The Hornet's Sting_ The Amazing Untold Story of World War II Spy Thomas Sneum - Mark Ryan [7]
When he saw the remains of his dog, and the intruder with a shotgun, the guard aimed his rifle as if ready to exact instant revenge. Rather than fire, though, he shouted: ‘Put it down. Now!’ Sneum thought it wise to comply, and also raised his hands in the air. The guard was still shaking with anger as he walked forward; and there were tears in his eyes. The steel bayonet attached to the barrel of the German’s rifle was soon an inch from Tommy’s temple.
‘Look, there’s no need for this,’ Sneum suggested as calmly as he could, in fluent German. ‘I had no choice but to shoot. Your dog was about to rip my throat out. I don’t know why. I was just hunting.’
‘Hunting?’ The German wasn’t buying it. ‘No one is allowed here.’ ‘I have a permit,’ Tommy insisted. ‘Why wasn’t your dog on a leash?’
‘I’ll ask the questions, not you!’ screamed the guard. ‘Now move!’
‘I’ll do as you say,’ said Sneum, then added, ‘but I’ll report you, too.’
He was frog-marched to an office just inside the perimeter of the German base. ‘This bastard has just shot my dog,’ the soldier told his colleagues. ‘What shall we do with him?’
Typically, Sneum suppressed his fear and moved on to the attack. ‘Now look, if you carry on like this, I’ll make sure Hauptmann Meinicke hears about your behavior. He’s a personal friend of mine. Your dog was out of control and an obvious threat. Under Danish law, I was well within my rights to shoot it.’
The Germans looked at one another for a moment. The mention of their commanding officer’s name had clearly given them food for thought.
‘Take his name and address then get him out of here.’ Having delivered his verdict, the guard in charge turned on the troublemaker. ‘We’d better not see you around here again. Believe me, you won’t be so lucky if we do, whether you know Hauptmann Meinicke or not.’
When he next met the formerly amiable Meinicke, Sneum noticed immediately that the Hauptmann’s jovial manner had disappeared. There was no more banter about how quickly Hitler would win the war. And there was no apology for the dog’s sudden attack, or for the threats from his guards. Worse still, as he led the young islander to his office, Meinicke behaved as though he now required proof of Tommy’s allegiance.
‘Flight Lieutenant Sneum,’ said the German officer rather formally, ‘some of our bigger vessels have been experiencing some difficulties trying to negotiate the narrow sea-lane around Fanoe as they approach Esbjerg on the mainland.’
‘Is that so?’ Tommy sensed he was about to be pushed further than he wanted to go.
‘Indeed it is. In fact, some of our ships have almost run aground. So I wonder if you could help us.’
Sneum looked for a way out. ‘Hauptmann Meinicke, I’m an aircraft pilot, not a ship’s pilot.’
‘But you’re a navy man, you’re an islander and you know the waters. We just need confirmation of the best way into Esbjerg. And it so happens that I have a map right here.’
Tommy had to think quickly. He could give Meinicke false information about the sea depths around Fanoe and Esbjerg, but this could easily be checked and he would soon be found out. If he wanted to solve the mystery of the installation, he would have to cooperate. Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a betrayal. The so-called secrets of the channel could be found in any copy of Danish Harbour Pilot, the bible of the Danish Navy, so Sneum was sceptical that the Germans had encountered any navigational problems: he strongly suspected this was a test; and if it was, he didn’t intend to fail. But he still felt uncomfortable as he studied the map and finally opened his mouth.
‘The trick is to approach from here,’ he said, pointing to a specific coordinate. ‘Only start