Editorial: Weapons and the invasion
Where were those “secret weapons” of the Germans when Allied troops swarmed over the sands between Le Havre and Cherbourg? That rocket shell of diabolically ingenious Nazi physicists which was loaded with so lethal a charge of liquid air and uranium salt that it could destroy all life within a range of 500 yards – where was it? And what about the preposterous German bomb which, when it exploded, would freeze everything within a quarter of a mile and clog the Channel with icebergs to block transports? So far as we can tell at this early stage of the invasion, both sides used weapons that have been familiar ever since the Allies landed at Salerno.
When Hitler began his depredations neither side had today’s weapons. The equipment evolved in four years came only in stages, by way of Russia, North Africa and Italy. Hence the invasion was conducted with the aid of an accumulated engineering experience. Bombers of unprecedented carrying capacity and range, troop-laden gliders towed by “locomotive” planes, rocket guns big and small, radio-controlled shells with wings, radar, machines to generate steam and oil fogs that conceal square miles, jet-propelled fighters – the invaders had them all and more to boot. These are the engineering surprises of the present war. In 1918, we could speak chiefly of gas and the tank.
A foothold was gained on the shores of France partly because of these innovations, but largely because of a plan and an organization without a parallel. We have not only to think of 4,000 larger vessels in the Channel, 11,000 planes in support, several hundred naval vessels to cover the transports, tanks, special artillery in every size and for every destructive purpose, balloon barrages, but also of a masterly coordination of movement in three dimensions. Everything had to be thought of – from dehydrated food to typewriters, from mine sweeps to binoculars. We may be sure that the engineer was everywhere the director and coordinator. For this was essentially a stupendous engineering enterprise. If Addison could eulogize Marlborough at Blenheim as he who “rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm,” what shall we say of Eisenhower and a terrific mechanical tornado?
In the swirl of this directed tornado, we must include a mighty armada of transatlantic freight-carriers and the factories of Chicago and St. Louis, the oil refineries of Tulsa, the jeep and tank plants of Detroit and Toledo, the tailoring lofts of New York. No wonder a thrill runs through millions of workers in North America and Britain. They, too, are human gears and levers in a titanic invading machine. The screech of the tool that saws steel 5,000 miles from France is echoed in the screech of shells in flight. Science and technology interwoven with daring on French beaches to fashion a spiritual fabric in which the democracies are wrapped – that is what the invasion means.