“Mr. Secretary,” I said, “for the Treasury to treat this problem in a way other than the one which we have set up would put the Treasury in the position of profiteering—through excess taxation—on munitions contracts let here by foreign governments. We aircraft manufacturers, having been maligned as profiteers, would not like to see our government in the same boat.” The secretary blinked at this, but did not reply. “Mr. Secretary,” I continued, “we feel so strongly about the principles involved here that we have taken a firm decision: we will not go ahead on your British plant, until we have assurance of the treatment we require.” The secretary still appeared unimpressed. However, he did reply in his flat voice. “I will see that it is done.” The problem of plant expansion was but one of our many headaches. In due course we signed the British contract calling for an addition over half again as large as the French addition, and on generally similar terms. For the next several years we waged fierce battle with the Treasury Department over that problem of accelerated depreciation and amortization of emergency facilities, only to learn that the basic law precluded such treatment and could not be amended save by act of Congress. But as luck would have it, when the Treasury finally turned us down, the tax rates had been boosted so high that their adverse decision actually gave us a better break than we would have had with an earlier approval. And though this proved gratifying from the balance-sheet point of view, the principle remained an issue until finally resolved after the outbreak of the European war. To a harassed manufacturer, intent on production, it seemed incredible that we Americans could be so stupid. At the time, we ascribed it to ignorance. In our shop experience, no deliberate saboteur could throw such backlash into a production line as just comes naturally when a dumb-bunny do-gooder gets to messing around. In the light of subsequent revelations, I am not so sure. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX A Spark Is Struck