16:25 (California Time)
Wednesday, January 18, 1961 ‘C’
Vandenberg Space Command Base (formerly Cooke Army Base)
California, United States
Patricia White, standing with her two young children, Edward and Bonnie Lynn, in front of the giant hangar housing the First Space Squadron, cheered like the others around her when the SP-10B four-seater space plane ENTERPRISE touched down smoothly on the main runway of Vandenberg Air Force Base. All the anxiety and fear that had built up in her during the two days of the mission just flown by her husband Edward evaporated at that time: Edward had just flown safely and successfully his first space mission, coached from the copilot seat by no less than Lieutenant General Dows. There were no reporters or photographers present to witness that, except for one Air Force official photographer. Manned space plane flights had become by now so routine, being as frequent as six per month, that the medias had lost most of its interest in them. Also, with many of the missions being of the classified type and with Vandenberg SCB housing a full wing of operational, nuclear-tipped ballistic missiles, reporters had to be invited before they could step inside the base. Most of the wives of the astronauts of the First Space Squadron were quite happy about that state of affair, not wanting to endure constant media attention and harassment because of the glamorous occupation of their husbands. Patricia was new at this business but having some relative privacy to greet her husband just back from space certainly felt right. Edward Junior, six, and Bonnie Lynn, four, had to be restrained by her from running towards the space plane now approaching its hangar. They were nearly jumping on the spot from impatience by the time the USSP ENTERPRISE came to a halt inside the hangar and shut down its two turbofan engines. Only when Ingrid Dows and Edward White, still wearing their bulky spacesuits, came down from the cockpit via the integrated elevator platform of the space plane did Patricia got the okay from a technician to approach them. Ed then put one knee down and greeted his two young children with open arms, happily kissing and hugging them. He next got up and did the same with his wife, attracting an amused comment from her.
“Hugging you with that suit on ain’t too sexy, Ed.”
“Don’t worry, Pat: I will be out of it soon enough.”
“How was your flight, Dad?” Asked impatiently young Edward junior, getting a tolerant smile from his father.
“It was the thrill of a lifetime, truly! Living in zero gravity was quite fun but I have to say that the reentry certainly got me excited. You should have seen the flames dancing over the windshield then. However I was in good hands, with General Dows as copilot.”
Patricia then looked and smiled at the impossibly young lieutenant general waiting patiently besides her husband. She had feared at first the prospect of her husband going into space alone with such a beautiful young woman but had quickly been reassured by other wives who knew Ingrid Dows well by now.
“Thanks for bringing me back Ed in one piece, General.”
Ingrid Dows grinned at that.
“You should thank him, Patricia: he piloted our space plane flawlessly during this mission. By the way, you can call me simply Ingrid: don’t feel bound by military etiquette with me.”
“Thank you…Ingrid. I and Ed were planning to throw a little party tomorrow evening for the other astronauts and wives, in order to celebrate Ed’s first space flight. You would make me happy if you could come.”
“I will be delighted, Patricia!” Replied Ingrid. “At what time do you want me at your house?”
“Make it five O’clock: we will be serving a hot and cold buffet.”
“I will be there. If you will now excuse me, I must now go make a long distance phone call.”
Patricia watched Ingrid go for a few seconds, then looked questioningly at her husband, who guessed what she was about to ask.
“She wants to call her adopted daughter in Patrick Space Command Base to tell her that she returned safely. She told me that she does that after each space flight, to avoid anxiety to her daughter.”
“I understand that she is still a single mother, right?”
“She is, Patricia.” Answered soberly Edward, a devout Methodist. “She however has a nanny that keeps an eye on her daughter when she is away, which is too often according to her. We had plenty of time during our 38 hours in orbit to talk at length about many things. Ingrid cares a lot about her daughter Hien, who is now thirteen years old. And you, how was it for you and the kids in the last two days?”
“Fine, Ed.” Lied Patricia, not wanting to tell him about her fears. “Now, how about taking that suit off, so that I can touch something else than padded aluminum?”
