The Malta Enigma

By John Phipps

A holiday soon becomes an adventure when George Swift visits the lovely island of Malta for the first time in search of sun, sea and a well deserved rest.
He meets a beautiful and enigmatic woman who is there on a quest to discover her roots and find her Maltese ancestry. Other guests in the Hotel join them in trying to trace an inheritance left by her Maltese family and soon discover that there is much more to Malta than just a friendly, sunny holiday destination. The mystery gradually unfolds,sometimes putting them in danger as they uncover crimes and intrigue dating back to the Second World War.
The story has pace and detail, love and romance as the group head towards the final outcome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Phipps
• Release date: Jul 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301241415

John Phipps

John is a retired Sales Engineer.After a Grammar school education started work in an accounts office of a major London company.Did National Service in the RAF for two years as an Instrument Mechanic.Subsequently became an Aircraft Fitter, then a draughtsman with several Aviation and Instrument companies.Then working in the Industrial Control and Instrumentation Industry as A Technical Sales Engineer,and finally Sales Manager and Director.Other interests: Theatre, Golf and Modern History.John loves writing, and has had many articles published in different media. He started his first novel novel, 'THE MALTA ENIGMA' a few years ago, but like a lot of writers, shelved it for a few years owing to being involve in other projects.In the meantime, having been asked by younger relatives about his experiences in WW2, he wrote and published his first book, 'LIVING THROUGH A WAR' which was so successful, he was spurred on to complete the novel. The rest is history, as they say!'THE MALTA ENIGMA' was published July 2013, this being his first venture into fiction.It is an exciting detective mystery story, set in the beautiful island of Malta. It has pace and intrigue, as the protagonists uncover historic events and crimes dating back to World War Two Malta, and the Island's struggle for survival against the Nazi threat.The story also has a strong love interest as the chief character falls for a woman who has returned to the island to discover her ancestry.John's latest book 'PROTECTING PINS and PASSWORDS' is a simple guide to on-line security for home users.Other projects that John is working on include a book for young people aged 8- 18, which will hopefully become a series,and several ideas for semi-fictional war stories.Another new book 'SAM'S MAGIC SURFBOARD' published on Smashwords today, 2nd June 2016A book for younger readers and those not so young who enjoy an easy read and an interesting adventure story.Sam Brown discovers surfing in the \West Country while holidaying with his parents.He soon becomes an expert surfer with the help of a mystical Hawaiian recluse who takes him under his wing, imparting the secrets and magic of ancient Hawaiian customs and religion.

Book preview

The Malta Enigma

By John Phipps

Smashwords Edition,

Copyright © John Phipps 2013

License notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author

Dedication

To Jane, for her support and help in writing this story and for her contribution.

I would like to dedicate this book to the good people of Malta, past and present, and to all the members of the Allied Forces who were stationed there during World War Two, and bravely resisted the German and Italian onslaught, and in so doing, preserved the Island fortress as a strategic base to support the campaign in North Africa and then Southern Europe.

On April 15th 1942, King George V1 of Britain awarded the George Cross to the entire population of Malta and Gozo, in recognition of their heroism. The citation can be seen in the War Museum in Valletta, and reads as follows:-

‘To honour her brave people I award the George Cross to the Island fortress of Malta to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history.’

Foreword

This story is a work of complete fiction, and all events or situations depicted have no known relevance to anything that actually happened in Malta, in war time or since, apart from some historic facts, which were included for authenticity. All the characters are fictional, and although many of the names are common in Malta and other countries, any resemblance to any person living or dead, is purely coincidental. Most of the place names and locations do exist, but are not necessarily geographically correct.

