In just a moment, X minus one. But first, a quiz program does not always improve your IQ. But what's an NBC radio quiz program? Well, you can be sure it'll improve your disposition. Yes, NBC offers listeners a laugh lesson every Wednesday night with two fun-filled question-and-answer shows. One is Truth or Consequences, and though you may never learn why a chicken crosses the road, you'll howl as contestants perform the stunts dreamed up by MC Jack Bailey. The other is You Bet Your Life, and with a quiz master like Groucho Marx, your good time is always guaranteed. Hear Truth or Consequences, and You Bet Your Life with Groucho Marx tomorrow. Now stay tuned for X minus one on NBC. Countdown for blast off. X minus five, four, three, two, X minus one, fire. From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future, adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds. The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, presents X minus one. Tonight, Project Trojan by Ernest Kenoy. Most of the greatest contributions and biggest messes in history have been made by two kinds of brains, the devious and the literal. We quote from the monthly column written for Galaxy by its editor H.L. Gold, for our story tonight has been inspired by one of his recent columns discussing the exceedingly thin line that sometimes lies between science fiction and science fact, and of the strange use that both allied and German intelligence made of science fiction during the recent World War II. Our report, of course, is entirely fictional, but similar schemes are known to have been attempted by both sides. And now here is Project Trojan. The idea of Project Trojan was originally conceived in February of 1943. The Intelligence Plans Commission, an adjunct to joint army and naval intelligence, was under the command of Colonel Sir Harold Bostwick. The first antecedent of Project Trojan occurred on an afternoon in February. Corporal Arthur Muggeridge was serving tea to Lieutenant Maurice Withering and Captain Amos Mackenzie. There you are, sir. That's real butter on the bread. I won five pounds of it from one of those Yankmas sergeants over at the Crown of Lance. Oh, butter, eh? Aye, sir. Mackenzie. Hmm? Confounded man, you might show some interest. Here Muggeridge tangles with the eight they are forced to improve your tea, and you sit there reading. What the devil is so engrossing? No, never mind. If it's me you're worrying about, you're needing, sir. I was cleared for most confidential and top secret before I set foot in the pantry. What is it, Mackenzie? Well, I was reading about a fascinating notion. It's a machine, you see, dreadfully ingenious. It's a method of setting up a reverse polarization field about a given metallic surface, say, the plates on a submarine or a tank, makes them five times as strong. A little more cream, Muggeridge. It's powdered milk, sir. Hush, leave me to my illusions. Mackenzie, how can you be so calm? Don't you realize what this means? Tanks, five times as strong. Is it in production? I mean, when are the first models going to combat? It's certainly been a well-kept secret. I wouldn't say that. There's about 50,000 people who know all about it here in England, and of course a great many more in America. Oh, that's impossible. But I doubt if it will ever be used in combat. But you're stark-raving crackers, a secret like it. Where did you find this? Now, let me see that. There you are. Incredible science fiction. It's an American magazine. You mean this is a story, one of those Jules Verne things. You've been pulling my leg. I? Well, I mean, after all, Captain Mackenzie, I hardly think that... Well. Now, don't get stuffy, man. After all, to chaff me before the ranks. Oh, I don't mind, sir. But it did have you going, didn't it? Well, it sounded plausible. I don't know a confounded thing about electrical fields. Even if you did, it might take you in, huh? You see, the trick these science fiction lads do is to take something that's solid as a rock and then to push it just a wee bit forward till you simply can't tell where the science ends and the fiction begins. Still, I wish you'd exercise your ingenuity in deceiving Jerry rather than me. Good Lord. That's a fine idea. What is? An intelligent, brilliant officer and gentleman, like yourself, might be taken in by a wild day like this. Whom else's leg might we pull? Huh? A muggerage, another bread and butter sandwich, if you please, and take one yourself. Lieutenant Withering and Captain Mackenzie worked out preliminary plans for Project Trojan and presented them at an appropriate time to Colonel Sir Harold Bostwick. Well, sir, sit down, Withering, Mackenzie. Oh, thank you, sir. Have you had breakfast? I understand Corporal Muggerage has been playing darts with the Yanks again. There are fresh eggs for breakfast. We've had breakfast, sir. Oh, well, then. We have a plan, sir. Oh, capital, capital. You remember, sir, our intelligence reports indicated a concentration of German research scientists working near Hanal. Certainly, I recall. They've got a whole lot of them inside a mountain. We tried bombing. I doubt if they even noticed. They're supplying the basic research for the German guided missile program. Yes, we know that. The