“A good idea!” Said approvingly Edward, grinning to his petite blonde of a wife.
16:58 (California Time)
Thursday, January 19, 1961 ‘C’
Officers Married Quarters
Vandenberg SCB
Patricia, answering the door bell of their family bungalow, froze for a moment, starring with admiration at the beautiful outfit worn by Ingrid Dows, now standing in front of the entrance. Made of embroidered silk, it consisted of trousers tightly adjusted at the hips and waist but flaring along the legs, with a sort of long dress split along both sides and covering the trousers. The silk was of a pastel blue-green color, with a giant hawk embroidered across the front of the dress. Ingrid was also wearing jewels and makeup.
“My god, you’re striking in this, Ingrid! What kind of dress is this?”
“It is called an Ao Dai and is the traditional dress for women in Vietnam. I had quite a few of them made for me during my combat tour there in 1952 and 1953.”
“It is truly beautiful. Please come in! Most of the other guests have already arrived.”
Patricia next led Ingrid to the back of the house, where about thirty persons were mingling around the backyard, talking and drinking. Most of the men stopped talking for a moment to admire Ingrid and her outfit. Neil Armstrong spoke for many then.
‘’I will never understand why you are not married yet, Ingrid. Men should be pounding on your door every day and night.’’
‘’I am already married…to my plane. My only other love in life is my adopted daugther, Hien.’’
“And how is your cute Hien doing? Has she started her rebel years yet?”
Ingrid sighed then, attracting knowing smiles from many of the men and women around her, who were in most cases parents of teenagers.
“She’s on the verge of that stage, I’m afraid. Boys are also starting to turn around her and she seems to like that.”
“Oops! Gray hair is not far for you, Ingrid.” Said Leroy Gordon Cooper, grinning widely. Ingrid rolled her eyes, resignation on her face.
“Yeah! Maybe the easiest way to cope with this would be to simply let my door wide open and just hope for the best.”
“Nah!” Objected Alan Shepard. “That won’t work: they could simply change their mind and try to date you instead when they see you.”
Ingrid giggled at that, with many of the couples now surrounding her also laughing.
“Hien wouldn’t like that one bit, Alan. Well, I’ll manage: I always have up to now.”
She then grew serious and looked at her pilots around her.
“I got a call from the White House today. I was asked to attend a meeting of the new President’s cabinet on Monday, in my capacity as National Director of Space Programs. We may very well get fresh marching orders from President Kennedy after that meeting.”
“Do you have any ideas of what to expect there, Ingrid?” Asked anxiously Virgil Grissom, the smallest of the male astronauts but also a top notch pilot. Every man around her listened intently as she answered him slowly, weighing her words.
“I may, but whether I am right about that would depend on how different our century’s history is from the one that was known by my late adoptive mother in her own time. I will thus wait to see what is said at that meeting instead of speculating. Be sure though that you guys will be the first to know.”
Seeing that his comrades were still somewhat concerned, Edward White spoke out, trying to bring the cheer back in his party.
“You know that they will need us more than ever, guys! Who would put their precious telecommunications satellites in orbit if not for us? Come on! Let’s get those steaks started on the grill!”
As the other pilots followed Edward White, his wife Patricia stayed with Ingrid, looking sheepishly at her.
“Ingrid, I know that there have been rumors in the press about you for many years, on many subjects. Is it true that you know well President Kennedy?”
A malicious smile came at once on Ingrid’s face. Looking around first to make sure that no one else could hear her, she bent forward and whispered to Patricia.
“Keep this to yourself: I bedded him a few times before he got married.”
She nearly laughed at the face Patricia did then.
09:03 (Washington Time)
Monday, January 23, 1961 ‘C’
Cabinet Room, The White House
Washington, D.C.
