Higgins grimaced, as he fidgeted to be more comfortable. ‘Yes, that will be lovely dear,’ he said forcibly. ‘Providing of course, you appreciate, that in my current predicament, your list of house jobs, you have for me will have to remain on hold,’ he added.
She kissed her husband on the forehead ‘But of course I do, dear,’ she replied sarcastically, and walked out of the room.
At Baikonur Cosmodrome, Dieter Muller looked at his watch, then put on a great coat, pulled back the blast doors and walked outside the Control Room. Despite the time of year, being situated in a barren desert region, meant that the crosswinds could make the area quite cold at times, as well as hazardous, with regular sandstorms, causing irreparable damage to the equipment.
Outside, Muller was relieved to feel that the winds were not so severe this morning. He spied a technician securing some supplies, walked over to him and reaching into his pocket to take out a packet of cigarettes, offered him one. The technician looked to his left and right, assuring himself, no officials were in the area, to report him for smoking on duty. He took one and smiled, nodding in appreciation at the German engineer. ‘Thank you, Comrade Muller.’
The German lit the technician’s cigarette for him. ‘I don’t understand, Sergei. It is a Saturday. We should all be in our houses enjoying a good breakfast, with our families, then perhaps going for a walk in this beautiful spring sunshine. Instead, we are here, standing next to this… this cylinder of fire, ready to impress, or disappoint the authorities again.’
The technician gestured in agreement. He looked across the plains at the rocket. ‘The trouble is, Comrade, that we are now so far behind the Americans, we need to make every day count, and therefore, this morning, I know, I cannot be with my adorable Katiya.’ He turned, looking out in the distance, towards the built-up area of Leninsk City. ‘How is your son, Comrade Muller?’
Muller sighed. ‘He is fine and strong, Sergei. He is also just beginning to take his first steps. It would be my bad luck, he does it today, while I am here.’
The technician placed his arm on Muller. ‘Then, he will wait until you are home again, so you and your lovely wife, are both there to share this big moment together.’
Muller flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the concrete. ‘I hope you are right, Sergei, I have to go back inside now, and prepare for the Vice Premier’s visit. We will talk at the launch, my friend.’
Sergei waved his hand. ‘Thank you for the cigarette, Comrade Muller.’
Muller put his finger to his lips, and winked at him. The technician nodded, also throwing his cigarette butt onto the floor, he carried on with his work in securing a collection of empty canisters.
Chapter 33
It was late afternoon, when Swan entered the hospital and approached a nurse at the desk. ‘I’m here to see Air Commodore Higgins.’
The nurse recognised the name of the patient, informing Swan, that Higgins was in Room 11.
Swan acknowledged a uniformed police officer sitting on a wooden chair, outside the private room, who approved the visit, after Swan showed his credentials. Swan thanked the officer, and knocked on the door. Hearing the gruff invitation from behind it, the SID man stepped inside. ‘I thought there may be someone here, that I owe my life to,’ he quipped.
Higgins smiled beamingly. He was pleased to see his friend. ‘Alex, come in, dear boy and take a seat. All part of the service you know, catching bullets, that were meant for my friends,’ joked Higgins. Again, he tried not to laugh.
Swan sat in the big chair, next to the bed. ‘So how are you doing, old boy? Arthur and I, were so relieved to hear that you hadn’t bought it underneath an ascending Harrier Jump Jet. Mind you, I suppose, it would’ve been a wonderful way to go.’
Higgins smiled, shifting in his bed. ‘Still quite painful Alex. But now and again, one of those pretty nurses come around with the morphine, which seems to do the trick for a bit.’
Swan looked around the room. ‘Is Lady Higgins, still here?’
‘No, she’s gone back to our flat in the Duke of York Barracks. She’s decided to stay in London, until I can get out of here. She went as soon as Roger Porter turned up. He’s my biographer. I guess that she didn’t want to hear another endless account of my wartime escapades.’
Swan smiled. ‘Not writing your memoirs already, are you, Sir Alistair?’
Higgins sighed. ‘Well, I’ve sort of been conned into it. I bumped into Roger at a dinner party. He was in the RAF during the war, and is now a writer. We got talking, and it seems that I have quite a bit to tell, so we’ve started on my flying days. He just dropped in to ask me how I happened to come by my ‘Hammer’ monocle.’
Swan was suddenly intrigued. ‘Yes, just how did you get that exactly? I assumed that it was during the Battle of Britain.’
Higgins shook his head. ‘No, actually it was towards the end of the war.’
Higgins explained that after the liberation of Paris, his unit had moved east, towards the German border, and up to that time, had operated from landing grounds across France, encountering very little resistance from the Luftwaffe. They had then moved to a former German bomber base at Nancy, to carry out hit and run attacks across the German lines, and had just settled in. They had also been informed by intelligence sources, that the infamous Black Wolf Squadron, were close by, on the German side, and any day now, they could run into them. ‘The Black Wolf unit was led by fighter ace and pre-war stunt pilot, Uri Reinhardt. Goering had instructed him to set up a special unit, an airborne SS to keep the Allies at bay, should they advance into Germany. Reinhardt was given the pick of the crop of fellow ace fighter pilots, and formed the squadron, just days before the D-Day landings. The deadly Focke Wulf 190A-6 fighters that made up the squadron, were painted in a black camouflage. The cheeky blighters even had an insignia badge on the engine cowlings, incorporating a hungry looking black wolf.’ Higgins added.
He continued, explaining that two days after arriving at Nancy, in the fading early evening, his squadron were in the mess having a lively game of Gin Rummy, when they had suddenly heard the drone of powerful aircraft engines, followed by cannon fire and explosions. ‘The boys had rushed outside to see a swarm of all black FW-190s, flying low and firing at their planes.’ Higgins recalled, ‘I knew instantly, that it was Reinhardt. Who else could it be? We lost two of our Tempests, that night. They then circled and came in again. I was standing next to my ground crew chief, Mike Newell, when Reinhardt himself swooped in and strafed the ground in front of us. Mike took a full round in the chest, which killed him instantly. My temper and frustration at this routing was beginning to get to me, and I cursed the German ace, as he flew over the base. Then suddenly, I saw something being thrown out of his cockpit on a small parachute. I feared that it was a bomb, and ducked for cover with some other of my colleagues. Then, it fell and nothing happened. The Germans flew off, leaving this small package lying next to our mess hut.’ Higgins paused to adjust himself in his bed, then continued, mentioning eventually the armourer boys has been called in to look at it and after inspection, bewilderingly held up a bottle of German Hock wine, which had been wrapped in a pillow. ‘A note, written in perfect English, had been attached to the bottle:
To the brave squadrons of the Allies. Please enjoy your last drink on us
See you soon in combat
The Black Wolves