reaction motor for the V-1s came out of the Hanal lab. Oh, Muggerage. You see, sir, if a considerable number of those research scientists were diverted to another project, the rocket program would be crippled. Yes, well, of course it would. What are you going to do? Advertise in the Times and offer them higher wages? Aye, sir. Oh, Muggerage, this coffee. Ah, ah, no, sir. Next time you go to the Crown and Lance, keep coffee in mind, will you? Aye, sir. Only the Yanks are getting fair dives at darts. It was touch and go with the Yanks. We can only expect you to do your best. I'll try, sir. Well, now, come to the point, gentlemen. Suppose the Germans got hold of one of our top new development weapons, something so completely overwhelming that they'd have to pull almost every man off rockets to work on it. Now, look here, Mackenzie. Those jelly scientists are not exactly playing about with small boys' chemistry sets. They're a cut above our own chaps in several fields. What makes you think you could plant something on them? Science fiction, sir. I beg your pardon? Do you see this magazine? Yes, incredible science fiction. Oh, what's that chasing that girl at? That's a Martian, sir. You can tell by his tentacles. Mackenzie, are you stringing this along preliminary to a plan for compassionate leave on the grounds that you're overworked? No, sir. It's a good plan. We invent a weapon, a weapon that might exist but doesn't, and we leave it lying about where the Germans can snaffle. And then they take most of the scientist fellows off the rocket program to work on our weapon. That's the most preposterous nonsense I've ever heard. But, sir... Is there anything more about it? Er... er... yes, sir. I suppose she was right. Who was right? This Wren. I met her going up to London. A rather proper little type, till you got to know her. But then she's rather a fire-brain. Captain Mackenzie, please spare us the sordid details of your off-duty peculation. Sorry, sir. You see, she's a secretary to Admiral Sir Alan Grumins. They're talking of dropping this unit. They feel that other intelligence groups are quite competent to handle the routine, unimaginative work that we've been doing. Oh. Oh, I see. Of course, they'd reassign personnel. Mm-hm. Would you say this science fiction scheme of yours was imaginative? Oh, it's practically visionary. Well, suppose you do some preliminary work. Thank you, sir. Routine, eh? Unimaginative, eh? Bah! On the 14th of February, preliminary work was begun on Project Trojan. At first, Lieutenant Withering and Captain Mackenzie worked alone, researching the source material of the project. Slamming the firing keys, brick blasted down on the Crowell warship. Bright beams of crisp destruction lanced out from the giant dreadnought and licked along the plates of bricks one-man scout. Mm. Nothing of that one. Eh. And what have you got? It's a story about two robots who fall in love. What's the name of that Johnny who came closest? Herman. Jad Herman. Mm. He got half a dozen ideas that are close. Where do you suppose he is? Mm. Somewhere in the States, I suppose. Mm. That's no use, then. Why? Look, man, perhaps we can put a query through central shape intelligence. The Yanks ought to be able to dig up this Herman chap for us. No. It's worth a try. It took seven days for a report to reach IPC that one Jacob David Herman, a private first class in the American Air Force, was based on a field north of Cheltenham in the Gloucester area. Lieutenant Withering and Captain McKenzie requisitions transport and visited Herman at his place of duty. You don't mind if I go ahead with my job, do you? I've got to have this place ready for inspection by 1300. Go right ahead. Hand me the cleaning powder, will you please? Oh, yes. Anyway. Say, what do they put in porcelain in England? You break your arm trying to get it clean. Private Herman, you are Jad Herman, writer? Yeah, that's a pen name, Jad. I use it for SF stuff. I used to write for the Confessions under the name of Cynthia Herman. I remember one article. I was saved by the YWCA from a life of shame. We're interested in your science fiction articles at the moment. Oh, yeah? Well, I know we had some sci-fi fans in England. We're not exactly sci-fi fans. We're from... anybody else here? Look for yourself. There's no hiding place down here. Well, we are from Intelligence Plans Commission. We need your assistance, Mr. Herman. No kidding. We have a project that calls for your particular talents. You got a latrine needs cleaning? We're quite serious, Mr. Herman. Will you kindly pack your things and be ready to come with us within one hour? Oh, I'm sorry, gentlemen. I couldn't possibly leave until after inspection. I've got too much of myself invested in this latrine. But after that, I'm at your service. First Class Jacob D. Herman, 32962126, was transferred on special detached duty to Project Trojan and after briefing was set to work on basic plans. Oh, look, Mac, here's the way I see it. If you want a con as scientists, you've got to be pretty straight all the way. You can't get away with more than one phony step in the process. Precisely. Now, here's the way I see it. It's a focusing beam weapon. The electronics on that are square. I used it