Ingrid felt out of place at first, being the sole woman sitting with close to twenty men around the big table, all but one of them looking much older than her. She was also wearing a female suit instead of a uniform, being here as National Director of Space Programs and not as Commander of the Military Space Command. No other military person than her sat at the table this morning, not even the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Lemnitzer. Her only superiors present were the President and his Secretary of Defense, Thomas Gates, who had also been Secretary of Defense under the previous President. That Gates, and not Robert McNamara, was the Secretary of Defense was the direct result of Ingrid warning John Kennedy against choosing McNamara for the job, based on Top Secret ATHENA data about the tenure of McNamara’s timeline twin in Timeline ‘A’. Gates, a Republican, was probably still wondering why a Democrat president had asked him to serve in his cabinet. He was however a competent administrator with excellent knowledge of how the American armed forces worked and was the right man for the job in Ingrid’s eyes. As for McNamara, however intelligent the man was, Ingrid was too happy to see him and his arrogant, technocratic micro-management style stay away from the Pentagon. McNamara was in fact not the only one to have been kept at a distance by John F. Kennedy, based on Ingrid’s advice.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy looked understandably upbeat on this first official working day as President of the United States. Looking around the table at his cabinet members and other high state officials, he briefly stopped his eyes on Ingrid, smiling slightly before continuing his visual tour. Other men around the table also glanced at Ingrid. Their looks were however mostly ones of apprehension and not ones of physical attraction: Ingrid was still known by many under the nickname of ‘God’s general’ and her spiritual connections and powers made many uneasy around her. John Kennedy, who had his severe back pains and blood chemistry problems healed discreetly by Ingrid in 1948, was one of the few in Washington who could interact normally with her. Taking a sheet of paper and consulting it briefly, John Kennedy then spoke up.
“Lady and gentlemen, we are here to start a new national administration, one that will push relentlessly the democratic values and ideals we all cherish. We will also do our best to get the country out of its present economic recession. At the same time we will have to care for the needy, the old, the sick and the downtrodden. Since preaching democracy to other countries would be hypocritical if a whole class of our citizens is denied at the same time most of its basic rights, I will make it one of my personal goals to put an end to racial segregation in the United States before I leave office.”
Ingrid, who was watching carefully the reactions to this speech, saw a few of the officials present, men from southern states, stiffen at those last words. She made a point of remembering them as John continued to speak.
“On the international scene, while Great Britain has been put back in its place three years ago, we are facing a continued challenge from the Soviet Union and, to a lesser degree, from Communist China and other communist states. We will however try as much as possible to use diplomacy instead of military force to counter their subversion. That said, I have no intention of neglecting our armed forces, which are our ultimate shield against aggression. While I will expect our military to use efficiently and responsibly its portion of the national budget, I will not run national social services on its back. Everybody in this administration will have to use as efficiently as possible his or her part of the budget and I won’t tolerate graft or corruption, period! The eyes of the nation are on us now and we will lead by example, with the good of all of our citizens foremost in our minds.”
With that short opening speech done, John Kennedy then covered in turn and in detail the main policies and concerns of his new government with the various officials present at the table. A lot of it concerned economic points, as the national economy of the United States was still performing rather poorly and was foremost in the minds of a majority of American citizens. The sharing of the revenues between the various agencies and federal departments gave rise to some particularly tight discussions that were followed carefully by Ingrid: her own space program did represent a sizeable chunk of federal money and someone was liable to try to grab a piece of it to fund his own pet project. That actually happened as the discussion had been going on for a good half hour, with the Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, Abraham Ribicoff, consulting his copy of the current federal budget and raising a point with John Kennedy.
“Mister President, while I would love to build more social housing in our major cities, the budget allotted up to now to federal housing assistance is woefully inadequate for what we want to accomplish. On the other hand, our space program already ate up 746 million dollars for the present fiscal year ending in March. I realize that pictures of American astronauts in space can boost our national prestige around the World, but does our space program really need this much money?”
“Ingrid, your answer to that?” Said calmly the President, throwing the ball in her court. Ingrid nodded and read a few statistics from the notes she had brought with her, having been warned a few days ago to come prepared to defend her interests.
