99
I would. I put down the phone, leaned back in my chair and took a deep
breath. We had managed to gain entry to the ‘Bunker’ (as the upper echelons
of the military were known during the Transition)!
I had to arm myself quickly to do battle. I convened my colleagues, at the
time only a small handful of persons, so that we could discuss this grave situation together. In the early days of the IAC nobody knew anything about
radar. The one closest to the topic was our electronics expert Sergio González,
who immediately learned all he could about defence radar, for he would be
the one accompanying me Madrid. And at the time there was, of course, no
internet.
We took the first plane on the following morning and arrived at the Air
Force Chiefs of Staff for our appointment. We entered the impressive neoEscorial style building of the ministry that I had previously seen being finished at the Moncloa when I was at university. We were met by five or six
high-ranking military officers. They spent much time courteously and precisely making us understand the imperious and urgent need to set up a powerful radar system on the very summit of Roque de los Muchachos. So powerful
were these instruments, they explained, that they could fry any unlucky bird
that happened to pass through their sweeping beams, thus rendering it utterly
impossible for us to put our telescopes there. I in turn explained to them the
advanced stage reached in the agreements, underlining the benefits that these
would bring for our country and for Europe. I ended my peroration by repeating my patriotic appeal that had previously made such an impact. It was a very
long, tense, but civil meeting in which we all agreed that Spain must both
defend itself and produce competitive science and technology—all within an
international framework, naturally.
I can well remember a certain Colonel Jack (he was Spanish in spite of his
surname), who had just returned from the United States and seemed to be the
best-informed concerning the blessed radars, coming round to half-accepting
the possibility of coexistence. Perhaps it might be possible to put the radars on
another island, or even on La Palma below the telescopes plus a smaller radar
on the summit to cover the shadow produced by Roque de los Muchachos. I
thought I saw in his face a sharp inner conflict as he debated with himself the
possibility of their having after all to alter their original plans. They ended the
meeting with a promise that they would study the options and send a team of
experts to La Palma. They would then call us to inform us of the final decision.
In the spring of 1978 President Adolfo Suárez came, with a generous purse,
on a campaigning tour of the Canary Islands. It was an electioneering visit
that received great media coverage. He spent more than a week going from
island to island, dispensing largesse, holding meetings, and conferring with
11 Telescopes Versus Military Radars (1977–1978)
I would. I put down the phone, leaned back in my chair and took a deep
breath. We had managed to gain entry to the ‘Bunker’ (as the upper echelons
of the military were known during the Transition)!
I had to arm myself quickly to do battle. I convened my colleagues, at the
time only a small handful of persons, so that we could discuss this grave situation together. In the early days of the IAC nobody knew anything about
radar. The one closest to the topic was our electronics expert Sergio González,
who immediately learned all he could about defence radar, for he would be
the one accompanying me Madrid. And at the time there was, of course, no
internet.
We took the first plane on the following morning and arrived at the Air
Force Chiefs of Staff for our appointment. We entered the impressive neoEscorial style building of the ministry that I had previously seen being finished at the Moncloa when I was at university. We were met by five or six
high-ranking military officers. They spent much time courteously and precisely making us understand the imperious and urgent need to set up a powerful radar system on the very summit of Roque de los Muchachos. So powerful
were these instruments, they explained, that they could fry any unlucky bird
that happened to pass through their sweeping beams, thus rendering it utterly
impossible for us to put our telescopes there. I in turn explained to them the
advanced stage reached in the agreements, underlining the benefits that these
would bring for our country and for Europe. I ended my peroration by repeating my patriotic appeal that had previously made such an impact. It was a very
long, tense, but civil meeting in which we all agreed that Spain must both
defend itself and produce competitive science and technology—all within an
international framework, naturally.
I can well remember a certain Colonel Jack (he was Spanish in spite of his
surname), who had just returned from the United States and seemed to be the
best-informed concerning the blessed radars, coming round to half-accepting
the possibility of coexistence. Perhaps it might be possible to put the radars on
another island, or even on La Palma below the telescopes plus a smaller radar
on the summit to cover the shadow produced by Roque de los Muchachos. I
thought I saw in his face a sharp inner conflict as he debated with himself the
possibility of their having after all to alter their original plans. They ended the
meeting with a promise that they would study the options and send a team of
experts to La Palma. They would then call us to inform us of the final decision.
In the spring of 1978 President Adolfo Suárez came, with a generous purse,
on a campaigning tour of the Canary Islands. It was an electioneering visit
that received great media coverage. He spent more than a week going from
island to island, dispensing largesse, holding meetings, and conferring with
11 Telescopes Versus Military Radars (1977–1978)