in a story about two years ago. Fine Schreiber at MIT in Temple and Westover at the Bell Telephone Laboratories worked out the basic field formulas. You mean it's real? Well, up to a point. Everything's on the level till you get to the catalytic action on the grid. Now, that just won't work. It's a basic problem in physics and it makes the whole thing impossible. But don't the Germans know that? Oh, sure, sure. You see, you make up plans for the weapon, call it a death ray. You let the Germans steal everything but the catalyst formula. They'll think we've got it licked and they'll break their necks trying to duplicate it before we put the weapon in production. I see. But we can't call it a death ray. Well, how about projector electronic grid deflecting type three? Hmm. That has a brawl ring to it, my lad. I've got the basic idea of the thing, but you'll have to get some of your science boys to work it out. We'll put a requisition into the manpower commission in the morning. Doctors Montague, Felder, Harrison, Sisonby and Pilsudski were assigned to Project Trojan and under the direction of Private First Class Jacobs, complete specifications and plans for projector electronic grid deflecting type three were drawn up. Project Trojan was ready for phase two. Have we got everything? Blueprints? Check. Specifications? Check. Machine tool inventories? Check. Letter rejecting the plans from the War Office? Check. Endorsement from Supreme Headquarters rejecting plans? Check. Note from 10 Downing Street overriding rejections, handwritten post script, build the confounded thing, WC? Check. Don't you think that's going a little too far, the rejections? Not at all, that's the mouse to touch, a rejection of an idea by the War Office makes it appear most genuine. All right, Private Herman, if this thing were real, if it could be built, what would it do? Oh, don't ask. You could blow a hole in a mountain 10 miles away, or you could knock down a whole wing of bombers without even aiming. Oh dear, lucky it won't work. I should say so. Well, now to get this lovely thing into Jerry's hands. Phase three of Project Trojan was commenced on the 15th of March, 1943. Central Counter Intelligence Agency had discovered the infiltration of a German agent, a Belfast Irishman named Gogetty, into the blueprint division of Clark and Porchester, a printing firm doing some subcontract work for the Air Ministry. Gogetty, the German agent, presumably micro-filmed the plans because shortly thereafter he received word that his sister, living in the Irish Free State, was to be married to a bus conductor. British agents attending the wedding disguised as farm labourers lost track of Gogetty for several hours due to circumstances beyond their control. Then we have no way of knowing whether Gogetty delivered the Project Trojan plans. Well, sir, there was a submarine sighted a day before off the coast. It's likely he made contact. Well, keep me informed. That's all we need now. Another disaster. Did something else go wrong? No, Jolly Bell right. Muggeridge has been playing darts with the Yanks again. Oh, what have we got this time? Butter or beefsteak? Nothing. The blighters lost my whole month's whiskey ration. Now the cover operation supporting Project Trojan was undertaken. A battalion of the Royal Engineers was detailed to practice at secret installations with wooden mock-ups of the projector. Lance Corporal in this detachment, a volunteer afterwards awarded the George Medal, was court-martialed and sentenced to seven years' hard labour for revealing information about the project while drunk on a three-day leave to Tyne Castle. This particular aspect of Project Trojan has been in the news recently inasmuch as several backbench labour members of Parliament have asked questions in the House as it came out that the corporal served the full seven years and wasn't released until 1951. The Home Secretary explained that this was an unfortunate oversight and there were jeers from the opposition with Mr. O'Neil in Bevan taking the occasion to call for the resignation of the Government. At the time, March and April 1943, the Intelligence Plans Commission awaited reports from British operatives. Sir, there's been a shift in assignment at the research laboratories at Hanau. Dr. Schlickman and Drs. Hirsch, Van Sulao and Grishman have been transferred from rocket research to another project. Trojan? We must assume so. But that's only four men. But they're the top experts in electronics, chemistry and metallurgy. If they're really working on Trojan, we've set the German rocket programme back a year while their scientists go yelping off after a red heavy. Let's hope so. Give me any further reports as soon as received. British intelligence reports filtering back through occupied Norway and neutral Sweden continued to indicate the success of Project Trojan. Four more top scientists were known to be transferred from the rocket research base at Pena Minda to the Hanau laboratories. Definite knowledge was obtained that the new assignment was a startling new weapon, agreeing in detail with Project Trojan. What a celly, Mackenzie. What a stunt. Yes, sir. We shall have to have a little party to celebrate. We'll have that Herman Chaffin for a