“Mister President, gentlemen, it is true that 746 million dollars represents a lot of money. However, you have to bear in mind the fact that, apart from putting in orbit and servicing various military and civilian satellites, the Military Space Command and its civilian division also is responsible for developping, designing and building all the hardware and space vehicles it uses. Very little of that hardware was even invented yet when my command was first created in 1955. Designing such complicated equipment and testing it until it was ready for production actually eats up a good 23 percent of my budget. Also, while not broken down in detail on your budget sheets, my command produces and operates our force of strategic intercontinental missiles. Please keep this number classified, gentlemen, but the Military Space Command presently mans a total of 214 nuclear-tipped, intercontinental ballistic missiles housed in protective silos. Those missiles represent our first line of nuclear defense and more missiles are being added to it every month. My ICBM division and its accompanying production program is projected to cost a total of 182 million dollars for this fiscal year alone. Add to that money the cost of fuelling, maintaining and crewing our space planes, which are by now putting in orbit an average of three satellites a month, and you will see that my budget is far from gargantuan in view of its responsibilities and tasks. I may also add that our current space capability came to us quite cheap if compared with the costs incurred by the Soviets, who are using more conventional and less efficient space launch systems. Finally, those satellites we launch in orbit represent force multipliers, both for our armed forces and for our civilian economy. We now have a complete constellation of telecommunications satellites in orbit that provides our citizens with coast-to-coast television, telephone and fax circuits that help link instantly together our huge country. Other satellites provide us accurate, timely meteorological pictures that help us prevent or minimize the damage from incoming storms, while more satellites provide worldwide links between our forces and naval units tasked to defend the United States. Gentlemen, I can assure you that you are getting more than fair value for those 746 million dollars.”
“It seems that I now stand corrected, General.” Recognized with good grace Ribicoff, who had not known about Ingrid’s ICBM force. The President, visibly satisfied by Ingrid’s presentation, then jumped in.
“Gentlemen, this may shock many of you, but I am about to pump a lot more money in our space program, starting next fiscal year. I have made my mind to direct that the United States starts a program of manned exploration of the Moon, mostly for reasons of national prestige but also to stimulate the interest in science across our nation.”
“The Moon?” Exclaimed the Secretary of State, Dean Rusk. “But that program is liable to cost us billions of dollars, if it ever works!”
“That may be the price to pay to stay the most technologically advanced country on this Earth, Dean.” Replied Kennedy, who then looked squarely at Ingrid. Contrary to the men around her, her expression had barely changed on hearing the President’s words.
“Ingrid, what is your prognosis for such a program? How difficult would it be to achieve its goals and how much could it cost?”
“Mister President, the difficulty is certainly there but is not as great as you may think, as we already have space vehicles that could do the job. As for the cost, it will depend on the ultimate goals of that program. Do we simply want to create a photo opportunity for two or three American astronauts walking on the Moon while collecting a few rocks, or do we want to accomplish something more significant and long term?”
“What kind of long term accomplishment can you think of, Ingrid?”
With all the men around her now watching her intently, Ingrid weighed her words for a second or so.
“A permanently manned lunar base, Mister President, one where a few astronauts and scientists could study in detail the Moon, conduct experiments and make astronomical observations.”
While John Kennedy looked interested at once by this, his science advisor, Doctor Jerome Wiesner, was positively fired up.
“You would accept to let scientists fly on your space launchers, General?”
Ingrid smiled at his eagerness and nodded her head once in answer.
“With a minimal amount of training, yes. Contrary to conventional rockets, our space planes never sustain accelerations bigger than five Gs because of their launch profile, something about any healthy person can endure without real problems. A lunar base would have to be built gradually from modules brought from Earth but could be made to become relatively comfortable for stays of a few weeks. You could in turn tell me what kind of research or scientific work on the Moon would be most valuable for us, so that I know in which direction to point my design teams, Doctor.”
