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Even when he reached the comforting oblivion of the cloud cover, Sneum sensed that the danger wasn’t over. He knew the Germans would send up any fighters they had if the flak failed to find its mark. From what he could see through occasional breaks in the clouds, the night sky was no longer pock-marked by small explosions. The guns below had fallen ominously silent and there had to be a reason why. Twice he doubled back, anticipating the threat of unwelcome visitors. He flew in wide circles, always using the natural cover.

At first the Messerschmitt would have waited in clearer skies, working on the theory that sooner or later the mystery aircraft must head out to sea. When the Moth didn’t reappear, however, Meinicke’s man probably followed the rogue plane up through the clouds, to seek out his target from above. The two planes might well have been flying blind in opposite directions on several occasions. At any rate, gambling the Messerschmitt was hunting to the east, Sneum suddenly made a break for the west, out over the North Sea in the direction of England.

If the Messerschmitt pilot ever saw his intended target, perhaps he was fooled by the similarity between the Danish cross that had been painted on the Hornet Moth and the Luftwaffe cross found on all German aircraft. At any rate, to their amazement, Sneum and Pedersen continued to fly out over open sea unchallenged. Meinicke could and perhaps should have ordered his pilot to follow, but there was no pursuit. It’s possible he felt that the threat to the radar installation had receded, so there was no need for such ruthlessness. Nevertheless, it seems a miracle that the Hornet wasn’t intercepted. Quite how Sneum and Pedersen survived in the skies over Fanoe, no one would ever know.

Chapter 11

WING-WALKER

‘LOOK, THERE!’ YELLED PEDERSEN when they had put plenty of North Sea between themselves and Denmark.

What greeted Tommy’s eyes as he followed Kjeld’s gaze filled him with such relief that only now did he fully realize the immense pressure he had been under. He remembered that moment with joy: ‘There was an opening in the clouds and we saw the North Star right on the starboard side. I was so happy. It meant we were on the right course, flying due west, and we both knew it immediately.’

They had distrusted the compass right from the start, but it hadn’t let them down badly after all. And if the Moth continued to fly like this, then the north-east coast of England lay only a few hours away. They were cold, but pretty soon they realized they had been flying over the North Sea for an hour without incident. They almost relaxed, and freedom felt well within their grasp. Then the Hornet’s engine stopped.

At least, that’s what it sounded like, for a fraction of a second, before it spluttered back to life. ‘No words will ever convey the sheer terror we felt during the following minutes,’ admitted Sneum decades later, ‘but we didn’t panic.’ The pilots shot each other a horrified glance and listened in silence for a possible repeat. There it was again, a clanking sound and a strangled groan as the engine threatened to cut out completely. ‘We just about went through the roof with fear,’ Tommy said. ‘But I was also thinking about how the hell I could get out of this situation.’

The first thing he needed was help from his instruments to diagnose the problem. ‘Light, for God’s sake,’ screamed Tommy.

Every half an hour, Kjeld had fed the luminescence of the radium-painted control dials with his torch. Now he hardly dared read what he saw there. ‘The oil pressure’s flickering between point-five and zero,’ he shouted. ‘What’s it supposed to be again?’

‘Three-point-five,’ replied Sneum.

‘I thought we’d had it,’ admitted Tommy later. ‘Apparently the oil gauge was working, since the needle was oscillating, and that led to the disastrous conclusion that the whole oil system had broken down. That, in turn, would cause the engine to burn to pieces in a few minutes. Without hesitation