The Supersonic Shield

(See Cover)

If Moscow should decide some mid night to attack the U.S., 900 Soviet heavy bombers could be over North America by dawn. Some 300 Red planes, manned by elite crews and loaded with nuclear or thermonuclear bombs, would streak toward vital U.S. target areas. The others, carrying TNT and fire bombs, would serve to divert and confuse U.S. defenses.

Twoscore well-placed hydrogen bombs could kill one-fourth of the American people; conceivably, an all-out surprise attack could destroy the nation's will to resist and power to strike back.

America's defenses against this nightmarish--but very real--possibility are centered in the pleasant resort town of Colorado Springs. There, in a two-story blockhouse, grey and windowless, is a huge Plexiglas map on which the position of any strange plane sighted anywhere over North America is immediately plotted. Within two minutes, two jet interceptors scramble skyward with orders to identify the unknown aircraft--or shoot it down.

The grey blockhouse and the scrambling jets are part of General Ben Chidlaw's Continental Air Defense Command. Like the Strategic Air Command, Chid law's Air Defense is at the ready every minute of the day and night. Its radar (see cut) and interceptors could make the difference between life and sudden death for millions of Amer icans and perhaps for the nation itself. No defense can be close to perfect, but the ever-alert, ever-expanding Continental Command is dedicated to the proposition that defense measures are practical, even in a ther- monuclear war.

Massive Menace. By military standards, the dan ger of a Red strike against the U.S. is greater now than ever before. The Soviet Un ion is very nearly capable of a knockout blow delivered without warning. In 1949, when the Reds first tested an atomic bomb, they lacked the means to strike directly at the U.S. They have since built a massive intercontinental striking force: Aviatsiya Dalnevo Deyst-viya, known to U.S. airmen as SUSAC (Soviet Union Strategic Air Command).

SUSAC now has at least 1,200 TU4 heavy bombers stationed at newly built bases in the Soviet arctic, only a few hours' flying time from the U.S. In the last year SUSAC crews have been trained intensively in instrument flying and tanker-refueling techniques for long-range raids (equaling round trips from Siberia to Los Angeles). They have been supplied with electronic bombsights, two new types of 600-m.p.h. jet bombers (the T-37 and T-39, resembling respectively the U.S. 6-52 and 6-47), and probably with hydrogen bombs.

The two jets, first reported at the Moscow air show last May, can double the speed and multiply the menace of any Soviet air strike. Observers, who saw the huge T-37 flying over Moscow at 200 ft., hoped for a time that the planes were prototypes displayed as bluff. But in June a flight of 60 T-395 flew over Moscow in perfect formation.

Seven Words for Survival. Until recent years, the U.S. had hardly any air defense. On the sound military theory that offense is the best defense, the U.S. entrusted its safety to the Strategic Air Command under General Curtis LeMay. The theory was, and is, that SAC's poised heavy-bomber punch would either deter the Communists from attacking, or destroy Communist production centers if they did. Now, for the first time, the Reds may have strength enough to knock out SAC bases with a surprise blow. The U.S., unable to retaliate, would be doomed to destruction or surrender.

Air defense is thus essential to protect SAC's striking power and the American people (last week a mock atomic attack on Denver left 47,000 assumed dead). "If SAC is to remain an effective deterrent, it must be reasonably secure against enemy attack on its bases," said the No. 1 U.S. airman, General Nathan Twining. "One grand-scale atomic blow by the Soviets on our industrial and population centers could be decisive."

On Sept. 1 the Joint Chiefs of Staff upgraded and expanded the three-year-old Air Defense Command. General Chidlaw took operational control of all Army ack-ack and missile battalions, Navy patrol squadrons and radar picket ships, Marine Corps and Air National Guard fighter outfits assigned to air defense. The rechristened Continental Air Defense Command became an independent force reporting directly to the Joint Chiefs, who spelled out its mission in seven words: "Defend the United States against air attack."