“Hell, there is so much that could be done up there!” Said dreamily Wiesner. “The geology of the Moon would of course be an obvious subject of research. The study of the human body in prolonged periods of low gravity would be another, along with astronomical studies.”
“Low gravity?” Said the Vice-President, Lyndon Johnson, visibly confused. Ingrid explained at once.
“Gravity on the Moon is only one sixth of that on Earth, Mister Vice-President. In essence, while keeping the same mass, a man that weighs 180 pounds on Earth would feel like he weighs only 30 pounds on the Moon. Prolonged stays in zero or low gravity could however have some detrimental long-term effects on the human body, especially on the bones and muscles. Up to now, the longest space mission we conducted went on for three weeks. The two astronauts involved in that mission came back apparently healthy except for a slight atrophy in their muscle tone. Stays of a few months in space could however be another matter.”
“What about mental health in those conditions?” Asked Robert Kennedy, the younger brother of the President and also the new Attorney General. “Could someone really stay in space for months without going crazy?”
“I suppose that we could compare that with what the crews of nuclear submarines have to go through.” Answered Ingrid, shrugging. “However, we won’t know for sure until we conduct really long-term missions in space, or on the Moon. It is definitely one aspect that I will make sure to have analyzed carefully before we establish a base on the Moon. A minimum size crew would be one way to help the astronauts cope with long stays in space. You could imagine yourself locked up in a Moon base alone with only one other astronaut, only to find that you hate each other’s guts.”
Robert Kennedy winced at those words, while many around the table smiled. Lyndon Johnson even tried a crude joke then.
“We could make it a coed crew, so that they would like each other.”
Ingrid looked at him with a vague smile, one elbow on the table and her chin supported by her right hand.
“Sir, have you ever smelled the inside of a car where a couple just made love with the windows closed? How about having to live with that smell for weeks and months?”
Quite a few men laughed then, including the President.
“Alright, we get the picture, Ingrid. Start thinking on how you would realize a Moon program and come back to me once you have a fair estimate of the time and costs involved. You are welcomed as well to talk with Doctor Wiesner about the types of research to be done on the Moon.”
“I will get on it, Mister President!”
“Good! Now, let’s talk about our foreign policy.”
John Kennedy then reviewed various problem areas in the World and the American interests connected to them, with most of the input coming from Dean Rusk, Adlai Stevenson, the United States’ representative to the United Nations, and from the National Security Advisor, McGeorge Bundy. While she could have given her own two pennies worth of opinion during that part of the discussion, Ingrid refrained from doing so, waiting instead to be asked to by the President before speaking. Too many people around the table were already either suspicious or jealous of her influence on the President and on national security policies, or resented the fact that a woman could have as much power as she had presently. John Kennedy did look at her at one point, as the subject of the military buildup of the Soviet Union and of its arms exportations to other communist countries was being discussed.
“Ingrid, what is the overhead surveillance capability of your Military Space Command like these days? Could you provide continuous coverage of a crisis area if asked to?”
“To a point, Mister President. Right now, my command has eight twin-seater SP-10A space planes that are used mostly as dedicated strategic reconnaissance platforms. Each of these SP-10As can fly a mission of a duration of up to five days three times a month, and that over any point or area in the World. The turnaround time between missions is due to the necessity of replacing the ablative heat shield plates after each flight. With the periodic refit periods and the need to limit the cumulative radiation exposure of my space plane pilots, I prefer to run no more than two reconnaissance missions per week if possible. I can of course surge more missions in time of crisis if truly needed but this would be bound to impact on the long-term availability of our fleet of space planes, Mister President.”
“Only two missions a week?” Said in a disgruntled tone McGeorge Bundy, the National Security Advisor. “And what is this business of radiation exposure? You don’t have an atomic reactor aboard your space planes, do you, General?”
