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It is not known whether Christophersen suffered added complications, such as engine trouble. Since little was left of plane or pilot by 1.36 a.m., a thorough examination was ruled out. His Blenheim had crashed into fields near Bottersford, by the Great North Road, a kilometer to the east of Allington. On impact, the plane had exploded into flames. Although an ambulance was called at 1.47 a.m., Flying Officer Small and Flight Sergeant Cox must have known when they saw the fire that their dash to the crash site was futile. Their examination of Sigfred’s charred body concluded that death had been instantaneous due to multiple injuries and burns. His remains were taken to the station mortuary at Grantham.

The following day, Squadron Leader Frigurson-Sibson commenced his investigation into the accident. He believed that Christophersen’s fatal error had been to lose sight of the flare-path. Sigfred had attempted his landing close enough to the genuine airfield to suggest that he had mistaken one of the Q sites for the real thing. What had been designed to fool the Germans had apparently been responsible for the death of one of the RAF’s own advanced trainees.

Perhaps, back in 1941, Sigfred Christophersen had foreseen his own fate. In death, he had proved that his dread of joining the RAF had been well founded.

There is no evidence to suggest that the accident was suspicious. When Anita Christophersen was informed of the tragedy, however, it wasn’t long before Sigfred’s heartbroken widow suggested that Tommy Sneum might be behind it. She had no evidence to back up her claims, though. So, despite her protestations, Christophersen’s death was accepted as a terrible but all-too-common accident in the rush to prepare pilots for aerial combat. Sigfred was buried at Grantham cemetery, Lincolnshire.

Predictably, Sneum was less than devastated when John Christmas Moeller told him that his old spy partner was dead. And he wasn’t about to pretend he was unhappy. He was more sorry for some of the other Danes who wouldn’t see the end of the war. Of the five men who had taken part in epic walks across the Oeresund from Denmark to Sweden in 1942, Sneum was now the only one left alive.

Chapter 48

REWARDS AND MEMORIES

ON 22 AUGUST a rocket bearing the serial number ‘V83’ crashed into a turnip field on the Danish island of Bornholm, having been fired from Peenemunde on the German coast. Lieutenant Commander Hasager Christiansen was quickly alerted and managed to take several photographs before the Germans arrived on the scene. He had one reel developed at a photographic shop on Bornholm itself, and sent prints to a new member of the Princes group, Lieutenant Commander Poul Moerch of Danish Naval Intelligence. Another, undeveloped reel of film was smuggled out of Bornholm at the same time.

Soon Duus Hansen was sending a message to Ronnie Turnbull in Stockholm, asking the Scot to let ‘Hannibal’ (in other words, SIS) know about the precious images, and to get back to him as soon as possible with details of where he should deliver them. Turnbull seized his chance to take control and ensure that SOE, rather than SIS, gained the credit for an extraordinary intelligence coup. ‘It wasn’t a question of “stealing SIS’s thunder”, as one historian claimed,’ insisted Ronnie. Even so, he replied to Duus Hansen like this:

You enclose a message to Hannibal in which you mention different telegrams about collaboration and coordination of plans. As a matter of fact these messages did not come from Hannibal, which is our intelligence organization [SIS], but from the operational people [SOE]. I wonder how it was you thought they came from Hannibal, since new intelligence questionnaires from Hannibal have always been prefixed Hannibal and other communications about our operations from my headquarters are still referred to as London. My headquarters are prepared to guarantee absolute full secrecy of your special messages to my headquarters undeveloped.