constituency to return to, when the emergency was over. He was not much
interested,’but agreed to let his name be filed as a candidate for re-election. I
was trying to work up a campaign by remote control and cursing because I could not
be in the field to deal with the thousand and one emergencies as they arose.
I did the next best thing and had a private line installed to permit the campaign
chairman to reach me easily. I don’t think I violated the Hatch Act, but I guess I
stretched it a little. Anyhow, it turned out all right; Manning was elected as were
several other members of the citizen-military that year. An attempt was made to
smear him by claiming that he was taking two salaries for one job, but we squelched
that with a pamphlet entitled “For Shame!” which explained that he got one salary
for two jobs. That’s the Federal law in such cases and people are entitled to know
it.
It was just before Christmas that Manning first admitted to me how much the
implications of the KarstObre process were preying on his mind. He called me into
his office over some inconsequential matter, then did not let me go. I saw that he
wanted to taik.
“How much of the K-O dust do we now have on hand?” he asked suddenly.
“Just short of ten thousand units,” I replied. “I can look up the exact
figures in half a moment.” A unit would take care of a thousand men, at normal
dispersion. He knew the figure as well as I did, and I knew he was stalling.
We had shifted almost imperceptibly from research to manufacture, entirely on
Manning’s initiative and authority. Manning had never made a specific report to the
Department about it, unless he had done so orally to the Chief of Staff.
“Never mind,” he answered to my suggestion, then added, “Did you see those
horses?”
“Yes,” I said briefly.
I did not want to talk about it. I like horses. We hac requisitioned six
broken-down old nags, ready for th bone yard, and had used them experimentally. W
knew now what the dust would do. After they had died any part of their carcasses
would register on a photo graphic plate and tissue from the apices of their lung1
and from the bronchia glowed with a light of its own. Manning stood at the window,
staring out at th dreary Maryland winter for a minute or two before re plying,
“John, I wish that radioactivity had never beer discovered. Do you realize what that
devilish stuf amounts to?”
“Well,” I said, “it’s a weapon, about like poisor gas-maybe more efficient.”
“Rats!” he said, and for a moment I thought he wa~ annoyed with me
personally. “That’s about like corn paring a sixteen-inch gun with a bow and arrow
We’ve got here the first weapon the world has eve~ seen against which there is no
defense, none whatso ever. It’s death itself, C.O.D.
“Have you seen Ridpath’s report?” he went on. I had not. Ridpath had taken
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to delivering his re ports by hand to Manning personally.
“Well,” he said, “ever since we started productioi I’ve had all the talent
we could spare working on th problem of a defense against the dust. Ridpath telL me
and I agree with him that there is no means what soever to combat the stuff, once
it’s used.”
“How about armor,” I asked, “and protective cloth ing?”
“Sure, sure,” he agreed irritatedly, “provided yoi never take it off to eat,
or to drink or for any purpos whatever, until the radioaction has ceased, or you ar
out of the danger zone. That is all right for laborator work; I’m talking about
war.”
I considered the matter. “I still don’t see what yoi are fretting about,
Colonel. If the stuff is as good as yo~ say it is, you’ve done just exactly what you
set out t odo-develop a weapon which would give the United States protection against
aggression.”
He swung around. “John, there are times when I think you are downright
stupid!”
I said nothing. I knew him and I knew how to discount his moods. The fact