No novel about the Berlin Airlift could make any claim to accuracy and authenticity without including General William H. Tunner. Although his influence was felt only in stages, as he was granted increasing authority, he was the world's greatest expert in military air transport. As Commander of the Combined Airlift Taskforce, Tunner took charge of the Airlift and imprinted his own character upon it. His innovations and his forceful personality saved the Airlift from chaos and collapse at a critical juncture.
Tunner had been one of the first officers in the entire Air Force to specialise in air transport. He had helped establish the Ferrying Division and nurtured it from a handful of men to an organisation 50,000 strong and delivering 11,000 planes a month to domestic and overseas destinations. In fact, he can be largely credited with creating not only an organisation but an entire ethos and standard for air transport pilots. He passionately believed that transport pilots had a different mission and required different qualities than combat pilots. He was proud to claim that he had “proved that air transport was a science in itself; to be carried out at its maximum efficiency air transport must be run by men who … are dedicated to air transport – professionals.” [Tunner, Over the Hump, Office of Air Force History, 1964, p. 41] He had then, in August 1944, taken command the highly risky supply operation across the Himalayas – which had already defeated several previous commanders – and turned it into a spectacular success.
Tunner also had a
reputation as a hard driver. His nickname was “Willy the Whip” and he claimed
he didn’t lose any sleep over it. The official air force
history of Air Transport Command described him as “arrogant, brilliant,
competent. He was the kind of officer whom a junior officer is well advised to
salute when approaching his desk.” In short, he was both
the consummate professional air transport commander and the kind of commander
who could be expected to get the job done – even if it was a job that the
officers appointing him did not believe could be done. For more details on his impact on the Berlin Airlift see: Tunner Takes Command.
The below excerpt depicts a first meeting between General Tunner and the RAF Station Commander Gatow, my fictional character Robin Priestman. This scene is set on August 14, a time when the airlift operations of Britain and the United States were still independent, i.e. before the formation of the Combined Airlift Task Force and before Tunner became Priestman's indirect superior.
The USAF C-54 settled down at Gatow four minutes late and was led by the “Follow-Me” Land Rover to a hardstanding where Priestman awaited. The engines had not stopped spinning before the door opened and a US general in a khaki uniform and polished shoes jumped down onto the tarmac. He was trim, modestly good-looking with regular features, and a businesslike rather than a friendly demeanour. He returned Priestman’s salute, and he offered his hand with the words, “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Wing Commander.”
“Everything is short notice on this Airlift,” Priestman replied. “How can I help you?”
“Oh, I just thought I’d take a look at your operations and see how you were handling things. If you’ll wait one moment, my pilot and copilot are two of my staff officers. I want them to join us.” He looked toward the aircraft and on cue, two lieutenant colonels dropped out of it to be introduced as Bettinger and Foreman.
Priestman reciprocated by introducing, “Captain Bateman, RASC, responsible for our Forward Area Supply Organization or FASO. That is, everything to do with unloading the aircraft and moving the cargoes up to Berlin.” Priestman drew attention to the fact that Tunner’s aircraft was already being unloaded.
Tunner turned to watch as the trailer was backed up against the cargo door of his Skymaster. “I see you’re using German stevedores, just as we do. Any problems with them?” he asked.
Priestman nodded to Bateman to answer.
“None at this end. In the early days, German loaders were didn’t understand that the cargo capacity of aircraft varies. They knew even less about maintaining the aerodynamics of the aircraft by careful distribution of loads. Those teething problems have since been resolved.” …
Tunner snorted but nodded his understanding, then looked at Priestman. Taking this to mean Tunner was finished with the topic of unloading, Priestman invited the Americans into his car and drove them over to the maintenance hangar. Here Tunner and his staff officers met Gatow’s Chief Engineering Officer, Squadron Leader Holt. Tunner’s sharp eye rapidly noted, “You don’t have many aircraft in maintenance and almost no spare parts inventory. Why is that?”
