For Your Eyes Only

Dr. Michael Cosgrove

An envelope drops through your letterbox. It’s from the Ministry of War – how dare they bother you again after their last bungling efforts that nearly destroyed your best research!

It was in the early days of the Great War that you came to them with your proposal to use a chemical-based weapon against hardened trench emplacements. It took a long while - and numerous meetings with panels composed of bored civil servants and un-imaginative military personnel before they finally grasped the idea. Then completely unexpectedly they turned you down for further research funding – as one crusty old Colonel put it “That kind of cowardly weapon is not the sort of way the British Army fights!”

You were forced to drop your research altogether and for a while your finances were in poor shape. Then came the disasters at Ypres and suddenly the Ministry was clamouring for its own gas weapons. You were put in charge of the project and within a year you were mass-producing several types of mustard gas. The ethics of such a weapon were questionable, but thankfully the gas was generally used to ‘make-safe’ no-go areas, and to plug gaps in the frontline offensive. Unfortunately, the enemy were also making great progress with their chemical weapons programme.

After the Great War ended you began looking into countermeasures to mustard gasses and chemical weapon attacks. The most effective solutions required that the subjects were treated in the period immediately after exposure by washing all exposed skin in a solution of povidone-iodine or even household bleach. Unfortunately you have made little headway with the subjects of longer-term exposure since no symptoms generally show until 24 hours by which time it’s too late to treat.

Since the War you hadn’t heard a word from the Ministry - until the telegram arrived today. It asks that you meet with a Mr. Edward Merryweather to discuss an urgent piece of research. Mr. Merryweather goes on to say that he will call upon you at mid-day.

At precisely noon, you hear a knock at the door. It is indeed Mr Merryweather, and although initially you regard him with suspicion, your curiosity is piqued by the interesting tale that your visitor expounded. Apparently he works for a secret section of the British Government known as Pegasus - this section protects Britain from certain irregular types of threat (upon which he was a little vague).

“Certain extreme Nationalist groups have taken power in Germany and are seeking to create an army for another Great War – one in which they are determined that Germany shall win!” he exclaims. “Accordingly, this group is carrying out extensive scientific research into new weapons to win the next war.”

“Your work is brilliant Michael, and you’re probably one of our most talented chemists. It’s because of that that I need you to accompany a unit to go into France. We’ve had word of the location of a team of Germans who are searching for some component for their researches.”

“You will be escorted by a team of commandoes who will handle the opposition but I need you there for a chemical analysis of any agents the enemy might be using.”

“Your country needs you Michael – will you answer the call?”

You are wary of working with the military again, but the chance to pit your wits against the enemy in a game of scientific cat-and-mouse is hard to resist. With little hesitation you agree…

“A car will come to pick you up tomorrow. Have everything ready that you think you might need.”

The following morning, a car pulls up outside the laboratory. Approaching it, you are met by a man in military uniform introducing himself as Lance-Corporal Montague. He informs you that your destination is confidential, but that the meeting he will take you to is of the utmost importance. You climb into the back of the car, which is sumptuously upholstered. You pour yourself a drink from the decanter and sip as the Lance-Corporal whisks you through the familiar back streets. The alcohol has a strange musty smell and a curious taste. You feel a little flushed, and loosen your collar. You start to feel a little dizzy, and you lose your grip on the whiskey tumbler. The last thing you hear is Lance-Corporal Montague telling you “Not to worry”, before you slip into unconsciousness.

You awaken in what appears to be an airfield. You notice the high security surrounding the place. Dog patrols pace their way about the perimeter, and 2 tall observation towers look down upon you. Lance-Corporal Montague opens the car door and apologises for drugging you. He then directs you towards the location of the meeting.

You enter a room designated as ‘BRIEFING’ with some trepidation and take a seat. Hushed whispers are being exchanged by some of the assembled people here, but these are quickly ended as an authoritative voice booms behind you, “For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Major Frederick Adams” A tall, well-built man strides towards the front of the room and takes his place behind a lectern. “Most of you won’t know why you are here. I will now explain why it has been necessary to take extreme measures to bring you here.”

“Lights” The Major orders to a man at the back of the room. A second later, the lights are dimmed, and your attention is drawn towards a screen to the side of the Major. Another officer hands you a dossier, and switches on a small reading light in front of you.

“Recently, one of our operatives in Northern France intercepted a message. This message was heavily encrypted, but was decoded by our Intelligence and Logistics department. Ladies and gentlemen, the contents of this message are very worrying. You can find the letter in the first page of your dossier.”