The author has enjoyed visiting Malta for holidays, and would like to stress that he has received nothing but courteous and welcoming treatment from everyone he has met there, and found the Maltese to be a happy and friendly people. He would strongly recommend spending a holiday on Malta and Gozo, to experience the wonderful hospitality, beautiful sunshine and amazing history that this jewel in the Mediterranean has to offer.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Foreword

Chapter 1 The Journey January 1998

Chapter 2 September 1943

Chapter 3 January 1998 The Hotel

Chapter 4 The Quest

Chapter 5 The Search

Chapter 6 The Mystery deepens

Chapter 7 Revelations

Chapter 8 The Valletta Incident

Chapter 9 The German Connection

Chapter 10 The Museum

Chapter 11 The Foundry

Chapter 12 German Gold

Chapter 13 Discovery

Chapter 14 Mdina

Chapter 15 The Enigma

Chapter 16 The Search Continues

Chapter 17 Antiques

Chapter 18 The Investigation

Chapter 19 The Ultimatum

Chapter 20 The Australian Connection

Chapter 21 The light at the end of the Tunnel

Chapter 22 The Chase

Chapter 23 The Airport

Chapter 24 Last Days in Malta

Chapter 25 The Last Adventure

Chapter 26 March 1998

CHAPTER 1 The Journey, January 1998

George didn’t know what to make of his holiday so far, sitting on a very crowded Boeing 757 with his knees firmly wedged into the back of the seat in front. God knows how many souls he would have taken if this large collection of metal, rivets and plastic had fallen into the sea.

George had decided to take a holiday in honour of his official retirement, and had seen 28 days in Malta on offer for a bargain price, so he had impetuously booked it way back in September, and now he was on his way, and it was early January.

George wasn’t worried about flying of course, he had been in the R.A.F. and had worked for two of the finest aircraft companies in the world, so he knew all about flying and jet aircraft. He had flown on his first jet airliner way back in the fifties, a Comet, after they had sorted out the metal fatigue problems, and that aircraft type had proved to be one of the safest aircraft of its time, and he was very proud to have worked on its manufacture.

The other thing about George Swift was that he was forever an optimist, and also a fatalist, he couldn’t fly the plane, and those who could were up there in the flight deck, therefore he had no control over his immediate destiny, so why not sit back and enjoy it, as he had many times before. Have another whisky!

If it crashed, none of those on board would know much about it anyway. Mind you, the thought did fleetingly pass his mind that if disaster did strike, and they had to ditch in the sea for instance, how would he or anyone for that matter get out of this narrow metal tube in a hurry. Most of the passengers were well into their 70’s. It was a bit disconcerting when he looked around and thought back to the departure lounge and the passenger loading, just three quarters of an hour ago.

The north terminal of London Gatwick was a short mini train ride from where he had alighted from the Victoria train link, but it seemed much longer as he had discovered when all the passengers had had to walk the same distance back to the departure gate after checking in, because the moving walkway had packed up, and it was leg power or nothing! It took George all of 6 minutes to get there, and he was fit, whereas most of the passengers on this package holiday were a long way past retirement age, and had followed the increasing trend of pensioners to winter in the sun, as their pensions went further abroad. They were the ones that had started George on this train of thought, some were very old and infirm, some were on sticks, and some had to be propelled in wheelchairs.

Loading had commenced, and he had been very disconcerted to see the clutter of Zimmer frames, walking sticks, crutches, bags, holdalls, anoraks and all the other paraphernalia of retired persons holidays, all crammed into the cabin. One would have to have been an Olympic athlete to clamber over that lot in the event of an emergency!

Not that he was un-sympathetic towards the old and infirm, they knew how to enjoy themselves, but he would rather not have had to share this small space with all this stuff.

He had just settled back in his seat when someone poked him in the ribs with a walking stick and asked him to stow two such weapons into the luggage locker above his head. If that box and the one on the other side of the aisle had been opened and banged shut once, they had been a dozen times. Every time they had been opened, it seemed that a few items would escape and cascade down on George, that was the trouble with sitting in an aisle seat. ‘The window seats had been allocated to families,’ the hoity-toity check in girl had said, when he had asked for one, mind you, he didn’t see any families on board, ah well! That’s the power these people have over you!

Back to the luggage lockers, the front two were full of electronic equipment, and one old lady announced in a loud and knowledgeable voice that ‘They are the electronics that help the pilot to steer the plane.’ George did not have the heart to tell her that it was just a couple of video players for the in- flight movies!