“All Airlift aircraft are based in the West and that is where routine maintenance is carried out. We only maintain a limited supply of those essential components most likely to require immediate replacement such as tyres, brakes, etc.”
“What if an aircraft lands with a different problem?” Tunner asked, adding, “You seem to have ample hangar space to manage much more maintenance.”
“Our problem isn’t space but personnel. We only have enough ground crew here to handle an emergency. As for spare parts, the RAF doesn’t have infinite stockpiles and what we have is centralised at our main depot in the UK. If we lack something, it can be flown in within a couple of hours — a day at the most. As a rule, however, we prefer an aircraft’s regular crew to handle all repairs during routine maintenance.”
“You have crews assigned to individual aircraft?” Tunner sounded surprised.
“That’s right.”
“Isn’t that a waste of manpower?” Although his expression was impassive, his disapproval was evident.
“How so, sir?” Holt asked defensively.
“Well, 50-hour checks only come due every five or six days. What is the crew doing in the meantime?”
Priestman took over from the rattled Holt, “Squadron ground crews handle two aircraft each and the RAF requires daily inspections. In addition, squadron ground crews do the 150-hour inspections which come up roughly every fortnight. Our ground crews are working twelve-hour days. There’s no question of them lazing about.”
“You still do daily inspections? That seems over-cautious. We’ve found fifty-hour checks are adequate to correct minor issues and identify major ones,” Tunner countered.
Priestman was unimpressed. “Our philosophy is to carry out preventive not merely corrective maintenance. We prefer repairing an item in time rather than waiting for it to break down and need replacing.”
“That sounds like an admirable approach in peacetime, Wing Commander, but in war — or warlike conditions such as we have here — the primary concern must be maximum utilization of assets. That means aircraft should be flying, loading/unloading or undergoing maintenance. They shouldn’t be sitting around on the ground being inspected for problems they don’t yet have. My preference is to give them a thorough check at 200 hours. I’ve arranged for the C-47s to go down in Oberpfaffenhofen and the C-54s to fly to Burtonwood.”
That sounded as though it would take aircraft off the Airlift longer than the RAF’s daily inspections, but Priestman chose not to challenge the “expert.” Instead, he suggested they move on.
The tour continued to the Malcolm Club. Priestman explained that station personnel used the messes, while the Malcolm Club served the crews waiting for their aircraft to be unloaded. “The Salvation Army, NAAFI and YMCA also offer quick snacks from mobile canteens on the airfield or beside the maintenance hangars, but here men can sit down and get a bit of peace and quiet. They also have a barber shop if someone wants a haircut while waiting, and the lounge is well-stocked with newspapers and periodicals.” Priestman proudly pointed to a table where these were displayed. “If an aircraft is stranded here overnight, the club offers limited but comfortable accommodation.”
Tunner looked around the room critically. “The problem with nice places like this is that the crews get to chatting and smoking and reading when they ought to be flying. As of yesterday, my crews have orders not to move more than 10 feet away from their aircraft.”
“I’m sure that’s popular,” Priestman noted.
“I’m not here to win a popularity contest,” Tunner shot back. “As I said a moment ago, I want maximum utilization of assets, and that includes pilots.”
“And how do they get the weather report and file a return flight plan?”
“I send a jeep around with the operations officer, another with the weather report, and finally, a mobile snack bar manned by the prettiest girls the Red Cross could recruit in Berlin drives from plane to plane. The men don’t seem to be bitching too much.”
Priestman nodded acknowledgement rather than approval and asked if his guests wanted a tour of the full station including accommodations, messes, and recreational facilities, or if they preferred to go straight over to the meteorology section, operations room and the tower. Unsurprisingly, Tunner opted for the latter.
As they mounted the steps of the main building, Tunner remarked, “I’ve asked my staff to work out new traffic patterns in the corridors, and I hope the RAF will cooperate… For a start, one-way traffic. Everything flies in via the northern and southern corridors and out via the central corridor.”
