There were a number of attempts to use the BQ-7 in combat, none of which were notably successful, and several of which were nearly disastrous. In one reported case, a BQ-7 lost radio lock and circled repeatedly over an English city before the terrified controllers were able to reestablish a radio link and divert the malfunctioning bomber to a safe area. In another case, a BQ-7 failed to respond to radio control signals and crashed in the English countryside, leaving a massive crater to mark the site of the explosion. Project Perilous was abandoned before more serious mishaps could occur.
A follow-on effort, codenamed Project Anvil, utilized converted B-24 bombers in a new (and supposedly improved) BQ-8 configuration. But the BQ-8s were not destined to fare any better than the BQ-7 series had done.
The first Anvil mission took place on August 12, 1944. The modified bomber exploded in flight, while the two crewmen were still aboard. The pilot and copilot, Navy Lieutenants Wilford J. Willy and Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., were both killed instantly.
It’s of historical note that Lieutenant Kennedy was the eldest son of prominent businessman and political figure Joseph Kennedy Sr. At the time of his death, Joseph Junior was being groomed for the American presidency. His younger brother, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, would later go on to become the 35th President of the United States.
The second Anvil mission was launched on September 3, 1944. This time, the BQ-8 missed its assigned target due to spotty television reception, but managed to inflict some damage on an unrelated German facility.
The BQ series was subsequently cancelled, due to lackluster — and sometimes dangerous — performance.
Like the U.S. Navy, the U.S. Army Air Force was out of the flying bomb business, at least in the short term. Nearly three decades had passed since the first efforts of Elmer Sperry and Charles Kettering, and the United States military had still not managed to produce an operationally reliable unmanned aerial weapon.
Unfortunately for the inhabitants of England, the Germans had finally cracked the problem wide open.
The citizens of London were about to find out the hard way just how deadly such weapons can be.
CHAPTER 23
President Dalton Wainright ignored the blue-jacketed briefing folder on the table, and nodded toward the image on the wall-sized Situation Room display screen. “Okay, gentlemen, what am I looking at here?”
The Sit Room Duty Officer was a Navy Captain with a hawk nose and gray at his temples. “Sorry to interrupt your Thanksgiving morning, Mr. President,” he said. “This is an architectural diagram of the Three Gorges Dam, on the Yangtze River, in the People’s Republic of China.”
He allowed the image to linger on the display for a few seconds, and then pointed a remote at the screen. The architectural drawing was replaced by an aerial photograph of what was presumably the retaining wall of the dam, with the expansive spread of its attendant reservoir lake.
“This is the largest hydroelectric project ever built, sir,” the Duty Officer said. “It’s also one of the largest manmade structures in the world, second only to the Great Wall of China. The site reached full operational capacity in 2011, and now it produces approximately 85 terawatt-hours of electrical power per year. That’s slightly more than twice the annual output of China’s entire nuclear power industry.”
“Impressive,” the president said. “I assume there’s a reason that you’re bringing this to my attention?”
The Duty Officer nodded. “Yes, sir. A few hours ago, we received preliminary intelligence that the Indian military may be planning to destroy the Three Gorges Dam.”
“Destroy it? How? That thing is a monster!”
The National Security Advisor, Gregory Brenthoven nodded. “It is a monster, Mr. President. But the Indians are apparently planning to bring it down with a coordinated cruise missile strike: seven Nirbhay missiles armed with advanced hard target penetrator warheads.”
President Wainright raised a hand. “Two questions, Greg… First, what’s our source for this information? Second, will it work?”
He looked back toward the screen. “That thing really is a beast. Unless they’re planning to nuke it, I can’t see cruise missiles bringing it down.”
The National Security Advisor fished a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket. “The source was HUMINT,” he said. “A CIA field operative in New Delhi, with contacts in the Indian Ministry of Defense. He, or she—I don’t know which — managed to lay hands on a copy of the engineering analysis and targeting plan for the strike. The operative’s report was forwarded to the South Asia desk at Langley, and the analyst who received it was smart enough to flag it for immediate high-level attention.”
The president nodded. “So we’re relatively sure that this information is legit?”
Brenthoven flipped open his notebook and scanned a few lines of text. “The confidence level is listed as ‘moderate.’ That basically means that the information is plausible and the source is considered credible, but there isn’t enough external corroboration to support a higher level of confidence.”
“Then I assume that we’re going after corroboration,” the president said.
“Of course, sir,” the National Security Advisor said. “We’ve got CIA, DIA, and ONI all searching for confirmation. But if the plan is locked down tight enough, we may not find a corroborating source. Our current source may be all we have to go on.”
The president paused for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Understood. Let’s move on to my second question. What are the odds that a few cruise missiles can knock out a structure as massive as the Three Gorges Dam?”
“Sir, we’ve got the Office of Naval Research running simulations on that right now,” Brenthoven said, “but our quick-look analysis suggests that it might be feasible, if the missiles carried the correct kinds of warheads.”
“Do the Indians have the right kind?” the president asked.
Secretary of Defense Mary O’Neil-Broerman leaned forward in her chair. “We think they do,” she said. “The Indian military inventory has an indigenously-produced hard target penetrator that might well be powerful enough to crack that dam wide open.”
The president turned to stare at his Secretary of Defense. “You’re telling me that the Indian military developed a highly-specialized missile warhead, on the off chance that they might one day have to bomb a giant Chinese hydroelectric site?”
SECDEF shook her head. “No, sir. Ironically enough, they developed the warhead for the Air Force. Our Air Force.”
President Wainwright rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me you’re kidding, Mary.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not kidding, Mr. President,” the Secretary of Defense said. “The warhead was developed by India’s Defense Research and Development Organization to capture a U.S. Air Force contract for a Next Generation Penetrator. What the Air Force calls an NGP. The Indian defense industry apparently decided that a major Air Force R&D project would be a great way to get their foot in the door for future U.S. defense programs. Their design didn’t make it through the down-select, but they decided to move ahead with developing their own Next Generation Penetrator. They call it the Rudrasya khaḍgaḥ. From what we understand, it’s incredibly effective.”