It took a long time for all these people to settle, during which time George was getting more and more irritable, what with the back of his seat being grabbed from time to time as rather overweight people behind prised themselves into their seats. Then at last everything settled down for at least three minutes, then surprise, surprise, the three passengers behind decided to play musical chairs again, making George quite motion sick and they hadn’t even closed the doors!

Now at last they were rolling, and the flight attendants were demonstrating the emergency drill with the aid of the video screen mounted above the galley door, all absorbing stuff; like where the emergency exits were located and the crash positions to adopt etc., but how any of these pensioners could have grabbed their oxygen masks, found the life jackets (under the seat), strapped them on, assumed the ditching position, [head down on the knees, with arms shielding the head] let alone extricate themselves and jump out and down an emergency chute was beyond him. He didn’t think that he could have managed all that at the tender age of 65 let alone someone who is nearer 90! Then he relaxed when he realised that older people had a real sense of survival, rivalling the fiercest lion in the jungle. He had on numerous occasions been elbowed out of the way by little old ladies in the super market, when he had tried to lift the last piece of special offer merchandise, and he still had the bruises on his shins from the many times shopping trolleys had been aimed at his legs, in attempts by their drivers to get to the front of the check-out queue! He was brought up to respect older people and always let ladies go first, but now he knew that it had been a conspiracy, there was this Kamikaze attitude of get there first whatever the cost!.. Oh! he respected old people alright!

To be honest, he was quite looking forward to getting old and joining the club. He was already experiencing a changing attitude from the young, like at a party, he would be given a drink and a quiet seat in the corner, and lately boy scouts were tending to lead him across the road, even if he didn’t want to cross!

Anyway he had the thought that perhaps the other passengers would be galvanised into action and miraculously clear the cabin in front of him, giving him a clear run to the exits! Who knows, the chances of survival were so slight anyway, he might just as well sit back and relax. Have another drink!

By this time the plane had taken off and had progressed through heavy cloud to the wide blue yonder above. Nice and smooth now, and George relaxed and settled back to enjoy the in-flight video, on the monitor above the galley entrance, having purchased the mandatory earphones for three quid, which plugged into the arm of his seat and gave him several channels of music and the video sound. Great stuff! this was more like it!

He was peacefully watching Victor Meldrew, whom as everyone knows, is an irritable, irascible pensioner, then George realised he was the only one laughing at Victor’s antics, the programme must have been too close to reality for comfort to all those irritable, irascible pensioners he was travelling with! To be fair, some of them were out to enjoy themselves and were determined to sample the good life to the full, like the couple next to him, who spilt Gin and Tonic over his newly washed jeans. Serves him right for dressing like an ageing rocker, with his longish hair and denims. They had been steadily boozing since the bar had opened and were getting a bit silly now.

At last George settled down and started to relax, when lo! About half the passenger manifest decided that they needed a pee, so upheaval in the aisle again, more seat grabbing and retrieval of walking sticks etc., and guess what? A queue so long for the loo it stretched back to where George was sitting. At this stage a young blade of at least 80 years decided to get his baseball cap from one of the by now infamous and well used luggage containers, and hold a one-man fashion show, blocking George’s view of the video just when ‘One foot in the grave’ was reaching its most interesting part.

This display went on for at least five minutes, until he finally came to the man’s turn for the toilet, meanwhile, the flight attendants were dispensing drinks from their various trolleys, up and down the aisles with gay abandon, (and George thought ‘gay’ was very apt), adding to the general melee, and causing complete strangers from time to time to sit on George’s lap or tread on his new shoes! He had his earphones ripped off twice, once by a trailing handbag, and once by the dear old lady sitting next to him when it was her time to visit the toilet. He was sure that they only went to see if the plumbing was in order!

He finally gave up on the in-flight entertainment and settled back in his seat again, after consuming the Christmas lunch leftovers provided by the in-flight caterers, it tasted fine, but wasn’t everyone fed up with turkey and Christmas Pud by the 6th. January? Still, he had noticed that the caterers were Lufthansa, probably still trying to get their own back for the second world war.

