V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,105
serge, the civil servants in their own uniform of black suit jackets and pinstriped trousers. Towards the end of the morning the windows were opened, letting in the sound of traffic.
Graf studied von Braun dispassionately, without listening to the words. He owed him his life, almost certainly. At the end of February, von Braun had donned his SS uniform yet again and had led them out of Peenemünde in a convoy of cars and lorries, south to Nordhausen, and then south again to the Bavarian Alps, always keeping an eye on the position of the American front line. They had been in a ski hotel on the Austrian border when they learned first of Hitler’s suicide and then of Kammler’s: he had ordered his driver to pull over, walked up the road and shot himself. A week later, the engineers had surrendered to the Americans and von Braun had told their captors where to find the Peenemünde archive, which he had hidden in a mine. The negotiations had gone smoothly. The deal was done. More than a hundred scientists, Graf among them, had been offered a new life in the US. Soon the first contingent would board a ship from Le Havre to New York, en route to New Mexico. This presentation to the British was purely for show, although one would never have guessed it watching von Braun now. He seduced in the manner of a Don Giovanni. He always meant it at the time.
They stopped for lunch. Graf drank warm flat beer and stood in a corner answering technical questions. ‘Speak freely,’ von Braun had instructed them the previous evening, standing in the garden to avoid the British microphones. ‘Tell them everything they want to know – except the fact that we will be going to America. We don’t want to find ourselves detained here on some trumped-up charges of war crimes.’
Twenty thousand people had died at Nordhausen making the V2, four times as many as had been killed by it. The matter was being investigated by the Allied war crimes commission. All the more reason to get to the safety of America as soon as possible, before the facts became too well known.
In the middle of the afternoon, von Braun beckoned Graf over. He was talking to an air commodore, who shifted slightly as Graf approached, to try to block him from interrupting the conversation. ‘It would give His Majesty’s Government great pleasure,’ the officer was saying quietly, ‘if you and your colleagues would consider working with us to develop your technology further, as fellow Europeans.’
‘That is a very appealing concept.’ Von Braun nodded and looked over his shoulder. ‘Ah, Graf. The air commodore would like one of us to answer a few questions about Peenemünde. Would you mind?’
Kay was standing by the window when he came in. She had begun to think her trip up to town was wasted. The flight lieutenant said, ‘This is Dr Graf. Dr Graf, this is Flight Officer Caton-Walsh of our Central Interpretation Unit. Would you like me to stay?’
‘I think we’ll be fine,’ said Kay. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’ After the door was closed, she said, ‘Do you speak English?’ He was staring at the photographs of Peenemünde spread across the desk. ‘I don’t speak much German, I’m afraid.’ He seemed not to have heard her. She gestured towards the door. ‘I could fetch an interpreter …’
‘Yes.’ He looked at her for the first time. He had very clear blue eyes – she had noticed them in the corridor earlier – dark hair, chewed fingernails. ‘I speak English.’
‘As you can see, we have extensive photographic reconnaissance of the Peenemünde facility. But unfortunately the Russians won’t allow us access to the site, and the Americans seem not to be able to lay their hands on the necessary plans. So we wondered if you could fill in some of the gaps in our knowledge.’
‘Of course.’
‘Please, do sit. Have you used a stereoscopic viewer before? It’s perfectly simple.’ She leaned over him. ‘You place one image here. And then the other next to it here.’
‘My God.’ He drew his head back. ‘It comes alive.’
‘Everyone has that reaction.’
He peered into the viewfinder again. ‘This is test stand seven.’
She sat opposite him, making notes. ‘And those huge oval rings around it are blast walls, presumably, made of earth?’
‘Sand mostly.’
‘How long would it take to process a missile through the test stand?’