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

still used Langenhagen as a base, and another bombing was sure to follow.
"We will take off just as soon as our aircraft are armed and refueled, and there are bombers to
attack," said Reissel. "Then we shall land at L├╝beck instead of returning here." He stopped. Jet engines
whined somewhere in the distance.
The Horten 229 descended, resembling, as my driver had said, a great bat. It bounced a little on the
rough surface, then slowed and taxied to its hangar. As it approached we saw another aircraft coming in
to land. It was propeller driven, but that was the only thing familiar about it. The propeller was at the rear,
along with the main wings, and the tailwings were in the nose. Then Gestner came striding over to us and
the new fighter was forgotten for the moment.
"Two kills! " he exclaimed proudly, unzipping his furlined flying suit. "A Lancaster bomber and a
Tempest fighter. My Horten is invincible!"
"A Tempest?" said Reissel. "Why did you not outrun it and rendezvous with us?"
"Why, I had to show that the Horten is effective in a fighter-to-fighter duel. I had plenty of fuel and
ammunition. "
"Your extra fuel and ammunition could have protected us as we came in to land!" shouted Reissel.
"There was a Tempest here, too. Major Schwartz ran out of fuel and crashed while trying to escape it.
And why did you use all your rockets on one bomber?"
"Rockets and bombers? Pah! There is no honour in them. Only duels between fighters-- "
"Damn honour! You are a pilot of the Luftwaffe and you have a job to do, fighting for Germany.
You're not some bloody knight errant, riding about in the woods, looking for challenges. Your orders are
to destroy bombers."
Two things happened them. The limousine appeared at the edge of the woods, and the pilot of the
airscrew fighter joined us.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Oberleutnant Guber," said Gestner. "I felt it necessary to escort his
canard fighter to the airfield. The antiaircraft gunners might have taken it for some new allied aircraft
otherwise."
Reissel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "My radio was functional, as was that of Major
Schwartz. You could have informed us."
"Major Reissel, I had an important experimental fighter to escort. There was no question of asking
permission."
Exasperated, Reissel dismissed us until the next alert. I went over to my jet's hangar and sat on a
packing case, watching the fitters fuel, arm and service it. From Over by the limousine I could hear
laughter and jolly voices. To my right a gaggle of deportees struggled to repair the dispersal track and I
watched them, thinking how the gap between us narrowed as Germany crumbled. Then I turned to see
one of the women from the limousine, Frau Guber, mincing toward me through the rubble. I stood up
hastily, brushing at my uniform.
"Ah, there you are, Herr Willy," she said, her words sounding like perfect German spoken with
Chinese intonations and an Italian accent. "We are having a little party to celebrate this morning's
valorous deeds. You must join us."
Valorous deeds! The expression was so preposterous that I smiled, and very nearly laughed.
"Frau Guber, I have to remain near my plane..."
"Pah! Silly boy. We have champagne, chicken and coffee. All things that give you strength for more
fighting. Your leader, Major Reissel, is already with us. Come on, I like brave, silly boys."
I followed her, fascinated by the way she teetered and swayed on her slim, high heeled shoes,
mesmerised by the rolling motion of her bottom within the tight skirt. The material moulded itself well
around her, her clothes hanging perfectly with her every movement as if some invisible maid were
fluttering about her, constantly adjusting the cloth. Expensive, well-cut clothes-- even Willy Hirth knew
that. Yet I also knew that she was not entirely used to them, and that she found them as unfamiliar and
novel as the bomb ravaged setting of the Langenhagen airbase.
"And here is Herr Willy," called Gestner as we arrived at the fuel drum that was our table. "Five kills,