George drifted into his own little world, and his mind went back to flights he had made in the past, and all the many flights that had been made during the twentieth century in this European airspace. He thought of all the brave heroes of the two world wars, and all the pioneers who had made it all possible.

He thought of the Wright brothers and Lindberg, heroes like Douglas Bader and Cats Eyes Cunningham, and the Battle of Britain, and the Luftwaffe opposing our brave Spitfire and Hurricane pilots in the Second World War. And so to sleep!

CHAPTER 2 September 1943

The lone Messerschmitt was cruising at 35,000 ft above the blue Tyrrhenian Sea, heading south. The pilot, Oberleutnant Heinrich Huber was glad that he was at last in the air, but he felt rather apprehensive about the whole enterprise, but at least it would take him out of the home theatre of the war. Although he was still only 25, he had experienced the rout of Poland and the decimation of the low countries. He had fought the Spitfires over south eastern England and been shot down over the channel, and crash landed in the sea a couple of times. Lately he had been engaged in lightening solo raids, and clandestine missions to various targets in England, mainly carrying canisters dropped over remote areas to supply the agents in Britain.

He couldn’t believe that it was only a few days ago that he had been summoned to the private Mansion of the great Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering, at Karinhall, just outside Berlin.

The Mansion was staffed by members of the elite ‘Wachregiment Herman Goering,’ who were in effect his private bodyguard, and acted like it. The officers were aloof and unfriendly, the other ranks surly and unresponsive.

Heinrich was ushered into Goering’s office by a one-armed Oberfeldwebel (flight sergeant) who was intimidating in himself, very smart, and wearing the badge of the Luftwaffe Paratrooper as well as the pilots’ insignia. A middle-aged man , he was obviously a veteran of the Luftwaffe, who had complete disdain of the young dashing pilots of today’s German Air Force.

After coming to attention and executing a (left -handed) salute, the orderly smartly about-turned and marched out, leaving Heinrich, a lowly OberLeutnant in the presence of the Oberbefehlshaber der Luftwaffe (leader of the German Airforce). The great man seemed to fill the room with his presence, not only because of his considerable stature, but because Heinrich felt that the Reichsmarschall’s eyes were on him all the time.

The room was very opulent, with many fine pictures and objects de art, even the writing set on the great desk was made of gold, with the emblem of the Third Reich mounted over the eagles’ wings.

He had counted 12 strides to reach the desk, where he came to attention, and saluted the customary Heil! Hitler, to which Goering replied with a summary wave of his hand.

His commanding officer then motioned him to an armchair and to his surprise offered him a drink from the well stocked cocktail trolley. This he refused, which seemed to please Goering, who said that it was good that he kept a clear head during this meeting. It did not stop Goering however from pouring himself a very large Scotch, a tipple that he had taken a liking to when he had spent a few months in Britain before the war.

‘When we conquer Great Britain, I hope that they will leave the Scottish Distilleries Intact!’ he joked.

He was trying hard to put Heinrich at ease, although the lieutenant was still rather apprehensive of what was coming next.

‘You are no doubt aware that the Campaign in Italy is not going well. Since Mussolini was deposed and the Italians capitulated, our land forces have been seriously stretched because we have to garrison all the territory previously held by the Italian army. The Allies have now landed in the Gulf of Salerno. There is a great battle raging in the south, and we have thrown all our available forces into the conflict. We have managed to hold them for the moment, but our intelligence suggests that they will make another landing soon, possibly on the west coast, near Rome.

Times are not good for the Reich at the moment, so we need a strategic Victory to turn the tide.’

Heinrich still didn’t know why he was here, Goering poured himself another considerable drink, settled back in his great armchair and continued.

‘We have chosen you to carry out a secret mission, which could make a drastic and lasting difference to our defence of Italy and the outcome of the war.’ He opened a file on his desk.

‘Your record tells me that you have much experience, not only in combat, but also on clandestine operations over enemy territory. Added to this you are one of our top navigators and have also attended a course on our latest navigation aide, the Swietzer SZ105 radio compass . We have brought you here today to order you to volunteer for this mission, which will of course be dangerous, but it will put you in high esteem with not only the High Command, but the Fuhrer himself. If successful, you will be promoted to Major and you will have the highest honour that the Third Reich can bestow on you.