Four-Star Flyer. Benjamin Wiley Chidlaw, 54, a sturdy six-footer, is accustomed to terse orders and tough assignments. Once, during World War II, the late General H. H. ("Hap") Arnold asked him: "What do you know about designing and building a jet airplane?" He replied, "Nothing much--does anyone?" "Well, Ben," said General Arnold, "you'd better find out. I've decided to put you in charge of the job." Chidlaw pioneered in developing America's first jet (the P-59, with a Bell air frame and General Electric engine). He was given a year to do the job; in less than 13 months the first jet was flying. He became one of the first U.S. airmen to fly a jet himself.

With 8,000 flying hours, he ranks second in Air Force seniority (first: Chief of Staff Twining). A four-star flyer entrusted with one of the nation's most vital commands, he is unpublicized and virtually unknown. But in 36 years of service he has piled up vast all-round experience. He has been a pursuit pilot, a flight instructor, one of the early 6-17 pilots who worked out U.S. long-range bombing techniques. A top technician, he helped to develop retractable landing gear, variable pitch propellers, and a long line of U.S. combat planes. In World War II he led fighter forces in Italy, ended up commanding the Mediterranean Allied Tactical Air Forces, flew 19 combat missions himself.

One of his closest calls came long before the war, when his two-seater pursuit plane caught fire during a training flight in Florida. The sergeant-observer was slow to hit the silk; by the time Chidlaw helped him out and jumped himself, the plane was so low that his chute barely had time to open. He hit hard, broke a leg. He still puts in a lot of time in the air. To check up on his command last year, he logged 739 flying hours in his carpeted, wood-paneled command C-54--enough mileage to cross the U.S. coast-to-coast 70 times. Ruddy-faced and relaxed, he plays excellent golf (mid-70s)--but he can never be really relaxed about his Air Force assignment.

"Figure it out for yourself," said Chidlaw. "More than 3,000,000 square miles of territory to protect, 10,000 miles of border to guard, and a fence to build ten, eleven or twelve miles high." He has, however, a growing supply of fence--including stakes and spikes:P: More than 100 radar warning stations staffed by 10,000 airmen. P: Some 13,000 ground-observer posts manned by 370,000 civilian volunteers. P: Fifty-odd fighter squadrons equipped with more than 1,200 jet interceptors in the 600-m.p.h. class.

P: More than 100 guided-missile launching sites for Nike antiaircraft rockets (which can shoot some 20 miles at supersonic speeds to destroy planes in mid-air). P: Several hundred emplaced 90-mm. and radar-aimed Skysweeper antiaircraft guns manned by 20,000 soldiers.

Ferrets & Dew. Soviet ferret raids have already felt out North America's defenses. U.S. jets on radar alert, scrambling from bases in Alaska and elsewhere, have repeatedly spotted distant Red reconnaissance planes. The Russians' mission: to try out the radar screen, draw out interceptors, chart and time defense reactions.

The Reds know that between Alaska and Greenland they can penetrate virtually unchallenged over Far Northern Canada (which has no system of defense or detection other than a volunteer observer corps of trappers and Eskimos). They know that southward, along the U.S. flanks, coastal radar can scarcely spot low-flying planes until too late.

Gaps in the fence are being filled. On the East Coast a chain of some 25 radar stations, called Texas Towers because they resemble oil-drilling platforms in the Gulf off Texas, are to be anchored on the continental shelf up to 125 miles offshore. On both coasts flights of RC-121Cs, "Pregnant Geese", bulging with six tons of radar equipment, will soon maintain patrols around the clock. Canada is already building the mid-Canada line of small, semiautomatic, electronic-detection stations along the 55th parallel, about 500 miles north of the U.S. border.

Jointly, Canada and the U.S. decided this fall to go ahead with a Distant Early Warning ("Dew") radar line along the continent's Arctic edge, some 1,800 miles north of Chicago, far enough away to give the U.S. three hours' warning. But the mid-Canada line will not be ready for months; the Dew line will not be ready for years.

America's fence in the sky now begins at the Pinetree radar line, straddling the U.S.-Canadian border. Begun in 1950, it is now in operation. Cost: some $250 million (paid one-third by Canada, two-thirds by the U.S.). Pinetree is magnificently planned to track incoming raiders and guide U.S. interceptors in air combat. But radar's 200-mile range provides very short notice of attack. The Air Defense Command will not now guarantee any warning time at all.