Mein Fuhrer,

The first results of Project Uber-Mensch are very encouraging. We have conducted a number of field tests, and save for a few difficulties that we must iron out, I believe that we are nearing successful completion of the project. It will bring to the end seven years of effort – seven years well spent when you consider the superiority it will give us over anyone who stands in our way. I will of course keep you informed of any progress.

Glory to the Fatherland.

“For a while, we have suspected that the Germans have been up to something. And now we know. Or rather we don’t know. For those of you who don’t speak German, ‘Uber-Mensch’ translates as ‘Super-soldier’. What is ‘Project Super-Soldier’? Why are the Germans in Northern France? These are the questions that I want you to answer for me. Therefore, I am sending you to the Ardennes region on a reconnaissance mission. The mission will be under the command of Lieutenant Savage. I want you to liaise with our operative – Captain Mason-Wickes, and find out what the hell the Germans are up to.”

“Given the time critical nature of this mission, you will be flying out at 1100 hours. We would have preferred to go at night, but there is a scheduled civilian flight over the area which we will take the place of in order to not raise suspicion. If you read the second document in your dossier, you will see that the area of France that you are going to is an Alpha Sensitive area. This means that you should treat it as being behind enemy lines. I have been informed by Central Command that we will maintain a stance of plausible deniability if you are discovered or captured. We will not be sending reinforcements should this happen.” These last sentences send a shiver down your spine as you grasp the enormity of this statement.

“A note to the civilians amongst you - you are expected to follow the orders of the officer in charge at all times and obey the chain of command. You have of course, all signed the Official Secrets Act prior to this briefing, so I do not need to remind you that everything you witness during the course of this mission is NOT to be disclosed to anyone outside Pegasus Division on penalty of the harshest consequences. One final thing – due to the nature of the situation, Central Command has designated this as a ‘Damocles Imperative’ mission - that is a mission which could have worldwide ramifications.”

“That is all, ladies and gentlemen. Good luck and God Speed. God save the King.”

The lights go back on, and you are led out of the room to a bunkhouse.

The evening meal is a strange affair. There is a marked difference between the civilians, such as yourself, and the members of the armed forces. You and your peers are subdued, probably as you contemplate what lies ahead, whilst the military personnel have an excited buzz about them. You keep pretty much to yourself during the meal, but at the end, Lieutenant Savage approaches you and introduces himself. His confident manner and assuredness is somewhat comforting, and the aching in your stomach subsides.

After the meal, the soldiers make themselves busy preparing for the mission. You and the other civilians are led into a training room to learn how to parachute. This was never on the menu! The session is lead by Sergeant Johnson, an infectiously enthusiastic man – although you are slightly worried that parachuting boils down to jumping out of a plane and hoping for the best!

The rest of the evening is your own, and you decide that your time will be best spent getting a bit of sleep. In truth though, the events of the past 24 hours make it almost impossible. However, it seems as if your head has barely touched the pillow before you are woken by a private with a nice hot cup of tea. You dress quickly – the air is cold this morning and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The morning consists of a final briefing on the ‘theatre of operations’, and then the call comes in that the mission is ‘GO’. Once everyone is ready, you are lead out onto the airstrip where a twin-engined plane is warming up on the runway. Major Adams stands by the door, and gives each of you a sturdy handshake and a “Good Luck” as you board the plane. Sergeant Johnson makes sure that everyone is strapped in tightly before heading to the cockpit. As he returns and fastens his own seatbelt, the low hum of the engines increases in pitch and you feel the aircraft begin to edge forward. The plane speeds up and then suddenly you feel the ground drop away as you become airborne. You glance around you – your comrades seem to be either deep in contemplation, sleeping or praying. The hours pass, and you find the drone of the engines strangely hypnotic and relaxing.

You are woken from your reverie by a harsh buzz, and a red light illuminates above the aircraft door. The army personnel unstrap themselves, and then Sergeant Johnson sets about releasing everyone else. Before you rise out of your seat, he clips you onto a guy-line that runs towards the door. Once everyone is safely attached to the line, he pulls the door handle, and opens the cabin to the cold rushing air outside. Your breath is taken away by the conditions outside, as the Lieutenant performs one last check. The buzz sounds again, and the light turns to green.

“This is it chaps. Good luck!” He pats the first in line on the shoulder, and one by one they all throw themselves out of the plane. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and look out of the door at the horizon. The sun is already beginning to set. You jump out into the cold unknown…