The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [39]
'For two or three minutes only. Of course, once we're airborne, the darker the better, but unless you want to end up on top of the Victory Column ...' He shrugged.
'Anything but that, Captain,' Strasser said. 'It should, however, prove an exhilarating few minutes.'
Ritter went and sat on a packing case near the door. He put a cigarette in his mouth and felt for a match. Strasser walked across and produced a lighter.
'Thank you,' Ritter said.
'Is there anything you would like me to explain?'
'I don't think so,' Ritter said. 'The Reichsleiter's orders were quite explicit.'
'Good, then I think I'll get a little rest. Something tells me I'm going to need my strength before the night is out.'
He moved away, and Hoffer, who had been hovering nearby, came and squatted beside Ritter, his back against the wall. 'Well, what did he have to say?'
'What did you expect?' Ritter asked.
'Didn't he offer you some sort of explanation?'
'He asked me if there was anything I'd like him to explain, I said there wasn't. Is that what you meant?'
'Yes, Major.' Hoffer's voice sounded totally resigned now. 'That was exactly what I meant.'
At 11.30 the Russian bombardment started again, spasmodically at first, but within fifteen minutes it was in full throat.
Berger stood by the doors, checking his watch in the light of his torch. At five minutes to midnight precisely he said, 'All right, let's have those doors open and take her out.'
The night sky was very dark, occasionally illuminated by brilliant flashes as shells exploded, although they seemed to be concentrating on the area further to the east. The four men took the Storch out between them, two on each wing, and turned her round in the side-street. There was just enough room, the wall on either side only inches away from the wingtips.
The sounds of battle increased in the middle distance and Berger, who pushed beside Ritter, said, 'Just think, hundreds of thousands of people trapped in this holocaust tonight face certain death and yet if the engine starts and the propeller turns, we by some special dispensation will live.'
'Perhaps - perhaps not.'
'You've no faith, my friend.'
'Ask me again when we're passing over the Victory Column.'
They turned the Storch into the East-West Avenue, the wheels crunching over broken glass.
'What about your wind direction, Berger?' Strasser asked. 'These things should always be pointing the right way, am I right?'
'As far as I can judge, there's a crosswind,' Berger said. 'North to south, not that it makes much difference. We don't after all, have a great deal of choice.'
The avenue was very dark and quiet, the Russian artillery devoting itself exclusively to the district around Potsdamerplatz. Berger said, 'Right, everybody in except Major Ritter.'
Ritter said, 'What do you want me to do?'
Berger handed him a flare gun and cartridge. 'Walk up the avenue about fifty yards and wait. The moment you hear the engine start, fire the pistol, then turn and run back as fast as you like.'
'All right,' Ritter said. 'I think I can handle that.'
Hoffer pulled at his sleeve. 'Let me, Major.'
'Don't be stupid,' Ritter said coldly.
He walked away into the darkness, suddenly angry, with himself as well as Hoffer. The sergeant-major meant well, he knew that, but there were times ... Perhaps they'd been together for too long.
He was counting out the paces under his breath as he walked, and now he paused and rammed the cartridge home. It was quiet except for the dull rumble of the guns, and when the engine of the Fieseler Storch roared into life, the noise was shattering.
Ritter raised the pistol and fired a couple of seconds later, the flare started to descend on its parachute, bathing the avenue in a cold, white glare for a few moments only.
There were two Russian tanks and half a company of infantry sixty or seventy yards up the street. Ritter saw the white faces, heard the voices raised excitedly, and turned and ran like hell towards the Storch.
They picked him up on the move, Strasser holding the door open while Hoffer reached out