“That would be a great improvement and something I suggested long ago,” Priestman noted dryly. Tunner gave him a second look, but Priestman kept his eyes averted.
Tunner continued, “You’ve probably already heard that I’ve ordered all pilots who miss a landing to return fully loaded to avoid stacking up aircraft in the limited airspace over Berlin — and woe betide any pilot who misses his landing without good reason!”
Priestman nodded without commentary. He was not as averse to stacking aircraft as Tunner and felt sending loaded aircraft back was a waste of aviation fuel that also delayed the delivery of desperately needed supplies to Berlin. He conceded that in a situation such as had developed at Tempelhof yesterday, it was preferable to an accident, but he thought the decision should be made on a case-by-case basis.
Tunner next remarked, “I’ve asked the Pentagon to call up one hundred civilian air traffic controllers and send them over to improve the quality of the ATC. Some of our guys just aren’t experienced enough for this environment.”
Priestman nodded agreement wordlessly.
Tunner wasn’t finished, “I’ve also put in a formal request via General LeMay to Air Marshal Sanders to base a bunch of our aircraft in your Zone.”
That brought Priestman to a halt, and he looked over at the American surprised.
“Look, the distance to Berlin from either Wiesbaden or Rhein-Main is roughly 300 miles while it’s just over 120 miles from Celle or Fassberg and less than 100 from Hamburg. The same aircraft can make three trips to Berlin from Fassberg in the time it takes to make two sorties from Rhein-Main. That’s 50% more.”
Priestman nodded and conceded, “That makes sense.”
“What it means is that most of those planes will be funnelled down the northern corridor and directed into Gatow, starting one week from today.”
“Ah, I see. That’s why you were so keen to visit,” Priestman concluded with a faint smile.
“That was one reason. The other is that a C-74 is arriving today at Rhein-Main with vitally needed engines and other bulky replacement parts. Some genius in the Pentagon came up with the idea of stuffing it full of flour — after we’ve unloaded those special cargoes — and sending it on to Berlin. The problem with that is it’s far too heavy to land on the PSP runways at Tempelhof. If we’re going to make a show — and that’s all this is since the brass refuses to dedicate any C-74s to the Airlift — it is going to have to take place here at Gatow.”
“I see,” Priestman commented dryly. He didn’t like having something like this sprung on him at such short notice.
Tunner could read his mood and tried to make the event more palatable. “It wasn’t my idea, but to be fair, something like this will highlight that this is a joint effort — even if it is still, irrationally, two separate operations.”
Intentionally or not, Tunner had just shown his hand. The American general wanted a combined operation. More specifically, he wanted to control not just the U.S. aircraft and airfields but the British ones as well. That way they would all have to dance to his tune.
Priestman had mixed feelings about that. He could see the sense in many of Tunner’s suggestions and disliked Bagshot’s small-minded approach to problems. Yet the American general also struck him as rigid and adverse to alternative approaches. Tunner appeared to believe he had all the answers already. Most damning, his obsession with “maximum utilization of assets” struck Priestman as almost inhuman.
[i] Tunner, P. 41.
[ii] Tunner, p. 110.
[iii] Oliver LaFarge, The Eagle in the Egg, p.26.
Tunner is a character in the Second two volumes of the Bridge to Tomorrow Trilogy
Berlin is under siege. More than two million civilians must be supplied by air -- or surrender to Stalin's oppression.
USAF Captain J.B. Baronowsky and RAF Flight
Lieutenant Kit Moran once risked their lives to drop high explosives on Berlin.
They are about to deliver milk, flour and children’s shoes instead. Meanwhile,
two women pilots are flying an air ambulance that carries malnourished and
abandoned children to freedom in the West. Until General Winter deploys on the
side of Russia. Buy now!
Based on historical events, award-winning and best-selling novelist Helena P. Schrader delivers an insightful, exciting and moving tale about how former enemies became friends in the face of Russian aggression — and how close the Berlin Airlift came to failing.
Winning a war with milk, coal and candy!
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