"Sean McMullen - The Devils of Langenhagen" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

"I am Major Schwartz. You have some crates of R4M rockets from L├╝beck, and a replacement pilot,
I believe."
"I am the new pilot," I replied with a little satisfaction, "and the rockets are in the back."
He sighed heavily and steadied himself against a mudguard. "When I saw the truck arrive unescorted I
thought it couldn't be the rockets," he said, then looked me up and down.
"No escort could be spared. Besides, a single truck attracts less attention from the Allies' aircraft."
"Ach, a realist," he said with a sudden smile. He called some men over to unload the truck and we
walked out into the smoke and ash. "I assume that you have at least flown a jet fighter before."
"Only five missions in the jets, Major, but several dozen in other aircraft."
"Any actual combat experience in an Me 262?"
"Two Lancaster bombers destroyed, and an unconfirmed Spitfire."
"Good, very good. It's a wonder they let you go from your squadron." I stared down at the ground.
"The Spitfire attacked when I was landing and low on fuel. I had enough left to engage it, but not to get
back to the airstrip. I ejected safely, but there were no more serviceable aircraft..."
"Calm down Willy, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You're more than I'd hoped for. They sent one
novice from the Hitler Jugend who managed to hit a tree while taking off on his first mission-- but no
matter. We have four Me 262 jets still operational, and that experimental flying-wing, the Horten 229.
Your aircraft is in that mound at the end of the row. You will take a full load of fuel and four dozen
rockets."
"Four dozen, Major?" I exclaimed. "On that runway? I've seen carthorse tracks in better condition."
"It can be done. I have done it myself, though it took nearly 7000 feet to become airborne."
At that moment I caught sight of the flying-wing through the open doors of its hangar mound. It sat on
a tricycle undercarriage with its cockpit jammed between two jet turbines. Racks for the antiaircraft
rockets were bolted beneath its wings, and the wingspan was so great that it barely fitted inside the
hangar.
"A strange looking aircraft, Major," I said as he steered me towards it. "How good is it in the air?"
"The pilot says that when fully laden it needs only 3000 feet to take off, and its top speed is a hundred
miles per hour more than an Me 262. Have a closer look, Willy. Tell me what you think."
The Horten was painted in standard camouflage colours, mottled green and brown above, and light
blue below. It was sleek and impressive in a way totally different from the sharklike lines of the Me 262.
I ran my hand along the leading edge of the wing.
"Do you know how old this aircraft is, Major?" I asked.
"It's been in the air less than a fortnight," Schwartz replied. He peered into a turbine. "Today is its first
operational test."
I nodded, puzzled. There were tiny nicks in the leading edge that accumulate only over months of
flying. I examined the wheels next. The tyres were about a quarter worn, but had been cleaned carefully,
and painted with blacking. The hydraulics were lovingly cleaned and polished, but although the grease on
them was new there were fine grooves of wear along them. Everything pointed to an aircraft that had
seen a great deal of use. I climbed the stairs beside the cockpit and looked in.
It was upholstered in rich, red leather, the switches and controls were trimmed in brass and ivory, and
there was red carpet on the floor. I recognised some familiar controls, including the new Ez 42 sight, but
there were several panels of coloured lights and switches that I had never before seen in any aircraft. The
material of the canopy seemed as thin as paper, yet it was absolutely rigid to the touch. Looking closer, I
noticed that some of the brass controls were etched with perspiration from the pilot's hands. Only
prolonged use would do that to brass.
"Remarkable," I said as I rejoined Schwartz. "Major, there is something odd about that jet. It reminds
me of a very old, but lovingly maintained sports car."
"That's impossible. The prototype flew only weeks ago. It is well worn, that is obvious, but that must
be because it has been test-flown so intensively."
I shrugged. "It's just an impression, sir. You say it will fly with us today?"