You will be given your sealed orders in the orderly room after leaving this office. I cannot disclose any further details at this stage. Goodbye and Good Luck. Heil Hitler!’

The interview had been quickly terminated, and after the exchange of salutes, the orderly, summoned by a push button, escorted him out of the office and into an ante-room off the main reception area. From here a Major escorted him to the Kaiser Willhelm Hotel in the Wintergarten strasse, where he was taken to his room and ordered to open his orders.

The orders swore him to secrecy, and instructed him not to have any contact with anyone in the Hotel except servants. (He was unlikely to get into casual conversation with anyone anyway, for he had noticed that none of the other guests he had seen were lower in rank than Colonel, none of them were Luftwaffe, and many of them were S.S., whom he despised anyway.)

The orders were brief. He would be picked up at 0500 hours and put on a train to Turin, where he would be met and escorted to the officer’s mess at Turin Airfield. He would stay the night there. At 0800 hours the next morning he would be briefed for a solo mission to a destination to be disclosed, to deliver a secret package. He would be completely independent of any support once in the air, and for some of the flight he would be over enemy territory. He would learn the rest at the briefing.

He ate dinner in his room, and turned in at 2100 hours. He laid awake feeling excited but anxious, not knowing what tomorrow would bring.

The journey to Turin was a nightmare of unexpected stops and diversions, which made him realise how much damage had been caused by the British and American bombers.

In a way he was glad to be out of Germany for a while. Little did he know that he was embarking on a life changing experience over which he would have little control.

Finally, at Turin, he was greeted at the Officer’s mess with the Gusto which he was used to between flyers. There was a mixture of Luftwaffe and Wehrmacht officers, a few of whom were pilots. They were friendly and didn’t talk about their missions, more their exploits, so no one asked him any questions, and he said that he was just in transit. He did however notice a stern looking SS Major sitting quietly on his own in one corner, presumably listening to every conversation. His night’s sleep was only interrupted for a short while by a large air raid on the north of the city, but their dormitory was in a bomb-proof building cut into a hillside facing south, 10 kilometres away from the airfield.

One of the younger pilots had mentioned that the field had recently taken delivery of a single new Messerschmitt, the latest Mk Bf 109G, which was stored in a bomb-proof hanger, he thought that it was probably the forerunner of the promised re-equipment of their squadron. Heinrich was beginning to feel that this was not the case. With this thought he had fallen to sleep.

After trying to eat a good breakfast, and failing, he was driven by a Luftwaffe Unteroffizier (corporal) to a small underground bunker on the edge of the airfield, where after close scrutiny of his papers he was ushered into a closely guarded operations room.

A Luftwaffe Major carried out the briefing. He had no unit Insignia on his uniform.

As a prelude to the briefing, he was told that he would be known as Eagle, and he was not to know and should not ask, the identity of any of the officers he was about to meet.

There was no-one else present.

‘You will be flying this mission completely on your own and un- supported. Once you have taken off, you will have no radio contact with any surface or airborne units. To all intents and purposes you will disappear.

Your aircraft is a modified version of the latest Messersmitt Bf 109G. It has been fitted with the latest Radio navigation system of which you are familiar. This instrument will navigate you to your target with pinpoint accuracy. Your guns will be fully armed. The package that you are to carry will be a sealed canister, which you will only release to a certain Officer who’s code name is ‘Reptile’, on arrival at your destination. You will also be given a code-phrase, to which only he will have the response. He will be the only person who will have the correct combination to open the canister when the time is right.

Otherwise you will keep the canister with you in the cockpit.

The canister has a destruct mechanism, which works like a hand grenade; when you remove the pin and pull the lever, it will explode in five seconds. If you are compromised in any way by being shot down or captured, you will destroy it by this method. If you have to bail out or are injured, make sure that you pull the lever and throw the canister from your cockpit. If you should be killed, the aircraft will crash, and the canister will be destroyed anyway.

Do you understand ?’

‘Yes Herr Major.’