“No we don’t, Mister Bundy.” Said patiently Ingrid, understanding that few people would know about the true hazards of space flight. “The fact is that, each time you leave the protective shelter of Earth’s atmosphere, you expose yourself to radiations from space. If you go high enough, into the Van Allen radiation belts surrounding Earth, then you can get fried within one hour with the full maximum annual authorized radiation dose of five REMs, or more during periods of solar flare activity. If a pilot would stay a day or longer inside the Van Allen belts, he or she would most likely suffer permanent radiation damage, including sterility and high risks of developing a cancer. I thus have to treat my pilots with care and use them sparingly. As an example of this, I had to limit myself to five space missions last year because I had attained my maximum permissible exposure.”
“You still fly into space?” Asked with disbelief Dean Rusk. “But, the medias didn’t report those space flights!”
“The medias have mostly stopped reporting on our space plane missions, Mister Secretary, partly because they have become so routine and also because many of them are classified reconnaissance missions.”
“And how many hours have you clocked into space up to now, General?”
“A bit over forty days since I first flew into orbit in 1957. My last flight was last Wednesday, when I coached a new astronaut on his first space mission in a four-seater SP-10B. My two most experienced space pilots have up to now accumulated each 738 hours in space, a good chunk of that during a three-week stint in low orbit.”
Rusk wiggled his hand as the men around the table exchanged looks and exclamations.
“Damn! You make space travel sound like routine, General.”
“It is anything but routine, Mister Secretary.” Said soberly Ingrid. “Each pilot has to train hard before each mission and risks death every time he or she goes up in space. We have not suffered a single casualty or significant incident up to now but we have been lucky…so far. To return to your original question, while two missions a week is my prefered limit, my command could surge up to eight reconnaissance missions per week for brief periods. To do better would take more space planes and more pilots.”
That left President Kennedy thoughtful for a moment. He then pointed an index at his Secretary of Defense, Thomas Gates.
“Tom, we certainly could use more strategic reconnaissance capabilities. Please look into your budget and see if you could spare a few millions for a few more military space planes and pilots.”
“Will do, Mister President.” Replied Gates while noting that down on a pad. Ingrid had a hard time not to grin with satisfaction then.
The cabinet meeting finally wrapped up a bit after eleven O’clock, with President Kennedy then leaving quickly to attend other priority matters. Ingrid was stuffing her own papers and notes in her secure briefcase and was about to go as well when Doctor Jerome Wiesner approached her, a hopeful smile on his face.
“General, would it be possible to have lunch together? I have a zillion things I want to talk with you concerning our space program and particularly the Moon mission.”
Looking up from her briefcase, Ingrid returned the smile of the jovial scientist.
“Only if you stop calling me ‘General’ and call me Ingrid instead, Doctor. You do realize that these subjects may be sensitive ones?”
“Oh, I do, Ingrid! I know a place where we could speak quietly. And Jerome will be fine with me.”
Ingrid’s smile then turned into a grin.
“Touché, Jerome! Do we walk or do you have a car? I flew in from Florida yesterday.”
“I have my car parked near the East Entrance.”
“Excellent! I had something to retrieve at the East Entrance anyway.”
Ingrid closed and locked her briefcase, then followed Wiesner out of the room. They both took the time to recuperate their winter coats before proceeding to the exit on the east side of the White House. There, Wiesner was intrigued when he saw Ingrid stop and talk briefly with one of the security guards. His curiosity turned into shock and astonishment when he saw the guard take a pistol and a spare magazine from a locked safe and give them to Ingrid, who then stuffed them into ankle holsters hidden by the bottom of her flared trousers.
“You go around armed, Ingrid? Why?”
“Because many would love to see me dead, Jerome.” Answered Ingrid deadpan while finishing to cover her pistol with the bottom of her left trouser leg. “You can pick between the British, the Communist Chinese, southern rednecks, the Mob and a few others.”
“The Mob? What do they have against you?”
“My nanny shot dead four of their muscle men in 1955 while they were trying to kidnap the children of a neighbor playing with my own kid. The boss of these hit men was then killed himself in a shootout at his own house in Washington. While the evidence pointed at an internal Mob dispute, a few gangsters still think that I or my nanny was involved. I also happe