drink. I've been sending Muggeridge off to play darts with some of the free French over at Germaine Manor. He ought to be back soon with the champagne. All right, now to the projector electronic grid deflecting type three. The biggest fraud since the South Sea bubble. Colonel Bostwick. Oh, withering. Take a glass. We're just thinking to Trojan. I think I'd rather not, sir. What do you mean? There's a dispatch from Germany. What about it? A section of the mountain overlooking Hanau has disappeared. What? It's true. It was on the reconnaissance maps yesterday and it was gone this morning. A 10 mile slice of mountain. That's impossible. Oh, it isn't. It works. Trojan works. But it can't. There's no catalyst. It's impossible. All our scientists said so. Well, I guess they were wrong. It works. They must have found the catalyst. I suppose we should have foreseen that. All those scientists working on it. They must have built a model and tried it out. It won't take them more than three months to put it into production. Well, there goes the war. Muggeridge. Aye, sir. Fill the glasses up again. Intelligence plans commission now waited for additional dispatches concerning the reaction to project Trojan in Germany. It was decided as a matter of policy to confine knowledge of these latest developments to the personnel of the project. Anything new, Mackenzie? No, sir. Except that aerial reconnaissance confirms the damage to the mountain at Hanau. It's not quite as extensive as the first dispatch, but it is a bit of a hole. Oh, what do they think caused it? The air ministry seems to feel that an ammunition dump must have blown up. Couldn't that be it? I'm afraid not, sir. We have an intelligence report about several captured British and American tanks being brought to Hanau for testing. They were spotted the next day, completely destroyed. Trojan? Trojan. There's been an alert at factories producing parts for V-1 and V-2 rockets to prepare for retooling. They're going to make the projector? It would seem so, sir. I suppose I'd better go up to London tomorrow and make a clean breast of it. I'm afraid so, sir. Well, that's the end. Seems rather unsporting, doesn't it? Just handing the war over to them. I hate to think what the war office will say, not to mention the Prime Minister. Project Trojan was nearing its closing phase. At precisely 0600 the next morning, Colonel Sir Harold Bostwick ordered his staff car and taking a thermos of tea, proceeded to leave his office. Just before the staff car got underway, Lieutenant Withering appeared with another dispatch, accompanied by Captain Mackenzie and Private Herman. Colonel Bostwick, sir. Wait. So what is it, Withering? Another dispatch. Oh, don't please. It's bad enough. There's been another disaster at Hanau. They knocked another mountain with our little present to them? No, sir. They've knocked themselves out. What? They've knocked themselves out of the mountain. It's exploded. It has? Went up like a Roman candle. We've got pictures. There was a flight of mosquito bombers over at the time. What happened? The projector. It backfired. How do you know? It had to. That's why the catalyst is impossible. You see, the metal fatigue on the grid is a function of... Never mind, never mind. Are you sure? Yes, sir. We have a reliable agent's report. The Germans are completely confused. They were operating the projector under a top secret designation. Nobody knew any of the details except the dozen scientists working on it. They were inside the laboratory when it blew. Our man was in the rescue squad. There isn't a thing left, sir. Plans, models, or scientists. Sir, do you realize that Project Trojan was a success? We've diverted a dozen top scientists from the rocket program permanently. Do you think we'll be decorated? Lieutenant Withering, inasmuch as we came particularly close to handing the whole war to the Germans on a silver platter, I suggest we forget Project Trojan. Oh, yes. Yes, I see. Of course. You're very canny, sir. I think we had all better returned precisely what we were doing before the whole nasty mess started. The final phase of Project Trojan was completed on the 22nd of March, 1943. The file, through some inadvertent error, was lost before the Intelligence Plans Commission had a chance to report to the ward office. All personnel returned to their previous assignment. All right, all right. No splashing on the floor. I got to get this latrine ready for inspection by 1300. You have just heard X minus one presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, which this month features the William 10 novelette Time in Advance, the story of a man who made a strange bargain and endured the worst the galaxy had to offer so that someday he could make the earth sweat. Galaxy Magazine, on your newsstand today. Tonight by transcription, X minus one has brought you Project Trojan, an original story by Ernest Kenoy based on an idea contained in an editorial in Galaxy written by H.L. Gold. Featured in the cast were Burford Hampton, Alastair Duncan, Ivor Francis, Alfred Shirley, Bill Quinn, and your narrator was Alfred Hislip. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X minus one was directed by Daniel Sutter and is an NBC radio network production.
