

      Parke grinned and spun his chair around on a

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