The Hornet's Sting by Mark Ryan Page B

there. But the prospect of death by electrocution instantly tempered the pilots’ elation. With clearing the power cables no longer an option, both men realized their lives now depended upon staying low enough to duck under them instead. Sneum remembered: ‘Io go down, keep the engine running full speed and try not to climb.’ He had to perform the stunt at about 100 kilometers per hour, or 55 knots. For Sneum to attempt to achieve that speed without gaining altitude seemed like mission impossible. He was a good pilot, but this sort of aerobatics might demand more skill than even he possessed. The cables were perilously close now, hanging little more than twenty meters above the field. Sneum held his nerve and braced himself, while Pedersen hardly dared look. Just above them, the wires flashed past like cheese-cutters. The anxious pilots waited for what seemed like the inevitable collision. To their amazement, none came.
    Now, though, the embankment and train rose before them. And going under them was not an option. As Tommy hauled back on the joystick, Pedersen gestured frantically, his palms turned to the sky, his arms flapping. ‘Up! Up!’ he screamed. Something stung the Hornet Moth into action. Up she reared, banking steeply to port, until the embankment was almost scaled. But while Tommy tried to work his magic, he saw that the train was about to crush the plane’s left wing. The wing tip was level with the top of the engine, which was hurtling towards them. The next few seconds would decide their fate. Sneum caught sight of the train driver and his fireman, seemingly both hypnotized as the Hornet Moth flew towards them. ‘They were looking as though we had just fallen down from the moon,’ Tommy said later. Those on the train ducked as if to avoid decapitation, but in an instant they were left again to their own world, with their heads and bodies still happily connected. Tommy had cleared them with no more than five or six meters to spare. The plane was still in one piece and so were the pilots. Now there was just the small matter of what the Third Reich might throw at them before they reached the North Sea.

Chapter 10
     

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL
    T OMMY CHECKED THE accuracy of the plane’s compass against the railway track, which he knew ran directly from east to west. Something was wrong; the instrument was a full thirty degrees wide of the mark. Sneum checked again but the compass was still thirty degrees out. At least there was no variation in its lack of accuracy. Therefore, if he compensated by thirty degrees each time, Tommy was confident he could still plot their course effectively. Unfortunately, however, their problems weren’t confined to the compass.
    ‘How is she flying, Sneum?’ Pedersen had to shout to make himself heard above the racket of the engine. The answer he received wasn’t encouraging.
    ‘The left wing feels twice as heavy as the right, everything is out of alignment, the nose pulls down and she seems to have a life of her own.’
    Kjeld looked even more afraid than before. ‘Christ, can we make it?’
    ‘Of course we’ll make it.’
    They flew across the island of Fyn and came out over the Lille Belt Channel near the town of Assens. There, Pedersen looked down on the starboard side and spotted the interrupted flash of a light. The Germans were sending up a message in Morse code. ‘Identify yourselves,’ it read.
    The Danish duo looked at each other and decided to ignore it. Seconds later, over Bogoe, a tiny island between Jutland, they looked down again and saw a light moving on a straight course across the water. It was a worrying sight for the pilots. With their request ignored, it seemed the Germans had sent up one of their naval aircraft to investigate.
    Sneum and Pedersen thrust their white flag back up through the pierced cockpit roof, but otherwise they felt helpless. The Hornet Moth lacked the power to outrun the enemy. All they could do was train their eyes on the