The erector platform swayed gently in the wind, its cargo shifting back and forth. A gang of rubber-suited figures scurried around its base, attaching hoses and cables to the missile towering above them. As the suited technicians pulled at the umbilical connections, flakes of ice fell from them to the ground only to melt quickly in the autumn sunshine.

About twenty metres away from the erector platform, two uniformed officers watched the launch preparations. The younger of the pair trembled slightly - something his companion had noticed.

"This is the first time you have seen a launch?" the older officer asked.

"Yes, Herr Hauptmann." The younger officer nodded towards the missile. "Are we safe here?"

The Hauptmann shrugged. "Unless they make a mistake. Then, well, I would prefer to be a lot closer." He caught sight of the junior officer's expression. "But I'm not worried. These men know exactly what they are doing."

One of the technicians broke away from the group and walked towards the officers, pulling his protective mask off as he approached. He stopped, came to attention and saluted. "Herr Hauptmann. Herr Leutnant. The fuelling operation will be complete in thirty minutes. There are no problems to report."

The Hauptmann returned the salute. "Good to hear. Then we can send this one on its way."

The technician grinned. "And then back for dinner." He saluted, then turned away and jogged back to the erector platform.

The two officers were silent for a moment, then the Hauptmann spoke. "I met the designer of this weapon - during training. An interesting man. He lectured us on the engine, to make sure we understood how it functioned."

"I had those lectures too," the Leutnant replied. "But that was from the instructors, not the designer."

"A pity. The designer - he told us that one day he would use this to send men into space. Imagine, he said, imagine men flying above our heads in things like this, or maybe to the moon - or further."

"I think I saw that in a film," the Leutnant said after a moment's thought.

"Well, this is reality. Not some Babelsberg fantasy." The Hauptmann clapped the younger man on his shoulders. "I do not think that the moon is ready for us."

"Are we ready for it?"

A half-hour later, the missile rose into the sky on a pillar of smoke and flame, then arced west towards its target.