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

watching. I watch too. They say it's not my concern, and that it's all part of the war effort. In a way I'm
glad that even the pilots go hungry now. It helps ease one's conscience."
Three officers, including Gestner, were waiting at an empty fuel drum beside one of the hangars. I was
introduced to Major Reissel and Oberleutnant Weber, who was his wingman. Schwartz, who was
Schwarmf├╝hrer, spread some papers out on the drum.
"I won't pretend anything with you," he said, glancing about to make sure that he could not be
overheard. "You have eyes. You can see that the whole of Germany is burning like Hamburg over there."
He pointed to the north where the smoke was darker and thicker. "The enemy has thousands of bombers
and fighters, yet we have only a handful of interceptors. Vastly superior in speed, yes, but only a handful.
Why go on then? Why fight?"
"For honour. For glory. For Germany!" exclaimed Gestner. He smiled broadly.
"Well, yes, perhaps, but apart from that?" said Schwartz, leaning wearily on the drum. Reissel and
Weber stared coldly at Gestner. To him it was just a game. For him there was nothing of value involved.
"Only a fool would say that Germany could still win the war," Schwartz continued, "but we could avoid
an unconditional surrender by fighting the Allies to a standstill as they try to invade. Our jets are the finest
interceptors in the world. They totally outclass Spitfire and Mustang fighters for sheer speed. Thus we
have a very important role to play.
"We must attack only bombers. Ignore the fighters; they cannot catch us. Every bomber destroyed is
less suffering for Germany, and a higher price for total Allied victory. We will be armed with the new
R4M rockets, and they make the job easier. Each of you can expect to shoot down three or four
bombers per sortie that is realistic. When we..."
His voice trailed off, and he stared past me to the woods. I turned to see a large car, a limousine,
driving out through the swirling smoke and ash. It was all black and silver, gleaming and polished as if it
had left its garage only minutes earlier. A little German flag flew at each mudguard. Slowly, majestically, it
drew up to us and stopped.
I was nineteen, and had grown mature seeing little of women who were not either in uniform or in rags.
The car door opened. Skirts and furs swirled, legs swung out that bared stockings and hinted at
suspenders. High heels sank into the broken soil. Red lipstick accented her pouting amusement as her
languid eyes assessed us and she was smoking! Even her long gold cigarette holder was not so amazing
as seeing a cigarette in Germany in April 1945.
Another woman, similarly dressed, got out of the car. Linking arms, they made their way across to us.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Frau Guber and my wife," said Gestner, his words the first since
the car had appeared. Frau Gestner smiled, but Frau Guber, the first of the pair to appear, maintained a
haughty femme fatale expression.
"And where is Fritz?" asked Frau Guber. "Is he not here? Has he crashed?" She did not seem in the
least concerned.
"Who is this Fritz?" snapped Schwartz. "I have been told of no Fritz Guber."
"He is the pilot of another experimental interceptor," Gestner explained hurriedly. "He has been
delayed."
"We have chilled champagne in the car," said Frau Gestner. "Shall I tell the chauffeur to fetch it?"
"If you please!" Schwartz cut in. "This is an operational unit, and I have a briefing to finish."
Gestner laughed. It was as if he was indulging a child. He called to the driver of limousine to take the
two women back to the safety of the woods until we returned. They walked back, waved to us, and
were driven off.
"Getting back to our mission," said Schwartz impatiently, "there is a danger from Allied fighters
attacking our jets as we come in to land. They've worked out that we run low on fuel very quickly, often
landing with only a gallon or so left. We will cover each other as we land, with Major Gestner coming
last. His fighter has a much better range. Is that all clear?"
We dispersed to our hangars. Ten minutes later Bokum's radar units reported a flight of Allied
bombers coming in our direction. The fitters hauled my jet into the open, then wheeled the starter motor