The Hornet's Sting_ The Amazing Untold Story of World War II Spy Thomas Sneum - Mark Ryan [46]
‘Denmark,’ repeated Sneum.
The Canadian laughed. ‘Impossible.’
The two exhausted Danes watched the Spitfire pilot return to his cronies and relay the details of their brief exchange. Then a voice from the huddle rang across the canteen. ‘Well, if you ask me, they’re German spies.’
The room fell silent. Sneum was seething. He and Kjeld had been in England barely an hour, yet already they had been shot at and accused of treachery.
Despite the insults, their hosts weren’t without compassion: the Danes were shown to beds in the sick bay, and invited to sleep until lunchtime. The fresh linen felt luxurious, though they didn’t stay awake long enough to savour it.
Back in Denmark, Lieutenant Poul Andersen called the police and reported that his plane had been stolen. The farmer was interrogated later that day by policemen from Odense. Their superiors from Copenhagen, and even the Germans, were informed. The authorities correctly suspected that Andersen had cooperated with the ‘thieves’, but he was a hard man and a capable actor—he managed to summon passable anger when required to express his feelings for whoever had made off with the Hornet Moth, his pride and joy. Since neither the Danish police nor the Germans had any concrete proof that Andersen had been involved, they had little choice but to accept his story and let him go about his business.
Andersen’s consolation for his interrogation came that evening, when he tuned in to the BBC: ‘Two Danes have arrived in England this morning,’ the broadcaster announced. He didn’t elaborate. For Andersen, though, the brief message confirmed that the risks they had all taken to defy the Nazi occupation had been worthwhile. He was confident he knew precisely who those ‘two Danes’ were; and that meant his Hornet Moth had made it in one piece, too. Perhaps he allowed himself to believe that he would get the plane back at the end of the war. At that moment in 1941, however, the recovery of his property wasn’t important. He had done something to undermine the Germans, and he could allow his granite features to crack into a smile of satisfaction. His stubborn little sports plane had defied the odds, and helped to make the dreams of two brave if slightly crazy young men come true.
In Acklington, Tommy and Kjeld were allowed to shower. To feel hot water on their backs instead of freezing fuel was glorious. They were treated to more hot food for lunch before being taken to their first interrogation. The inquisitors were Wing Commander Pringley, Flight Lieutenant Lord Tangerville and Flight Officer Forest. They were polite and their questioning remained relatively superficial. They never challenged the answers they received, which they wrote down officiously for some kind of preliminary report. Occasionally they sought simple clarification on an issue they didn’t understand. Sneum thought it was all too easy. He had a feeling that the serious business would be conducted elsewhere.
That afternoon Tommy and Kjeld were put in a car, driven to Regional Headquarters near the town of Morpeth, and told to relate their story from the beginning again. This time the questions were more searching, and the Danes’ answers were sometimes accepted with a detectable scepticism, although they were still never challenged outright. Sneum and Pedersen remained calm, knowing that patience would be the key to getting through this initial phase, and their composure seemed to have paid off when the British abruptly concluded proceedings and offered their uninvited guests a remarkable piece of hospitality. The ‘prisoners’ were escorted to a restaurant in Morpeth and treated to a lavish evening meal, free to choose from the menu like any other customers. The only sombre moment came when a radio broadcast from Winston Churchill announced that the Germans had invaded Russia.