V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,16

Drexler started pounding his fist on the table in approval. The artillerymen followed the SS man’s lead without much enthusiasm.

‘Good,’ beamed Huber. He lifted his glass. ‘Then I propose a toast.’ As they all stood, Graf was able to take the opportunity to help himself to more schnapps. ‘To victory!’

‘To victory!’

They drank, then sat and banged the table again. Graf felt the liqueur burning the back of his throat, the warm rush of the alcohol hitting his system. He brought his fist down so hard they all turned to look at him.

‘Twelve launches! Marvellous!’

Biwack studied him for a few moments. He said politely, ‘Do you think twelve launches in a day is too ambitious, Dr Graf?’

‘No, on the contrary – too modest! After all, what is the weight of bombs carried by a single Lancaster?’

Seidel said, ‘Six tons.’

‘So twelve launches carrying a one-ton warhead per missile are only equivalent in explosive power to a pair of Lancaster bombers. And how many bombers do those swine in the RAF send over to attack our cities in a night? A thousand! Twelve launches?’ Graf thumped the table again. ‘I say let’s launch twelve hundred!’

Seidel laughed and looked down at his hands. Huber said, ‘But a single V2 spreads as much terror as a hundred Lancasters, and strikes the earth with tremendous force – at three times the speed of sound. It inflicts far more damage over a wider area, and no air defence can stop it.’

‘And besides all that,’ said Drexler, who was polishing his spectacles with his napkin, ‘it’s the only means we have left of hitting London.’ He put his glasses back on and surveyed the table.

There was a silence.

‘Fascinating,’ said Biwack. He had been following the exchanges like a spectator at a tennis match. He suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. ‘Thank you for your welcome, Colonel.’ He briefly touched his hand to Huber’s shoulder. ‘This is a social gathering, not the occasion for a political lecture, so let me just say that while I may have come here to inspire your faith, it is my faith in our ultimate victory that has been inspired by what I have witnessed today. How can we fail in our sacred task when our country is capable of such marvels of technology? Allow me to answer your toast with one of my own.’ Unexpectedly, he swung towards Graf and gave him a gracious bow before lifting his glass. ‘To the genius of our German scientists!’

Graf was uncertain whether or not he was supposed to stand. In the end, he did, and raised his empty glass with the rest.

‘To our German scientists!’

When they had resumed their seats, Huber gestured to Graf. ‘Doctor? Would you care to say a few words in reply?’ And make amends? his tone implied.

Graf smiled and shook his head. ‘I’m not a man for speeches.’

‘There is no need for a speech,’ said Biwack. ‘Could you not tell us something of your work with Professor von Braun?’

‘I would not know where to begin,’ he said truthfully. How could one compress half a lifetime into a couple of after-dinner anecdotes? He suddenly wished von Braun were there. He would have had them mesmerised in a minute. There was no one he could not charm, not even Hitler. When he laughed, he would throw back that huge patrician head of his and stick out his broad chin in unfeigned delight, like a youthful FDR, and you were sure he must be the greatest fellow in the world. He was certainly the greatest salesman. But Graf was well aware he was no von Braun, and all he could say was, ‘He is a brilliant engineer, I can tell you that much.’

There was a pause.

‘Well then,’ said Huber with a glare at Graf, ‘I suppose we shall have to leave it at that. Goodnight, gentlemen.’

He caught up with Graf in the street outside as the engineer was walking back to his billet – grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the shadow of the hotel. ‘What the devil was that all about?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t give me that! You know what I mean. You sounded like a complete defeatist in front of that Nazi shit. “Let’s launch twelve hundred”! It reflects badly on us all.’

‘It’s not defeatism, Colonel, it’s simply realism. We may have to lie to the public – I understand that. But what’s the point of lying to ourselves?’

‘The point? The point is to avoid being picked up by