The Major spread a series of charts across the table.

‘You will fly from this airfield to a small landing strip at La Spezia, on the north west coast of the Italian Peninsular, about 200 km from here. Your cover will be that you will be making a familiarisation flight in the new aircraft. On landing there, the plane will have a drop tank fitted and will be re-fuelled and re- armed. The highly secret container will be given to you when you are in the cockpit, ready for take off. Neither I, nor any member of my staff know the contents of the container, but we are informed that you have been told how important it is to our war effort. You will then be given the code-word and Reply.’

Now Heinrich was really beginning to worry. The Major continued -

‘From there you will head south on the route shown on the charts to the small island of Linosa, situated 163 km. south of Sicily. A distance of some 1100 km. from La Spezia.

Pantelleria as you probably know, is now in the hands of the Allies, since its Italian Garrison surrendered. Your only route south is between Pantelleria and Sicily which is also occupied by the Allies. There are constant sorties by Enemy aircraft, taking off from Malta in a southerly direction before they circle North to join the battle in southern Italy. It is therefore absolutely vital that you avoid these islands. You only have a corridor of about 100 km to avoid contact with enemy aircraft or shore patrols.

During the whole journey, you are ordered to avoid any contact with other aircraft friendly or hostile and definitely to avoid any conflict. Do you understand ?’

‘I understand the order Herr Major, but I do not understand why I should not defend myself and therefore protect the secret that I shall be carrying!’

‘You must at all costs defend yourself by taking avoiding action rather than getting into a fight and losing everything that we are striving to achieve here.’

The Major was getting irate now.

‘You will also be flying one of our latest aircraft, full of the latest technology, including the navigation system, if you are forced down you must make sure that it is in the sea, so that the enemy cannot discover these secrets. There is a device, operated from the cockpit, which pours oil onto your exhaust to create smoke, this will make the enemy think that they have crippled your plane. We are, after all, not asking you to do something that you haven’t done before.’ He said sarcastically.

‘You must carry out these orders to the letter, Is this quite clear Leutnant?’

‘Quite clear.’ He replied, although he knew that he could not run from a fight. He knew that he would be up there at the mercy of his enemy, and not be able to retaliate. He made up his mind at this point that he would return fire if necessary and take the consequences. He was confident that he could complete the mission successfully anyway.’

The Major composed himself again, and continued :-

‘Now to the last stage of the mission. When you have reached a point 50 km north of Linosa, you will pick up a radio signal which will guide you to a fishing vessel which will be anchored off the south coast of a small atoll. It is unoccupied , apart from an observation and machine gun post, now occupied by the enemy. This should not give you too much trouble as you will stay just out of range of their guns.

You are to make a low pass towards the fishing boat, drawing fire from the machine gunners. Then, whilst emitting smoke from your engine, you will make a crash landing in the sea. It will look as if you have been shot down. You must leave your cockpit with the canister to be picked up by the fishing boat, leaving your plane to sink. The fishing boat will be flying a neutral flag, and will rendezvous with one of our U boats. You will of course hand the canister over to ‘Reptile’ as soon as you are on the submarine.

One other thing, please give me any personal belongings which you carry, and any identification papers. You must take off your uniform tunic and you will wear this standard flying jerkin, bearing just your rank and the National Emblem. If captured you will only give your name, rank and number. We will store your belongings until you return, which will be by Uboat to a port near here. Good Luck and God speed.’

They shook hands and saluted, and walked together to the gleaming new Messerschmitt, where the ground crew were fussing over the last few details. He walked round this beautiful machine, trying his best to look calm, and was helped into the cockpit and harnessed into his seat. He gunned the engine, which had already been warmed up, and donned the canvas helmet, checked his instruments, released the brakes and waved to the ground crew and the Major and started taxiing towards the runway.

The new plane was very responsive and he quickly felt the added power of the advanced engine as he made a smooth take off and headed south from the airfield.