Coastal radar runs from Vancouver to San Diego on the Pacific, from Labrador to Savannah on the Atlantic. Navy radar picket ships patrol offshore for added warning. Spot local radar nets have been built around critical targets--SAC bases, nuclear weapons centers and great cities. Mostly, the radar line is string-thin. Sometimes stations are closed for repairs. Usually, the radars are beamed high for maximum range, leaving gaps for low-level attack.

Goose & Carrot. Life on America's radar line--the loo-odd Aircraft Control and Warning stations--is an unsettling mixture of utter monotony and utmost intensity. Although every operator knows that the next blip on his radarscope could be the herald of death, staring steadily into the electronic eye can be endlessly boring. Radar sites are usually remote and lonely. Permanent stations, costing $5,000,000 each to build and $500,000 yearly to run, are surprisingly elaborate. Example: "Mother Goose," a warning site about 65 miles east of Albuquerque, N. Mex., is set up to protect the Los Alamos nuclear laboratory.

Mother Goose is manned by 15 officers and 150 airmen, commanded by redheaded Major Guy N. Hunter, 32. His 72-acre station, guarded by an 8-ft. steel-wire fence and about a dozen Air Police, includes an officers' lounge with a 24-in. TV set, beer patio, pastel-painted barracks, library, hobby shop, trailer park for airmen's families, and movies every night. A doctor comes every ten days, a chaplain every twelve days, a dentist once a year. "I've been in the Air Force 18 years," says First Sergeant Clifford Clegg, "and this is the best station by far." Most servicemen, however, rate radar stations as dreary, dismal duty.

The station exists to track Soviet raiders, if ever they come, and to guide by voice radio the U.S. interceptors scrambling skyward to give battle. In the windowless operations building, manned in shifts around the clock, two of several installed radar sets ceaselessly sweep the sky. Every passing plane is plotted, immediately reported to direction center "Carrot," which has to answer the insistent question: Is it the enemy?

Blip & Buzzer. Every day 25,000 aircraft, on the average, are flying over the U.S., and all are suspect until proved friendly. Every plane flying near target areas or over 4,000 ft. must file a flight plan; any deviation of ten miles or five minutes attracts jet interceptors.

At Kirtland Air Force Base, Albuquerque, Carrot checks all aircraft reported by the regional radar and observer net (including Mother Goose). Carrot identifies planes through flight plans, airfield reports and other means, including IFF ("Identification Friend or Foe,' electronic gadgets emitting special signals). No plane can remain unidentified for more than two minutes--the maximum is fixed by General Chidlaw's order--without the air controller at Carrot ordering a jet scramble.

Air Defense cannot take chances, will not accept radioed identification or radioed reports of in-flight changes, which could easily be faked. Airline pilots used to change course with great frequency; jets once scrambled 200 times a month to check on incoming international airliners alone. Now, with the help of special identification systems, international interceptions are down to about 30 monthly. Airline pilots, to avoid the arrival of curious jets, stay more closely on course.

Carrot controls several jet squadrons on 24-hour alert, plus National Guard augmentation units. The alert squadrons, like others throughout the U.S., scramble three or four times a day. Their sleek interceptors are always armed, fueled and ready to roll, with the lead pair parked on the take-off strip and two more right behind. As at every air-defense base, restless jet pilots are always waiting in the ready shack for the buzzer--the loud rasping signal to scramble. "It sounds pretty awful," said one Kirtland pilot to a newsman sharing his vigil, "after you've been here six months."

When the buzzer sounded, two pilots, bulky in their flying gear (pressure suit, parachute, oxygen mask, survival kit, maps), dashed toward two long, lean F-86D fighters. In two minutes they were surging down the runway with a crashing roar, and two more jets rolled into position for takeoff. Before their wheels were fully up, the lead pair were getting radio orders and a fix on the suspect plane. Interceptor pilots can open fire at will against any aircraft they believe to be hostile. Identifications are quickly made in daylight; at nighttime, pilots buzzed by suspicious jets are quick to turn on their landing lights to identify themselves.

