“They will strike this or next night, General,” said Richtengden confidently, “and if the Russian marksman is there, which I do not doubt, our troops will be attacked by night bombers. The marksman always uses tactics that once proved to be effective, repeatedly. Recall the situation with the bridge over the Dnieper. Almost immediately after its destruction, the Russian again used heavy howitzers to destroy the barrier put up by Major Schliemann. Now he had a positive experience with the bombers. I'm pretty sure he'll want to do it again, but on a new level and on a different scale.”
“And do you know how to stop it, Colonel?”
“We've had this problem before,” Richtengden nodded. “British bombers fly to bomb our cities precisely at night, and the Luftwaffe has learned well how to drop the Royal Air Force's Wellingtons from the sky. I have an acquaintance, Major Helm, and I have encountered him on some cases before the war. Now he is working on introducing the latest advances in radiolocation into the air defense system of our cities. He informed me that at the beginning of August, the range tests of the Lichtenstein onboard radar was successfully completed in Rechlin, and a group of engineers from Telefunken had installed several such stations on night fighters based at Leeuwarden. At first, our pilots made faces when too many external antennas were attached to their planes. In this case, the aircraft does lose speed, and the weighting of the nose leads to a decrease in controllability.
However, Oberleutnant Becker[1] in his Dornier equipped with an on-board radar shot down the Wellington flying to bomb Hamburg on the night of August 9-10. In his next night flights he scored five more impressive victories.”
“And you suggest that I convince the Luftwaffe command to move these planes near Kiev?”
“Not only them, Herr General. The marksman points the bombers at the target using radio communication. We'll need the best jamming systems we can find in the Reich, if we really want to upset the Russians' plans.”
“It's not going to be easy, Colonel, especially in terms of night fighters. I'm afraid I'll have to get approval from the very top.”
“The Russian will almost certainly be aboard one of the bombers. He can't know we have fighters able to reach the target without using ground searchlights, and that gives us a chance to close the marksman issue once and for all.”
The General strode thoughtfully through the office and stopped again at the map.
“Perhaps I'll find the right words for Admiral Canaris,” he nodded to his own thoughts. “The liquidation of the Russian troops encircled near Kiev is now considered the most important task on the entire Eastern Front, and no one wants to jeopardize it. Get ready, Colonel. You're flying into Guderian's Second Panzer Group today. I expect a detailed plan of the operation with a list of everything you need within an hour.”
“Note, this gun has its own specificity – high muzzle velocity. Accordingly, when shooting at an airborne target, you have to make a much smaller deflection than usual.”
Lena nodded seriously, but it was obvious that for her it was just words, and she did not yet understand how to put it into practice.
“Well, if it's clear to you, then let's shoot at the wooden model.”
At my request, Ignatov made a rather crude wooden model of a Messerschmitt. I did not need a detailed reproduction of the enemy plane, but it was necessary to accurately match the size ratio of the mockup to the real fighter. We naturally did not have the opportunity to conduct practical firing on the planes, but we could have plenty of fun simulating this fascinating process.
“Once again, the model is 40 times smaller than the real target, but it is also much closer to you, so when you shoot at the real enemy, it will look exactly the same as you see it now.”
I showed Lena two thin strips about a meter long, semi-rigidly fastened to the mockup, “With this simple device I will simulate the flight of a Messerschmitt. You point the gun at the target using deflection and pull the trigger. No shot, of course, but every time I'll tell you if you hit or miss.”
I finally figured out how to use my abilities to train our sniper to shoot at aerial targets. After all, promises have to be kept, and I didn't consider it possible to put it off any longer. The computer told me if the weapon was correctly aimed at the moment of firing, and Lena could practice as much as she wanted, or rather, as long as the superiors let us do it.
The "plane" made a standard U-turn, approaching the target, and I heard the dry click of the trigger.
“Missed! The deflection needs to be further reduced. In addition, the bullet went slightly above the target. We start again. I need you not just to hit the hull of the plane, but to hit the cockpit, the engine, or the fuel tank on my command. Let's go!”
Snap!
“Missed! The deflection was normal, but the bullet went lower. You incorrectly accounted for the angle of lift of the plane when exiting the attack. One more time!”
Snap!
“Bingo! Already better, you punctured its vertical stabilizer. The target, unfortunately, is still combat-ready. Are you ready? Let's keep going!”
“Missed!”
“Comrade Senior Lieutenant, allow me to address you!”
I turned around. Sergeant Nikiforov was standing at the exit to the courtyard.
“You are ordered to report immediately to the office of Comrade Senior Major.”
This could only mean one thing: the decision on my proposal has finally been made. I wonder what it is. I nodded to Lena and walked quickly toward the building.
The weirdness started towards the end of the day. First, the pilot received an order from air division headquarters to prepare for takeoff and await the arrival of a special NKVD representative, who was to be received on board and given access to surveillance equipment.
Lieutenant Kalina had landed his twin-engine Pe-2R at the airfield only a few hours before, and he knew very well, that the rare breaks in low cloud cover gave very little chance of seeing anything below. Besides, the Germans were just rampant. It was a good thing that the bomber, converted into a reconnaissance plane, was almost as fast as the Messerschmitts, but they still had to run away twice at full speed and even to shoot. They, of course, brought back some pictures, but Kalina himself clearly understood that, by and large, this flight was in vain.
And now he has to fly again, diving into that cloudy mess again, taking fire from the ground and constantly fearing attacks from enemy fighters. And then there's that special representative…
The hum of the engines distracted the Lieutenant from his thoughts. A PS-84 transport plane, escorted by three fighters, was coming in for a landing. To the Lieutenant's surprise, the Yaks did not leave for their airfield, but began to approach after the transport plane.
“This is your cover, Lieutenant,” said the squadron commander, who approached discreetly from behind, and nodded toward the Yaks.
“And why should I be honored like that, Comrade Captain?” Kalina pulled off his flight helmet and ruffled his hair.
“It's not for you,” said the commander, with a chuckle, “you're under the command of the senior lieutenant of state security for the duration of the flight. You and I are better off not knowing the name of this comrade, but any order he gives you is a law.”
A rather young officer in a NKVD uniform was heading toward them at a brisk pace from the transport plane. Kalina put his helmet back on and prepared to report in full form.
The commander of the German African Corps, General Erwin Rommel, watched grimly as his divisions were loaded onto transport ships. The port of Tripoli was full of tanks, guns,