Harry Kellogg III - The Red Sky - The Second Battle of Britain

He tries to detach his right arm from his body and rips a pound of flesh from his side. He is so intent on reaching the boy that he feels nothing. He reaches out but then his muscles fail him. They become detached from their bony anchor and finally the pain becomes too much and shock sets in. He collapses and he dies staring at the little boy who in turn is staring at him.

Believed to be produced near the end of September in 1946 in the north of Britain.

The reel to reel tape hisses as you listen to the playback. The voices sound like they are coming from the bottom of a well. There is a slight echo in the room used for the interview. There are over a hundred of these interviews still surviving. The identity of the interviewer has not been accurately determined as yet.

“Test… test…

Thank you for speaking with us Mr. Mudd.”

“Well you asked me too didn’t yea.”

“Let’s get to it then…”

“Where you involved in the fighting this month?”

“Why of course I was. Why are we doing this taping if I wasn’t?”

“What was the closest you came to dying during the third war?”

“Come-on now Brian you know very well where it was. You were there too.”

“This is supposed to be like an interview Bob. You have to pretend you don’t know me…”

“Oh alright then… I was driving a lorry with you… er my mate Brian. We had planned to make two runs that day to Coventry carrying petrol in the lorry, one during the day and one during the night. We figured the Reds had run their course and after taking out the near-by airfields they wouldn’t be roaming around anymore. Then we heard it.”

“What was that you heard?”

“One of them twin engine jobs. The ones that should have been shot out of the sky and not roaming around free as you please. We had just stopped and lit up a fag away from the truck. You don’t want to be smoking in a petrol lorry you see. Anyway we heard it pretty far off. You get to know the sound of your enemy pretty quickly. I was going to get back to the lorry and move it under some trees when the bastard spotted us and bore right in without a care in the world. He didn’t even use the rockets he had under his wings he just casually shot the lorry to pieces and lite it on fire. A couple of explosions later and “Bob’s your uncle” the lorry was gone along with our means of employment.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Not at all and neither was you. I mean… no we had gotten away from the petrol when we saw him lining up on us and dove for cover. He wasn’t interested in us… just the petrol and he got it all. I guess this is how the Jerrys must have felt near the end when they didn’t have any more planes to protect them and the Yanks and our boys just roamed free shooting up anything that was moving during the day. I guess what that tells us is that we are in a similar situation after a month of these attacks. Imagine they have enough planes to roam around even in areas that they have already shot up. Enough planes to just go where you will and shoot up anything on the ground worth the bullets. Now I know how the Germans felt near the end.”

“And how was that.”

“They must have felt kind of hopeless. Kind of like it’s getting near time to quit and end this. That we’re defenseless… utterly defenseless.”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Turn it off now will yeah Brian. I’m done talking for now.”

“Sure thing Bob… sure thing.”

General “Hap” Arnold paced around the room. All eyes were glued to his unwavering pace as he strode from one side of the room to the other then abruptly turned and headed back to the other wall. He had not been feeling well but this new challenge seemed to invigorate him. He was thinking just before his staff came with the latest news about the Second Battle of Britain. One more job to do before I retire, was his general thought pattern. He was day dreaming about that retirement when they knocked on the door of his office. It was a nice office but not too ornate. Nothing like Ike’s .

The news he had been given was going to require an immediate decision. One that could win or lose this newest war. Well that’s why they paid him the big bucks as he overheard someone say a while ago. Kenney was nominally in-charge of SAC but he was the one who had to deal with this information and he was the one who had to tell Kenny to start the countdown or not.

Much like Ike’s D-Day decision this one would probably win or lose the war. He had none of Ike’s negotiating powers or even a modicum of political savvy. He just got the job done. That’s why he supposed he survived several career destroying episodes concerning his unwavering support for Billy Mitchell, his being labeled a drunkard and his run ins with Morgenthau and by extension Roosevelt himself. Somehow his talents always won him a second/third and even forth chance.

The news he had to act on consisted of three reports. One: stating that the RAF was on its last week or two of existence. Two: the VVS has committed all the planes they were going to commit to their attack on Britain and the odds will never be greater for success in attacking the Soviet Bear where it counted. Three: General Kenny reported that he could be minimally operational in 7 days and could in theory carry out the attacks that SAC was designed to accomplish.

Minimally operational… what the hell did that mean? Kenney had been so brilliant in the Pacific. Was this new concept beyond his reach? Was he too tactically orientated? Had he been elevated beyond his abilities? Too god damn late to change horses in mid-stream now. LeMay would have been the better choice but you had to go with the horse you rode in on or some such lame excuse. It really was too late to change commandeers. Wait that was not the correct word.

All of these thoughts were rampaging through his brain when things started to get all jumbled up. He couldn’t think straight. All he could do was to keep pacing back and forth even that was getting more and more difficult. SHIT! he was having another heart attack or stroke. Shit!… what was he thinking so hard about… why was he walking back and forth? Who were these people and why were they looking at him? Why couldn’t he move his left arm. Oh hell here it came… THE PAIN the all too familiar PAIN! He had to fight through this and make some kind of decision… but what about. It was all he could do to keep from falling down.

“Hap… you okay?! JEESUS SOMEONE CALL THE DOC!”

Henry Harvey Arnold hit the ground with a sickening thud. His head bounced off the floor and a red stain started to form almost immediately. This alone probably would have killed him but he was dead even before he hit the ground.

It was late in the day and hot in the office. General Spaatz was actually nodding off when he heard a commotion coming from down the hall. He was stunned and shocked and couldn’t actually move for a full minute when he was told about Hap. He knew about the other heart attacks, but he had no idea that Hap was so close to death, so fragile. The possibility that Hap would die suddenly never seriously entered his mind. He figured that after this latest dust up that Hap would retire, and he would be the most likely candidate to take his place, but this was way too soon to comprehend. It would take him a few days to come to grips with the reality that his friend was dead. Yet he did not have a few days.

When he asked what could have upset Hap he was told about the news that Arnold was dealing with. No wonder he was under so much pressure. No wonder poor Hap’s ticker had stopped. Poor Hap. These were war winning or losing choices that had to be made and made now. It was almost impossible for him to concentrate as he poured over the reports that Hap had just dropped and scattered all over the floor when he collapsed. A few of the pages had poor Hap’s blood on them. Poor Hap.