Once More the Hawks Read Free Page A

side.’
    ‘Think he will?’
    Udet shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem to follow our Party line, nor theirs either, but if half Poland’s the prize, then it’s a possibility.’
    The following morning, they took off from the Tempelhof with Udet alongside Dicken and Babington in the rear of the machine. From 2000 feet it was quite easy to see the new airfields that were springing up and they duly recorded them by the simple procedure, while Udet admired the view or commented on the layout of the instrument panel and the handling of the machine, of Dicken reaching casually under his seat and pressing the hidden button.
    Beneath them they could see the whole layout of the German capital and, finding themselves over what was clearly a new airfield, Dicken pretended to shield his eyes from the view.
    Udet laughed heartily. ‘Berlin’s a splendid city,’ he said. ‘Built on the formation of the German Empire in 1870 to become the capital of a great European nation. It’s a symbol of German pride.’
    ‘It would be a pity to see it all destroyed, Erni.’
    ‘That would be impossible.’ Udet’s voice carried conviction. ‘Berlin’s too far from any enemy airfield.’
    The city seemed to be full of uniforms. Germany had always enjoyed smart tunics and caps and even the most junior officials wore them, but at that moment every hotel seemed crammed with them and they were obvious in every street. Another party was held in the evening at which Udet produced half a dozen wartime fliers, one of them a man Dicken had shot down during his last desperate fight with Udet’s Staffel. He was plump and balding with a deep scar on his face, acquired as his machine had crash-landed. But there was no apparent resentment and the atmosphere was cheerful, though the next morning as Dicken and Babington waited to pick up the receipts for the film they had brought the city seemed to have changed. The newspapers were full of fabricated insults to Germany by Poland and tension seemed to have mounted. From the front of the hotel, they could see squads of troops marching by, the sound of their feet ominous and loud. Staff cars carrying the Nazi swastika kept passing.
    ‘Faster than yesterday, don’t you think, Bab?’ Dicken said.
    Babington’s face was grim. ‘It’s a bit like sitting on a gunpowder barrel with the fuse burning,’ he agreed.
    That evening the city was plunged into darkness as blackout exercises were carried out but inside the hotel little seemed to have changed except for the fact that the uniforms seemed suddenly fewer and the men wearing those they saw were edgy and worried. When Udet arrived he was in civilian clothes and looked depressed. ‘We’ve signed a non-aggression pact with Russia,’ he said immediately. ‘They wouldn’t sign anything like that unless they intended to use it. I’ve been told to stand by. They didn’t say what for but it seems pretty obvious to me.’
    Dicken frowned. ‘It’ll mean war, Erni.’
    Udet’s shrug seemed defeated. ‘Ribbentrop doesn’t think so,’ he said. ‘He says Britain’s too decadent to go to war over Poland.’
    ‘Tell him not to be too sure.’
    Udet gestured. ‘For the love of God, Dicko, you can’t get at Poland except through Germany! How can you help her?’
    There was considerably less friendliness in the hotel by this time and even a few overt sneers, and the following evening the expected telegram arrived – ‘Mother ill.’
    That it was time to leave became obvious the next day when Udet arrived once more.
    ‘I think you’d better go, Dicko,’ he said. ‘I can tell you now in strict confidence if you give your word of honour not to pass it on, that orders have been prepared for the march into Poland. I’ve just learned.’ His eyes were watching every face as if he felt people might read his lips. ‘It was due to take place in forty-eight hours but I’ve just heard the order might have to be withdrawn. Some problem over that oaf, Mussolini.