He had an un-eventful fight to land at La Spezia where he had a one hour wait while his aircraft was fitted with an extra fuel tank underneath the fuselage. This was fitted to the single bomb mount and so could be jettisoned when empty. The Messerschmitt was refuelled and armoured. He was relieved to know that there were two forward firing13mm machine guns in the front fuselage and a much larger 30mm cannon firing through the spinner. So much for not getting into a fight! - He couldn’t wait. Although he was as committed to his duty and to the Fatherland as the next man, in his book, attack was the best form of defence, and what the hell ! Who would know anyway, only the poor fellow who got in the way of that 30mm cannon!

Whilst waiting to take-off again, he had been guarded in a small hut on the edge of La Spezia airfield, by another Major and two Ferocious Obergefrieters (leading aircraftsmen) with sub machine guns. Very little conversation had taken place and he had been glad when he was told that the machine was ready at last.

His guards and the Major escorted him to the plane in a light truck, and he carried out the routine pre-flight inspection, and climbed into the machine, at which point the Major climbed up to the cockpit and handed him the canister, which was about the size of a thermos flask. He was also given the code phrase ‘Ich gehe oft zu Konzerten in Wein’, and the reply ‘Ya! Die Walze von Johann Strauss sind sehr wunderbar’.

The last contact he had was with the ground crew Obergefrieter, who warned him that the Messerschmitt was very heavily loaded and would need a much longer take-off. He also said that there could be enemy bombers in the vicinity, as the air-raid siren had just been sounded, so he had better make it snappy!

After a brief farewell, he was again taxiing out to the runway. He quickly looked over the flight plan, including details of the new take-off weight and estimated take off speed. This time it seemed to take an age for the heavily loaded plane to get into the air, but finally he was airborne.

He did the customary circuit of the airfield to adjust his compass, and check his instruments, and as he executed his final pass over the field, he saw, to his complete amazement, the truck they had used suddenly explode! Poor devils! There was nothing left of the truck or the occupants, which included the three ground crew, two guards, and the Major. He had had a lucky escape from the air raid, presumably an attack from a lone raider, he searched the immediate airspace, but saw no other aeroplanes. Perhaps his luck was in! A good omen for his mission, he hoped.

Heinrich was flying at 11,000 m., close to the ceiling height of the Messerschmitt, and cruising at 550 km/h, there was light cloud up to about 3,000 m, otherwise visibility was good. He had flown between Corsica and the island of Elba, and was about 250 km from La Spezia and would be level with the city of Rome in about another 15 minutes.

Ah! Rome, one place he had meant to visit when he was a Student at Heidelberg and never got round to it. Rome, with its fountains and Piazzas and the Vatican. He wondered what sort of state this ancient city was in now! He knew that the allies would be marching in soon, although they had been halted at the battle of Monte Casino for many months.

The Allies had already landed in Salerno, so from now on he would be flying parallel to the stretch of west Italian coast occupied by the Allies, perhaps he had better look out for enemy aircraft from now on.

He had completed 300km of the flight and had jettisoned the drop tank some time ago, he estimated that he had another 550 km to his destination, so everything was going to plan.

He began a slow decent to reach the optimum altitude of 3,500m in about an hour’s time, in order to pick up the beam for the radio compass. He knew that bomber crews had used the Schweitzer SZ105 over Britain with great success recently, where they could pin point a target within half a kilometre.

There was the coast, just south of Rome, now he had a wider corridor to fly in until he reached the straights between Sicily and Tunisia, where he would pick up the beam and navigate to his Target. He was now seeing quite a bit of shipping and was scanning the skies for enemy aircraft, he had tested the guns with a short two second burst, and left the safety catch off, just in case.

Forty minutes went by, he was now at 4000m, and almost level with Sicily, on his port side. He switched the radio compass on, and tuned to the correct frequency.

He turned the direction dial slowly through 360 degrees, and expected to hear the signal in his earphones. The signal was transmitted as a continuous stream of morse code dots and dashes, along a set compass heading, the dots to port of the beam, and the dashes to starboard. Once he picked up the transmission, all he had to do was fly along the beam, and if he deviated either side of the correct heading, he would hear either dots or dashes, indicating either side of the beam, which was 1km wide. When he intercepted another beam he had to change course, on to the new heading, and keep between the dots and dashes. In this way he would be on target within a few metres.

