V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,60
his trunks beneath the towel, wobbling first on one leg, then the other. A brief kiss on her warm cheek, a last taste of salt from the sea, and abruptly she was gone, walking in the direction of the old pre-war hotel where most of the single women lived.
Irritated, his good mood spoilt, Graf made his way back along the forest road in the humid twilight, through the security gate to the Experimental Works compound. His bachelor apartment, one of a dozen allotted to senior engineers, including von Braun, was on the second floor of Building 5, next to the main offices. He showered in cold water in an effort to cool off, draped his trunks on the bathroom windowsill to dry, and lay naked on his bed under a single sheet.
He had expected an enemy air raid sooner or later. Several times that summer he had looked up and seen a thin line of vapour, like the scratch of a fingernail, high in the cloudless cobalt blue. He suspected they were being photographed by the British. Even so, when the air raid siren woke him just after midnight, his first instinct was to stay in bed, listening out for the usual drone of the enemy formations as they streamed overhead down ‘Berlin Alley’ on their way to bomb the capital. He waited for the all-clear. Minutes passed. Then came the rapid thump-thump-thump of anti-aircraft fire. He sprang out of bed and went to the window. The full moon was brilliant. In its quicksilver flood, the buildings cast sharp shadows. Beyond the workshops and laboratories, a spray of multicoloured flak was rising from the harbour battery like a strand of glass beads. Strange configurations of lights – red, green, yellow – seemed to hang in the sky like Christmas decorations. White flares descended slowly by parachute. Machine-gun fire rattled from the rooftops. It all seemed to be happening towards the south of the island. He watched for a while, then it occurred to him he ought to get to a shelter. He was still pulling on his shoes when a huge detonation blew out the window where he had been standing a moment before.
He ran along the corridor of the apartment block and down the stairs. The front door lay across the steps, blown off its hinges by an aerial mine. It rose and fell like a see-saw as he stepped across it into the swirling rosy fog created by the artificial smoke screens. The scene was surreal, dreamlike. Here and there the chemical gauze flickered pink and red from the burning buildings. The full moon seemed to be hurtling through gaps in the mist. He could see a wash of stars, the brilliant narrow beams of the searchlights duelling across the sky. The bombers were invisible, but he could hear their heavy engines, very low and loud, in between the deafening crashes of explosions shaking the ground. Shadowy figures ran past him in panic. For perhaps a minute, he stood transfixed, as if he were merely a member of the audience at some fantastical son et lumière. Only when he became aware of the intense heat did his residual fear of an explosion bring him to his senses. He set off quickly down the street, around the corner, towards the air raid shelter.
At the bottom of the steps, in the low concrete chamber, a dozen figures crouched around the walls. It was newly dug out; it stank of lime. The overhead lamp swung with each detonation. The light flickered. He recognised the faces of some of the engineers. Nobody was speaking. They were looking at the floor. Gradually the time between the explosions became longer, and after five minutes of silence, Graf decided to go in search of Karin.
In the bright moonlight he could see that the headquarters building had been destroyed, and the design block and the mess hall, but the wind tunnel and the telemetry labs were untouched. He went out through the security gate and set off down the road. It was covered by fine white sand, as if a storm had passed through. He could still hear a lot of aeroplanes overhead. Tiny pieces of aircraft debris, shrapnel fragments and spent bullet casings were pattering like hailstones across the road and through the trees. A Lancaster bomber with one of its engines trailing fire streaked low across the sky and disappeared in the direction of the sea. One of the rocket storage buildings in the