Page 6 of V2

The smoke inside the compartment immediately diminished. He switched on the flashlight and shone it around. Much of the thick rubber coating on the main cables had melted. The plywood casing that surrounded the compartment was charred. Otherwise there didn’t appear to be any serious damage. He closed the compartment. Very slowly, taking care not to look down, he began his descent.

By the time he reached the ground, several dozen men had converged on the V2, on foot and in trucks – not just Seidel and the launch platoon, but Colonel Huber himself in the front seat of a staff car. Biwack was bending to examine the burned-out transformer. He tried to pick it up, but it was too hot to hold, even with his leather gloves, and he dropped it at once.

Seidel said, ‘How badly damaged is she?’

Graf pulled off his gloves and squatted on his haunches to recover his breath. ‘Not damaged at all that I can see, apart from the transformer.’

‘What do you recommend?’

‘Drain the fuel tanks. Send her back to the workshop to run some electrical tests.’

‘We can’t just fit a new transformer?’

‘We could, but why take the risk?’

Biwack interrupted. ‘I thought you said there was no damage?’

Graf pushed himself back to his feet. ‘Probably not, but we can’t be absolutely sure until the avionics have been tested.’

‘How long does it take to drain the fuel?’

‘A couple of hours.’

‘So you’ll lose half a day and London will have the afternoon off! Suppose you launch – what’s the worst that can happen?’

‘The missile could misfire,’ replied Graf. He was starting to find it hard to hide his irritation – an hour in Scheveningen and already the NSFO was an expert! ‘Or it could stray off target, in which case we’ll have wasted a hundred thousand Reichsmarks.’

Huber came over to join them. ‘So, gentlemen? What have we decided?’

Seidel said, ‘Dr Graf recommends cancelling the launch. The Sturmscharführer seems to disagree.’

‘Pay no attention to me,’ said Biwack. He waved his notebook. ‘I’m merely here to observe.’

Huber looked at the rocket, then at the blackened transformer, then at Graf, and finally he eyed Biwack’s notebook. Graf could almost hear the machinery creaking in his brain. ‘One must take risks in war,’ he said at last. ‘That is the essence of National Socialism.’ He nodded to Seidel. ‘Replace the component. Proceed with the launch.’

Graf turned away in disgust. He would have liked to smoke to settle his nerves. Instead he could only pace around the launch site, as he had done so often at Peenemünde while the final preparations were made.

A new transformer was fetched by motorcycle from the technical store and one of the NCOs in the launching platoon quickly climbed the ladder to fit it. The compartment was sealed, the ladder was collapsed and driven away, the electrical cables were reconnected. A klaxon sounded. The men took cover in their slit trenches. Seidel, Huber and Biwack, with Graf at the rear, made their way in single file through the undergrowth to the launch vehicle, buried almost up to its roof at the bottom of the slope leading down to its dugout.

It was cramped inside the armoured car once the door was closed, and cold – the roof hatch was still open. Over the loudspeaker, the radar station in The Hague confirmed there were no enemy aircraft within fifty kilometres. ‘You are clear to launch.’

‘What is the procedure here?’

Graf squeezed into a corner and left it to Seidel to continue Biwack’s tutorial. ‘There are five positions on the firing switch. We’re now at position one …’

The sergeant controlling the launch stuck his head out of the roof hatch to observe the rocket. ‘Begin the countdown.’

Ten … nine …

Position two closed the valves on the fuel tanks and pumped compressed air into the liquid oxygen tank.

Eight … seven … six …

Position three forced a mixture of peroxide and permanganate into the turbo prop to begin ignition. An igniter shaped like a swastika, spinning like a Catherine wheel, began throwing out a shower of sparks.

Five … four …

Position four released both main fuel tanks into the combustion chamber. A flickering roaring flame spread around the base of the rocket.