He heard only a high frequency signal and radio noise, regardless of the setting of the direction dial.

He checked the settings once more and re-set the dials, still nothing, except the dreadful radio noise and crackle. He then descended to 3000 m and went through the whole procedure again.

He flew a complete 360degree sweep of about 10 km radius, still listening, and concentrating on the dials, when suddenly he was jumped by two enemy fighters.

They had come up behind and below him out of the light cloud, and he could feel their shells ripping into the fuselage. He executed a diving turn to starboard to come underneath one of them and got the enemy in his gun sight, this is it! He was in a dog fight! He pressed the firing button and got off a very short burst, after which, - nothing! He fired again, a flashing light on his instrument panel indicated that the guns had jammed.

The guns had jammed!

He just had time to roll out to port and avoid the other Seafire, and fly into the cloud. ‘Damn the scientists for their radio compass ! And damn the armourers for the guns jamming!’

He was down to 2500m now and flying through intermittent cloud, with no guns, no radio contact and only his Gyro Compass to navigate with. The fight had carried him well off course, he needed a fix, as well as avoiding the two Supermarine Seafires which were out to get him, they were a carrier derivative of the Spitfire. He knew that these fighters were slightly slower than the Messerschmitt, but could out-manoeuvre him. His only option was to go down to sea-level and try to out-run them, but whereto? He reckoned that he might be able to pick up the coast of Sicily, identify a coastal feature, then navigate south to Linosa, If he could shake them off!

This was very risky, because he could also come under fire from the coastal batteries or Ships’ anti-aircraft guns.

He had managed to shake off the two enemy fighters, they had probably run short of fuel, but he knew that they would have reported his presence and he could expect more trouble.

The controls had become very sluggish now, he looked in the rear view mirror, mounted over his windscreen, and to his consternation, he saw that his tail unit was severely damaged, he only had part of the rudder left and the elevator flaps were torn to shreds. He saw that the radio Arial was also missing, so that was the end of his radio compass.

Slowly climbing again, he spotted the west coast peninsular of Sicily, at least he knew where he was, but he was attracting fire from the anti-aicraft guns on the coast.

He climbed for another agonising three minutes or so in a 360 degree spiral, through the cloud cover, to 4000m

He decided to throttle back to avoid what remained of his tailplane ripping off.

With the Gyro Compass, he was able to set a new course 185 degrees for Linosa, and hoped that the weather would remain clear so that he could get visual checks on the way.

Flying at 150 km/h he now had to concentrate very hard to keep the correct heading, as the damage to the Messerschmitt was causing it to drift to port (east) and he reckoned that a strong wind from the west was adding to this problem.

He studied the chart strapped to his knee, and confirmed that he should fly to a point 50 km north of Linosa, then head due south to find his objective. He checked the fuel level, and found that he had just about an hour’s flying time, which was only just enough to make the atoll, north of Linosa.

All sorts of thoughts were going through his mind now.

Should he abandon the mission, throw the canister out of the cockpit and try to crash land in the sea? Should he continue as planned, maybe missing the atoll and still have to ditch in the sea? Another alternative was to land in Malta or Sicily and to surrender to the British.

Suddenly all these thoughts were taken away when he was attacked by a Spitfire coming in from below his starboard wing, raking his flank with a burst of shells.

The Messerschmitt shuddered and span off to port, a shell had shattered the canopy, knocking Heinrich unconscious. The plane spiralled down and down.

After a few seconds, he re-gained his wits and grappled with the controls. He managed to level out at about 700 m. He had a searing pain in his head, and a large trickle of blood was running down his face. He managed to tear a field dressing from the pouch near his right knee, and ram it inside his helmet, to staunch the blood.

Thoughts raced through his head, everything was lost, what could he do? He was going in and out of consciousness, he had very little control over the plane, he was flying in a fairly straight line, probably heading west, but losing height.

The Spitfire suddenly appeared, flying alongside him, on the starboard side. Another Spitfire had appeared alongside his port wing.

The first pilot had pushed his canopy