Together, they ran out the door, Leni locking it behind her, and then down the stairs, far more quickly than any of Leni’s elderly neighbors. When they reached the first floor, they came across the same smartly dressed old woman Lockhart had seen earlier. She was lying on the floor, clearly in some distress.

“What’s the matter, Fräulein?” asked Lockhart.

“I tripped,” she said, her voice husky. “I think I’ve sprained my ankle.”

“Come on then,” said Lockhart. “Let’s get you up!”

Ignoring her protestations, Lockhart bent down and picked her up. She was absurdly light.

“Thank you, sir,” she kept saying as he carried her down the remaining stairs. “Thank you, sir.”

Out in the street, a panicking stream of Berliners were making their way toward the shelter. From above, Lockhart heard the throbbing sound of large aircraft engines. He looked up, and in between the gaps in the light cloud, he could see vast bombers overhead.

“Flying Fortresses!” he shouted at Leni.

“I know!” she shouted back. “Americans!”

Carrying the old woman with difficulty, Lockhart stumbled awkwardly through the rubble. Leni followed him. The sound of the aircraft reminded him of the Blitz, the bass sound of the engines causing a sense of dread to course through his body.

“Where’s this bloody shelter?”

“Not far!” Leni shouted. “Just fifty or so meters down…”

Her last few words were drowned out by a massive explosion. The shock wave knocked them to the ground, Lockhart falling on top of the old woman. Darkness came over them in the form of a thick cloud of acrid dust. For what seemed like hours he lay there, covering the old woman.

Silence, except somewhere a child was screaming. Lockhart looked down at the old woman—she was still alive, thank God, just petrified.

“Are you all right?” he was shouting at her, suddenly aware that his voice sounded distant, his hearing temporarily muffled.

The woman didn’t reply, just shivered violently. She had gone into shock. He had to get her to the shelter—someone would be able to help her there. Slowly he got to his knees, and looked around for Leni. She had fallen two yards behind him, and was covered in a layer of gray dust.

“Leni!”

She didn’t move.

“Leni!”

Lockhart got to his feet and staggered over to her.

“Leni!”

He turned her over and shook her violently. Her eyes flickered open.

“Leni! Can you hear me?”

He brushed the dust off her face with his hand.

“Yes,” she croaked.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I…I don’t think so.”

“Can you get up?”

“I’ll try.”

With Lockhart’s assistance, Leni managed to stand. She swayed slightly, like a drunk. Lockhart checked her over—she now had a few more scratches and cuts to add to those she had received in the fight, but she looked all right. She started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Lockhart asked.