Fifteen Seconds to Alaska. Reports of every unidentified aircraft spotted over North America flash through the Air Defense network to the blockhouse in Colorado Springs, General Chidlaw's command post. On the great Plexiglas map, from six to a dozen unknown aircraft are being plotted at almost any time; as one is identified by the scrambling fighters, another is reported elsewhere.*

On Chidlaw's desk are three phones, colored red, white and black, for direct lines to his units, SAC headquarters and the Pentagon. His command is one of the Bell System's biggest customers (phone bill: some $22 million last year). In one recent test an air general at the Colorado headquarters picked up a hot phone to call Pentagon Command Post. In exactly three seconds came the reply from Washington: "Pentagon Command Post." "This is a communications check," the general said. "Please disregard." Canada headquarters answered in 5 seconds, Newfoundland in 10, Alaska in 15. (For some pictures of U.S. Air Defense Command installations in Alaska, see NEWS IN PICTURES.)

In case of suspected attack, the hot lines would carry a call which is no drill: Air Defense Readiness. At the signal, all military aircraft are to be armed, fueled and manned, all defense forces called to duty, the White House and top officials notified--but not the public.

Next signal, when the incoming aircraft prove "manifestly hostile in intent": Yellow Alert, to set off air-raid sirens, ground all civilian planes. Final signal: Red Alert, meaning World War III. By then, bombs, and perhaps the bombers, would be plunging earthward.

Gauntlet of Fire. No airman can predict the kill rate if the attack force of 900 Soviet bombers strikes. "There are," said General Chidlaw, "too many intangible factors. Obviously, if the enemy struck in perfect weather and in small numbers, we'd do a most creditable job in cleaning him up ... Bad weather and a tremendous mass of enemy planes might give us a hard time." Currently, U.S. defenses have serious defects: P: The Skysweeper guns cannot shoot fast enough to hit a supersonic jet or far enough to defend a target, as the gun's range is shorter than the radius of H-bomb destruction. Any bomber within gun range is already close enough to inflict ruinous thermonuclear damage. The Nike rocket has 1,500,000 parts, is complex and unpredictable. Better guided missiles and more launching sites are necessary.

P: Better jet interceptors are needed. The F-86D, the fastest fighter now in Air Defense squadrons, is hard to handle. Current interceptors have enough staying power for only one or two quick bursts at any intruders. The big new F101 Voodoo, which has the range and speed for repeated passes, is only just going into production.

P:Generally, the defensive system is too thin. Only the Northwest and Northeast are defended in depth (fighter bases covering New York extend north to Labrador). Elsewhere, the jets might scarcely have time to make their pass before the attack reaches target areas. Eventually, as the arctic radar net is spun, other bases may be built in the Far North so that attackers would have a longer, more lethal gauntlet to run on their way to the U.S.

Thunder & Lightning. New dangers are shaping up. Soon Soviet submarines, submerged far offshore, will be able to launch guided missiles against the U.S. In a few years Soviet missiles may be capable of destroying New York 30 minutes after taking off from arctic Siberia (already dotted with missile launching sites). But danger is no cause for despair. Top U.S. strategists believe that the Soviet Union may never make a successful attack--or any kind of an attack--so long as the U.S. keeps up its guard and, above all, its ability to strike back. A strong, alert air defense, by its very existence, can help to preserve both the peace and the U.S.

America's fence in the sky is going up fast. This year the Administration approved an added $1 billion for air defense, and more increases are in prospect. The estimated cost now runs to more than $4 billion a year. With the money, General Chidlaw can give the U.S. a growing margin against calamity; he can promise no more. "It is better," says Ben Chidlaw, quoting an old Cheyenne chief, "to have less thunder in the mouth and more lightning in the hand."

*WAFs and airmen stand behind the map and write on it backwards to plot positions, seen through the Plexiglas by observers in front. Women are better than men for the tricky task of writing in reverse.

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