The speedometer’s needle quivered at the 625-mile-per-hour mark. He had flown past the plane’s limits. He had forgotten a rule of the 262, to never dive in a jet so fast it needed no help from gravity. Now, White 3 was frozen in a death dive. Franz struggled to pull the control stick, but it felt as unbending as an iron bar. Pinned to his seat, Franz knew he could not bail out. He felt himself grow cold as the thought struck him. I just killed myself. Franz began to pray feverishly. Kick the rudder! Franz thought he heard a voice.
